Seduction or Betrayal? Ch. 06

At Xmas, Grace demanded he have one of the sketches she particularly liked framed and presented to her as a gift. In return, Howard, in his Santa outfit, was sent round on his way to the group's seasonal fancy-dress orgy, with a beginner's set of oil paints, some brushes and a few pre-stretched canvases.

'There you go, Picasso. Knock yourself out.'

He didn't get any other presents that year.

Early in the following year, he was disturbed in the middle of setting up a makeshift studio, by a knock on the door. He knew it couldn't be Grace, she always used the bell and nearly-always frightened the life out of him; even when he was expecting her. He was delighted to find Eloise standing on his doorstep. She was wearing the same button-to-the-throat raincoat she had the last time he'd seen her. He got a half-lob on just thinking about what might be underneath.

That turned out to be a nurse's uniform. The kind you see in dirty pictures not at the GP surgery or A and E. The smock ended a couple of inches above the tops of the white stockings which set the whole thing off and she'd retrieved a cute little cap with a prominent red cross on it from the pocket of her coat before she allowed him to hang it on the rack in the hall.

'I understand there's an emergency. Some kind of unexpected swelling?'

He'd hugged her so hard she was lifted off her feet and they chatted non-stop for a couple of hours before she'd administered his treatment and left only after promising a follow-up visit to check up on him the following week. It became a regular arrangement. One which continued for a couple of years. She'd cajoled him out of spanking retirement as part of their relationship. John found he was able to recapture his old enthusiasm for it given her spirited participation. They talked for hours and she encouraged him to follow his artistic muse and have confidence in his own style. The only time they had full sex was the night she told him that she would not be visiting anymore. She was getting married: to a vicar. John was too dumbfounded to be disappointed.

'How on earth did you manage to meet a vicar?'

'It was at a retreat organised by my church.'

He knew she was nothing if not honest, so didn't doubt her for a second. Somehow, he figured later, this was the missing piece of the jigsaw which explained why he had never felt confident he fully understood her.

'And it's all good between you? The sex and everything?'

'Oh yes. I love him. Love him deeply. He's saving himself for marriage.'

'Really?'

'Odd, isn't it in this day and age? Still, it takes all sorts.'

'And he knows about your past? Your unusualrecreational activities?'

'Oh yes, complete trust can only be built on total honesty, don't you think?'

'You're certain this is going to work?'

'Unquestionably. Intercourse is off the table for the moment, but he's discovered a real passion for hand-jobs and he's got one of those long, thin cocks which fits my throat perfectly.'

John found he had no follow-up questions, but Eloise hadn't finished.

'And when he eats my pussy, he follows my directions to the letter. If the fucking's only half as good, it'll be a match made in heaven, so to speak.'

They'd kissed for an age as they parted at the front door; about half as long as John wanted to. He had tears in his eyes when he'd thanked her for everything she'd done for him. He told her he didn't know what he was going to do without her.

'Stop it. You'll make me cry too. I shall miss you and always be grateful to you for restoring my faith in the possibility of affection and trust with a man. And of course, for helping me get a little discipline into my life.'

She'd winked at him after delivering her parting words.

'I'll see if there are any ladies in the parish looking to take up pastoral care.'

John knew she was joking. But still he panicked when, the following week at the time they usually met, there was another knock at the door. For a minute, he seriously thought about turning out all the lights and hiding behind the sofa. He reasoned with himself that Eloise was never cruel, and whoever she had sent - if indeed the anonymous caller had anything to do with her - would at least be interesting. He patted down his hair and checked his reflection in the hall mirror before opening the door.

It was Chloe. Ostensibly coming to check on his cupboards and food diary. They'd talked inconsequentially about nutrition over cups of chamomile tea for about an hour. She was funny, he remembered, and was soon glad she came. How the conversation had turned into a debate about the merits of anal intercourse as a method of contraception, he wasn't quite sure. Her suggestion of a practical demonstration was never one he was going to turn down. She graded the buggering he gave her only average and suggested maybe she could help him improve his technique if she returned the following week. He tried not to drool when agreeing.

Getting to know Chloe better brought other benefits. She demanded bondage and more advanced BDSM as a quid pro quo and soon the equipment he had disposed of along with his wife had been replaced and upgraded. He also outgrew the limitations of the cookbook she had sent with Grace and after about six months she declared him ready to move on to baking. High praise indeed.

His relationship with Chloe set a pattern with women which John enjoyed, then began to understand and finally take active steps to explore. They never had, nor wanted, the emotional closeness he enjoyed with Grace, and even to a certain extent, with Eloise. But they liked each other a lot; discovered areas of mutual interest - and sex was part of that; and eventually moved into intimate acquaintanceship as life in the form of love, work or other interests drifted them apart.

Grace's move away was a wrench for John. She'd told him the news that Howard had accepted a new job in a southern town as she posed for him in one of his first attempts at portraiture.

'But you can't.'

'I see. So that's settled then.'

She let the ridiculousness of what he was saying sink in. He stabbed at the canvas with his brush and suddenly felt the need to squeeze dollops of darker colours onto his palette.

'But I love you.'

It was the only time he ever said that to her. He expected her, if anything, to make some snide joke or just laugh.

'I told you I loved you the first time we had ourintimate encounter.'

Inventing euphemisms for the things they did together and with others was a private joke they both enjoyed.

'You didn't believe me then, and you probably don't now. But I meant it and I still do.'

'Then how can you go? Leave Howard. You can bring the kids here. We can make it work.'

Then she did laugh.

'You can fuck right off. Me? Live with you? One of us would be dead within a month. And besides, you've only ever met the kids when they've been hosed down, thoroughly deloused and threatened with consequences of such horror if they don't behave themselves that they'd be whipped into care if anyone even guessed what they were.'

She'd broken the pose and come across to hug him. That made him cry and they'd retired into the front room talked until the early hours. It was one of those two-boxes-of-tissues nights that you usually leave behind with adolescence. His sofa still bore faint traces of the oil paint from his painter's smock he had been wearing while they worked.

'You've asked me a few times what I get from letting Howard torture and humiliate me at group nights while he struts around like cock 'o the walk sticking his dick in anything that moves.'

'I have.'

'But you never comment on the way I rule the roost for the rest of the time, do you? You'd never take a quarter of the stuff he does. He and I are fond of each other. Very fond.'

'I know.'

Before she left Grace proposed that when the time in their dotage came for them to move into care, they should get a room together and scandalise the staff with the stories of their adventures. John admitted later that benefits had been gained from the move. The portrait, when he eventually finished it, was the first he thought of as inhis style; he also lost the unconscious shiver down his spine whenever the doorbell rang unexpectedly. And when they did meet up things were definitively more exciting. She was around so often that the only thing he missed was the badmouthing he got every time he came in from gardening. She remained convinced that the only reason he did it was to prove to her that it was a legitimate form of exercise.

John's love life meandered happily. As he got older he began to notice that younger women no longer eyed him up as a prospective conquest. On the other hand, he learned to appreciate the beauty and libido of older women. Swings and roundabouts. When BDSM enjoyed its moment of literary ubiquity he became very popular with women of all sorts of ages. He began to suspect the existence of a social media grapevine as his Facebook page, mobile, local pub, studio and front door were hit on by bondage and spanking neophytes looking for real life experiences. For a few months he had to keep an appointment diary; some of the women even offered him money. He often mentally thanked Eloise for making him comfortable talking directly about desire with female acquaintances.

He retired from work without looking back. His garden, bike and painting more than filled his time. His one regret was that he had less social contact with people he didn't know, particularly women. It made him think about and invest more in the ones he did have. Yvonne's arrival was at first a shock, then a joy. She was clearly far too young for him to contemplate a relationship. He got to like her, and particularly the boys, so quickly he discounted suggesting any kind of affair despite his growing obsession with the shape and firmness of her bottom. Sometimes younger women obliged, particularly those who modelled for him. But nothing lasting ever came of them. The gap in age meant the lovers had very little in common. Yvonne's twins became substitutes for his own and in many ways he was happy she treated him as a surrogate, cheap-labour grandparent; available when needed, but easily forgotten when not. He hurt when she was upset and was vicariously proud of her successes. He remembered Grace's wordfond. That summed it up.