New Beginnings Conclude

So we kept it low key and (I'm proud to announce!) I kept a lid on my boozing, letting Becky set the pace. After two or three leisurely drinks we strolled to Off The Tap and, as it was yet another lovely evening, sat outside while we drank a few pints of Proper Job.

Yes, Proper Job, all the way from St Austell. The landlord regularly rotates his ales and had been threatening to get some in just for me (I'd told him about my barmaid experiences in Cornwall, more than once). Then, starting to run out of civilized watering holes, we moved on to The Suburban, where we immediately bumped into Becky's gang.

It must have been getting on ten o'clock by the time I got served. I'd already been introduced as Becky's "bit of skirt" and hadn't minded at all. There had been no cattiness involved and her friends seemed like good sorts. And the girl herself no longer seemed averse to their company, presumably because they were starting to cop off, one by one. The binging part of their night was practically over.

Thinking about copping off made me smile. Another round or two and I'd make like Zebedee. Boing, boing Becky. Time for bed!

Turning around, glasses in hand and ready for more banter, I almost died.

Katrina was there, standing under an internal staircase. With a man.

No, shit fire and save matches, she was standing there with Tommy Smith!

*****

The sex with Becky was better than the week before. Much, much better. Okay, there wasn't quite the same sense of novelty about proceedings, but our touches and reactions still felt new. And the attention we paid to each other's tits! Heaven! I honestly had never suspected there was some much fun to be had. Or so many games to be played, come to that.

Mmmm, it was definitely one of my more enjoyable nights.

Becky left my place around half past ten, bound for another weekend working for the NHS. I waited until I was sure she hadn't forgotten anything then checked my email. Finding nothing of consequence, I moved on to my phone. Hmmm, a message from Anna Marie, asking me to call when I was "hands free". Grinning, I dialled her number.

'Hello, Skinnyhead. My hands are unoccupied. I don't suppose you can get the afternoon off, can you?'

'I'd love to occupy your hands,' she replied, 'but I can't let the side down.'

'That's a pity. I wanted to seduce you.'

'You did that the first time I saw you.' Anna Marie chuckled. It was the sexiest sound I'd ever heard. 'I can do Wednesday,' she went on, 'all afternoon, evening and night, if you can hack it.'

'Afternoon is a bit tricky,' I said. 'I'm free from six pm to six Thursday morning, though. Is it a date?'

She confirmed it was and asked for my address. Then, after she'd reminded me about some of her expectations, I told her I couldn't wait.

'Your lovely, sexy head rubbing between my trembling thighs,' I said, 'all those different sets of bristles! I'm already cumming in anticipation. Are you absolutely positive you can't visit me this afty?'

She just laughed and said she had to fly . . . but not on a broomstick; not her.

I noted the time as I rang off. Most of the day was still ahead of me and Joyce was otherwise engaged. What could I do that didn't involve sex or alcohol abuse? And what was going on between Tommy and Katrina? As if I couldn't guess. They hadn't seen me last night but I had certainly kept an eye on them. And the last thing they'd been was platonic.

Acting on impulse I fitted myself out in the usual, Fonz-like fashion and made my leisurely way to the chippy, where I dined on haddock, eaten out of the paper. Then, seeing as I'd missed the twelve o'clock bus, I dropped into Off The Tap for two more pints of Proper Job.

Fed and watered, I arrived in East Morton shortly before one. There was nobody waiting to meet me that day, so I crossed the pub car park alone. And I genuinely do not know what made me look to my left as I went in through the open doors.

Dave was there in the restaurant, also alone. From the looks of things she was tucking in to a mixed grill. And she must have felt my eyes on her because she almost immediately turned and stared my way.

Remembering the "no contact" rule, I gave her a smile and a small wave before moving on. She responded with another stone-faced nod.

Donald and his buddies were in their usual positions, drinking and telling tales. And Donald was, predictably, loudest and freshest.

'Mikki,' he cried. 'Please join us. Lionel's in the middle of a corollary.'

'Wow,' I said, 'I haven't heard one of them since I graduated.'

I bought a round then listened as Lionel politely started again from the beginning, laughing as I realized his corollary was an add-on to the great tapeworm diet. Then, following a brief chat about Fifty Shades of Grey, Donald launched into a theory about women's brains being wired differently to men's.

'Think about all the porn sites,' he said. 'Half of them are girl-on-girl because that's what men want to see. Women never watch that stuff.'

'I do,' I objected. Then, grinning at all the surprised expressions, 'I'm probably not the best person to ask, though. I prefer girls in the first place.'

'Quite right too,' said Lionel, signalling for more drinks. 'I would too, if I was a girl.'

'No, no,' Donald objected. 'Mikki's obviously got the same tastes as us. Her brain isn't wired like a typical woman's. Hers is wired more like a man's.'

'How do you know I'm not the feminine sort?' I countered. 'And how many of you watch man-on-man?'

Glances were exchanged before everyone decided I was only joking.

'I did once,' Donald said. 'But purely for purposes of research, of course.'

I shook my head as I went for a comfort break. Appearances can be deceptive, but I reckoned I'd never met anyone less gay than Donald. And I'd never met anyone more determined to be outrageous, come to that.

Dave was waiting for me when I went to wash my hands. She was standing in the same spot Katrina had chosen; exactly the same spot.

'What are you doing?' she growled. 'Rubbing my face in it?'

'I'm having a drink with Donald and his pals,' I said mildly.

'Huh,' went Dave, 'a likely story. Where's that hippy whore of yours? I'm going to rip her head off.'

'Don't call her that. She's a free spirit, not a whore. And she's not here, anyway. She's taken her nephew away for the weekend. Go knock on her door if you don't believe me.'

'Huh,' Dave went again, although with a little less venom. 'What's she up to now? Corrupting minors?'

'It's his eleventh birthday,' I said patiently. 'And Joyce is his favourite aunt. She set off early to take him and three of his friends to Flamingo Land. Then they're going to overnight in a classy Scarborough hotel and have a day at the seaside. I only wish I'd had an aunt like her when I was a kid.'

'So do I,' Dave admitted.

'She did suggest I went along as "Auntie Mikki",' I said, intrigued by the sudden change in my ex's attitude. She'd noticeably softened. 'But apparently she has to go on all the rides at least once,' I continued, 'kiddie-friendly or not, so I gracefully declined.'

'Good call,' said Dave. Then, after chewing on her lower lip, 'Mikki, please come home with me. I desperately need to talk to you.'

No way was I about to refuse. As we passed Donald I asked him to keep an eye on my pint, telling him I'd be back soon. He assured me he'd guard it to his dying breath. I hope he didn't, because I still haven't returned.

*****

So, to my amazement, I found myself sitting with Dave at her kitchen table, sipping from a glass of red wine while she pulled herself together. My roses were, I noticed, in a vase on the window sill, taking pride of place. Three days old and they smelt wonderful. Talk about money well spent!

'I'm so, so sorry,' Dave finally began.

'You're sorry,' I exclaimed. 'I'm the one who . . .'

'No, listen to me please. There are things I need to get off my chest.' She took a deep, very visible breath. 'I've been sleeping with Kat. But,' she added hastily, 'only since Monday. When I . . . I accepted you and me were done. Before then it hadn't happened since she went away.'

'That's fair enough,' I said. 'In fact it's very similar to my behavior.'

Ignoring me, she went on. 'I told you an untruth, though. I tried to make it sound like she rang me one day, arrived home the next. But I had about a fortnight's warning. When she did ring that first time, she was down to the money she had on her: five hundred dollars in cash. She reckoned that would last until her bank replaced the money taken from her account. I wasn't so optimistic. I just knew that her bank would argue and argue. And was I right?'

'I'm sure you were,' I said. 'Bloody banks!'

'So that's when I called in Alana.'

'Alana?'

'She's a painter and decorator. By day she works for a company in Shipley, doing up schools and offices, that sort of thing. By night and at weekends she works for herself, mainly doing jobs for single women. I'm absolutely rubbish at decorating, so I've used her quite a lot. And I've slept with her quite a lot, too.'

'Oh,' I said. 'I didn't see that coming.'

'She was doing up the spare room while you and me were getting together. I didn't sleep with her then, mind. I was too wrapped up with our romance. And why are you crying?'

'I'm not,' I lied, looking in my bag for a tissue. Then, deciding to do some unburdening of my own: 'I got the wrong end of that stick. I had a snoop in the spare room, you see. I thought I hadn't been allowed to visit because it was being decorated for me.'

Dave's face fell. 'Oh shit,' she said. 'No wonder you threw a wobbly that Sunday lunchtime.'

'It's okay. I'm over it. In fact it hardly matters anymore, does it?' I sniffled into my hanky. 'So, where is Katrina, anyhow?'

'She's my big confession. That is to say, putting up with her is my big confession. I used to let her get away with all sorts. And now she's doing it again.'

I guessed what was coming but bit my tongue and let Dave tell me.

'Kat goes on dates,' she continued, 'once every fortnight or so. She swears it's only ever with men, but that's bad enough, isn't it? And she wasn't supposed to be going out at all this time. But she has done. Already.'

There were tears in Dave's eyes, magnified by her supersized specs.

'She's bad for you,' I told her earnestly. 'I know you and me are done, but I still care. And it hurts me to see her hurting you.'

'I can't explain it,' she replied. 'I'm not in love with Kat, but I find it hard to say no. And I hate being so weak. I didn't even dare ask who she was seeing last night.'

'It was Tommy Smith,' I said helpfully. 'He works in the factory. I saw them together in the Suburban Bar.'

Dave's brow creased. 'I don't think I know him. But at least he's a bloke.'

'Dave,' I ventured, 'please don't think I'm making this up, but Katrina chases after girls too.'

'How do you know?'

I handed her my phone in response. 'Read that.'

She scanned Katrina's longer message then broke off with a little gasp. 'She says that about me. That I flow like the river Nile.'

'I suspect she says it a lot.' I shrugged. 'That's not the first time she's said it to me.'

'Hang on a minute. What, exactly is . . .'

'She's been emailing me all week,' I said, anxious to snuff out what might become an angry reaction. That is to say, an angry one directed at me. As far as I was concerned she could be as angry as she liked with Katrina. 'At first she was just winding me up. Then, when she found out we'd parted forever, she started to gloat. Then she became suggestive.'

Dave finished reading, scrolling down to take in the additional exchanges. 'I thought you hated her.'

'I do.'

'So how come she's got your personal address?'

'She asked for it the other day. I was trying to wind her up myself by then, so I didn't hold out.'

'I don't understand. I mean you're agreeing to fuck with her. The only debate is who gets to go first.'

It was my turn to take in a deep breath. 'Dave, please believe me, I only have your interests at heart. We might be finished, but I still care. I really do. And like I said, Katrina's obviously bad for you. When she started bombarding me with emails I . . . well, I don't know what I intended, exactly. I think I was hoping to catch her out, somehow, so I could expose her to the world.'

I lowered my eyes to the tabletop, conscious I was babbling. To my surprise a single teardrop fell from me and exploded on the wooden surface.

'Then I formed a . . . a sort of plan. I'm still not sure how I thought I was going to do it, but I reckoned I could get caught in flagrante with her. Maybe I could somehow record or tape her doing awful things to me . . .'

Dave reached across the table and took my hand. 'You do still care,' she said in awed tones. 'You really do.'

'Of course I care about you,' I replied, almost but not quite angry myself. 'And I'm not going to let that witchy bitch ruin your life. I'll do anything to prevent that.'

'What about your reputation? Mud sticks, you know. In wrecking hers, you could easily wreck your own.'

'Ha! As if I care. My reputation with you is in tatters anyway. It couldn't get any worse.'

'Worse?' Dave laughed although her glasses had misted up. 'It's just taken a significant step in the other direction.'

Well, to misquote Marcus Brutus, There is a tide in the affairs of women . . .

Startling Dave, I leapt to my feet and rounded the table. 'Of course I care about you,' I said again as I sank to my knees. 'I only wish I'd been wiser when decisions had to be made. And I wish I could undo the past.'

She regarded me solemnly and said nothing.

'Please Dave,' I said, putting my hands together in supplication, 'please let me at least try.'

Then the miracle happened.

'We can't do anything about yesterday,' she said. 'But anything is possible for tomorrow.'

*****

Next thing I knew it was early evening and I was as sexually satiated as any woman ever has been. Judging by the goofy grin on her face, Dave wasn't so very far behind me. Five hours in bed had simply . . . gone.

My grin probably matched hers. The finer details were hazy but I could remember being so happy I was almost sad. I could remember laughing and laughing until I cried. And I could remember cumming and cumming until I thought I was going to die.

And that was before we took turns with the strapless strap-on.

I was unsure of the exact time but guessed it was that part of Saturday I used to call "the doldrums", meaning somewhere between the football results and the pub crawl. Not that I was a big footy fan . . . and not that they had classified results in June.

Dave had somehow ended up behind me. I was more or less on my side in her embrace, my tits in her hands. It was more comfortable than it sounds; much more comfortable.

'Are we friends again?' she asked. 'And will we still be friends tomorrow?'

'Yes and yes,' I assured her.

'Do you still want to move into my spare room? When it's free, I mean.'

'I'd rather move into this room, with you. When the rest of your house is free, that is.' After the briefest of hesitations I went for it. 'I will be one hundred per cent faithful. I swear I will, from this very moment, honest to God.'

'Don't be too rash.' Dave chuckled. 'Kat hasn't gone yet. And haven't you got goodbyes to be said?'

I flushed as I remembered my scheduled date with Anna Marie. I'd send her away if I had to, but I'd rather not. And I had Joyce and Becky to contend with, too. 'When you say "goodbyes" . . .'

'I mean grown women have relationships on all sorts of levels. If you're already having sex with someone I'd expect you to wind it down, not break it off abruptly.'

'What if I've more than one relationship on the go?'

'You don't drag your heels, do you?' Dave chuckled some more. 'In that case I'd expect you to wind them down.'

'What about you and your decorator?'

'I'll wind her down over the next few weeks.'

'And the witchy bitch?'

Dave sniggered. 'Am I to take it that's what you secretly call Kat?'

'Amongst other things.'

'I'm afraid she's getting broken off abruptly. She's going back in the spare room until she moves out.'

'Good,' I said wholeheartedly. Then, only mildly concerned: 'When are you expecting her back, anyway?'

'How long is a piece of string?'

'She stays out often, does she?'

'Yes, every time she "dates". Sometimes it's only an overnight. Sometimes it can be two or three days.'

'I don't know how you put up with it. When you were properly together, I mean.'

'I used to make excuses for her. It was daft, I know, but I did. I used to tell myself she was exceptionally beautiful, exceptionally in demand. That just about everyone wanted to fuck her. She was a kid in a free sweetshop, able to choose a different partner every night for a year, if she wanted. Looking at it like that, letting her loose once a fortnight wasn't a bad deal.'

'It sounds terrible to me. I . . . oh, that feels great!'

It did. Dave was kissing, nuzzling and licking the back of my neck. Not content with that, she began squeezing my boobs. And off we went again, another hour or so lost in orgasmic bliss.

Then, moments after we'd called a second timeout, still bonded together by the strap-on, the kitchen door opened below us.

'Shit!' Dave exclaimed. 'It's Kat!'

I grabbed her bum before she could roll away from me, preserving our connection. 'Stay,' I said. 'Let's let me be the one caught in flagrante.'

Dave didn't look convinced but stayed where she was.

'Yoo-hoo,' Katrina called. 'Davina Baby, where are you?'

'Up here,' called Dave, prompted by my nudge. 'Having a siesta.'

'A siesta at this time?' We could hear Katrina's tread on the stone staircase. 'Shake a leg. I want to go out and get pissed. And I have to tell you about Tommy. His cock's at least ten inches long. And as for keeping it hard . . .'

She broke off as she opened the bedroom door and saw us locked together.

'Oops,' I said, trying not to titter, 'how frightfully embarrassing.'

Dave buried her face in my hair and said nothing.

'I should have known you'd come crawling back.' Katrina's voice wasn't just icy, in was Arctic. 'You can't keep your hands of anything that's rightfully mine, can you?'

I was staggered by the arrogance of the woman. 'So Dave's your property, is she?' I grated. 'Or should I say chattel? That's what important people have, isn't it?'

'I know about you, Kat,' Dave put in unexpectedly. 'I know what you're really like. I've seen some of your emails.'

'How very underhand of you, Mikela.' Katrina's voice was icier than ever. And she sounded disappointed in me, as if I'd betrayed her trust. I even felt a bit guilty. Not!

'Mikki did right in showing me. I'd have let you stay here forever if I hadn't found out.'

'Davina darling, does pretty Mikki know how much we've fucked this last week?'

'Yes she does,' I said, amazed I sounded so cool.

'And you're not unspeakably jealous?' The witchy bitch's laugh was ever-so-slightly crazy. 'You should be, you know. And you would be, if you really were in love.'

'I don't think you understand love, Katrina. I don't care what Dave might or might not have done with you because I love her. Anything that makes her happy is good by me.'

'Fucking hell,' Katrina said scornfully, 'you must have been listening to that old hippie slapper while she was rattling your bones.'

'Joyce is a nice person,' said Dave. 'She's given me comfort in the past. I'm glad Mikki has slept with her.'

'Comfort! Ha!! She's rattled your bones too, hasn't she?'

'You can think whatever you like.' Dave shrugged. 'But please do it while you're looking for somewhere else to live.'

Katrina turned on her heel and disappeared into the other bedroom, slamming the door and banging things about.