Old Speckled Hen

Contents: British English and grammar.

Old Speckled Hen is a bottled English beer. Today it would probably be called a craft beer.

Don't get anxious - it's only a story. As usual, write your own ending / sequel, if you want.

***

Old Speckled Hen

It was ironic really, when Brent and Audrey got married, he was a CAD designer with a big company, and she was setting up her own legal practice. Six years later, they were making good money, but their roles had reversed. Brent was working from home with his own CAD business. He drew plans for home and factory extensions, loft and garage conversions, and had earned a good reputation. Audrey was still using her law degree, but was employed by the Sharwoods corporation. She'd already risen to chief contracts manager.

They lived in the London house where Brent had been born. It was over a hundred years old, high ceilings and draughty. After marrying, he'd installed double glazing, and converted the smallest bedroom into an en suite bathroom. But Audrey would have preferred something nearer the city centre. She did not complain, but began a subtle campaign: putting on an extra sweater as 'it's so chilly in here'. Expressing shock at their fuel bills, even though they could afford them.

But Brent liked this part of London; it was also called Brent. He'd often asked his parents if they'd named him after the area, but they'd joked the area was name after him. There were plenty of parks and lakes and he needed the exercise. He was mildly diabetic, and took tablets for blood sugar control. He didn't show any external symptoms, but his last check-up had been worrying.

"Your bone density is down nearly twenty percent."

"God! Are we talking hip replacement when I get older?"

"Nothing that serious, just a vitamin D supplement."

"Like those Seven Seas capsules?"

"Similar. But as a National Health Service diabetic, you get all your medication free. Not just your Glucophage, but Vitamin D3 as well. I'll write you a prescription."

"Lucky me!"

"Take one of these every morning. But only in the winter. In the summer months get out in the sunshine. A couple of overcast days will be fine. I want you to walk for an hour a day. Or two sessions of thirty minutes."

Their outlook on life was not the same. Audrey liked clubs, parties, getting tipsy. Brent liked the occasional beer, but preferably at home. He'd spend half an hour drinking one bottle of Old Speckled Hen, and would appreciate the flavour rather than the effect. They often dined out and socialised though, and he was good company. He'd even got drunk at times. But Audrey thought he would be just as happy staying at home or walking round the local parks.

There came the first confrontation, albeit a gentle one. It took place at the dining table.

"I'd like to move house Brent." she started. "Somewhere more modern. Closer to where I work, and to the nightlife."

"I love this house, you know that." he replied. "But I'll listen. Is this desire to move more compelling than it was, say, a year ago?"

"Yes. Sharwoods have been trying to nail a deal with the Chinese for six months now."

"You told me. It sounds exciting."

"It is exciting. And next week, two of their executives are coming over to reconnoitre; check out our set-ups."

"Set-ups? Plural?"

"There are other firms after their business. Not sure how many, but the Chinese will visit all of us."

"Do you know who your competitors are?"

"Not officially, but it's easy enough to work out. This is a major breakthrough for us. I told you how slow and methodical Asians are, but they're finally coming to a decision. We're on a shortlist."

"I'm delighted for Sharwoods, and for you personally, you've put in a lot of hours on this. But how does it affect our moving house? I assume you want to stay in London, and not buy an apartment closer to the Beijing nightlife?"

She laughed. Brent didn't often make jokes.

"If we win this contract, it'll be our biggest deal ever. And in the end, it will come down to me and the CEO, Nigel. I'll fine-tune the details, and he'll sign it off."

"So, we're talking about bonuses aren't we?"

"Correct. We're talking about your wife coming away with over a quarter of a million pounds, tax free!"

Brent sat up straighter.

"Wow!"

"And I would like you to finally move on from here. Sell up, and we'll relocate closer to the city. I'll add my bonus to whatever we sell this for, and we split ownership of the new place. Also split the decision on where we buy, of course. You need to like it too."

"OK, you like deals, so how about this? Get your big bonus, and we'll move house. Fail, and we'll go on an expensive holiday to compensate. Then we can talk about moving again, next year."

"Great! Did I tell you how much I love you?"

In the summer days leading up to the Chinese visit, their sex life took flight. Audrey was insatiable. Previously, they'd mostly made love at weekends; maybe only once during the week. But suddenly, it was the other way round. They were making love almost every weekday, and resting over the weekend. Brent wondered why, but wasn't about to complain. He continued his exercise regime, but his walks round the parks were making his legs ache; and his balls.

For Sharwoods the big day arrived, and Audrey and Nigel made their pitch for the job. It took the whole morning, and she came home mid-afternoon.

"Tell me how it went."

"Let me grab a shower and we'll eat out." she replied.

The restaurant was almost empty, as they were dining so early. While they waited, sipping wine, Audrey told him all about their Chinese visitors. They'd been immaculately dressed in Savile Row suits, and taller than she'd expected. Apparently, people from Beijing and the north of China were often taller than those from the south.

"You'd have liked the woman they brought with them."

"Go on."

"She was gorgeous, also tall, and wearing one of those traditional Chinese dresses in red and gold. We call it a cheongsam, but they say chi pow. It's spelled q,i, - p,a,o."

"The one with the slit up the side?"

"Yes, hers was split up both sides. It had a high neck, a Mandarin collar we'd call it, and it covered her arms. But instead of buttons it was fastened down the front with little pegs, like a duffel coat but embroidered. And I've never seen anything so tight. In fact she told me the slits are not for displaying her legs as such. They're so she can walk!"

"What was she? An escort?"

"I don't think so. They introduced her as their interpreter. The guys obviously understood English; but pretended not to. Perhaps she was just there as a distraction."

"For English businessmen; to break their concentration?"

"Could be. I'm pretty sure I'm the only female they'll be dealing with on this trip."

"Maybe they think you're a distraction!"

Their steaks arrived.

"You find all this exciting don't you?" Brent said.

"I do." replied Audrey. "Contracts may not be everyone's cup of tea, but I love all the fine details."

"I mean sexually. You've been wearing me out for the last few weeks; usually on weekdays. Not that I'm complaining you understand!"

She put down her knife and fork.

"Do you know, I never really thought about it. But you're right, I suppose I do! Don't drink any more wine, I'll be needing a top-up as soon as we get home."

And that's exactly what she got. Brent hardly had time to close the front door behind them. They did oral and everything else until he was drained. Then Audrey set to work reviving him, and they did it all again. Later, his balls still throbbing, he woke up, staring into the darkness. The bed smelled of sex and Audrey was gently snoring beside him. He was tired, and wondered what had woken him. He was replaying something she'd said at the restaurant, which he'd missed at the time. As he was drifting off again, he remembered. 'I'll be needing a top-up.' It had been a remark referring to sex and wine, but it didn't quite work.

You top up your fuel tank, or your wine glass, when there's already some in there. When it's empty, you fill it up. Was there already semen in Audrey? Did she want sex with him, having already had it with someone else? Was that the real reason she'd wanted a shower as soon as she got home? It was possible this craving for excitement could spill over, so to speak, to her workplace. She'd been putting in a lot of overtime, mostly with the CEO. If this urge for sex gripped her while she was there, then Nigel would be the most likely beneficiary.

The Chinese clients went home and, suddenly, Audrey's mother got ill. It was a brain tumour. After they visited her in the hospital, the doctor ushered them into an office.

"I understand your mother had been complaining of headaches for some time?"

"Not really." replied Audrey. "Mostly she's had problems getting to sleep."

"Well, she hasn't been very forthcoming, but I get the impression she has a medical background?"

"Yes, she was a pharmacist; she took early retirement two years ago. Now I wonder if this was the reason."

"Ah. Then I fear she might have been self-medicating."

"Has she made it worse?"

"Probably not. She wouldn't have known what was wrong with her. Treating headaches or insomnia won't have harmed her though."

"So what's the diagnosis?"

"I have to tell you that the tumour is well advanced, and terminal. Nothing we can do."

"We have money."

"Sorry to be blunt, but even the most expensive surgery will not leave her significantly better off."

"I see. What do you recommend then?"

"She can go home tomorrow. She'll be more comfortable in familiar surroundings. Check on her every day, and bring her back here if she starts suffering any serious headaches."

"Can you tell us how long she has?"

"We cannot be sure, but I'd say up to six months. We're near the end now. I'm sorry."

They both tried their best to persuade Sue, Audrey's mother, to move in with them. There was plenty of room and with Brent working from home, he could check on her more easily. But she was adamant she wanted to spend the time left, in her own house. Brent appreciated how she felt, and promised to pop in every day. That first week, she asked for a 'serious word' with him.

"I need you to do something for me Brent."

"Sure, anything mum."

"I was already sleeping badly when I retired so I 'liberated' some tablets as my leaving present."

"Perks of the job!"

"Right."

"But these new headache pills are doing me much more good. I no longer need those others."

"And you'd like me to discreetly get rid of them."

"Yes."

"Why not just flush them down the toilet?"

"They're in my bathroom cabinet, and to be honest I'm struggling to reach up there now."

"I'll get rid of them for you."

"Please don't tell Audrey though, she always worried about me prescribing my own medicine."

"No problem. What are they called?"

"They're called Rohypnol. I purloined three packets of thirty each when the insomnia began. Actually, they're the original white ones."

"Is that important?"

"Well, when the police found they were being used as a date rape drug, the manufacturers added a blue dye, to make them easier to spot in a girl's drink. We were supposed to destroy all the old stock. Another reason, I'd like you to get rid of them."

"You old rogue! I'll go and find them."

"But I don't want Audrey to know. The last forty or so are in a big white Aspirin bottle"

Brent went straight to the bathroom. There was the big Aspirin bottle, but it was empty. He trawled through her other medication, then checked all around her kitchen cabinets. No luck.

He was unsure how to proceed. Sue was not losing her memory as far as he could tell. She seemed fully rational and did not present any other symptoms. And it seemed unlikely she could have got through all forty. So where was her stash of roofies? Had she already disposed of them and forgotten? He decided to say nothing and went home.

Brent for a brisk walk round a nearby park before going home. When he got in, the phone rang. It was Audrey.

"Things are moving quickly now." she said.

"In what way?" asked Brent.

"They have a query on our contract."

"Is that bad?"

"No, it's great; they're querying our delivery times. I always thought they might, so I built in a little leeway. If this is their only concern, then we may be home and dry. We just need to amend it quickly."

"Sounds promising."

"I think it is, but I need a favour."

"Name it."

"It's ten a.m. now, five p.m. in Beijing. They want a Skype meeting in twentyfour hours. Nigel and I will be working through lunch, but we've been eating too much fast food. So, could you please knock up a salad for two, for around five?"

"Of course, do you plan on eating here?"

"No, if we try and finish this in one of our homes, we'll be sure to leave something vital back in the office. I just want to nip home, change clothes, grab a salad, and come back to the office. Then we'll stick at it till it's completed."

"Consider it done. Do you want a bottle of wine too?"

"Absolutely not! No alcohol till this is sorted."

"OK."

Even over the phone he could sense her excitement. He wondered if they might have time for a quickie while she changed. Maybe he could help her undress.

At four, Brent knocked up three ham salads and half a dozen hard-boiled eggs. He sealed two salads in Tupperware boxes and packed them into a cool bag, found three bottles of mineral water, and added two of them to the bag. Then put it in the fridge. Finally he brewed some strong coffee and poured it into a thermos flask. There was alittle left over which he finished off. Then he took the last salad and bottle of water to his home office.

Brent was designing an extension for a local warehouse, which the customer was happy with so far. Their only concern was that it ate up part of their carpark. He was now trying to fit as many vehicles as possible into the space remaining. Diagonal parking slots, seemed to be giving him an extra couple of spaces. Thirsty from the salty ham, he drained his mineral water, and tried again.

But his mind was wandering so he made himself an extra coffee. He was concerned about this Nigel character, and hoped Audrey would not rush off to the shower when she got in. Yet everything she did was so reasonable. He'd searched for new erotic underwear, stains in her used panties, all the usual things, but there was nothing suspicious. He was probably imagining it.

It was half past five when Audrey burst into his office.

"Did you do any salads? I can't see any in the fridge."

Brent walked through to the kitchen.

"They're already in the cool bag, third shelf."

"Oh well done. That was a good idea."

She poured him an Old Speckled Hen and brought it into his office.

"Here."

"Thanks. What's that for?"

"For being a great husband. I'm going to fuck your brains out tonight. This'll give you strength if you only have one."

She started up the stairs.

"I just have time for a coffee. Could you brew one?"

"I've already put up a flask for two."

"Wow, that's really helpful! Did I tell you I love you?"

Brent went back to his warehouse. A minute or two away from the computer had refreshed his thinking. He could see now, there was room for further cars at the far end of the building, where the lorries loaded. At worst an employee might have to wait a minute while a truck manoeuvered. There was no sound of the shower running.

Part of him wanted to check out Audrey before she rushed off again. Though she was hardly going to return to work wearing stockings and high heels. But he was curious to see what 'something more comfortable' might entail. She rushed into his study, carrying an old shopping bag containing their salads and the thermos. She gave him a hug and a big kiss.

"If I'm home late, do NOT start without me!"

Brent heard the front door slam and her car pulling away. He breathed a sigh of relief. Her hair was scraped back into an unattractive ponytail, and she was wearing baggy jogging clothes and trainers. She'd looked more attractive when she'd arrived. And she had not showered; nothing to worry about after all.

He sipped at his pint and belched, knowing he couldn't finish it. If he'd known Audrey was going to be so attentive, he wouldn't have drunk extra coffee and bottle of water. Returning to the kitchen, he managed one more mouthful and poured the rest down the sink; sad, but it would only go flat. He didn't want her to think he didn't appreciate her gesture, so he washed and dried the glass, and put it away. Even that small amount was starting to make him feel groggy.

He woke feeling disorientated. The bedroom window was in the wrong place; he was looking straight at it. It should be on the right. Not one to panic, he stared at it and tried to work the problem out. Got it! He wasn't in bed. He was on the old sofa in his office. Not the first time he'd fallen asleep in here. He felt woozy.

He took a deep breath, thinking if a few mouthfuls of bitter could do this, he must be getting old. It was dark, in his office and outside the house, and he wondered what time it was. Must be after eight o'clock; it stayed light till then. It seemed too much of an effort to look at his watch.

He turned his head and stared at a faint spray of light across the floor. It originated from under the door, so the lights must be on out there; Audrey was home then. As he studied it, it slowly started to widen. Her shadow was filling the gap round the door; the shape of her head was unmistakeable, and her hair was no longer in a ponytail. Before it could open any further, he closed his eyes and feigned sleep. She opened the door fully, whispering 'Brent?'

He wasn't sure why he didn't answer, perhaps it was the blanket she had draped over him. Or the furtive feeling he was getting. Either way, it seemed a good idea to keep his eyes shut. Slowly the band of light disappeared, as she quietly closed the door. Lying in the darkness, all became clear. He must have taken a break and fallen asleep. Audrey had come home and covered him. He vaguely wondered if she still wanted him to fuck her brains out.

He opened his eyes and realised he wanted to know if she'd finished tweaking that contract, so he sat up and looked at his watch. Eleven fifteen, almost midnight! The shock woke him up fully. He got to his feet.

As he grasped the door handle, he heard a faint tinkle. Audrey was in the hallway, lifting the wall phone. Surely not more work to do on the contract? He opened the door a crack, and when he heard her first quiet words, he froze.

"Was driving home uncomfortable? With those clanging empty balls?"

Nigel had been here. Brent, head clear now, listened to Audrey's half of the conversation.

"No, he's still dead to the world. I gave him two ...

"He probably won't wake till morning ...

"Don't worry, I've already changed the bedsheets. He'll never know ...

"So, you've had your blowjob, and you've had your straight sex. And tonight you got to fuck me, all sweaty, in the marital bed. So what's fourth on your bucket list?...

"You're a dirty bastard Nigel Preece! I thought it might be that...

"No, it's no problem, I've got some lubricant. Want to divulge number five?"

There was a long pause.

"Oooh, you are wicked! What, with Brent on the bed beside us? We might need three roofies for that ...

"No, he'll never find them. For the time being anyway. I've hidden them in a place he'll never think to look ...

"OK, then maybe we can do four and five at the same time. But only if we get the contract...

"Right. Better go. I'll see you in the morning."

Brent quietly closed the door and got back on the sofa. So he'd been right all along. He was furious, mostly with himself, and was not going to forgive Audrey. Or Nigel for that matter. She was approaching the door, so he feigned unconsciousness. It opened a crack and she whispered his name again. Then left. Obviously going up to the marital bed, with its nice clean sheets!