Angelic Empath

Man and beast walked into town. Martin was oblivious to a woman driving past who had given him a double-take. Then they reached the Y junction where they turned to the right, off the main road and started that steep ascent. There was a café on the corner, and despite it being early it was open. The owner, one Sandra Holroyd, was setting up the billboard outside.

She smiled and said hello.

Then she asked, "What breed is he then?"

"Giant schnauzer, a German breed, good guard dogs."

"Yes I can see why, he looks quite fierce."

"He's a gentle giant, but he would give a good account of himself if he had to."

"A bit like his owner then?"

Martin smiled, he liked the woman.

"What the hell," he thought, "I'll have a coffee and toast, and then I'll start the walk up the hill."

He tied Gunther to some railings at the side of the café and went inside.

"Coffee and a couple of slices of toast please."

"Would the dog like some water?"

"He's not long been in the river, so he should be fine thanks."

"Well I always put a dog bowl out anyway, I'll do that, then I'll wash my hands and get started, take a seat."

Martin looked around at the tables. Because it was built on a steep hillside, the café seating area was on two levels. The café had an art-deco design, from the mirror frames to the furniture and the menu holders. Even the crockery was Clarice Cliff reproduction. It was all very tastefully done. Hercule Poirot would have approved.

The lower level had a good view of the high street, so that's where he sat. From there he also could see Gunther, curled up and about to sleep. Martin enjoyed people-watching, trying to work out the relationships, professions, motivations. Where are they headed? Why so sad? Why so happy?

Then his thoughts turned to Jackie. He couldn't understand what could have changed. She said she'd just gone through the menopause when they met. Perhaps it drags on a while, with more changes yet to come. He knew that vaginal walls could thin, and become dry, but they'd used lube. He knew she had a rabbit (they'd played with it together), and that she still used it. (He'd seen the batteries recharging, and the tube of lube depleting.) So he didn't think it was discomfort.

He'd also noticed that within the last year she'd bought a clitoral stimulator. So he assumed her sex drive was still there, obviously. So, perhaps it is vaginal discomfort, hence the clitoral stimulator?

He heard Sandra clattering something and his attention turned to her. A buxom woman, mid-thirties? Hard-working that's for sure. Pleasant as well.

She came over with his coffee and buttered toast.

"Thank you, I'm Martin, that's Gunther, we live on Hilltop Lane, it's the lane at the top of hill."

"Who'd have guessed that's where the lane was?" she said with a touch of sarcasm, "I'm Sandra, the owner."

"I know, it says so over the door, and on your badge."

"Touché." she said, then went to serve another customer. There had been a steady stream of customers picking up food and drinks to take away.

The current one was a plumber, going by his van signage, picking up his lunch for the day and a coffee to go.

No wonder she opens early, feeding the tradesmen and commuters who didn't pack their own lunch. Martin continued to watch the world go by, eating his toast in between sips of coffee.

He finished his coffee and got up to pay.

"Will we see you here again?" asked Sandra.

Martin had enjoyed the rest before starting the climb.

"Yes, I think you will."

"That's good." she said, "It's always better for business if there's at least somebody sitting at a table."

He smiled then headed home.

That second minor decision, to call at the café, cemented the change to the course that his life would now follow.

That became his new walk routine. The next day he wasn't out so early, and the café was busier when he arrived. As well as watching people in the street he could also play his guessing games with the customers as well.

An elderly couple were sat at a table on the raised area. They weren't dressed for hiking, he in a jacket and trousers, she wore slacks and a jacket. Just sitting, sipping tea, looking out of the window. They didn't converse, but neither looked annoyed. They looked relaxed. The silence continued. The man caught her eye, she smiled and rubbed his hand. That made the man smile.

It made Martin smile also, "Like Dick and Liddy", his mother would have said. He never knew who Dick and Liddy were, but he took the phrase to mean a couple who were inseparable.

The following day, Wednesday, he arrived at the café at a quarter to eight. There was a row of town-houses on the opposite side of the main road. A tall blonde left one of them, followed by a younger man, a bit shorter than her, but it could be her heels making her seem taller. Was he her son?

She was striking, tall, slim and power-dressed, with a confident walk. He was a bit slouchy and dressed in gym gear. When they were alongside a blue VW Golf they kissed, a kiss on the lips. Was that a motherly kiss, or more than that? She got into a red BMW 2 Series, with promotional writing on the door, a courtesy car? Martin couldn't read the writing. The Golf screeched away with an unnecessary burning of rubber.

"Boy-racer twat." he thought to himself. A few of his biker mates had been taken out by idiots like that.

The woman in the car put on a pair of sunglasses, checked all her mirrors, then looked over her shoulder before pulling away. "That's more like it," he thought, "a good driver, as well as good-looking."

He paid Sandra and set off up the hill. His mind was again on Jackie and how to open the conversation he needed to have. All through the long, hard slog up the hill that was all he had on his mind. He would open the conversation as soon as he arrived home. When he did, he was disappointed to see Jackie's car not there. She was probably playing golf.

Jackie got home around half past three.

"Good game?" he asked.

"Yes it was, I didn't play my best overall, but the last four holes I was brilliant. What about your day?"

"Well this week I switched the walk route. Instead of going left through the quagmire I've been going right through a different quagmire, then through woods and I rinse him off in the river at the bottom. Then we go through the town and up the hill to home."

"That's a hard walk, up that steep hill."

"Tell me about it. I've also been having a rest before the climb, by having a coffee and toast in that café at the bottom. Hey, look at this."

Martin showed her the photo of the bluebells he took earlier in the week, it had turned out well and captured the both the moment and the light perfectly.

"That's really awesome, you should email it to the local paper. What else did you do?"

"I thought about us."

"What about us?" she asked, a half-smile on her face.

"Go and sit down, I'll make us a drink and bring it through."

Jackie just shrugged, picked up some mail off the worktop and went through to the lounge, opening envelopes as she went. He watched her hips swaying.

Martin came through with two mugs of coffee, handing one to her.

"I want to talk about the lack of sexual intimacy between us. Why you think we've got into such a rut and how you feel about it."

"Oh." was all Jackie said.

A trained observer would have seen a micro-expression of panic cross Jackie's face. Martin wasn't, so he didn't, all he saw was the neutral expression that replaced it. Martin did know enough not to fill the silence that ensued. He let it sink in, let it sit there, simmering, unanswered.

He was his usual calm self, his body language was open and relaxed. His expression reflected his true emotions, a mixture of love, warmth, sadness and perplexion.

The silence dragged on, Jackie looked at him, still he stayed silent. He gave her a look that said, "Go on, I'm listening."

Jackie knew she had to speak, "Since the menopause, my body has changed, it can get uncomfortable."

"I thought that might be part of it, but we have lubricant, doesn't that help?"

"Sometimes it does."

"So?"

"My libido is affected as well, I don't get turned on like I used to."

"But you've bought a new sex toy?"

"Have you been snooping in my bedside drawer?"

"No, not snooping, I needed batteries for the TV remote, to swap while the flat ones were recharging. I went to borrow some and, I saw it, a clitoral stimulator."

"Yeah right."

"Yes right." he took a sip of coffee, "The tube of KY looked almost empty, so I guess you've also been using the rabbit?"

"What's your point?"

"It's been almost a year since we made love. If I try to initiate intimacy, you shrug me away. You never initiate. If you're feeling the need to relieve yourself, you still have your libido. You do have urges. So do I. Intimacy between us would be a lovely way for us to satisfy those urges, wouldn't it?"

"Look, can we have this conversation another time? I'm too tired right now."

"Part of what I asked was also how you feel about it?"

"Not now. I need a shower, then I'll start dinner."

At that Jackie got up, left her coffee and went upstairs. Martin didn't follow her. It wasn't the conversation he'd hoped to have. He felt really annoyed at her dismissive attitude. To press the issue now would result in an explosive argument, that wouldn't help the situation.

The next morning he set off the same time as the previous day. He hoped to catch the mother and son again, to see if he could work out their relationship some more.

He kept replaying the conversation with Jackie over in his mind. Her answers didn't make sense. He needed to research more about the menopause and then talk to her again. The quiet of the woods calmed him, only birdsong and the cracking of twigs as he walked broke the silence. He pushed Jackie to the back of his mind, for the time being.

In the town-house, the tall woman, Diane Bradshaw, was waking. She yawned and stretched. Josh, her twenty-eight-year old boyfriend (not her son) was still sleeping. Diane was twenty-three-years his senior.

Diane was an estate agent, a part owner. She and Sarah Booth, her business partner, had once worked together at another agency. They both felt unappreciated and unrewarded and decided to start their own agency. Sarah re-mortgaged her house for her share of the startup capital, whereas Diane divorced her husband.

That sounds harsh but it wasn't. Tim, her ex, was an underachieving salesman, constantly being overlooked for promotion, she could see why. He never met his sales targets, mainly through him being thoroughly disorganised, rather than his targets being set too high.

Diane had tried to help him, coaching him essentially. He resented it. In his opinion he knew how to close a deal, how to agree a next step, follow up on that agreement, how to prioritise his time and engage customers. He didn't, and that was why younger, more energetic junior colleagues had been promoted to regional sales managers. He became a resentful, very bitter man, and he drank more than he should.

Coming home at the end of each working day made Diane start to feel anxious, a tight ball in the pit of her stomach. She'd always felt her home should be her peaceful haven, close the door and leave any negativity outside.

However, the knot of anxiety in her stomach reminded her of her school days. The days when her body started to transform into the woman she was to become. More often than not, she was the target of the jealous school bully.

So, Diane decided to make a clean break, in both her work and her home life. The marital home was sold, the equity shared with Tim. Her equity became her share of the startup capital with Sarah. She then rented a house with an eye to entering the property market later, when the agency was firmly established.

Diane is a tall ash blonde, with hazel eyes, good bone structure, an engaging smile and an infectious laugh. She has a slim frame, her breasts are not large they are perfectly proportionate to her figure. Her height comes mainly from her long legs.

Due to her job being so customer-facing and also from self-esteem, she has always taken a lot of care over her appearance. Her shoulder-length hair is always beautifully cut, her nails impeccably manicured. Her makeup accentuates her features and is never overdone.

She met Josh at Sarah's forty-fifth birthday party. Josh was the Events Manager at the hotel where the party was held. She caught his attention immediately and she held it. Diane was used to men looking at, or even ogling her. She didn't mind.

Depending on the man, being sexually admired gave her a thrill. She had always been something of an exhibitionist and could be a subtle flirt. That night was spent with Josh in her room, the sex was wild and exhilarating. She'd forgotten how rock-hard a young man's erection could be, for how long it could be sustained, and how often it could be revived.

It excited her that she was causing it to happen. It was her, her mouth, her tongue, her body. She was making this young man's cock hard for her. He moved in with his MILF shortly after.

That was three years ago. Diane loved the sex with Josh, she pushed the future and their age-gap to the back of her mind. She just lived for the moment and for a time it was fantastic. After the initial rush, she did start to notice there was a lack of affection on his part. Sure, he was still turned on by her, very much so. It was just lust though, Diane needed more than that. There was no real emotional connection, no tenderness.

Diane was becoming wary, wary of her own emotions building for him. She didn't want her heart broken, so she withdrew internally. Josh didn't notice anything, he was too emotionally immature.

Then Covid-19 hit, lockdown imposed. Josh was furloughed. When restrictions were eased, the numbers allowed to gather socially meant he remained furloughed. Then came a second lockdown and when that ended Josh was let go, he found himself unemployed.

Diane converted her gym membership to a joint gym membership. She did this so that Josh could still work out, and chill out, in between job-hunting. She started making the payments for his car a Golf R, well over £400 every month.

His job seeker's allowance was spent on himself. He made no contribution at all to the household budget. Not even a small, insignificant gift to say thank you. That would have meant the world to her, but there was nothing. It could have been a cheap card, flowers picked from a hedgerow, even just a thank-you letter. There was nothing, not even words of thanks.

Neither was any real effort made in finding another job. She suspected he was deliberately putting employers off during the interview process, his lack of success was so pronounced.

Diane looked down at Josh's sleeping form, sighed and went to the shower. She put on a cap to protect her hair that had been trimmed the evening before. She stood in the hot water, feeling it cascade down her body.

Soaping her body all over she thought how nice it would be if just once Josh were to join her, not for sex, just tenderness. He didn't, but that day she didn't have time. Even so, he didn't, he never had. She rinsed herself off, dried herself and cleaned her teeth.

"Come to think of it, has he ever hugged me when we're not in bed together?" she thought.

She went back into the bedroom. Josh was sat up in bed.

"Lose the cap." said Josh.

She could tell he was fondling himself under the covers.

She removed the cap and shook out her hair. Because of the cut, it fell into place on her shoulders.

"Do you like my hair like this?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't say anything when I got in last night, after I'd had it done?"

"Didn't notice."

She let the bathrobe fall to the floor and went to her underwear drawer. Josh threw the duvet to one side, exposing his erection. He was hard as steel, as usual, the head taut and shiny.

"Come here."

"I can't, I've got an accompanied viewing appointment first thing, I'll be late."

"Just a quickie then."

"No, sort yourself out."

He had the look of a petulant schoolboy and rolled over, his back to her, pulling the duvet back over him.

"Fuck you!" he snapped at her.

Diane gripped the edges of the drawer with both hands, a wave of anger washed over her.

She glared at him, her voice was low and threatening, "No, fuck you Josh. You get a job, any job, by the end of the week, stacking shelves, whatever. If you don't, I'll take you off the gym membership." Josh was caught off guard, he wasn't expecting this reaction, "And I'll cancel the direct debit that's paying for your car! You ungrateful little shit!"

"What's got into you? Calm down."

"I'm not fucking calming down." she snarled and pulled the duvet off him, "Get up, get dressed and get out there and start looking. No gym today. Go on, fuck off, and let me get dressed in peace."

Josh's clothes were in the wardrobe in the spare bedroom, he slunk out, closing the door harder than was necessary behind him.

Diane was shaking, her breathing rapid and shallow. She'd surprised herself. Pent-up emotions had just poured out of her. Fucking men! Men with no get up and go, she'd had enough of that with Tim.

Another factor might have been that today would have been her late father's birthday. She picked up the photo on her bedside table, it was of her mother and father on their wedding day. Her late mother the gorgeous bride. Him the handsome soldier in uniform. When the photo was taken the uniform for his regiment, The Black Watch, included a kilt.

"Oh, Dad," she said tearfully, running her finger down his image, "why didn't I find someone like you? I'll wear mum's kilt again for you today."

She smoothed the black, silk hold-ups over her legs, adjusting the rubberised layer of the black lace tops. She put on black lace panties and nestled her puppies into a black lace bra. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was pleased with her appearance. She put on a green blouse then she pulled out the hanger with the kilt.

It had been her mother's, worn to some regimental functions. Being a government-issue tartan it could be worn by anyone, not just serving soldiers. She'd had it altered after her mother died, shortened to show off her legs a bit more. She only ever wore it on her father's birthday.

Coffee and yoghurt comprised her breakfast, then she left for work. She was still seething about Josh. Paying for his car had set back her savings for a deposit on a house by nearly a year.

If she had her own house, she wouldn't have to park on the street. She was looking forward to buying a house with a drive. She put her bag and coat in the back, got into the driver's seat and went to start the engine.

She heard a clicking sound but the engine didn't start.

"Arrgh! Not again!" she screamed, and banged the steering wheel with her fists.

She'd taken the car to the local garage to be serviced, to save money. The last time they serviced it a fault developed shortly after, now the same thing had happened.

The garage wouldn't be open yet, so no point phoning them. Getting out she put her coat on, picked up her bag and locked the car. She was about to go back home then she stopped. She didn't want to go back to the house, not with Josh sulking there.

When Martin got to the café he placed his order and sat in his spot with a good view of the street. He saw the mother leave the house without the son. He watched her put her coat and bag in the back of her car and then get in the front. She didn't pull away.

He saw her bang the steering wheel then get out. She put on her coat and picked up her bag. He was expecting her to go back home, but she stopped. She took out her phone and made a call, at the same time crossing the road and walking towards the café. She entered the café while she was still talking to someone on her phone. He caught the end of the conversation.