A Second Chance Ch. 01

It was rather nice to have not one, but two very pretty medics in their scrubs in my kitchen, with Emmie in her school uniform.

Both Callie and Nicki looked refreshed and had showered, and Nicki's scrubs trousers were a touch tight, I guessed probably a spare set of Callie's. The pantie-line was visible, and I tried not to look, honest.

Nicki grinned at me, a look all devilment, and I raised my eyebrows and grinned back.

"Cal's Scrubs," she said turning her fine arse towards me, "only supposed to go around Callie's perfect little rear, not mine. Still," she pulled them a little tighter, "at least you know I've got pants on!"

Emmie looked at Auntie Nicki, with a shocked but smiley face, probably just at her use of the word 'pants' and the confirmation she was wearing them.

I smiled; I felt a little cheeky.

"Wasn't complaining!" I said with a smile, and placing down my empty mug, grabbed my jacket and headed off for my days' work.

It was a long day which involved me buggering around with some circuit boards, chips and all of that avionics jazz, ready for a European trip the next day. So late in fact that I walked into the kitchen and there was Callie, messing around with Emmie after consuming their tea.

"Ladies!" I said grandly, "what a pleasure; it appears that I have to travel to Bratislava tomorrow for two days, I trust you can manage without me?"

"Where's Brati... where's that?" said Emmie.

"Hungary Sweetie," I said,

"Hungry?" she looked confused, but her Mummy added to her geographical education.

"I have to go and mend an aeroplane." I dug out my phone, turned it sideways and showed her the location on Google Maps.

"Wow!" she said sweetly, "Can we come?"

"I'm so sorry Princess, much as I would love the company, the Boss won't let me."

She recovered from the let-down quite quickly.

"Can I still watch Disney?" she said with all the seriousness of her tender years.

"Of course, honey," I said, "you'll be doing me a favour."

She grinned, happy with that decision.

"Are you really OK with us using your living room Craig?" said Callie, stepping up and opening the oven door to bring out the plated meal.

"Yes, of course," I said, then saw the pie, mash and peas with gravy she'd obviously prepared for me, "Wow, Callie thank you!"

"No problem," she said, "you've sorted dinner for Emmie and me so often."

I thanked her, and set to my meal, so nice as it was the first one cooked for me by someone else since I'd split with Anna.

I went upstairs, changed and packed my bag for my airport taxi at 0700 the next morning, coming back down to find Callie watching the big TV and on a movie channel, laughing at Mel Brooks and 'Space Balls'. I sat down and joined her.

The film finished, and I stood and stretched, feeling a bit tired and with my mind on all the things I had to do the next day, and to make sure that Callie knew what was going on and where everything was should there be a problem while I was away.

"It's fine Craig honestly," she said, "I've got your phone number in case something goes wrong!"

"Excellent," I said feeling quite relieved about that, and without even thinking, "then I'll wish you a very goodnight," and leant forward and kissed her. She kissed me right back! "Oh, sorry Cal!" I spluttered, "Miles away there!"

"Don't worry Craig," she said, "I'll tell you a secret, Emmie complained that you kissed her goodnight, but not me!" She laughed, and gave her head the tiniest shake, making that long dark hair of hers move, I just felt so tempted to reach out and run my fingers through it.

"Well, I'm glad I've put her mind rest!"

We both smiled and there was just the tiniest hint in the air, not quite certain what it was but I knew there wasn't enough of it for me to take it any further.

Not that night.

I switched off the lights and we made our way upstairs, chatting idly about my trip, even if I collected airmiles. I confirmed that my firm did, which they used to purchase more flights, so no, I never had the opportunity to collect them.

We stood at the bottom of the second flight of stairs, and again I thought there might have been something in the air,

"Goodnight Craig," she said with a soft smile, "have a good trip!"

"I will do, and I'll see you, hopefully, on Friday!" I stopped for a moment, "how about I make a reservation and all three of us go out for..." I stopped myself saying 'dinner'! "...tea on Friday, The Spring Tide is walking distance from here and they do a great selection, Emmie will love it!" I said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

"Craig, I can't really afford..." she stopped herself, thinking about consequences I guessed.

"My treat," I said quickly, "Just their special 'house burgers' Cal," I said still adopting the shortening of her name her friend had used, "not going to be spending a fortune I promise!"

"OK!" she said with a grin, "thank you!"

My trip to Hungary was quite painless and there were a few minor issues that required some more action and computing, but we mended the bloody thing in the end.

I landed back in the UK, on and off the train, and was in my taxi and pulled onto my driveway. He recorded my trip to charge the company, and I was inside.

I'd booked the table in the restaurant for six o'clock and as I stepped into the kitchen, there was the gorgeous Callie, in her black jeans and with a hot looking white sweater that seemed glued to her every curve, her hair hanging nicely, but still teasingly with a hint of makeup.

Taking Anna to 'The Spring Tide' would never have been quite so relaxed and she would have looked perfect and sexy. Callie looked just as attractive, and sexy in a totally different way.

Tiny Emmie appeared all smiles and giggles and obviously excited about the outing to come. I'd only ever really seen her in her school uniform or a selection of tracksuits, but tonight Callie had dressed her up in a 'going out' dress and I'll confess that even I, the grumpy 26-year-old singleton, thought she was just the cutest thing ever.

She was buzzing but still on her best behaviour, more than happy to have her car seat in the back of my Discovery, and the bright lights of the pub-restaurant, 'The Spring Tide'.

While their signature burgers were to die for, I was feeling ravenous, so ordered the large Argentinian ribeye steak, and recommended the same to Callie, while Emmie was all-eyes for the mouth-watering collection of burgers they had, and the endless fries.

It was a great meal, and Emmie behaved perfectly, coming to the notice of our waitress, who brought her a helium balloon, crayons and a colouring book while we waited for our main courses to arrive.

I handed across the sweet course menu, and Callie grinned and shook her head, handing over the pictures of ice cream sundaes, gateaux, waffles, doughnuts and all of that amazing stuff.

I had a very another very sincere thank-you from Callie, and a kiss goodnight from a very tired Emmie.

A few days passed and my phone beeped in my pocket. It was one of 'those' texts and I shook my head and sent back the 'N' response.

"What's that look on your face for Craig?" said Callie, "not bad news I hope?"

"Text message," I said.

"Yeah?" she grinned at me inquisitively.

"Smiley face-question mark," I said, "from my... from an old girlfriend," I looked at the message again, and Callie raised her eyebrows still questioning my look, "it's shorthand for 'can I come to your place and have sex'."

"You got all that from smiley face-question mark?" she giggled.

"Yeah," I said, "it's very complicated and, err... well, no, she can't... basically."

She looked slightly put out, for just the tiniest fraction of a second, but recovered quickly.

"I've no problem with buggering off up to my room for the evening Craig, shit, I'd go and a stay with Nicki; far be it from me to be around and gooseberry on your... date!" She thought about something, "you'll need to keep an ear out for Emma for course."

"No," I took a deep breath and stood up, "not a date, Ex-Sex. Ex-girlfriend/partner of four years. You know I travel a lot."

"I have noticed," said Callie, I'd been away twice in the time she'd been here.

"Well, she found a way to keep herself occupied while I was away."

"WHAT!?" she said, her mouth open in shocked surprised, "She cheated? ON YOU??"

"Yeah," I said, "found out just before I found out my sister was dying."

"Oh Craig, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Don't worry," I cut in to spare her feelings, "long time and a lot of water, nothing there now."

"I'll get the coffee then, shall I?" she said leaping up, "to make up for it?" I thought back to the time when I made coffee and Anna had given me a blowjob just after, and I must have smiled. "What?" she said stopping reading something in my expression, that perfect arse of hers in a pair of perfect Fabletics sports leggings.

Wow!

"Nothing Callie, nothing, honest!" I tried my hardest to hide my memories and the grin they inspired.

She stalked across the room towards me, hands on hips, and just the hint of the tiny rise at the apex of her thighs, covered in tight nylon.

"There's something..." she said with her narrowed eyes, folded arms, her weight on her right leg, "something... RUDE!" she fluffed out that long dark hair of hers, then pointed at me, "WHAT precisely did you do after drinking coffee!"

"Before drinking coffee actually," I said.

She pursed her lips; there was no way I was going to tell this beautiful woman that my last girlfriend had given me a naked blowjob by way of 'thanks' for me giving her my, quite small, share of our house, that could end very badly.

"Hmmm..." she said, "guessing it was sexy?"

"My lips are sealed, I'm a gentleman!"

"Definitely sexy then!" she giggled, "I'm still getting the coffee!"

Shit but she looked hot that evening, one of her three-button, fitted T-shirts giving me enough shape and enough cleavage that I had to force myself not to look, and the leggings weren't helping to disguise her bottom half.

The next Friday, I received a quite large email from Meghan the solicitor, and it was full of lots of information.

Callie's house was still registered to the previous occupant, and Gregg had obviously been taking the rent, and passing it on, and Meghan wanted to know how much Callie paid and so she could put it next to how much was paid into my account, chances are Gregg was sub-letting.

He'd also been charging Diana's business account in the region of £1,000-£1,500 a year in maintenance charges, supplying receipts for supplies he'd bought. Clearly nothing had been done to the house in some years.

The other house had been charged a similar, slightly larger amount in repairs and redecoration, with costs and labour being charged in a direct contrast to what the current occupier said that he had done and had paid for, even sending in photos of the very same receipts for paints, paper and other DIY supplies he'd shown me.

I emailed Meghan back, agreeing with her suggestion that she should do an audit of Mr Gregg's works over the last two years, what he'd charged, what Diana's account had paid for, and what the first two houses were actually like. I could supply photos from Diana's collection of what various rooms looked like when she'd finished them. Di hadn't lived in Cairngorm Avenue in almost eight years, but I recognised the wallpaper from when she had.

The last house, the four-bed semi with the taxi company appearing to operate from it, was becoming clearer. The tenancy agreement had been made out to out to a Chelsea Harper, who had apparently lived there with her two children and her mother; Meghan had contacted Mrs Harper via her email address and got a very angry response back.

A phone call followed and this time the story wasn't about a lack of maintenance, Mrs Harper supplied scanned letters purporting to be from my sister, in really threatening tones and the kind of terrible grammar that would have had her in stitches at even the suggestion she'd been responsible for it. The signature was a black squiggle, nothing like the careful lines she'd signed her letters with.

It was on a very badly produced 'Diana Douglas Lettings' headed notepaper, and the headings didn't match from one letter to the other.

Mrs Harper went on to explain that she had basically been hounded out of the house by Mr Gregg, and his big lads, swearing that it was all Miss Douglas's fault, and they were 'just doing their jobs'.

The calendar showed that this was a few months before Diana's illness, and two of the four letters were written while she had been on holiday in Portugal. Meghan's last digging showed that there was either some collusion by the management company Diana had signed up with, or at the very least an almost criminal negligence.

She closed her email saying that she was already in discussion with the police and companies house, not the council as she was now extremely concerned there was some 'insider trading' and collusion happening there too.

I replied, thanking her for her hard work, and asking that she continue with her investigation and let me know the cost so far so I could pay the company.

Her reply the next day was that they were keeping an open tab on it but it was less than fifteen hundred quid BUT she was pretty sure that all the costs, including what it took to refund any money defrauded from Diana by Gregg or by the management company would be recovered out of costs when these shysters were finally brought to book.

I sat back, happy at that possible resolution, and drove across town to little Emmie's school and collected her, walking along to the local café and buying her a milkshake and a cake, which she was greatly impressed with, more so when she could sit on my wide leather sofa, and watch a Disney movie, the Muppets having run out.

Being a Friday evening, I figured I do something nice, so I cracked open a bottle of a particularly nice red wine that Diana had bought a couple of cases of.

"Hi Callie!" I said as she arrived back from her late duty at the hospital, "pull up a chair and a spare glass, a single question please." She picked up her glass and sat down. Even in her scrubs she looked gorgeous.

She pulled her hair free of the two bands and the few clips she used and shook out her long dark hair in a way I'd really come to love about her. She sat down and looked at me, looking at her.

"What?" she said with a soft but kind smile.

"Your hair," I said, "It looks amazing," might was well be honest about it. She blushed.

"Thank you," she grinned, "haven't done anything with it in years."

"And don't, it looks just right," I sipped from my own glass, "Before I forget! How much rent were you paying Gregg?"

"£1200 a month," she said.

"Well, there's a funny thing," I said, "he's only paying me £950!"

"Bastard! He's..."

"Yeah, he's subletting; both Cairngorm AND the 4-bed in Cromwell Road," I was tapping out an email on my phone to Meghan the solicitor, "But, I do have some more positive news."

"Oh yeah!" she said slumping back the large sofa next to me and just up from her snoozing daughter, who had altogether failed to stay awake during the last forty-five minutes of the live-action version of 'Beauty and the Beast' her Best-Friend-and-Disney-guru-Bonnie had recommended.

I looked at the pretty physiotherapist, not terribly well dressed, no make-up, hair loose around her shoulders, and wondered what it was about her, that made me feel so much.

The last woman in my life never wore PJ's, never wore sports clothing unless she was in the gym-not even to and from, always wore make-up, even if it was only lipstick and eyeliner, always had her immaculately cut, short bob in perfect condition, and wore 'lingerie', sometimes panties, but NEVER pants or God forbid, knickers.

Tiny shorts and tiny strings, bikini panties with nothing behind and not much more in front and her bras were purchased with the skill, eye and perfectionism of a body-architect and they would always hold her amazing bust just as she wanted. She wore tights to work and stockings and suspenders 'out'.

She didn't have an underwear 'drawer', it was an entire chests of the stuff.

She dressed to perfection, she had work clothes, lots of little black dresses, a few suits, always smart and sexy. In her own time, it was tight denim, tight shirts, or T-shirts with lots of cleavage. Partywear was just the same; she looked sexy when she went shopping; when we out-out, she was the only girl in the room. She exuded sex appeal, clothed, in a swimsuit or teeny-tiny bikini, everything.

Having seen my washing lines and airers with Callie's underwear on, she had some nice stuff, but mostly they were the rather simpler cotton versions of the lace and satin that Anna had worn.

She obviously didn't have the money like Anna, and she had a daughter to feed and clothe, but there was something about Callie; it was something different, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it, much as I would have liked to.

She held out the glass I'd already put on the table for her, and I filled it, telling her almost everything that Meghan the solicitor had told me, and there was some light at the end of the tunnel.

"Oh Wow," she said with a smile, "That IS good news!" her face straightened, "you will win, won't you?" She took a slug of her wine, pausing to appreciate the taste, it was a really good one.

"Meghan the solicitor is very confident, she's done some work on Mr Gregg's background, and the management company Diana employed, love him it seems; she checked out David Gregg Property Services and even AaaDeeGee cars, the private hire firm working from Cromwell Road, and they all appear to be quite lucrative, and he bigs it up to everyone about how much money he makes."

"Bastard, I hope your brief takes him and his fucking thugs to the cleaners. Cheers!" She emptied her glass, "Been a long day, I needed that one!"

I smiled, poured her a second glass and we clinked.

"Pizza?"

"Let me," she said digging out her phone. I opened my mouth to protest, "please?"

I nodded.

It was another lovely night, and much as I was happy that things with my inheritance were coming back together, I also recognised that the better things went, the sooner my two house guests would be going back to their home, and my big house would be quiet and empty again.

I did think that once she had moved out, I'd then be in a slightly better position to ask my gorgeous tenant out to dinner for real, just the two of us.

Emmie came round from her doze, delighted to see not only her Mummy but also the pizza, garlic bread and Coke.

I rewound Beauty and Beast for Emmie, and she was able to catch-up, while Callie giggled off her second glass of wine, insisting that while the 'Belle' actress was a great singer, she was also Hermione Grainger and no way did that work.

Emmie wanted to know who Hermione Grainger was, and we managed to put her off. While I loved the whole Harry Potter Franchise, I really didn't think my littlest visitor was quite ready for the movies after 'The Prisoner of Azkaban', probably not even that one.

I guessed Best-Friend-Bonnie would give her more advice.

We had a lovely night, and a very tired Emmie was nagged into bed, stopping to kiss me goodnight and hug me tight around the neck, thanking me for picking her up from school.

Callie came back down a while later in a low-cut vest top and very short, hi-cut and clingy PJ-shorts. Shit but she looked good. Better than good, and as she sat back down on the sofa it finally came to me.

Anna looked sexy, always had and according to her photo albums she'd shared with me, pretty much always had, and that she never really had to work at it. Yeah, she went to the gym twice a week, but it didn't notice if she had a couple of weeks off.