Love Never Dies Pt. 08

She looked over a shoulder and said: "Close the door and then let's see if, this time, you can have a proper look at my photographs on the walls."

"Of course," I said but the task became instantly impossible as Gaynor cheekily hitched up the skirt of her uniform. She wore flat shoes, her shapely legs were encased in black tights and, as I followed her ascent of the stairs, I was constantly distracted by flashes of the white panties which encased her swaying rear end.

At the top, she let the skirt fall back into place, turned to me and said: "Well, what d'you think? Which did you like the best?"

"Ahh, well now, let me think . . . probably the bird with long black legs and flashes of white. Think it's called a Mynah bird . . . No, wait a minute. Yes, that's right, it's called a Gaynor bird."

Gaynor mockingly clapped her hands. "Well done, Richard. Not bad at all for a nearly old man." She turned and I followed her towards the kitchen. "I'll make coffee and then get changed out of this uniform."

I feigned disappointment: "Oh, you didn't put it on specially for me, then?"

"Why," she said, filling the electric kettle with water, "are you in need of a nurse? You're surely not that ancient . . . yet."

"Okay, enough of this ageist stuff. I'll have you know I'm very fit . . ."

"For a man of your age," she interjected.

". . . ignoring that, I'm very fit and I still carry my golf clubs around the course. I don't need an electric trolley or buggy to get round."

"In that case," said Gaynor, handing me a mug of instant coffee, "you'll be able to carry this into the lounge."

We sat in the chairs in the bay window and Gaynor told me that she'd answered an urgent request to work a four-hour shift at a nearby hospice. She was on the books of a nursing agency and usually worked three or four shifts each week at various local hospitals and nursing homes.

"I will only do short hours, usually four but never more than six," she said, blowing to cool her hot drink. "At my age, and I'm nowhere near as ancient as you, it suits me. It pays quite well, gets me out of the house and, quite honestly, I still like the work. The old folk are best but it's sad to see some of the patients in the hospices. They're dying and all we can do is try to make their end as comfortable and pain-free as possible."

She drank and then looked down into her mug. We sat in silence, both apparently deep in thought until I said what I'd been thinking. "Good job you stayed on and finished your training all those years ago."

Gaynor looked up at the sound of my voice. "What? Mmm, yes, it was." She smiled across at me. "Just a pity I couldn't have the best of both worlds, eh?"

My answering grin must have been sheepish. "Never mind," said Gaynor quickly, "we might not have worked out. There's no way of knowing. Perhaps all these things happen for the best. You know, fate, karma, call it what you will."

I put my half-empty mug on the table. "Maybe," I said, "but I do know we can't do anything about the past. We can have regrets and think 'if only' but . . ."

"We've been over this before, Richard."

"Yes, but what I just want to say is, we're here now, together, and we've got a second chance to . . . well, enjoy ourselves, be loving friends, and . . ."

"Yes, you're right, I know what you mean." Gaynor looked at me but didn't smile. "I hope we can work it out, Richard. This isn't an ideal situation, far from it." She raised a hand to stop me interrupting. "I know and accept that you're married and that's it. I wouldn't want to be the cause of any rift, certainly not a divorce, and you've been frank enough to say you've no intention of hurting Veronica."

"Or leaving her," I said quietly and quickly.

"Yes, or leaving her." Gaynor nodded. "So, we know where we stand. Or think we do. But I must tell you this Richard and I promise I will never mention it again."

Now Gaynor's brown eyes burned into mine and she sat upright in her chair, placed her mug next to mine on the table, and reached out with both hands. I hitched forward in my chair and took her hands in mine. Her nails were free of varnish. A working day, of course.

"I really don't know how far we can go. By that, I suppose I really mean, how far I can go." She took a deep breath and stared at our linked hands. "I've told you before, I will not get hurt again. Once was more than enough. I'll never forget that heartbreak and I'll never go through it again. Not knowingly, anyway. It was too much pain."

"Gaynor, I know . . ."

"Please, Richard, let me finish." I nodded and she continued, her husky voice low and rich like cream. "But, as I've told you, I never forgot you and I never stopped loving that Richard, that young man I fell in love with all those 30-odd years ago. And so, driven by God knows what, I used Facebook. And, this is the point really. . ." she looked up at me, gazed steadily into my eyes ". . . since then, over these past weeks, through our emails and phone calls, and especially with our meetings, I believe I still love you. Today's Richard."

We squeezed fingers and I felt a lump gather in my throat. Before I could muster any words, Gaynor said: "We are soul mates, I believe that with all my heart. I believe that's why we are here today. But, and this is from my heart, if I ever think I'm heading for a fall, if I think I'm in danger again, I will stop seeing you. As much as that will hurt, it's far better than . . ."

Gaynor shrugged and let the sentence trail away. No more needed to be said.

Eventually, I found my voice. "I perfectly understand, Gaynor. For my part, I haven't resumed our relationship to hurt you again. I've done it because, like I've said, I think we can both get some happiness from each other. I know I have already."

I stood and, with our hands still linked, Gaynor rose from her chair. "As for Veronica and our marriage . . . I told you a lot about that the other day." Gaynor nodded. "In all but the bedroom, she has been a good partner, loyal and faithful and utterly supportive. A friend. She's also an excellent mother. So, if I walked away from her, for whatever reason, I wouldn't be the man I think I've become."

Gaynor frowned. "You've not changed that much, Richard. Older . . ." she smiled.

"Oh, but I think I have. And not just in numbers, 25 to 58 or whatever. No, I mean in my persona . . . I'm not so selfish, arrogant and pig-headed. I do think of others and their feelings."

"Aaah, the penny drops," said Gaynor. "You walked away from me but . . . oh yes, you wouldn't do the same to Veronica. I see . . ."

"Yes, and it's still largely unfair on you. The lesson I learned benefits Veronica but . . .well, the love of my life, still suffers. That bit's not fair."

"And you, too, Richard. Don't forget, you too have suffered. Maybe you still are suffering."

I pulled Gaynor into a hug, kissed her cheek and whispered into her ear: "But we're here now."

"Indeed we are, Richard . . . and you're crushing me."

"Oh, sorry," I said and relaxed my arms.

Gaynor stood back and took a deep breath. "Good God, you squashed my tits there, Richard. Reckon I'm only 32A now," and she chortled, brushing her hands over mighty bosom. She quickly kissed my lips. "I'm glad we've had that little chat. Now we've both definitely got our eyes open so, whatever happens from now on, no recriminations, eh? We're not in the hurting game, okay?"

I nodded. "Loving friends . . . even if one of us is old."

"Ah, so true. But this nurse will look after you." She smiled. "Speaking of which, I need to get this uniform in the washer. Can you help by unzipping me?"

"Sure," I said, 'turn around."

Gaynor laughed as she unbuckled her green belt. "Bloody hell, Richard, look here . . .the zip's at the front. Oh, never mind, you've missed your chance."

"Nooo, stand still." I reached for the zipper and drew it down to her waist. The starched material didn't flop open and Gaynor poked her tongue at me.

"Thought you'd get a sneaky peek, didn't you, naughty boy? That's two slaps on the bottom now."

"Oh yeah, you're all promises, you are. Just a tease."

"Is that so, Mr Johnson?" She started to leave the room but stopped at the doorway. "A tease, am I?" With her back to me, she used her right hand to ease the uniform off her left shoulder, exposing the soft caramel flesh. "We'll see about that," and she wiggled her behind and walked off towards the kitchen, leaving me with mouth open and racing pulse.

I sat back in the chair and sipped lukewarm coffee. And waited. Shortly, I heard what I believed to be the washing machine portal being closed and the subsequent hiss of flowing water. I didn't hear Gaynor return but suddenly, gloriously, there she stood in the doorway, hands on hips, staring directly at me. She was naked except for white frilly briefs. And a pair of gold hoops.

"Oh. My. God."

Gaynor smiled. "Goddess, maybe?"

"Oh yes, Goddess Gaynor. You are beautiful."

She walked towards me, her proud breasts bobbing, and asked: "You approve then? Not too bad for a girl in her mid-fifties?"

"Amazing, absolutely stunning," I said, wrapping my arms around her and sharing a kiss that would probably arouse a eunuch. Our tongues poked, prodded, danced and lapped. Our lips meshed fiercely, moans and sighs drifted out of salivating mouths. Our hands roamed, mine tingling from the feel of soft, warm, silky skin.

But, however much we tried, we couldn't maintain the kiss for ever. "Hmm," said Gaynor, licking her tongue over lipstick-free lips. "If you'd like to use the bathroom first, I'll meet you in the bedroom. Okay?"

I nodded, dumbly, and reluctantly stepped away.

In the bathroom, I unzipped my pants and wrestled my fattening penis out of my briefs and peed. I knew, without any doubt, where this cock of mine was headed. And I thanked the Lord that, although I'm nearly an Old Man, it was still in good working order. Well, let's be honest, it hadn't exactly been over-used.

Hands swilled under warm water and dried, I headed for the bedroom. The door was ajar and I pushed it open to find . . .

Gaynor was in bed, facing me, head propped on her right hand and the duvet pulled up and tucked into her left armpit. The duvet cover and sheets were black but the pillows were white. The curtains at the bay window were closed, shutting out the pale sunlight, and bedside lamps cast a pink, shadowy glow over the room.

"Not too decadent is it?" Her voice was low, husky and contained a hint of laughter. It was oh so sexy.

"Said the spider to the fly," I replied and walked towards the bed. I bent and removed shoes and socks. I peeled off sports shirt and jumper, unbuckled my belt and stepped out of my fallen trousers. I could sense Gaynor's eyes on me as I placed my clothes on a nearby chair.

I lifted the edge of the duvet, ready to climb into bed. Gaynor looked at my briefs, raised her eyebrows, and said: "Really? Why do you need those, Richard?"

"Ah, silly me," I managed, although my tongue was clinging to my dry mouth. I turned my back, removed the briefs and then slid into bed. Gaynor immediately draped her left arm across my chest and rested her head into the crook of my shoulder and neck. Her scent wafted warmly from beneath the covers.

I kissed her forehead and her left hand found my growing stiffness. I grew even more as my right hand latched on to the firm but pliable orb which was her left breast. My fingers found the nipple firm and erect and I knew I must suck it.

Gaynor released her hold on my cock and rolled on to her back as I slid down the bed to suck on her right nipple. With my right hand, I kneaded and rubbed her left breast. Gaynor sighed as I raised my right leg, bent at the knee, across her abdomen. My erection compressed against her hip and I felt the first seepage of pre-cum.

With Gaynor's right arm draped down my back, her fingers playing at the base of my spine, I stopped fondling and sucking her generous tits and moved down her torso, leaving a trail of wet kisses and finger-tip trails over her chest, stomach and belly until I reached a curly, pubic garland. I stopped breathing, elated by the softness of her hairy mound and the expectancy of the delights that awaited below.

Gaynor shuffled her feet, kicking the duvet down the bed. I assisted and the cover fell away, allowing me to freely get between her legs. I rested my head on her undulating, squishy belly and resumed shallow breathing. Both hands were on her firm, long thighs but I couldn't resist any more: I needed to see, touch and kiss Petal.

Gaynor drew her feet up the mattress, spreading her knees and thighs, and I eased down to look upon her pussy. Below the curls, was a glistening pink slit, barely open, and I lapped along it from bottom to top. I savoured the sweet juices and more pre-cum exited my throbbing tube. I gently rubbed a finger along the moist opening, teasing at the outer labia, watching and waiting for the flower to bloom. I licked and lapped, eased a finger inside, rotated a thumb on the clit hood, and reached heaven's gates when Gaynor's thighs spread wide and the petals appeared.

"Oh my," I muttered and tenderly kissed her flower, drinking in the nectar. Her intense, feminine odour assailed and filled my nostrils as I again buried my tongue deep between her petals, licking and lapping, kissing and sucking. Gaynor moaned, rocked and rolled her hips, and placed both hands on my head, holding it firmly against her thrusting groin. With a great gasp she surged and squirmed, thrust and trembled, and more juice coated my probing tongue.

She finally stretched out her legs, released her grasp on my head and tapped me gently on the shoulders. "Come up here, my darling," she said and I clambered along the black sheet to lay facing her. My hot cock pressed against her tummy as I kissed her mouth.

"Hmm, I can taste me," she whispered, and wiped the back of a hand across her lips. "And I think you've been telling me lies."

"What?"

"Yes, all these years you say you haven't had sex," she said, brown eyes twinkling, "but you set me off in minutes. Come on, honey, tell me the truth."

I smiled. "It is the truth. But you always did come quickly when I got down there."

"True," she said, kissing the tip of my nose, "and you haven't lost the art. You're still like that expensive drink, a real top-class liquor."

I grinned at the old joke. "And you're still my Petal."

"You're too kind. But I know I'm not as dainty or delicate anymore. A little bit larger and more like butterfly wings." She smiled. "But, enough of that," and she reached down between us and circled her fingers around my rigid meat, "I think we've got unfinished business to attend to here."

She pushed me onto my back and straddled my waist, her glorious globes swaying and bobbing. "It's your turn to lie back and enjoy."

Her boobs came tantalisingly close to my face as she leaned forward, reached down between her legs and presented my fat dome to her wet slit. She worked the head between her lips and I gasped, held my breath and delighted in the sensation of disappearing into her dark, soft, mysterious tunnel. My whole length was swallowed in one easy movement and I reached up to hold both tits during her ride up and down.

Gaynor smiled down at me and then closed her eyes as my cock bulged, alerting us both to the impending climax. I shared the rhythm, thrusting as she sat on me, and I grunted loudly when my balls tightened and pumped my seed in spurt after streaming spurt.

"Oh, God, yes," muttered Gaynor, still maintaining her glide on my shaft. "Loads and loads of cum." Again she smiled at me, my chest heaving in the after-glow of our wonderful union. "Loads for a nearly Old Man, that is."

I reached round to playfully slap her buttocks in response.

"Aaah, that reminds me. I owe you a couple of spankings, don't I?" She raised a forefinger to her lips and cocked her head from one side to the other. "Weeeell," she elongated the word, "you've been a very good boy since, so I think I'll excuse you. Just this once, mind" and she bent to briefly kiss my lips.

I wasn't fully limp when Gaynor dismounted, releasing our mixed fluids, and snuggled down besides me, our hands linked at our chests. "Thank you," I said.

She smiled. "Thank you, my birthday boy. Let's have a few minutes rest and then we can get up and have a shower. Okay."

I nodded. "Ladies first, of course."

"Nah, not today. We'll have it together. Saves water," she chortled.

~~~~~~~

Much later, back home in my office, 10:42 showing on the clock in the corner of my computer screen and Veronica asleep in bed, I took a small package from my pocket. When the time had approached for me to reluctantly leave, Gaynor had produced it and pressed it into my palm.

"Just a little something from me," she said. "Take it as a birthday present or just as a gift from Your Petal. It's up to you." Then she'd kissed me, stared into my eyes and said: "It's not a big thing and I know you'll make sure Veronica doesn't find it. That's why I haven't got you a birthday card. Not safe is it? Anyway, I thought you could stash this little thing in your car. Probably out of sight in the glove compartment until you need to use it. Okay?"

"Right," I said, unable to figure out what it might be. "Shall I open it now."

"No." Shakes of her head set the gold hoops rocking. "When you get home, perhaps in your car. Anyway, hope you like it. Now be off with you. Send me a message when you've arrived safely. I'll be up quite late tonight."

When I'd parked the Volvo in the garage, I'd sent a text to confirm I was safe and that I would e-mail later tonight. Now I removed the wrapping paper to reveal a small white cardboard box. I lifted the lid and a sheet of paper slightly unfolded. I opened it and read the neatly-written penned note:

"I got this some days ago and I wrapped it up before your visit today. If all has gone according to plan, you will know and appreciate what it means. When you've looked at it, there is another note in the bottom of the box. Love xx"

A wad of cotton wool was next and I removed it and found . . . a keyring and key. But it wasn't just any old keyring. This, I could see at first glance, was special. I took it out of the box between thumb and forefinger, used my other hand to poke my spectacles up to the bridge of my nose, and closely examined the gift. It was metallic and superbly crafted. The flower, and I didn't have a clue what sort it was, had pale pink petals and a Red Admiral butterfly, it's wings partially spread, had settled on it. Petals and butterfly wings! Brilliant! I didn't know whether to laugh or weep.

Instead, I removed a second piece of cotton wool, unfurled the next note and read:

"Hope you like it. And they key? It's to my heart. Also, more practically, it opens my door (it will save me running up and down the blessed stairs to let you in and out!) Love and kisses xx Happy birthday, Old Man xx"

I returned the notes to the bottom of the box and covered them with the cotton wool. The keyring I rested on top, leaving the lid off, and placed the box next to my computer. I had an email to compose and send. It was now 10:50 and when the page loaded, I had only seven messages. The top one was from Gaynor Reid. I opened it immediately:

My darling Richard,

I know you're planning to write tonight but I just had to send this. It's from my heart, Richard.

I had a hard time letting you go today. I really, really didn't want you to leave. I wanted you to stay here with me. But you can't stay and so I waved you away. I felt sick to my stomach and, for an hour or so, I did nothing but cry and sob. That's not like me, Richard, it really isn't. Other than the other day when we listened to our songs, I can't remember the last time I wept. And certainly not like I've done today.