tagNovels and NovellasSixes and Sevens Pt. 03

Sixes and Sevens Pt. 03

byAlwaysraining©

Chapter 05

The word turmoil had always been a favourite of his. It conjured up chaos, mayhem, directionless thrashing about. Well, that was his mind as he trudged the quarter of a mile or so back to his hotel.

A woman, than whom a more flawless, achingly beautiful example he had never met before, though he had seen them in films, or movies as she would call them, that woman, seemed to have taken a shine to him.

While he knew that their boyfriend/girlfriend game was only that, it betokened an intimacy which he was sure he would never forget, and presaged a more intimate physical relationship, at least until she left his life for ever.

That was one strand of confused thinking swirling round his head. Another was the certainty that such a physical relationship was impossible for her with someone like him. He would have to hold off, and remain a friend. He already felt frustration at the resolution.

Another strand was the amazement that so much could have happened in one day. He knew he could not take advantage of her because she was so dependent on him until she could get her cards and passport back.

Then she would be independent and in all probability would not be able to get away fast enough. Best not to get too involved. But a roll in the hay with a woman like this would never happen again, his thoughts ran. Hell, most men would never even get such a chance.

Once in his room he laid out what he would wear the next day, and packed everything else. Then he fell into bed and resolved to straighten his confused mind out before sleep. A definite course of intention and action was what was needed. He would think it out now.

Immediately it was morning! After days of cloudless skies the day was cloudy and it looked to rain, but Aidan was not affected by its greyness. His spirits were bright at the prospect of the company he was about to share.

He felt more at ease in his mind that morning. Perhaps, he reasoned, his subconscious mind organised it for him while he slept. Some hopes! He would let her make the running and take whatever crumbs she threw his way. He would do the right thing and look after her interests first and foremost. If she wanted to play, he would play and give her the best time he could. Dead easy! Time for breakfast then checkout.

He arrived at the front door of her hotel and went inside. She was waiting in the entrance lounge. Up she jumped and ran to him, enveloping him and kissing him hello. He kissed hello back, then with breathless smiles they loaded her luggage into the car and were on their way.

She enthused about his car, though he told her it was only a mid-range BMW and nothing special. She commented on the shops they passed as they made their way south west out of the city.

"I flew into Edinburgh from London," she explained. "All this is new to me."

After about an hour the conversation dried up except for the odd comment, and they lapsed into companionable silence as the car ate up the miles west then south through Scotland, past Gretna Green and into England. At this the sun came out, and stayed.

They compared notes on the difference between the hills of the Lake District and the mountains of the Rockies. Aidan had travelled through the Rockies, and so had she, but they agreed that the hills of the Lakes had their own particular, rather gentler beauty.

They stopped at Tebay, a particularly good motorway services, and had a bite to eat. Then on again.

As they approached Manchester he pointed out various landmarks and told her their history, and they chatted about the industrial revolution of all things! Then he broached the subject which had been on his mind all day.

"So, Sam," he said tentatively, "Would you like me to get you a hotel or shall I call Vicky?"

"I thought you said I could stay with you?" she said. "That offer still open?"

"Yes, of course," he said, with evident relief, "I didn't want to push you into it. I don't want to crowd you."

"I want to stay with you, Aidan," her tone was determined. "You've been very good to me, and I want to be with you."

"Sam," he said, wondering about her intentions, "I don't want you to think... "

"You think I want to pay you for your kindness by sleeping with you?"

"No!" he replied, a little too urgently, "I don't think you want to. I wondered if you felt you needed to."

"Aidan you are some man," she said, and there was a catch in her voice. She continued after a slight pause, as if collecting herself.

"I've never been with a man who was so concerned with my best interests all the time. If I want to sleep with you it'll be because I fancy you and want you for yourself. Not to pay you in kind, ok?"

"Ok," he replied, "I just wanted..."

"Yes, that's you all over. Relax. You'll know exactly what I want and when I want it, because I'll ask you nicely, but I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do either."

"Good," he said, his mind over-running with the possibilities. "We're nearly there."

They arrived about four in the afternoon. Aidan did all the things one does when opening a home after a two week absence: picking up the mountain of mail, opening all the windows, checking the fridge. Putting the kettle to boil. Then he showed Sam to her room, the master bedroom.

"But this must be your room," she said.

"Vicky was using it when she was ill," he explained, then hastened to qualify. "Don't worry, I've cleaned it thoroughly! All my things are still in the second bedroom. In any case, this room is en-suite, and it'll give you more privacy," and he turned and went back to the kitchen before she could comment.

He made a list for the supermarket.

"Sam, I need to stock up with food. I'm nipping out to the supermarket, won't be long."

"Will I be in the way if I come with you?" she asked.

So they went together.

As she said on the way, "I'll get an experience of living an ordinary English life."

While they were travelling the aisles, Aidan's phone rang.

It was Vicky, checking he was home, "We'll all be at the Plough this evening. Promise you'll come?"

"I'll try. Just driven down from Edinburgh, so I'm tired."

"Your new girlfriend with you?" Vicky asked with a giggle.

"She isn't..." Aidan began, then realised she was mocking him. "Yes, Sam is here. We're doing a food shop."

"Aidan you simply must bring her tonight. We can't wait to meet her."

That was true, Aidan thought, for the staff usually met on Wednesdays, but not this week: they were turning out a day early!

Aidan looked at Sam. "D'you fancy a drink tonight? Apparently Vicky has lined up most of the office staff to meet you at our local pub."

Sam grinned. "Sounds good," she said.

"Ok," Aidan said to Vicky. "but not for long; we're going down to London tomorrow to sort out her passport."

"Sounds serious. You can tell us all about it when you get there."

Once the shopping was stowed away, they walked the twenty minutes to a nearby Chinese Restaurant and had a good meal. The owner knew him since Julie and he had often eaten there. The man looked surprised at Aidan's companion, but diplomatically said nothing.

Then on to the Plough, where he located his group in a room near the back. He savoured the memory for many years after: the looks on the faces of the assembled workforce when he walked in with Sam on his arm. She seemed to have a strong effect on everyone, especially the men! There was awe, and envy.

Everyone settled down quickly enough, and Sam looked relaxed and happy. The group were cheerful and made her very welcome. Her face shone and her smiles were almost continuous. She told them of her problem and how Aidan had stepped in to help.

Aidan actually blushed and everyone laughed. The implication of the laugh was understood: Aidan was getting his reward in spades; he smugly let them think that, and the knowing look Sam gave him said that she too allowed the inference!

They were getting the 7.30am train for London, needing to take a bus ride to Manchester Piccadilly Gardens from which they would walk to the Station whence the London train would depart. So they made their farewells early and made for the door.

Aidan was happy; very, very happy. He was sure it wasn't the beer, or at least not wholly the beer. Was it the devastating woman holding his hand? Or the admiring stares of the men in the group? Or the good conversation and Vicky's assurances that all was well with the firm, and he could take another week off? You bet it was all those! He was on cloud nine as they approached the exit door of the pub.

Until, that is, the pub door opened as they approached it, and in walked Julie with a man, the same man Aidan had seen her with before. All the good spirits evaporated. Resentment, muted anger, or was it simply annoyance? No it was anger! He had forgotten who was holding his hand until she squeezed it. Then he smiled.

At the same time he saw the change in Julie's expression. At first when she saw him she looked grimly satisfied. Aidan thought it was because she could rub his nose in the fact that she had another man but then she looked at Sam and all that drained away. She was disconcerted and jealous; it shone out of her. Sam was her physical superior in every way, and so different from her. Aidan immediately felt a lot better, all his resentment gone.

"Julie."

Aidan's tone simply acknowledged her, there was no 'nice to see you' about it.

"This is Sam; she's staying with me at the moment."

"Pleased to meet you Julie," Sam took her cue from Aidan's tone, and smiled at her. She sounded friendly but there was a noticeable edge. "I've heard so much about you!"

Julie nearly scowled at Aidan, but managed to modify it to annoyance. There was the glimmer of a smile for Sam.

"This is Terry," she said. "He's a friend from work. You going so soon?"

The implication was obvious to all of them. He did not disillusion her.

"We're catching an early London train tomorrow. We got in from Edinburgh today. I had two week's holiday at the festival."

He hoped she missed the change of pronoun, and that she caught on that he had taken a two week holiday that she could have shared, and that he was now embarking on another week.

"Well," Julie said, though it was obvious her heart wasn't in it, "enjoy your holiday."

"Thanks Julie," Sam said, "I'm sure we will!"

Then she smiled a smile full of meaning, and the meaning was, 'I'm going to make your ex. so happy tonight!'

Julie caught the drift, and we left her standing, her 'boyfriend' tugging at her arm.

"Sam," Aidan said, as they walked home, "that was wicked."

"In what sense d'you mean 'wicked'?" she asked ingenuously. "Wicked good or wicked sinful?"

"Both!" he quipped, and they laughed.

"She's still in love with you," Sam said after a while as they walked, "very much so."

"She's with someone else," he responded. "She's moved on."

"You know for a very sensitive guy," she reproved him, "you are really blind sometimes. You men don't read the signs. That guy was her prop in case she met you. Couldn't you tell by their body language?"

"Sorry, that eluded me," he said. "I'm moving on and I don't really want to look too closely at her body language. In any case she's a temp, so it's unlikely she's still actually working with him."

"You're trying to get over her," she said.

"Doing pretty well," he replied, "thanks to you." And was rewarded by a warm smile and a squeeze of their hands,

When they got in, he showed Sam the remote for the TV and then set to opening the mail. On sorting it he found two letters addressed to Sam. Quick work by two of her credit card companies. She told him her cards would arrive in the next few days. He suggested she take the letters and envelopes to the High Commission the next day.

Then at the bottom of the pile there was another letter from the Edinburgh Police, telling her that her handbag had been found and they had found her driving licence inside, hidden in one of the pockets. It was enclosed. She was ecstatic and hugged and kissed him. Then kissed him again. And again. Surely life couldn't get any better, he wondered.

He pulled apart from her regretfully.

"I must finish this post," he said, and kissed her on her nose. "How about exploring the kitchen and finding some white wine in the fridge?"

She went off happily and returned some minutes later with two glasses. "Are you going to treat me to one of your malt whiskies?" she asked mischievously.

He shot her a look and she laughed, but she got her malt, and she treated it with the respect it deserved.

"Time for bed," he said as she finished the last drop. "We need to be up at 6.30 tomorrow, we'll get breakfast on the train."

She nodded, went to the kitchen and washed the glasses, then came over and kissed his forehead. Then went to her bedroom.

He did the rounds of the flat and locked up. He was about to pass her room when she came to the door. He had been enthralled by her since that morning in the hotel, now she took things to a new level. She was not undressed to seduce. There was no suggestive semi-transparent nightie, no shadowy breasts, no flimsy panties.

What there was, was more effective still. A plain white silk chemise; it was three quarters up her thighs and accentuated the impossible length of her legs and their perfect proportion, while draping itself over her rounded bottom cheeks and not much more. There were spaghetti straps from which hung two triangles which formed the top of the chemise and shrouded her breasts, allowing sight of their gently swelling cleavage and a glimpse of their curvy sides. It was loose and hid the rest of her curves while hinting at them. Her breasts lifted the fabric and it hung, showing the outline of her nipples. It was mesmerising for him and stirring as well.

"It's your room," she said. There was nothing seductive about her statement or her following question, "Would you prefer to join me in your own bed, rather than the other bedroom?"

So there it was. The invitation: 'You'll know what I want and when I want it. I'll ask you nicely.' That's what she had said, and now here it was.

Suddenly he didn't want to, not then. He had no idea why.

"Sam we have to be up very early and it's already late. I don't think I'd be able to get up in the morning..."

"Ok," she said. Her face was bland. There was no shrug of annoyance or moue of disappointment. She turned and went towards the bed, but she did not close the door.

He used the bathroom and then went to the second bedroom. As he undressed, the enormity of what he had just done hit him. He had turned down the most beautiful woman he had ever known.

Who cares about getting up in the morning? he asked himself. What was I thinking?

Naked he sat on the bed. Then the thought came. She had left the door open: an invitation. He could go down the hallway and join her, but he sat there inert and did not follow through on the thought; it had been a long day. He sighed, lay down and slept.

It would have been exciting to have found a naked Sam in his bed when he awoke the next morning, but real life is rarely like that. He was alone in his bed and she was alone in hers. He rose, put on a pair of boxers, went to the kitchen and then realised that he didn't know if she was a coffee drinker in the morning. For him it was always tea, but she was Canadian, so he assumed she would want coffee.

He brewed both. Tea does not send an aroma wafting through a dwelling, but coffee does so with a vengeance. Before he could plunge the cafetiere, he heard movement. He took a mug of coffee to her room, and knocked on the open door.

"Come in!" came the shout from the bathroom.

He entered. "Coffee or tea?" he asked.

"Coffee please!," she said, coming into the bedroom. She had on a translucent magenta bra and matching tanga briefs, both items hinting strongly at the body beneath, as well as allowing the revelation of most of the rest of it, and of course she looked gorgeous. He felt an urgent stirring down below which the boxers did nothing to hide, and she saw it and smiled.

"We need to hurry if you want to catch the train," he said with a quiver in his voice. She smiled again; it was a friendly smile at his discomfort. He wondered if it were revenge for turning her down the previous night.

"Fine!" she said in that way that women do. That word has a myriad meanings and it's all in the inflection. Mere males usually miss the nuances.

Aidan took it to mean, 'I'm disappointed you didn't jump my bones as I could see you were excited by my lingerie and my exposed body, but I do see we need to get that train.'

That was economy of expression, if it was indeed what it meant: 'Fine'.

He went to his room and after a diversion to shower, dressed. Sam came down dressed soberly and quite formally in a suit and blouse.

They had breakfast on the train, attended the High Commission, or at least she did. He was called briefly to confirm that he was hosting her until she got her passport. It took hours, but having her recently recovered driving licence apparently helped.

They caught a train home at nine, and slept on the way, her head on his shoulder. It felt as if he was her protector, and that gave him a warm feeling. They arrived in town shortly after eleven and were in the flat by half past.

Chapter 06

Sam asked for milk. Aidan grabbed two glasses and filled them. She was already on her way to her room; he followed her. He had to enter her bedroom to give her the milk. She turned and smiled.

"We don't have to be up early tomorrow," she said.

He took her meaning. He now had no excuse for leaving, and anyway, he didn't want an excuse. He wanted to stay. He simply put the milk down and moved to 'his' side of the bed, putting his own drink down on the bedside table.

When he turned back, she was standing in the same magenta creations she had shown him that morning. She unhooked her bra and let it fall, then slipped off her panties and everything that her clothing had hinted at was true.

He did not think he had ever seen a more perfect body ever before; she deserved to be painted. Every proportion was just right. Everything was firm and tight, from her medium breasts with their slightly upturned nipples, her barely rounded stomach to her manicured bush between two slender thighs, and gently flaring hips. What curves!

She nodded at his clothing in her turn, which he obligingly lost in short order, standing in his boxers before her, with an erection protruding sturdily under the material. She glanced at it and climbed into the bed. He dropped the boxers and did the same.

At that moment everything changed. She lay still on her back with her legs open. He thought it strange but leaned over and kissed her. She responded with a moan into his mouth as he gently moved his hand over her breasts, skimming her nipples. He moved downwards kissing all the way, to give her vulva some oral attention. She seemed to stiffen.

"I don't need impressing with expertise," she said flatly, "I've had enough of macho men trying to show me how clever their performance is. Just do it."

Her attitude was puzzling. She had been affectionate, and even encouraging and they had even each privately rejected the idea that bedding her would be a sort of payment for services rendered. Now she was acting like a bored prostitute, just waiting to get it over with. It wasn't just puzzling, it was very annoying to him. In fact it felt like a slap in the face.

He did not think, but reacted, rolling out of bed, and picking up his scattered clothing.

"What's the matter Aidan?" she asked. "What are you...?"

"When I go to bed with a woman, it's because I love her and want to please her. I don't 'perform' for anyone."

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