Castles in the Sky

Castles in the Sky

Apologies for the long delay between submissions. It takes time to craft the story to read at a level I am happy with.

A very big thank you to Demosthenes384bc for his work as an editor. The suggestions that he made have significantly impacted the story. Any mistakes, inconsistencies or things you don't like are my fault and not a reflection upon his sterling work.

For me, this is a story most like The French Exit in terms of tone and style. People at the fringes of RAAC and BTB are likely to be frustrated by this story. I am sorry, I strive to write a different story each time and vary who I upset. I don't feel there are any willing cucks here, but as with previous stories, my definition might be different to yours.

The story is set in the UK and is written using English terminology, slang and cultural references. Apologies to readers from different countries but if there is something that makes little sense in the story, that is probably why.

This is a free story, the coin I wish to be paid in is constructive criticism. What do you like? What works well? The plot, the characters, the dialogue, the pacing, the language, the humour. And on the flip side, what frustrates you? What didn't I do well? Where could I improve? What could be tighter? What made no sense? Where did the story jar? I appreciate your thoughts, all comments are read and considered. 

Castles in the Sky

Chapter One -- Trouble in Paradise

The Buddhists say life is suffering with brief interludes of respite. This, to James Houghton, upstanding citizen of Letchworth Garden City, seemed an unjustifiably negative view. Sure, life could deliver a kick, but it handed out sweet, sweet kisses as well.

He took a sip of his beer, smacking his lips as he let his mind wander. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. There was trouble on the home front. He'd played his defence high; a striker had timed his run and was now in on goal with the ball at his feet and the wind at his back. Shit was going down in his distinctly suburban 'hood.

He was calm, not calm. He was experiencing a veritable welter of emotions. But outwardly he was a chap, a rather rakish chap enjoying a pint on his Todd at the local watering hole. Life had knocked him on his ass before and without doubt, would do so again. This was not the worst day of his life. It may feel like it, but he knew it wasn't. He had lived through a worse day than this already in his life and survived. He would manage this one as well.

You don't control what's going to happen, but you damn well choose how you respond to it. That's where you have your power. His father's oft repeated aphorism. He lifted his beer and silently toasted the memory of his father. There's no situation in the world that's helped by losing your cool. Every situation, every happening, benefits from the presence of calm.

There were emotions; there were questions. And these emotions and questions came close to overwhelming his calm. But this wasn't the time for a hot head. Not the time to be ruled by what he was feeling. This was time to be the Fonz. Time to be cool; as cool as ice. Time to put space, some distance, physical distance between him and the pain. Physical space would buy him the emotional space he needed. Give him time to understand and to cogitate.

There was a best solution to this problem. A way of winning. He couldn't see it now. Not right here, right now with the shitstorm of emotions and questions. But he knew; self-taught by experience, that in this situation there was a win. He just had to find it and it wouldn't be found in the bottom of a pint glass. He'd need to use the old grey matter. To ruminate, to comprehend, to consider this little three-pipe problem and work through to find the win.

It wasn't easy. There were waves that swept through him. Threatening to upend his precious calm. He named them and watched them. Anger, Jealousy, Rage, Fury, Contempt, Anger again. He tried to study the emotions as they came upon him. As he realised what he was feeling. He felt where each emotion was in his body. He paid attention to them and enjoyed the rollercoaster. He wasn't the emotions; he was the watcher.

This was easy; easy when he was focussed. But there'd be other times when he was distracted, where it wouldn't be so easy. But he focussed on the task right now. He slowly sipped his beer; he watched the room. Now that he knew the truth, he could see what a mug he'd been. Inconsequential comments, random occurrences connected showing him his marriage in a new and unwelcome way. At the time, in love with and trusting his wife, he'd ignored them. Not seen them. Now he could and he didn't like the picture they painted.

He needed to escape. This problem, this whole situation was too much for him to think through in an afternoon. Dealing with the anger and the betrayal would take longer than a day. He'd go back up to Manchester. Run away. He'd tell her that there was a work problem, and he was needed there. He'd never done that before, but she knew that problems came up. He'd had issues but been able to resolve them over the phone. This time there would be a situation at the factory that he had to be there for.

That would give him distance, the space to think. Get his first reactions out of the way and work up options. Find his win. He looked at his pint, he'd not even got a quarter through. He stopped drinking and mind made up, went to his car. He fired a quick text to his wife, Louise.

'Big problem at the factory. I need to be there. Will call later if I can. XXX'

Neither elegant nor expansive, but fuck her, he wasn't feeling a lot of love. Text sent; he began the drive. He switched on the car stereo as he eased into the traffic. The roads on a Saturday afternoon were quiet and he didn't race. He was thinking and planning. He had everything he needed at his house in Manchester. That was the advantage of splitting his life between two homes, he was set up in both.

He heard the beep an incoming text. He ignored it until he stopped for a coffee, a shade over halfway there.

'Drive safely. Ring me when you can. Love you XXX'

Lying bitch, he thought as he dropped his phone back onto the passenger seat. He continued his drive, getting to Manchester in the early evening. He went into the house and flipped the light on. He kicked the door closed with a satisfying bang. He didn't have any food in. But there were enough local places to eat, dinner wasn't a concern.

The drive hadn't yielded any profound insights. He put the kettle on and brewed a cup of tea. The milk in the fridge wasn't old enough to kill him. He liked his tea strong and sweet. Two heaped spoons of sugar and a burnt orange colour. He was banging around, not deliberately, more out of clumsiness. There was a rap at the front door. He walked down the hall to open it.

'Come in, Nita.' He said stepping back to allow her in.

'Kettle on?'

'Just boiled.'

She walked down the hall into the kitchen, he watched the sway of her buttocks appreciatively as he followed. Men would go to war over her ass. She went over to the cupboards and made herself a cup before sitting down opposite him.

'Well?'

He shrugged. He knew what she was asking.

'Why aren't you at home?'

He smiled at her challenge and the incongruity between her exotic looks and the strong Mancunian accent.

'Save the smiles. You've got a cuppa and an audience. Dance or get off the stage.'

He rubbed his face tiredly. 'I saw Lou kiss Briony. They were in the garden; I was in the house. They couldn't see me. I caught them by luck, sheer luck. It wasn't a friend kiss; this was full on.'

'A few bits and pieces clicked into place and old Donald Dumbfuck here, woke up to the fact that my missus is a ... well, let's say she's been keeping a few secrets about herself from me.'

A look of puzzlement flashed across her face. 'We're talking ...?'

He nodded 'Yep.'

Nita snorted, 'Some guys have all the luck. You've said Briony's hot, right?'

'She's as fit as fuck, but damn it, Lou's my wife.'

She shook her head, 'Listen Vajayjay, you've got a beautiful wife. I've seen the pictures in your office. She's mint. You've another hottie -- your words not mine, who you share your house with. You find out that your wife is sucking face with this woman when you're out of sight. Isn't this the plot of a bad porn film?'

He smiled at her words and got a grin back from her. 'Thank you, a smile at last.'

'Sorry, Nita. It doesn't work for me.'

'Why? Is she threatening to leave you? Does she want a divorce? More importantly, isn't she going to let you watch?'

'Ha, fucking, ha ha.'

'Sorry Jamalaya, but most men would cut off their right nad for this scenario. Threesome city. Oral lessons from an expert. Masterclasses in munching minge. You look like someone's pissed on your chips. What's she said?'

'She doesn't know that I know.'

'You call her out?' He could hear the scepticism in her words.

'Nope. What do I say? It was time for a sharp exit.'

'My hero. Run away at the first sign of trouble.'

'Fucks sake, Nita!'

'Sorry boss, but I'm not going to a pity party with you.'

James picked up his tea in the silence that followed and took a sip. Nita reached a hand across and laid it on his arm.

'Jammer, I care about you, you know that. I want to help you; you know that as well. I don't think that letting you feel sorry for yourself is the best way for me to help you.'

He grinned at her. It hurt, but she did make him smile.

'You're going to go on an emotional journey, next little while. Lots of different feelings, lots of different thoughts. Rollercoaster. Not a barrel of laughs, though. I'm here, use me.'

'I can't believe my wife's cheating on me, Nita. The whole fucking point of having Briony in the damn house is to keep Lou company when I'm not there. Not to be her little lezzie fucktoy. Jesus, I must have 'Twat' written across my forehead!'

Nita nodded in agreement 'You do, I can see it. You left the fox in charge of the hen house.'

James thought for a moment, working out if the analogy applied and then nodded.

'Valid.'

'Didn't you say that they were roommates at Uni?'

'Oh yeah. She's known Briony longer than me. Parents are friends, they grew up together, went to school together, lived around the corner for each other. Besties until they die.'

'Besties with benefits apparently.'

'Yeah.' James took a swig of his tea and watched with barely disguised disgust as Nita took a biscuit and began dunking it into her tea. She saw his look and flashed him a grin.

'I've had an idea. Seriously, Jimspiration, this one's a corker.'

He could hear from the tone in her voice that she wasn't being serious. He closed his eyes as she began to speak.

'Put up a couple of those miniature camera thingy's, you know the spy stuff. You can buy them online, Amazon or Ebay. Bug your house. Live stream the feed on to a web cam site or edit it down and put it on Only Fans. Nice little earner.'

'Nita.'

'Seriously, revenge on them, cash in the bank. Plus, you'd be making a lot of men very happy. Hot lezzy fun, yum, yum!'

'Back off. She's my wife. I don't want to hurt her.'

'What? What do you want?'

'To be wrong. To be asleep. This not to have happened. I haven't got a bloody scooby.' James rubbed his hand wearily across his face.

'Denial's not just a river in Africa. Close your eyes and this will all go away, Dorothy.'

Nita looked over at him. She softened her tone.

'Good job you got away. One of the two smart things you did today. It wouldn't go well, if you spoke to her now. Take some time, let's talk this through and work it out.'

He nodded. 'What was the other smart thing?'

'Letting me in when I knocked on your door.'

He chuckled.

'Where does she think you are?'

'I told her there was a problem at work and I needed to get double busy.'

'You're more than a pretty face, Jincess. How do I help?'

'I don't know. I don't have a damn clue. This has come right out the blue. I thought we were good. She's on me about kids, I don't get it. Why would she want kids with me, be nagging about them if she's fucking around?'

'Women. They're a fucking mystery.'

James laughed at her words and the straight face that she delivered them with.

'You're a funny lady, and not just to look at.'

Nita grimaced at his words. 'You got any plans for this evening? Food wise.'

He shook his head, 'Nope. Mother Hubbard. I was going to grab a curry or something.'

'Can't go wrong with an Indian.'

He grinned despite himself. 'Says the bloody Indian.'

'Hindu goddess, don't you forget it.'

'You up for a curry?' He asked as he pushed himself out of his chair.

'How about a pizza instead? Quicker, easier, less agg.'

He nodded 'Anywhere particular?'

'Rudy's? If you're paying.'

'Grab your coat.'

'I know.' She finished the line 'You're pulled. Give me ten minutes Mr Funny man and knock me up.'

He smiled at the expression, which had a different meaning in the Home counties. She saw his smile.

'Bugger off and get ready. I don't need you teasing me.'

She gave him a big grin, swilled down the remainder of her tea and nipped out of the door. He watched her go with a smile. He'd bought the house shortly after he set up his business. Manchester was the centre of the Vape industry in the UK and it made sense to establish himself here. Industrial space was cheap, there was plenty of labour. It was a good place to have a business.

He left home, his parent's home in Letchworth and lived up in Manchester. When they died, he inherited his childhood home from them. It was a nuisance having two houses. But he couldn't bear to part with his family home. Having the house in Manchester was cheaper and a better investment than staying in hotels.

The house was a Victorian semi-detached house with high-ceilinged rooms and thick walls. The garden wasn't anything to get excited about, but the cost of the place was so cheap that he wasn't going to complain. As the business prospered, he'd paid off the small mortgage quickly and he now owned it clean and clear. The value had rocketed in the last decade as the area became gentrified and popular with well-off Mancunians.

Sunita or Nita as she preferred to be called, and her husband had been neighbours. The first six months he'd seen her and nodded in her direction. Her husband was a young Indian man. James had made the effort to speak to him a few times. But it was hard work. He was quite remote and clearly didn't welcome the conversation.

Despite the thick walls, he'd heard the rows when Nita caught him in bed with his lady friend and kicked him out. They hadn't divorced, it was frowned upon in her community. She resisted her families' efforts at making them reconcile. She refused to accept a relationship like that. They'd separated and she didn't see him or have anything to do with him. She stayed in the house and bought his share out.

She was no friendlier after the break-up, keeping herself to herself. She'd come for a job in the factory that James owned. He'd interviewed her for an Operator role. She hadn't connected the two of them. Her neighbour and her boss; why would she? She lived in an unpopular part of town, not the kind of area that a factory owner would live.

At the time, the business was still small. They produced e-liquids; the flavoured liquid vaped as an aide to quitting smoking. He designed the flavours and had great success building brands and getting them into the market. His flavours were on trend and sold well through a website and into retail.

Nita had proven a good pick. As the business grew, she demonstrated her value. She became a Shift Manager when he expanded production to two shifts, and Production Manager when it became three shifts. Two years ago, she'd become his Operations Manager, running Production, Warehousing, Logistics and Quality.

She'd come out of her shell as she found her feet in the business, and he enjoyed her quick wit and people-first approach. As she rose in the business, they spent more time together and a friendship developed. He was wary at first about the cross-cultural factors, but she quickly dispelled his concerns. She became a respected voice that he listened to, someone who's company he enjoyed and a regular part of his life. Her background made her a touch more exotic. Her good looks added to that appeal.

Being neighbours and work colleagues, they were in and out of each other's lives and houses all the time. They ate together most days, gave each other lifts into work and shopped together.

The ladies in his life had never met. He kept the two halves of his life quite separate, he always had. He had his life with his wife down in Letchworth Garden City and he had his working life up in Manchester. He used the time in Manchester to do the people and factory focussed work. Developing the new flavours, get down onto the shopfloor and get his hands dirty. His time in Letchworth was with his wife. They were both free at the weekend. With London on their doorstep and a profitable business, they enjoyed their life together.

Louise wasn't interested in his work. Not out of any sense of rudeness. She knew that he owned a business making e-liquids, but the details didn't interest her. She taught primary school children in their last year before progressing to secondary school. She loved her job and the school. She worked long hours with the lesson preparation and marking that the job demanded, but she didn't complain. She didn't worry about money; she made a reasonable salary as a teacher and the bills always got paid.

There seemed to be enough money to do what she wanted to do. She wasn't spendthrift, but when she wanted to go out shopping, James didn't seem to have any kind of problem with her spending money. James watched the household finances; it was easy enough to do. They had separate accounts for their own money and a joint account for the bills. He didn't ask about her money, and she didn't ask about his.

Their house belonged to James. It had been his family home and on the death of his parents, had passed to him. That was before their marriage and it along with his business had been written up in a prenuptial agreement to protect his ownership. Prenuptial relationships are not binding under English law. However, they are considered and Louise's parents had also signed the agreement to show their support of it. Adding more weight to it as a document of intent.

When James was growing up, his parents had converted it slightly so that the main house was divided into two discrete areas. There was the main house and a smaller flat. All one house, but there were two entrances and two separate living areas. The main house of three bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen, and all the other rooms normally found in a nice, well-appointed house. Then a flat consisting of a living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. James had lived there, it was built for him so he could have his freedom, but still live at home with his parents.

After they died, he moved across into the main house and the apartment had lain empty. When he married Louise, they moved in together. Louise's maid of honour, Briony was looking for somewhere to live and James had suggested to Louise that she move in and use the flat. It was an agreement that benefitted everyone. James was splitting his time between the family home in Letchworth and his company in Manchester. This arrangement meant that there was a friend close to hand. He knew Briony would make sure Louise was alright and stop her getting bored whilst he was away.

Briony got a flat, rent free, saving her quite a bit of money. She was also a teacher. She was in Secondary education, an English teacher. Having the flat kept her in Louise's life. The arrangement worked for everyone. James and Briony got on. Over the years their relationship had grown. She was someone James considered a valued friend.