Cathy and Chris Ch. 11

"Not that kind of engineering," said the man, talking as if Chris was an idiot, "Light engineering, lathes, milling machines, precision engineering, accurate to half of a thousandth of an inch."

"And I suppose that CNC machines can't do that."

The man put his head to one side, "Not as well as a time served machinist can."

"Yeah, but a CNC machine can turn out a thousand a day, makes things a lot cheaper doesn't it?"

"Yeah but it isn't the same," said the man with derision, "look at these modern cars."

"Yes?" Chris left it open for the man to venture forth.

"Nasty cheap rubbish not built to last," he said shaking his head.

"Yeah but if I can buy ten nasty but cheap and reliable seven seat Renaults for the price of one spectacular four seat Rolls-Royce then it doesn't need to last does it."

The older man shook his head, looking down his nose.

"And what do you do?" said the man, still talking as if Chris was an idiot.

"I programme CNC computers for Renault, get paid thousands for it." Chris downed his tea and plonked down his cup, "Well it was nice to meet you Mike, I must go and get changed, sitting behind a desk does bring on such a sweat sometimes. Come on you three," he indicated the youngest should follow him and left the room with a smile.

"I'm not sure I like him," said Mike.

"Oh Chris is great," said Cathy, almost as if she'd only just realised it, "He's doing great things for Dan, for all of us in fact."

"What's this 'Dan' nonsense," said Mike with a tone, "His name is Daniel. Brian was very insistent about that." As if Cathy might have forgotten.

"Yes Mike, and this is the 21st Century," said Cathy wearily tiring of his attitude at everything Chris said.

"Brian wouldn't have..."

"Brian died more than a year ago Mike. He knew he shouldn't smoke and should have drunk less and ate better and taken exercise but he chose not to. He knew he had a heart condition but ignored the Doctors advice and died because of it leaving me to raise two children on my own. Chris is my late sister's husband and is great with the kids and has time for everyone..." she stopped herself from saying 'which was more than Brian ever had'. Mike looked abashed at her outburst.

"I'm sorry Catherine," he said, "I didn't realise it was so bad between you and Brian."

"It wasn't!" she said with a raised voice, "just don't run away with the idea he was a saint and everything he said was gospel that's all."

"Sorry," said Mike, keen to change the subject he added, "This Chris character, was he in the Army?" as if it was an essential sign of good character.

"Reserve." She said.

"Hmm," said Mike, "Not a real soldier, Brian and I..."

"He was in the Special Air Service in London with my Dad; had his wings and everything. He only left when my sister Jenny became ill."

"Oh well," he said, slightly taken aback as were most people when they found out about Chris's hidden military past. Not happy to let it lie, he added with a sneer, "still not regular army though," he said with a lopsided grin and shaking his head almost in pity.

"No," said Cathy, "that he most certainly isn't."

"And what does that mean, precisely?"

"Mike, it means he spend his life swinging the lamp about his army days, doesn't spend every other Thursday talking about parties, every Friday night on the piss with his friends and invite us all out Saturday to watch him drink and play darts and snooker in a room full of people I didn't know while I virtually had to confine my two young children to their chairs."

Mike looked sternly at her,

"Brian's death really upset you didn't it?" he said.

"Of course it bloody did!" she looked at him incredulously, "the same as him living and dying at the Legion upset me."

"Well," he sighed, "I went to all the trouble of seeing if you were still OK and I find that you are insulting the memory of one of the finest men I ever served with."

"You never served with him, you were only in for three years, he told me. Chris may 'only have been in the TA'," she snarled, "but he served for nine, including two tours in Bosnia and actually fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. He has five medals, one for gallantry, so please don't start telling me about reserve and regular and how long people have served."

Mike went quiet while he tried to think of a way to follow her final outburst.

"We... were Cold War soldiers, and they didn't give medals for that. I might not have been lucky enough to get where... this... this Chris did, but me and Brian," she could hear some emotion in his voice, "we served on the committee and we made a difference, for a long time Catherine; that counts."

"Mike, thanks for coming out and everything. I'm fine, I grateful that you are concerned for my welfare but that's it. Please take me off of the books. I'm not a soldier or in the Legion, never was."

"Ok Catherine," he said coming to where she sat and resting a hand on her shoulder, she tried to shrug it away, "perhaps it's a bit early for this kind of visit. I'll see myself out." He left the kitchen, but walked back in again. "Sorry Catherine, that wasn't how that conversation was meant to go," he scratched his head and smiled, "I don't think I realised how much Brian's death had affected me, look," he moved to where she was sat. "We're going to put on a fundraiser at the Legion for charity, in memory of Brian, which ever charity you think, the British Heart foundation perhaps."

"That would be nice," said Cathy, actually moved, "He would have approved of that."

"Look, come down to the Legion one night this week, we'll explain the whole thing and you can be guest of honour and accept the cheque at the end of the night. I'll even buy you dinner."

"OK Mike, but don't worry about dinner," said Cathy softening, "How's Thursday?"

"I'll pick you up, you can have a drink then."

"That's alright, I don't drink these days."

"Not when it's on me!" said Mike.

"I'll DRIVE Mike," she said raising her tone. She hoped that he got the message that she wasn't coming 'out' with him. "I'm just coming out one time to find out about Mike's night." She thought about his awful smelly suit, "don't dress up Mike." He almost looked disappointed.

She saw him to the front door and held out her hand for a shake, and kept her face well away from his.

"I'll see you Thursday at the club – seven?" he said.

"I'll see you then Mike." She smiled pushing the door shut watching him walking to his tiny car parked next to Chris's large shiny people carrier

In the first floor study/library/rec room, Chris was helping Dan with the last of his science homework. It seemed to Dan that Chris was able to explain maths and science problems in a way he could follow, something that many of his teachers never seemed to manage. Chris would put stuff into context, make those numbers and formula mean something and draw pictures in the air that would make the answer pop into his head. Dan folded his books and chatted easily with Chris.

"I do hope Mustafa doesn't hang around for to long."

"Who?"

"Mustafa," said Dan, "Mike Stafford. It's what Colleen used to call him when she was little and it kind of stuck. He then kind of adopted it into things like he 'must have a cup of tea' or he 'must have a bacon sandwich' or he 'must have a fag'. Dad didn't seem to mind him that much, I always thought he was a fuckin' idiot... oops, sorry Chris."

"Don't worry about it Mate;" said Chris, looking out the window at Cathy bringing in washing from the garden, "for the record I think he's a fuckin' idiot as well."

"Creepy twat, never liked being in the same room as him for too long."

"Can't say I'm that struck on him mate." Chris turned, "was he airborne like your dad?"

Dan laughed, "No!" Dan burst out, "he was an army chef, Army Catering Corps, Dad always ribbed him about being a REMF, a 'rear echelon moth..."

"Yes," interrupted Chris, "I know what REMF's are," he giggled, "Better than that though" Chris whispered, "You know the other meaning of ACC?"

Dan smiled and shook his head,

"Any cunt can cook!"

Dan dissolved into hysterical giggles. Once he got his breath back he looked seriously at Chris,

"Look Chris, if you and mum ever want to go out, you know, I'll watch the kids for you, no problem."

"Thanks for the offer mate, but you're not old enough, in a few years though mate, I'll take you up on that one."

"Am I old enough to walk them round to me Nan's though?"

"Oh, yes I suppose."

"Well I can do that and they can all stay round with Nan and Gramps."

"Yeah, that could work. Let's save that one."

Once children were in bed and Dan was in his room plugged into his music, Chris turned from ironing his shirt and hung it by the one he'd already done for Dan.

"Cath," he said with an easy grin, "What are you doing on Friday?"

"When Friday?" she said

"Evening."

"Nothing," she said with slightly raised eyebrows.

"Why don't you come out with me, just a meal and a film or something." He said with a smile. "Well we both seem to go out, but never with each other."

"I'm not sure Chris."

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready that's all."

"Ready? Ready for what?"

"I..." all she could think of was imaginary old women sat in the corner of the Legion bar with a drink talking about poor old Brian's wife who was carrying on with a younger man, her own brother in law for heaven's sake can you believe... "It's just I... I'm not ready for everyone else to recognise our special relationship, so few people seem to be able to follow our living together as two families, and I don't..."

"Who?" he said simply.

"You know what people are like," she said trying to smile.

"Yes," he said, "But who are they, and why should you be worried about what they think."

"Everyone!" she said with emphasis.

""But..."

"No 'buts' Chris, you're a bloke, you're seen out with someone and it's 'well done Chris, about time you moved on'. I'm seen out with someone and it's 'it didn't take her bloody long to find a new man did it'. It's different for women."

"At the club it might have been, this is the 21st century Cath."

"I'm not talking about the club, I have not and will never go back to that; there's my family, Brian's family, your family – what about them hmm? What about their feelings and what they might say."

"It's been almost eighteen months, you don't have to dress in black for the rest of your life."

"I know Chris, but... but I feel I owe something to... to all of them, you know?"

He smiled, "And what about me?"

"What do you mean?" she said defensively.

"Me and my battered emotions, OK we're in the same boat and everything, but I can't just switch everything on and off. I can't just 'have sex' with you, you know? We've shared so much, so many wonderful things, more than most married couples." She returned his smile, her eyes still slightly sad. "We live together like a family, to all intents and purposes we might as well be husband and wife, everyone outside of our immediate circle thinks we are."

"I know," she whined, "and part of me loves that." Her eyes filled with tears, "when we were away for the weekend, we were all just treated like that and it was soooo wonderful and warm, the kids have never been so happy, but..."

"but it's fine to sleep with me but not OK to be seen out with me, is that it?" He regretted his statement as he said it.

"No it isn't and you know darned well it isn't. Don't you dare start on me!" she pointed a finger at him challengingly.

"Cathy, I'm sorry, that came out all wrong, look I just want to go out with you one time, just for a meal. I want to take you out just once in something stunning, an expensive dinner; a slow dance with you in my arms and then bring you back here and yes, make love if that's the way the evening goes. I... I just want to take you out, I want a beautiful woman on my arm again, that's not too much to ask is it?" He smiled, "Cinema, it'll be dark and no one..."

"Babysitting?"

"Dan has said he'll take them out for a burger then to your mum and dad's."

"Sorry Chris," she said, "It's just... that, that whole concept; you and me going out and the kids, Mum and Dad, your Mum and Dad, Daniel, everyone knowing. OK it's been eighteen months, but think about it from my perspective – it's only been eighteen months..."

He smiled, reached out and took her hands, "Sorry Cath, I keep forgetting, raw wounds." She smiled at him, "How about we forget the dinner and dancing and just go to my room and make..." he paused, "beautiful music together."

"You've talked me into it," she said.

She went up first and got ready. Mindful of the slight shift in emphasis of their relationship, she quickly put on some make up, grabbed a rather sexy looking teddy and matching panties set she had bought a few months back and slipped it on.

She hadn't bought it for this reason, but when she had been shopping for new nightwear for her and the kids, seeing as they were moving in with a new people, her best friend Carole had picked it up and put it on the top of the pile of clothes, already being party to her special relationship with Chris. It had been a bit small, but now the black satin, lacy, sexy ensemble was form-fitting and cropped in all the right places. She went to spray his favourite perfume on her neck and behind her ears but stopped, instead unconsciously picking up another of his favourites and using that instead

She turned on the bedside lamps and switched off the main light. He'd be here any moment. She walked across and closed the curtain, happy that no one from the street could see way up into her room, and she knew she could make a long slow languorous walk towards him when he finally came through the wardrobe.

When he eventually appeared he was carrying two bottles of water, normally he only brought the one.

He put them down and turned to face him, full on sexy,

"Hey wow!" he said watching her stalk towards him, hips thrust forward, boobs pushed up by the tightness of the teddy, "where did all this come from," he said.

"Oh this old thing?" she stroked down the neck of her teddy into her own cleavage, "had it lying around, know how it is."

"Sure I'd remember something like that," he said.

"Yes," she smiled, starting to undo his shirt buttons, "you normally just have the pleasure of stripping me naked from my day clothes, these are PLAY clothes..."

She dropped to her knees and started to undo his belt, button and fly. Dropping his trousers and boxers, his erection exposed and before her mouth. Cradling his balls, she began to caress his length with her mouth finally allowing the bell end to enter her lips and to suck him properly. She played around with him until he patience was exhausted and he took hold of her head and fucked her mouth in short but strong stokes. This was what she wanted, him to come first, then to feed wonderfully on her pussy with all of his skill, by which time he would have recovered enough to fuck her in a frenzy.

But not tonight it seemed; just as she was beginning to feel the slight swell in him that normally meant he was about to come, he stopped and kicked off the rest of his clothes, pulling her back to her bed, and pushing her back onto it.

She giggled as he laughingly pulled at her panties dragging them down to her knees, while she wriggled her feet to kick them off. He lay over her, kissing her neck while at the same time pushing her top up to expose her tingly boobs and rock hard nipples, which he greedily suckled, lightly tugging at them with his teeth.

She felt his erection nudge at her opening, and she spread her thighs fully, until he was pushing into her wetness. She gasped as he powered into her, his pubic hair scratching at where her tiny patch was, feeling his arms circle her and reciprocating with her own.

He hammered into her, his face at her neck and her ears. She realised what was missing and letting go of his firm body took his face in her hands, making their lips meet and mesh, automatically opening to allow tongues to snake around each other.

She was waiting for him to pull out and turn her over, instead he relentless screwed her, stopping the kissing for a moment to catch his breath.

Finally, she felt that swell of his penis and knew he was on his way, his thrusting increased so much so that the pressure on her clitoris and G-spot brought her to the brink of climax. Finally she joined him as he came, gasping into her and holding her tight, as they both relaxed into a gentle cuddle, him gently pushing into her until he was sure she had finished.

"Wow," he said slipping gently to one side, "that was very nice."

"Oh yes," she said, still faintly feeling the aftershocks from her cervix.

He rolled from her lying flat on his back, grabbing the bottle of water from his side of the bed. She waited for him to pass it to her, instead he replaced the lid and put it on his bedside table. Still she could not complain, it was a great fuck, and her orgasm was starting to work its magic and she felt herself starting to doze, him gently holding her.

She woke to him gently sliding from next to her and she groaned in disappointment. He kissed her lightly on the forehead,

"Night Cath," he whispered, and in her semi-sleep she heard the wardrobe doors close.

She grumbled to herself thinking that it must be five thirty and time for him to go back to his bed. She hardly felt like she had slept at all. A bleary eyed gaze at her clock told her why. It was only half past midnight.

He'd gone back to his own bed early, and he hadn't done that since they had started sleeping together. Admittedly, they didn't sleep together every night but pretty much. She could almost count the number of nights that he hadn't, and the reasons for most, which generally involved one of their younger children coming to their rooms and wanting to sleep after a disturbed night.

Only Robert had ever found an empty bed but went instead to Aunty Cath's room not noticing the wardrobe door slowly close.

The sound of the flushing toilet made the little boy turn in Cathy's arms to see his father, now in a dressing gown, standing at the bedroom door.

And she had come; but only once, and that had to be the first time ever. She could only guess that Chris was trying to punish her for her rejection? No, she knew him too well to even consider that as an option, she knew him... like a wife.

Shit, what else could she do to fuck up this relationship she thought as she rolled to the side of what now felt like a very large bed. She woke at five twenty five, waiting for the second alarm to go off. Any other night would have had them roll together for a cuddle or even sex prior to returning to their own rooms. Many mornings they just lay together warmly, perhaps just kissing, holding each other, sometimes just holding hands and chatting about the day to come or plans for the weekend. Again, it struck her, probably in the same way other couples did.

Shit.

She lay quietly, thinking about damage limitation. How far was this going to go, would he insist on telling the world? What then?

She got up as usual and climbed into the shower, her mind in five different places. By the time she got downstairs it was to find him surrounded by children and lunch boxes and bags, all under control. He threw sandwiches, crisp packets, juice cartons around as if he lived for the process, all to the delight of his audience. He looked smart, and sexy for all that. Whatever her other feelings might have been she knew full well that she still fancied him.

It was a normal day in all other respects, until she sat in Starbucks with her best friend Carole, and a half way down her skinny latte her friend had to ask.

"Come on then, what is it?"

"Sorry?" said Cath.