By Royal Command

Abby hugged me. Hot tears on my tee shirt. "I'm sorry, dad. It was just the shock of it all. Contrasting our situations. You are ready to move on. You're entitled to your happiness. I know it was difficult with Mum sometimes. Just be careful. Mistakes are heartbreaking and expensive. And by the way, no girl wants a step mum who could be mistaken for her sister."

"I think you're jumping the gun, love. But I hear what you're saying."

We chatted a while longer until I was sure she was okay with everything. Which meant I was running late by the time I'd changed and left for Lynda's BBQ.

I knocked on Lynda's door and checked the time. My plan was to arrive early, so we'd have time for a good chat before I met her family for the first time. This was a significant event for our relationship, and I did not want there to be anything she would have to backtrack on later. I'd intended to make full disclosure and check she was okay before we met the others as a couple. Now it looked like we'd be lucky to have ten minutes to ourselves.

She opened the door and didn't recognize me at first glance. I'd taken precautions not to wear any give away labels during our previous meetings, but now here I was in a cream linen Hugo Boss suit, midnight blue shirt and Ray Ban aviator sunglasses. She did a double take.

"Bryan? What are you wearing?"

I took off the sunglasses. "It's just a suit, Lynda. I want to explain to you before your folks arrive. Have we got ten minutes?"

She was flustered. "What's the time?" I looked at my watch. "My god, look at that Rolex! I bet it cost more than my car."

"It's just a watch, Lynda. I can explain." Then a horn beeped. We looked behind and someone waved from a parking car.

"We've not got time. Just tell me this, Bryan. You're not a criminal, are you?"

"No!"

"You're not smuggling drugs or people in your plane?"

"No, and No. I am a legitimate businessman. If people ask, just say I have property interests. I'll explain it all to you later. It's okay. I promise. Now do I get a kiss?" She went to kiss me on the cheek, but I shifted so it was on the lips. It calmed her. "Look darling, our guests are here."

She gave me a look to say she would deal with me later. "Why are you dressed like the Mafia?"

"It's just Hugo Boss and Tom Ford. Besides, I'm wearing deck shoes and no socks. In the Mafia, brown shoes are de rigueur, unless it's a funeral."

Her face said, `How could he know that unless...' but by then her niece was on the doorstep showing us the cupcakes she'd baked that morning.

I manned the barbecue because Steve, Lynda's son-in-law who took on these duties since her husband died, was late. In my shirt sleeves, sans watch, and wearing a comedy dad apron, I looked less like a mobster. Steve arrived and took umbrage at my usurping his role. I'd seen his type before on building sites. About thirty-five, a chip on his shoulder, too fond of the beer for his own good and quick to take offense.

"Sorry I'm late, Lynda. Had some business to attend to." He tried to kiss her on the lips and was put out when she turned her cheek. "I tried to park around the side, but there's a Mercedes AMG in my spot."

I could not resist. "That will be me. Sorry. I needed to get on with the barbecue. People were hungry." His look told me we had the measure of each other.

"Well, I'm here now. I can take over."

Lynda's uncle spoke up. "No, Bryan's doing okay. When you cook, it's burnt on the outside and raw on the inside. Try the chicken, Steve. Bryan picked up the recipe for the marinade in Curacao."

Steve grunted and walked off to find a beer. I looked at Lynda and she shook her head and ran after and placated him with a bottle and a smile. His body language changed, and I realized her son-in-law had a thing for her. I sensed this would be an issue in the future. I didn't realize how soon that would be.

Lynda's daughter Stacey arrived in a cab with her son Ross, just as the early guests were leaving. She was frazzled and the little lad was grumpy. I was talking to one of Lynda's neighbors with one ear on the altercation between Stacey and Steve. Her car had broken down hours ago. But instead of going to help her, he was here guzzling beer and giving me the evil eye. He shouted at the boy and belittled her in a voice none too quiet. Lynda could not hear from the other end of the garden where she was chatting to two husbands. They hung on her words, and she enjoyed their attention. I saw another side of her and I wasn't sure I liked it.

I walked up to Stacey and Ross with two plates of food. "You must be starving. Here, I saved you some food." Steve was about to tell me to fuck off when Ross took the plate. "It's better than KFC, go on try it," I said. He took a tentative bite and then another big one. "Its nice mom. Try some." Stacey took the other plate, grateful I intervened. "There's salad on the table if you like. Let me and Steve have a chat." I let Stacey move past us, because I didn't want him kicking off in front of her.

We waited until she was out of earshot. "Now, I could say we just got off on the wrong foot Steve, and we could start again. But we both know that's not true." He was about my height, bulkier and about twenty years younger, but ten drinks ahead of me. He shaped up to me. "This is not the time nor place for this, but tell me where to meet you tomorrow and we will do this. It wouldn't have been long before I'd tired of you sniffing around Lynda and berating your wife, so why don't we just get this out of the way as soon as." He thought about taking a swing, then noticed my taekwondo stance and tensed hands and thought better of it.

"You think you're special, mate? You'll be out on your ear next week like all the others. Look at her over there. She just likes blokes fawning over her. This party is shit, I'm leaving. I've got places to be. Stacey can get a fucking cab." Steve turned and staggered towards the garden gate, which he slammed shut behind him. That made Lynda look up. She saw my face and came over. She was flushed from the drink and attention.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"Steve had to leave for a prior engagement. I don't think we'll be best buds soon." She surmised our conversation. "You shouldn't lead him on like that. I don't think Stacey appreciates it." I didn't mean it come out so bluntly, but it was what I felt.

"You've got no right, Bryan." She was angry and tearful. It was a toss-up which one would win.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'll leave. I'll give Stacey a lift home."

"Why do you need to do that?"

"Because her car broke down earlier and instead of going to help her, Steve was too busy guzzling beer, trying it on with you, and winding me up. That's why. See to your guests, Lynda. We'll speak later." She gave me an icy stare and turned away. I wondered if that was the last time I would see her.

Stacey complimented me on my car and I was embarrassed at how lavish it seemed as she pointed out the features. I'd started with a normal Mercedes C Class, but over twenty years and many upgrades, I'd ended up with a top of the range E Class saloon with all the bells and whistles.

"Put your thumb on that pad Stacey and the interior lighting will change according to your mood." She put her thumb on it and the light strips built into the doors changed from white to something I called aquamarine, although the manual said it was something else. "Ah yes, anger, or is it sadness? The colours are supposed to compensate." She turned red with embarrassment.

Ross said, "Wow. It's like a fish tank mum."

I pressed the button, revealing the screen built into the back of my headrest. I asked Ross what he wanted to watch, and thirty seconds later the entertainment system was streaming his cartoon of choice. He giggled, and we both turned to look at him smiling.

"If it flew, that would make his day."

"I think that's scheduled for next year's model Stacey."

She smiled and shifted. "I must be ill Bryan, my bums on fire."

"Oh, sorry. That the seat heating. I'll switch it off. You might enjoy this instead."

"Oh god! The seat is massaging my back. Oh, that's nice. I think I could marry this car."

Stacey's house was a semi on one of those private estates thrown up in a hurry during the 1980s, leaving the current owners to deal with the legacy of poor workmanship. My professional eye gave it the once over, tallying up all the maintenance jobs needed, while she fussed around tidying up and apologising for the mess. It was a mess, but I don't think all the empty beer cans were down to her and Ross. She made me a cup of tea and asked if I could keep an eye on Ross while she called Steve. She went into the kitchen and closed the door.

The lad was trying to watch the TV, but his head was drooping. "Is it your bedtime, Ross?" He nodded. "Then let's go upstairs, shall we?"

He brushed his teeth and changed into his pyjamas, then climbed into bed. I'd expected more fuss.

"Do you want me to switch the light off, Ross?"

"Yes, please. But mum sits outside and reads to me. I don't think she will tonight."

We both heard her raised voice in the kitchen. I went inside his room and pushed the door to. "How about if I read to you instead? What are you reading?" He pulled a book off his bedside table with the page turned down. I switched on the night light by the floor socket and read the rest of the story. It was a strange experience. I thought of all the bedtimes I'd missed with Abby because I was away on the rigs. For the first time in my life, I felt guilty about it.

I don't know how long I'd been sitting there when Stacey opened the door gently. I could see she'd been crying. She helped me up. "He asked me to read to him." She just nodded. Then we hugged. Just two human beings trying to comfort each other. She cried on my shoulder and I stroked her hair, as if I were paying forward all the nights I'd missed with Abby. She looked up at me and we hung in the uncertainty. Did we want to kiss? What would that mean? I kissed her on the forehead in a fatherly way and we left the room as Ross stirred.

Back in the living room, she thanked me for my kindness. She said Steve was playing cards with his friends and would not be back until the early hours. I had an inkling of what she was suggesting, but I had enough complication in my life. So, I just nodded. Besides, she was a vulnerable woman who might misinterpret compassion for more. I was not attracted to her. She looked a little like her mum but had mousey brown hair and was at least three stone overweight. I could understand why Stacey felt overshadowed by her mum and how Steve's interest in Lynda just added insult to injury. It felt awkward being there, so I said I'd better get going.

Stacey thought for a moment, "Are you keen on my mum Bryan? Are you two serious?"

"If you asked me this morning, I would have said yes. But now I think we both have doubts. I don't know what's next. It's a shame, we could have been something." It was the first time I contemplated our relationship might be over.

Stacey sighed. "Mum phoned while I was downstairs. She said please ask Bryan to come and see me. No matter how late."

I got up, and we hugged. This time it felt more parental. "If there is anything, I can do Stacey. Just let me know." I scribbled my number on a piece of paper.

She clutched it to her chest like a lifeline. "Thank you, Bryan. There may come a time."

I hadn't been intimate since Sally died five years ago, so I didn't know what to make of what had happened with Stacey. I kept replaying it in my head, and that kept me from thinking of what I was going to say to Lynda, which was probably a good thing.

Lynda let me in. Another woman who'd been crying. She said, "Thank you for coming back, Bryan." We didn't kiss. It didn't seem right. She'd also been drinking and had inflicted serious damage on a bottle of single malt whisky. She looked at her watch. "I didn't think you were coming. Thought you'd had a better offer." Did she have a sixth sense?

"Stacey was upset. Ross wanted me to read to him. I couldn't just walk out on them." It came out like an accusation. Why did I want to punish Lynda?

She took a breath. "I know. She phoned while you were on your way. `Bryan's kind and generous mum. Don't push him away like the others. It would be a mistake.'" Lynda was an excellent mimic of her daughter. "She practically ordered me to put out."

"I had an argument with Abby about you this morning. To summarise her position, `Make sure she puts out before who you say you are, before you tell her the truth.' She thinks you might be a gold digger."

Lynda's laugh was dry and sharp. "Looks like we've both got bitches for daughters. Two daddy's girls." She drained the glass.

"Lynda, what happened to us today? This morning I was so happy at the thought of seeing you. I don't understand."

"Maybe you've had a narrow escape, Bryan. Maybe you should get away while you can."

In my heart, I didn't believe she wanted me to go. When I got up, it shocked her. I walked over and lifted her to her feet. She looked defiant. So, I kissed her. Her mouth didn't want to respond, but her body moulded itself into me. I looked at her face. A mixture of anger and need. A mirror of my own feelings. I kissed her again. This time, a little sigh. "We're going to keep doing this until whatever demon is in this room has gone. It took half a dozen kisses before she responded. She melted against me. Frozen feelings thawing. "Tell me what's wrong, Lynda? Tell me what I can do to fix it. To fix us."

"You think we are worth saving?"

"Only if you meet me halfway. Will you do that, Lynda?"

She kissed me passionately. My mind had no choice, my body responded to her. She pushed against my erection and smiled. "We should have done this after flying. I want my handyman pilot and his wayward joystick to take me upstairs and fuck me. We can talk afterwards. Is that okay with you, Bryan?"

"I thought we might make love."

"There's too much anger floating around for that."

I nodded. "In which case put those shoes back on first." When I arrived in the morning, she'd been wearing a navy-blue sleeveless shift dress with a white belt, a string of pearls and white high-heeled sling back shoes. I'd had an image of her in just the shoes and pearls. Lynda put them back on and her smile told me a dream would become a reality.

We kissed and groped our way upstairs, panting like teenagers with the house to themselves. I pushed open a bedroom door and pulled her. She hesitated. "No, in my bed." She pulled me across the landing.

My hands fumbled with the invisible zip on the back of her dress. She laughed and wiggled, adding to my frustration. My hand across the base of her throat stopped her and my kisses down the back of her neck drew moans. I made no more effort with the zip, and Lynda backed into me in frustration. "Stop teasing me, you bastard, and get my dress off."

Her passion was such a turn on. The dress slipped to the floor, and I turned her around. Her matching pale blue bra and knickers had transparent panels to tease. Her pinkish nipples peaked over the precipice of the cups. I didn't undo her bra, just pulled his tits out of the cups so they were presented to my mouth. I sucked her nipples alternately while Lynda worked on my shirt and trousers, which joined her dress on the floor. She pulled my cock out and rubbed her thumb over the sticky, exposed head. I groaned. Then she rubbed it against the wet gusset of her knickers. The heat of her pussy was incredible, and we both moaned.

"It's been a long time for me, Bryan. Years."

"Five for me, but not a moment longer."

I pulled her knickers to one side, bent my knees and slid straight into her. She was wet, but tight. "Oww Bryan, I don't think I can--. Oh, my god. Yes, Yes."

She hung onto my neck as I lifted her arse in both hands. She pushed on my shoulders on the way up and impaled herself again on the downstroke. I started counting in my head but lost track. It might have been ambitious attempting a standing fuck at my age without proper match practice, but when you're looking at yourself in the bedroom mirror, sliding into your own Princess Di look alike, slutty shoes dangling off her feet, you too can perform like Superman my friend. Until your knees give out. I landed her on the end of the bed and pounded her to a mutual climax.

Afterwards, we panted in a sweaty euphoric mess of arms and legs and sticky genitals. We laughed like idiots until the movement pushed me out and we laughed some more. I pulled her up the bed and we lay on the pillows.

"Do you think we've got a chance, Lynda?" My expression would take no naysaying.

"Possibly?" she teased.

I pushed her on her back and slipped between her legs. My semi was an empty boast, but if she'd had as little recent practice as me, she wouldn't know.

"What again? No. My pussy needs to recover. Besides, I've got a knicker full of you." She pushed me off and did a funny crossed legged walk to the en suite. I watched her strip and just make it onto the bidet before gravity took its course. It's not the first time most blokes see their girlfriend naked, but I admired her high firm breasts, tiny tummy and shapely calves as she attended to business. Lynda looked up and caught me. "God, Bryan. You watched me pee." I just nodded. She pushed the door shut and when it opened again, a fluffy white dressing gown covered her.

"It's a bit late for that?" I joked.

"Pull the quilt up. That thing is pointing at me again."

"That's because he likes you."

She walked out of the room, ignoring both of us, and returned with a small photo album. One of those wallet-sized things people used to carry before phones did away with actual prints. Lynda settled next to me and I waited for the show. "My explanation before yours. Then we'll know if we have a chance."

I smiled, but inside I was dreading what she might tell me. What could she say that might change the wonderful feelings I had for her? I swallowed from the bottle of water she offered. "Okay. You first, then me. No judgments until the end."

She opened the album at the first page, then changed her mind and jumped to the middle and showed me a picture of a woman in a wedding dress. "Do you think she's changed much?"

I looked. It was a dark-haired, curvy woman in a wedding dress. "Stacey's put on a few pounds since, but she's still the same girl."

Lynda smiled. "It's not Stacey, Brian." She watched the penny drop as I did a double take. "Yes, that was me on my wedding day. Fat, but happy. I thought Neil liked me like that. He said so often enough. Mind you, men will say anything to get your knickers off."

I looked closer. The Lynda next to me was in that picture. You could see the eyes and the nose, but the face was round. The hair a mousey brown.

"When I look at Stacey, I see myself then. When she looks at me, she sees what could be hiding in her. It doesn't make either of us happy." Lynda sighed. "Plus, she was always daddy's girl. He could not do a bloody thing wrong, and I couldn't do a thing right if you believe her."

"I'm sorry. Abby is the same. Sally thought it was because of post-natal depression, but it settled in and their relationship was less than either of them hoped for."

Lynda nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek. "Here's Neil. Good looking, wasn't he?" She flicked through pictures of the bride and groom. Her looking ecstatic, him looking, for want of a better word, caught. He was a handsome bloke and if he had a roving eye, it would not have to travel far.

"Was Stacey born soon after you were married?"

She got my meaning. "He was the one who said, let's get married. Said he wanted to settle down. He was a PC in the Metropolitan Police and wanted to become a detective. It's all exams these days, but back then having a settled family background counted for a lot. He made DC before his fun-loving friends."