Artist's Model

I woke up, ejaculating, my stomach covered in semen. A wet dream. It had been ages since I had one of them. This woman was messing with my head, for sure. I heard movement next door and wondered if I had called out in the dream and woken her. I lay absolutely still until I drifted off again.

The next morning I woke late and was about to go naked to the bathroom, when I remembered I had a guest! I put on a bathrobe and went for a quick shower - a cold one. A long one. After dressing, I found Tracey was up and about and looking at the bookshelves in the living room.

She started, as if guilty. "Hi," she said, "I was just looking... I've never seen so many books..." Her voice trailed off. She was nervous.

"That's OK," I said, "have you eaten?"

"Not yet. I was... I was waiting for you."

I smiled at her. She must be finding this difficult. I hadn't exactly been welcoming last night. We had cereal, toast and tea.

"Can I ask something... I know I have no right to, but..."

"Go ahead," I replied, "ask me anything."

"Are you married?"

"Yes... No... I was. She died just before Christmas the year before last, so I suppose it was over two years ago. It wasn't the best Christmas present. Stage 4 cancer. For nearly three years she went through operations, radio and chemo, over and over. She kept fighting, fighting, fighting... and, and... she lost. I lost a part of me too." I choked back a sob. "Her name was Rachel," I added. For months I had kept my emotions under control, but sometimes, without warning, a simple question could trigger the pain again, and I couldn't stop myself from crying.

"Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry, I'm so wrapped up in my own problems, I am so insensitive. It's my fault, I'm so sorry, so so sorry, it's my fault." She came to me and put her arms around me as I stood there, holding me, rocking me, as I cried.

I recovered my composure and smiled at her. "It's OK, but sometimes the memory is so raw I can't help myself."

"Is that her picture in the lounge?"

"Yes."

"She's... she was, so beautiful. You must have been deeply in love."

"We were. We were together a long time. The last few years were a constant battle against cancer. It dragged us both down. She was in pain, in spite of the painkillers. It was like watching someone drowning and not being able to dive in and rescue them. I'm not religious, but I even prayed to have some of her pain given to me, because I was hurting inside so much emotionally. That didn't happen of course.

"In the end it was a merciful release. But that doesn't make it any easier. She couldn't even have a proper funeral because of Covid regulations..."

I was sobbing again. She held me and rocked me. I so needed that hug. I hadn't been hugged like that since... it felt like forever.

I looked at her, very aware that her breasts were pressed up tight against me. True to form, my cock was reacting to her closeness. What was the matter with me?

"Enough of that," I said. I mean, real men don't cry, do they? "We need to sort you out now, today. You have to put in a complaint to the police."

"It's OK," Tracey replied. She tried to force a smile.

"I've decided to go back to him. He's texted to say it won't happen again. So I'm going back and we'll work it out. You've had enough of me and I'm just a nuisance. I don't know what got into me yesterday. I should have just stayed at home."

I stared at her. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Did you look at your face in the mirror this morning, with that black eye and that bruise on your cheek and god knows where else he hit you? Did you look at those texts from last night? You're not safe if you go home. Seriously, you risk your life going back. I know you love him and all that, but he can't be trusted. Please don't go back to him, I beg you. Go anywhere, but don't go back to him."

She looked at me for a long time. I looked back. My fucking cock started growing again. Despite her black eye, she was beautiful, in an elfin fairy like kind of way. Christ! I thought, I can't cope.

She spoke. "I know you're right, but, but he has such a hold on me. I've never thought about it before really. I get so many conflicts in my head when I think about it, so I don't. You're an outsider and you're giving me a new perspective. I'm in a horrible relationship, I know, but during the good times it is so good, you wouldn't understand. He's so generous to me and he loves me, I know he does.

"You've only heard about the bad side of him, so you only know bad things about him. I'm frightened, Tom, I'm so frightened. I'm terrified of leaving him. I don't know what to do. If I leave him he really will try to kill me, and I've got nowhere to go."

"Just take it one step at a time. I think in his mind you've left him already. It's what you do next that matters."

The front doorbell went. I frowned and went to answer it. I wasn't expecting a parcel and I didn't get many callers these days. I guessed it might be Kelvin, although I had no idea how he could have found this address so quickly...

Oh, yes I did. He had Tracey's handbag and she must have left my card in there. How stupid of me not to think of that before! There was shouting and a frantic pounding on the door. I looked through the spy hole. I could see a man yelling at the door.

He shouted again. "Open the fucking door you wanker. I know she's fucking in there. I know someone's there. Hand her over and you won't get hurt. If you don't, I'll fucking kill both of you. OPEN THE FUCKING THING FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

He stepped back, took a run at the door and bounced off, cursing and swearing even more loudly.

I picked up my phone and called the police, telling them I feared for our safety. Kelvin was still shouting when he heard the sirens. He ran to his car, a dark blue high end BMW, and drove off with a squeal of tyres.

The police came to the door and I let them in. One of them was a policewoman. They spent an hour with us and took copious notes. The policewoman spoke to Tracey alone for a long time.

"OK," she said to us both at the end, "we will be going to Mr Sommers's house now to have a word with him. He will be warned that he faces arrest if he tries to enter your home by force again. As Mrs Sommers has decided to press charges, we will want to take further statements down at the station tomorrow."

This was news. I looked at Tracey and she nodded.

"Mrs Sommers, we will need your phone for evidence. Those texts are important." Tracey handed her phone over and the officer put it in an evidence bag. I looked at Tracey again. That was a huge step forward and I was very surprised. The policewoman went on. "Just ask for me when you get there. I'm on the afternoon shift. Have you got that?" We both nodded. They went off.

Tracey and I looked at each other after they had gone. "I'm so sorry..." she said.

I raised my hand. "This is not your fault. You didn't threaten to kill me. You didn't punch yourself in the eye. This is entirely his fault. Anyway, enough of that. I think you are being so brave. You've done the right thing and taken the first step. That's very hard to do, I know, but you've done it."

I didn't add that I had heard that battered wives often took seven years or more, with multiple attempts to leave their violent partner before finally making the break.

I wondered how long it would take Tracey before she changed her mind again. I didn't think she would go through with it this time. I didn't know how long it would be before she broke down and went back to him.

I went on "We need to go out and get you some clothes to wear for the next couple of days. We'll go to Plymouth. I don't want to risk his seeing us in town here."

It was obvious who 'he' was, but I couldn't bring myself to say his name.

We went off and had a great afternoon. She bought some clothes - bra and panties seemed to be the main thing to start with. I couldn't believe it, I started to get another erection when I saw what she was buying. I discovered she was a 34b bra size. Her new panties were so skimpy and sexy - and I was paying because Tracey didn't have a credit card, it was back in her house where she couldn't get at it. What had I let myself in for? A couple of T shirts, a pair of jeans, a waterproof jacket and other necessities, such as tampons, were added to the list, then some more stuff.

I paid for it all without comment. If I was going to be the good Samaritan, I had to do it properly. We had coffee and cake in an upmarket cafe, just because I'm a sucker for chocolate cake and a cappuccino!

We talked about the art course. Kelvin had, in a drunken rage, torn up all Tracey's sketches and smashed her equipment - easel, brushes, paints, pencils, every single item, one by one, in front of her. I couldn't believe anyone could be so cruel, but I guess he wrote the book on emotional abuse.

"That's OK," I said, "I've got all the equipment you need, plus a couple of extra sketchbooks, so you can start again tomorrow. I'll sit for you. We can get you more stuff later."

We talked for ages about art in general and discussed the landscapes we were going to tackle in the next module of the course. We had fun and we became friends that afternoon. It was the first time we had really talked. It was the first time I had talked to a woman, really talked, for such a long time, since Rachel died in fact.

We drove home via Dartmoor and went for a walk on the moor. The views were breathtaking in the early spring sunshine. We stopped for a while. Birds were singing and I pointed out a kestrel hovering close by and a couple of buzzards soaring in the distance. The air was fresh and breezy and blew her hair around her face.

She laughed and smiled a lot. It was the first time I'd seen her do that and she was achingly beautiful. I wanted to draw her again and even paint another portrait. I desperately wanted to have sex with her, but that wasn't on the menu. Someone's going to get lucky with her, I thought, bitterly. She'll find another man and get into another failed relationship.

Feeling hungry, we had dinner in a cosy pub in one of the valleys leading off Dartmoor. We took our time and got to know each other better. She had grown up on a sink estate on the edge of town, got thrown out of school for disruption, had a series of low paid jobs and disastrous relationships, before she ended up marrying Kelvin who at first treated her like a princess, buying her presents all the time and she was happy. Then his mood changed and he became jealous and controlling. She didn't even have her own bank account, but she could use his credit card so long as she accounted for every penny she spent on it.

When lockdown came, he became even more controlling and became violent every time she transgressed his rules, whatever they were, but there was no consistency. I could barely imagine this parallel world to mine, that was on my doorstep.

We started the hour's drive home as it was getting dark.

We were quiet as we arrived home. We had existed in a little bubble outside the rest of the world for several hours, but now we were home we knew we had major problems to deal with. We had to go to the police station tomorrow to follow up on today's statements, for a start. Then she needed to find a shelter away from here because Kelvin would be coming after her.

There was no moon and it had started raining. Mine's a fairly exclusive area and there aren't many street lights. She turned in the car and leaned towards me. She looked at me seriously in the dim cabin light.

"I've had the best day in ages," she said, "thank you. You are a fantastic man. You don't judge me, you don't make snide comments about me and you make me feel special. I owe you for the clothes and stuff, but most of all I owe you for making me see what normality should be. And for taking me in. Thank you."

She kissed me on the cheek.

I, too, had had a great day. I had spent my time with a beautiful blonde who made men's heads turn. I got some strange looks, too, when they saw her black eye and bruised cheek. She was funny and playful when she relaxed and I had seen a completely different side of her. With the right man she would recover from the trauma of her marriage.

The house looked menacing in the dark, I thought, as though it knew something I didn't. Mike wasn't back yet, which was unusual.

I should explain about Mike, my next door neighbour. He's an ex para sergeant, a larger than life character, who had a second career in the Metropolitan Police and Special Branch. He was decorated for bravery in the paras and has a few stories to tell about his time in the various outfits he worked in. He's a detective inspector in the local police force now, and he's good. He's also a good man to have around, and we go to the pub together once a month for a pint. He thought I was mad to do the art course, but he liked Tracey's portrait when I showed it to him, even asking me for her number! I declined, of course.

I slowly got out of the car.

I whispered to Tracey, "Something's wrong. Stay here." I walked cautiously up the pathway to my house, looking at all the shadows.

Suddenly, the security lights came on and a shape moved out from under the ash tree in the front garden. I don't know what instinct it was, but I ducked and the baseball bat missed the side of my head by inches. I threw myself at him, knowing I had to get that bat or I would be dead. I took him down with my momentum, but there was another man, also wearing a balaclava and wielding a baseball bat. I blocked his blow with my left arm. The pain was indescribable as my arm broke and I went down. The bat flew out of his grasp with the impact.

Instinct made me curl up in a ball on the ground as both men set about kicking me. Tracey was out of the car and screaming. I'm going to die, I thought, as I felt one of my ribs crack, and then another. The blows continued, seemingly forever, but in reality it was over in a few seconds. I heard a car draw up. There was a loud stentorian shout and I knew Mike was back, in the nick of time. There was a pounding of feet on the path and Mike cracked one of the men over the head with his night stick and he went down. The other one started running. Mike chased him down the path and rugby tackled him, dumping him on the round. He landed on top of him and held him.

Tracey was running up the drive as Mike called 999 on his mobile. The man Mike had hit had got back to his feet and was staggering down the path.

Mike caught him, threw him down on top of the other guy and said, "You ain't going nowhere, sunshine. If you move, I'll hit you again, harder. Much harder. Understand?" He did understand. Most people don't mess with Mike after seeing what he can do.

The police were there in a couple of minutes, although it felt to me like a lifetime, and three cars came. It must have been a quiet night in town.

Tracey was bending over me, crying out, "Tom, Tom, are you OK?"

I wasn't and I couldn't move for the pain. I couldn't even speak. I grunted, which made it sound worse. Eventually an ambulance came and the paramedics put me on a stretcher and took me to A and E with the blue lights and siren going.

We were there for hours, Tracey and I, but eventually I was X-rayed and my arm was plastered. Mike had joined us by then and I was sent home with a load of heavy duty painkillers inside me. I hadn't had a blow to the head, I hadn't lost consciousness during the attack, and the broken ribs hadn't pierced my lungs, so they didn't want to keep me in overnight.

I was grateful for that - hospitals are the most unsafe places to be with so much infection around, not least Covid. I could hardly move for pain.

Tracey told her story to Mike. He was furious with me. "Tom, you fucking idiot, why didn't you phone me about this in the morning? I would have come straight back, you muppet."

He turned to Tracey and added, "That man is about as useful as a chocolate teapot when it comes to helping people. He hasn't a fucking clue. You should have come to me instead." It was too painful for me to respond.

When we got home again, it was 4.00 am. Mike insisted on checking the front and back garden, before letting us in, and then he checked every room.

Tracey and Mike got me into bed. When he was satisfied I was OK, Mike left us, admonishing Tracey, "Now remember what the doctor ordered, there is to be NO strenuous exercise for at least a couple of weeks, if not more, do you understand? None at all. Tom's a good mate and I don't want you causing him any grief! I know what he's like."

Through tiredness and the effects of the painkillers, I fell asleep immediately. I woke several times in the night. On the last occasion, I heard screaming in the other room. I struggled to get out of bed, but could hardly move.

She came running into my room and put the light on. She was sobbing. "I... I had a dream that he... he killed you... and... and it was so real, I thought I had lost you. And then... and then..."

"Shhh...." I interrupted her, feeling stupid with the drugs and lack of sleep and all the pain and stiffness. "It's all right... It was just a dream. Go back to bed and get some sleep."

"Can I stay with you?"

"Oh fuck." I was too tired to argue. "Get in and go to sleep." I was very aware she had just a T-shirt on and I was naked apart from my boxers, but for once I had not the slightest desire for sex. We both slept well after that.

Not surprisingly, I woke up late. I needed a shower, boy did I need a shower! I was stinking. She got in with me, because I could hardly move, bending was impossible and she had to put a plastic bag over the plaster to stop it getting wet. She soaped me down and rinsed me off, doing a thorough job, but for once my cock didn't move, in fact it shrank. Funny how all your friends desert you when you need some help, I thought sourly, although in truth I was too stiff and sore to care.

Before she dressed me, she insisted on taking photos of the damage on my phone. Compound fracture of my left arm, two cracked ribs, bruises everywhere, split lip and broken nose. She dressed me, we had soup for lunch then she drove us to the police station in my car to make statements.

The police had already arrested Kelvin on suspicion of GBH. During the arrest at his home they found £50,000 in cash and a key to a lock up garage on a remote farm in the countryside. They raided it and found a huge stash of drugs. It turned out Kelvin was supplying Class A drugs to every dealer around, and laundering the proceeds through his used car business.

He was refused bail, so was out of the picture as far as we were concerned. The downside was, his house was now regarded as a crime scene, so Tracey couldn't get any of her possessions from home. As everything was in his name, she now had literally nothing.

"You have to believe me, I knew nothing about any of that," Tracey said. "I thought he was just a successful businessman selling cars. You must think me so stupid. But there were no signs of anything wrong. He hid it all from me."

I was unbelievably tired and sore when we got back and I went straight to bed, sleeping for most of the day. She brought me food, but left me in peace most of the time. After supper, she put me to bed and slipped under the duvet with me.

"You don't have to stay with me night and day," I said. It was hard to talk with my face all swollen up.

"Yes I do," she replied, so softly I could hardly hear her. "I was so frightened. I thought they were going to kill you, and I could do nothing. You saved my life and nearly lost yours. I am so shit, I am so useless, I just make trouble wherever I go. I just want to make you better, then I'll be gone, out of your life forever. I shouldn't have involved you in this." She was sobbing.