Sixes and Sevens Pt. 07

Chapter 15

January as always, was busy, very busy. Hours were long and everyone was worked hard. There was little time for entertainment, though they managed to get to the Plough on Wednesday nights which was a necessary relief of tension.

Aidan heard nothing from Julie, though he was so busy he hardly thought about her at all. While the rest of the staff had Saturdays and Sundays off, Vicky and Aidan worked all day Saturdays. On Sundays he slept and relaxed, perhaps going for a walk, since he got precious little exercise being at the office till all hours, though he had begun walking to and from work.

On the third Saturday of the month, Aidan was returning home alone, Vicky having gone home to Brendan. It was ten o'clock at night. His phone rang. It was Kathy.

"Aidan," she launched in, "you are looking really tired. Would you like me to come over? A little Tender Loving Care?"

Aidan was about to refuse, but then felt the need of company.

"Thanks, Kathy, I'd like that."

"Where are you?"

"On my way home."

"Have you eaten?"

"No."

"I'll get something on my way, see you there," she said by way of signing off.

After some inconsequential chat over the Chinese meal Kathy had brought, he came to attention as she casually asked, "Did you ever hear anything from Samantha?"

"No." he answered abruptly, surprised at its suddenness and wondering whence the question had come.

"Oh, I only asked 'cos Vicky said something yesterday. She asked me if I knew whether you had written to her."

The statement was obviously posed as a question inviting some sort of an answer.

"Yes, I wrote an email to her."

"No reply?"

"No."

Aidan forbore to tell her that he told Sam never to bother him again, and that thankfully she had honoured his request. The subject dropped, though he could see she was itching to ask more.

They shared the rest of a bottle of Shiraz and then repaired to bed.

He marvelled at how unselfconscious was the way she shed her clothing. While he was in his business suit, she was in a sweater and sprayed-on jeans. She lifted the sweater and it disappeared; she slipped down the jeans as if her legs were greased, and kicked them away.

At this point it was as if she remembered she was not alone, and it was clear to Aidan that she had selected her underwear for his benefit. So she stopped and faced him, one leg slightly bent and in front of the other in a classic model's pose, pirouetted to show her back view and that elegant rounded behind, before completing the turn. It was a coffee coloured bra and thong set, quite opaque but in silky fabric which outlined her charms perfectly as if she were naked.

The turn completed, the flimsy garments disappeared and she scrambled into bed, showing him her perfect bottom. She lay grinning at him, knowing the effect she had had.

He shed his clothing and climbed in after her, grabbing her slim waist and lifting her over him, so she was lying body to body on top of him. He inhaled her perfume as her breasts prickled his chest and his cock pressed to her mound. Her legs fell to either side of his and she wriggled against his erection, giggling as if to herself.

She lifted her shoulders off him and her face was immediately filled with compassion.

"You are exhausted, aren't you?" she said; it was not really a question. "You want to just go to sleep?"

"Kathy," he reproved her, "I think you can feel some interest down there; feel free to do all the work."

He grinned at her, and she gave a heedless laugh as she swooped on him and kissed him soundly, before angling her bottom expertly and sliding his erect cock into her sheath. There had been no foreplay but she was well lubricated and her direct approach to their coupling excited them both.

She rode him fast and hard, brushing her breasts against his chest again and again, rubbing her button against his rod, pushing the latter downwards which meant that she came well before he did, but instead of rolling off him and giving him the superior position, continued to ride him at a better angle until he too erupted into her.

She lay on him and kissed him at some length, then slipped off to one side and with a 'Good Night lover' immediately fell asleep. He marvelled briefly at her ability to zonk out, before he too was lost to the world.

He was not woken in his empty bed by the early morning sun, because it was yet another grey day with lowering clouds that seemed to hold the possibility of snow. In fact the lack of sunshine had allowed him to sleep in until well after eleven.

After his urgent visit to the bathroom to relieve his aching bladder, his visitor was sitting up naked in bed when he returned. She was balancing a tray of coffee and pastries on her lap and displaying a pert pair of breasts and a wide loving smile.

Breakfast completed, they settled to some prolonged love-making, before dressing hurriedly and trotting to a local restaurant for a relaxed and extended lunch, After which Kathy went off home to her flat. In spite of the demanding visit by his eager partner, and perhaps because of it, he felt relaxed and renewed.

Another hectic week ahead. He consoled himself with the thought of the profits they were making.

The next weekend, he broached a topic that had been worrying him.

"Kathy, shouldn't you be looking for someone nearer your age? You're wasting your time with me, delightful as having you here is. I just think you're missing out."

They were lying in bed; Aidan had come home early in response to Kathy's invitation of herself that Saturday evening to his flat for a second weekend. They were indolently tracing fingers over each other in the wake of some fairly strenuous bouncing round the bed.

A pause, but neither felt ill at ease, there was no hurry; they were sated and exhausted.

"Aidan, shouldn't you be finding your true love? You're wasting your time with me, delightful as having you is."

She was laughing at him, mocking him.

"Touché," he said, "but you don't want to tie yourself to me, you know. I've had enough of long term relationships for a while. I'm ok."

"D'you think perhaps you give in too easily?"

"How d'you mean?"

"Well, don't get upset, but Julie - you could have gone round and talked with her, but when she went off in a paddy because she saw Vicky in your bed, but you just left her alone. Yes, I know," she said anticipating his interruption, "she had already cheated, but..."

"Vicky been talking to you?" he interrupted. There was an edge to his voice.

"Oh, come on, Aidan," she retorted, "Of course we talk about you, we love you, we care! She's your best friend and I'm your lover!"

"Yeah, sorry," he said, "but you have to understand that it was the second time Julie let me down. She did it once before when we were at university."

"And Sam?" she asked gently, "Did you actually ask her about her boyfriend? Is that why she didn't reply?"

"Well - no." He stopped, embarrassed to go on. "I just told her I knew about him and I didn't want her to contact me again. In any case, she's on the other side of the world."

"Oh."

"That it? Eh?"

"Yes. But it bears out what I say about you, you give up too easily. Anyway, enough heavy stuff. Let's get some sleep."

They kissed and caressed and said their good nights, and once again she fell instantly asleep. He envied her talent in that regard.

He didn't fall asleep so easily that night; he thought about what she said for a few moments. Was she right? He mentally shrugged and thought it was too late to do it any other way, and fell asleep with that thought.

The next morning, the subject was forgotten by both. Once again they spent much of the morning in bed, having breakfast. Then lunch out, and Kathy went home.

The last few days of the month were the most frantic as tax payments and returns had to be in by the end of the month, which was Friday.

After that, life settled down at work and folk were able to relax a little. Aidan and Kathy made occasional dates for concerts and plays. Vicky and Aidan had regular weekly meals together at either of their homes, when they talked business after Brendan put himself in front of the TV, or had brought a book to read.

Towards the end of April, Aidan received a phone call from Julie.

"You were right," she told him, "Tristram isn't a long term lover. We've parted, or rather he dumped me."

"Sorry about that," said Aidan, not really knowing what else to say.

"Think we could have some evenings out again, like before?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes, we could do that," he said, not even having to think, "as long as that's all you expect."

"Yes, I know," she sounded resigned, "no strings, no commitment."

They began having evenings together once and sometimes twice every week, usually to the pub, or out for a meal, with the occasional theatre or concert. Aidan's social life had suddenly become quite full. There was the usual Wednesday meet at the Plough with the workers, once weekly meals with Vicky, usually out with Julie and the odd evening with Kathy. Life was looking up and Spring was in the air.

Thinking about it much later, Aidan knew he should have seen it coming. To begin with, in early May Kathy found herself a man. He was an old school friend she met when she went home to visit her parents. There were some tears from her as she told Aidan that their time was over. Aidan congratulated her and sadly bade her farewell.

Then there was another party.

It was the Spring Bank Holiday weekend at the end of May, and Vicky and Brendan had moved from her small flat, buying a large house with a larger garden. She and Brendan threw a Barbecue Party on the Saturday before the holiday Monday by way of a house warming.

The house was close to Aidan's flat, which enabled him to do the five minute walk instead of getting a taxi. The colleagues from the office were all there, along with Vicky's and Brendan's friends. Mercifully the day dawned bright, sunny and warm and the afternoon became even warmer. Vicky had erected a gazebo in the garden where the food and drink were being served, and when Aidan arrived, there was already quite a crowd milling about outside. He searched but could not find Kathy, only to be told by Brendan that her father was ill.

"Hi, Aidan!" The greeting came from Julie who ran to him to hug and kiss him. When she had begun to kiss him, he had not dissuaded her, so he was not surprised when she kissed him at rather more length than normal. He found he was aroused and enjoyed the sensation, her kisses were always erotic, and her looks always turned him on.

Thereafter Julie stayed by his side, except when she went off to help Vicky bring out more salads and cold food, which complemented the barbecue fare that Brendan was organising. Each time Aidan's glass was empty, Julie ran off and got him a refill.

Aidan made the rounds and the party ran on into the evening, so without thinking he drank a good deal more than he usually did thanks to Julie's efforts, though he also ate rather more as well.

As the evening progressed, Julie began to link arms with him as they chatted to other guests, pressing herself against him, and then sliding her arm around his waist, and caressing his neck from time to time. She was wearing a short summer dress which exposed a lot of leg and cleavage. Dimly visible through the fabric were her white bra and knickers; he noticed them as she left him from time to time to help Vicky, to visit the bathroom or to get him yet another drink.

At about nine o'clock, the evening had become chilly and guests were leaving or moving indoors.

"Aidan," Julie said, "I didn't bring a woolly. I think there's one in the flat, could we go and get it? I'm feeling cold."

Aidan was feeling happy, cheerful, merry. In fact he had drunk far too much. Of course they could. So they took their leave of the Host and Hostess and Aidan put his jacket round her shoulders as they walked back to the flat. She gave a little moan of gratitude and pulled him to her, pressing herself against his arm, and rubbing a little.

Aidan in his merry state liked the feeling and put an arm round her shoulders, under her armpit, which brought his hand into contact with her breast, allowing it to rest on its fulness, but cupping it from time to time. Her hand went lower on his back and rested on his bottom, stroking it occasionally.

By the time they entered the flat, Aidan's erection was pushing out his slacks quite obviously and he knew she noticed, but neither said anything. Aidan no longer cared at this stage: he was a very cheerful and carefree drunk.

"I think there's a pullover in the bedroom," she said, leading him there by the hand. "D'you know where?"

"No!" Aidan said, "but you could use one of mine."

He smiled inanely at her, looking her up and down suggestively and she smiled knowingly back.

He pulled out a drawer, and extracted a large sweater, holding it up in front of him.

"T's a bit big for you," he giggled.

"Well, I won't need the dress with that," she said, reaching behind her and unzipping.

Aidan gazed at her as the dress fell forward and off her, leaving her standing in her bra and knickers. He saw then that both garments were brief in the extreme, the bra a half-cup, and the knickers narrow boy-shorts, both semi-transparent. His addled brain took in the shadowy nipples, and trimmed bush, and he grinned as he saw her watching him look.

She deliberately turned and bent as if to pick up the sweater, giving him an unrestricted view of her naked bottom with the shorts hiking up into the cleft between her cheeks. Then she stopped, and turned back to face him.

"Actually," she said, "The flat's pretty warm. I don't think I need the sweater. We're not going back to the party are we?"

As she said it she took the few steps needful for her to put her arms round his neck. Her face came up inviting a kiss, and her body moulded itself to his, pressing his erection against her stomach, her bra enclosed tits pricking his chest.

He knew he had been conned, set up, but hey, he didn't care at all. He was lost. He kissed her with a open mouth and she responded with a sexy sigh, as her fingers combed through his hair and she rubbed herself against his hardness. His hands grasped her bottom, holding and rubbing over her firm round cheeks. It was all so familiar and so enticing.

There was no discussion; they simply moved to the bed and Julie unclipped her bra letting it fall from her arms.

Aidan now remembered how beautifully shaped and how full her breasts were, how firm but soft; now she was slipping off her little panties and there was even more of her perfect body to ogle.

She rapidly undid his shirt, unfastened his slacks and pushed them down and there was no turning back.

He did not try to be clever as they rolled onto the bed, he was too drunk for that, but he ran his tongue over her sex again and again.

"Fuck! Oh shit! Yess! Damn!" she was yelling as she came, pulling his hair as he licked her through it, until she pushed him away, and pulled him up, applying him to her opening, her desire clear.

He pushed in fully, slamming against her, heedless of her, lost in the remembered sensation and his gathering climax, made all the more rapid by her rhythmical 'Yes, Yes, Yes!' with each crashing thrust. When he came he growled through clenched teeth in the intensity of it, and she whimpered, looking thoroughly satiated.

He pulled off her and they collapsed. She kissed him voraciously, and then he fell away. They said nothing, but both fell asleep almost immediately. It was not a time for thought or assessment.

Sunday morning, however, was.

As he awoke with a gargantuan headache and realised Julie was in bed with him, his first thought was "What the fuck have I done?"

The thought was not a reasoned assessment of his actions, though accurate, simply a recollection of his drunken state and a vague memory of his heedless activity. The headache saw to that.

He crawled carefully out of bed and staggered to the bathroom where he urinated at considerable length, causing fleeting wonderment at where it was all coming from. Eventually he trickled to a stop and was able to dispense two painkilling tablets from the bathroom cupboard, scooping water in his hands to wash them down. Then he moved to the kitchen, where he put the kettle to boil, wincing at each metallic noise, and sat down to wait.

The word which repeated over and over in his head was "Stupid!"

This mantra was interrupted by the kettle achieving its purpose in life, whereupon he made a pot of tea, wincing again at each noise made by the kettle knocking against the teapot as he poured the boiling water into it.

While the tea brewed, he wandered vacantly back to the bedroom and stood, gazing at Julie who lay half exposed and dead to the world. The sight aroused lustful thoughts, and aesthetic appreciation, but no physical reaction. Once again the headache saw to that.

He turned and went back to the kitchen and poured the tea. The hot liquid cleansed his mouth from the roughness of his excesses the day before and he felt marginally better - the pain killers were now beginning to do their job.

With a sinking feeling he suspected that after the previous night's performance she would most likely expect them to reunite in lustful bliss, and realised with dread and lucid clarity that that was the last thing he wanted. How had he been so stupid, he wondered, and as he replayed the barbecue afternoon, he got the picture of Julie bringing him drink after drink.

She actually got me drunk! he said to himself. She tricked me.

He was not angry with her; he understood that she would use every tactic available to her to re-insert herself into his life, and, he ruefully remembered, last night he had certainly re-inserted himself into hers! In fact he laughed out loud: usually the man got the girl drunk!

He idly reprised their life together.

It really wasn't all that bad, he thought, then pulled himself up. Not all that bad? Was that it? Their life together was brilliant! She looked good, the sex was good, they liked the same things.

However there was a down side: her temper. She liked her own way rather too much, and he had gone along with her wishes in most things when they were together, for a quiet life. She was also impulsive.

Folk had said that his cautious attitude to life balanced her impulsiveness; opposites attract they said. Now after time apart he doubted that, and remembering life with Sam, thought that having someone with the same temperament was better, much better.

He reminded himself that she had dumped him twice, or three times if you counted New Year's Eve, though he knew counting that was unfair. He would always worry she would stray again; she seemed to need excitement and a plush lifestyle; that was not his way. Though he was becoming wealthy, he liked the simple life.

He thought about Kathy, and realised something else: Kathy was more affectionate than Julie ever was. Julie was a sexual bomb, but wasn't the sort to be satisfied with sitting all evening cuddling on the sofa. He had not missed it at the time, but now? He rather liked those soft times with Kathy - and Sam.

There she was again - Sam. The thought always came with a pang of sorrow. Sam and he were so close, and fitted so perfectly. She was so much warmer in every way. Sad she had to go, but she was too good to be true; she had kept secret her already mature relationship with another man.

He felt at odds with himself. He was pretty sure he could settle with Julie, shown clearly enough by how easily he fell into the temptation of the previous night; he was too old for Kathy who didn't want him now in any case, and the perfect partner for him turned out to be Canadian and a liar. He felt lonely. Julie? He shrugged