Jan - 'Tart of Gold'

I soon got a real taste for it, and I actually enjoyed the physical tiredness I felt after a day's walking. I was lucky that Colin took me to the meeting points a few times, and depending on the length and difficulty of the walk he would walk too. When he didn't feel like walking, or had other things he needed to do there was another couple who seemed happy to take me in their car. Mr and Mrs Baker lived not far away, and became good friends.

I didn't have much of a garden - not much more than 20 ft. wide and about 50 ft. long. I decided that I was going to make something of it other than a dirt patch. I talked to Colin about it, and he suggested that I could do without grass, and put in a slightly winding gravel path that got narrower as it got further away. Then either side I could plant small trees and shrubs with other flowers near the front of the beds. One of my neighbours up the road had recently retired and was a mad-keen gardener. I went and asked him if he'd like to help me, and offered him a generous hourly rate. He was delighted. I didn't consider payment in kind as he had a lovely wife that I certainly didn't want to upset!

You may be wondering about my second line of business: the supermarket had invited me to do a job-share as assistant manager, so I did 3 days one week and 2 the next. I was earning about £1000 a month before tax, and that was plenty to keep me going in the lifestyle I had adopted, now that the mortgage was paid off.

So aged 57 I decided that I'd had enough shagging to order, and I closed my doors to clients. Some that I'd known for years were quite upset and several even brought me flowers. I thought about making exceptions, but decided it best to make a clean break and I was careful to thank them all for their custom and offer them a free fuck if they had been regulars. It seemed little enough: buy 20+ and get one free!

Colin and I continued to enjoy each other in bed and we spent three or four nights a week together. I always liked to give Benjy a little attention, and occasionally he responded by lifting his head, although he didn't often stand up straight. I had no difficulty at all in accepting that was the way anarchists behave, and the unpredictability made it all the more interesting. When he did decide to play we joined together so happily as our bodies seemed naturally compatible in every way. We both liked to massage and be massaged, so that was another lovely thing to share.

Sitting one evening in my workroom - now turned back into a dining room - Colin asked me if I had reservations about hooking up with someone so much older.

"Only one," I said.

"Which is?"

"The statistics say that I'm likely to be left without you."

"I'm aware of that, and sometimes I feel guilty that I've allowed us to get so close in the knowledge that I shall probably leave you at some point."

"You've allowed? Wasn't I involved? I thought what we've done has always been what we both wanted."

"You're right, I know and I apologise."

"Accepted of course," I said.

"Do you remember the first-time massage, you took your gown off and stood there in all your beautiful nakedness, and I cried? It was partly selfish grief that I'd lived so much of my life without you. But also that this was the moment when we were committed, like it or not, and that death would probably take me from you."

"But you've made my life so much more interesting. It won't compensate for losing you if that's what happens. But I shall still be a much happier and more fulfilled person than if we hadn't committed to each other."

I stood up and held out my hands to pull him up too. I kissed him, a serious kiss, lips to mouth to tongue and then a kind of swimming pool with two swimmers determined to explore each other in every tiny detail.

I took his hand and led him upstairs and into the living room. I marched up to the desk and leaned over it.

"I'd like to have use of your special tool, Mr Harwood. I wonder if you could have a look and see if everything is in order round the back there," I asked, remembering Mrs Sharp's request.

I was wearing a dress, no underwear.

"I've been a naughty girl, wearing no knickers. Do you think I need a spanking?"

"I'm afraid so Jan. My special tool won't work unless you've paid for your naughtiness."

I felt him lift my dress. I wiggled my bum. He landed a wallop on my right buttock, then left, and continued until I felt beautifully warm. I felt fingers on the tight little hole that must be staring at him (I'd secretly pulled the buttocks apart). I passed him the lube oil which just happened to be standing on the desk! A few drops were all that was needed to let him do as he wanted round there.

"I just need to feel around inside a bit Jan, to make sure everything's alright."

The fingers very cautiously entered reserved areas, front and back.

"How's the special tool doing Mr H?"

"It's just about ready to get to work. In fact here it comes..."

It slid into my cunt beautifully. Benjy was my cunt's most welcome visitor ever, and when his politics, or whatever fuelled his anarchy, didn't get in the way he certainly qualified as a 'special tool', working with craftsmanship and energy.

Today was such a day: rare but highly valued.

I was royally fucked. Colin and I carried on a running commentary, using the rudest words we could think of, which made it extra good.

**

Mum was getting frail. She'd had a hard life, always going the extra mile for her work and other people. She'd gone on doing locums at the care home until she was pushing eighty. Fortunately the manager was huge fan of Mum's and she made sure that Mum did the easiest shifts. When Mum showed signs of fading the Manager gave her retirement and a big party. Mum still went up to the home to see some of the residents who didn.t get many visitors.

Now it was my turn to repay some of the debt I owed to Mum. I called on her every day or two, did shopping for her and paid for a taxi when she needed to see the doctor or go to the hospital. I cooked some of her meals and put some in the freezer, and I cleaned the house once a week. Tyler was brilliant too. He made a point of visiting her every week and did odd jobs round the house and garden. They had a lovely relationship built on the affection they felt for each other which started when Tyler was born. Mum used to tease me by calling me 'the tart of gold'. I didn't mind, in fact I loved it!

In different ways I was as busy as I'd ever been, but I loved my life. I felt completely independent, and yet I had these two elderly people who relied on me in completely different ways. My only cause of sadness was the fact that I was probably going to lose them both before too long.

My dear friend Maisie had lost her live-in lover, who'd pushed off to live with someone much younger. To be honest I'd never really taken to her. It was simple really: she seemed to me one of those people who took a lot more than they gave, and Maisie was the opposite, so she often got exploited.

Maisie was another one who often visited my Mum, who described Maisie as 'a good-hearted soul'. I also introduced Maisie to Colin, who sometimes invited her to supper when I was there. I can't say that they were ever going to be close friends, but as far as Colin was concerned a friend of mine was a friend of his. I bet if I'd fallen under a bus Colin would have looked after both Maisie and Mum.

Colin and Mum were an unlikely couple, but they adored each other! They spent hours, it seemed to me, exchanging yarns about their childhoods and working days. Often when they were together and I was doing a bit of housework I'd hear roars of laughter coming from the two of them. They teased each other too - she called him the Professor, and he called her Florence - not sure if that was as in Florence Nightingale or Florence on 'The Magic Roundabout', but it amused them anyway!

*****

Colin and I continued to share a bed for three or four nights each week, but fucking became an infrequent occurrence. Did I mind? I couldn't imagine doing it with anyone else, so if he wasn't up to it I was content with his company and the lovely cuddles and strokes we had in bed together. He was also fantastic at giving me orgasms with hands or toys, and some of the best I ever had were with one of his arms round me, a butt plug where it belonged, and his fingers working their magic with the whole of the vulva: clit, labia and cunt, played like a musical instrument, with me enjoying the changes in tempo and the sweet finale.

On the occasions that we did decide we wanted to fuck he took a blue pill before we got going. That made it less spontaneous than it had been, but amazing when it all worked. I was really content and, as I've explained, this was new territory for me.

We managed some fantastic holidays too: Scotland, Snowdonia, Pembrokeshire, York and the Yorkshire Dales. We'd discussed the possibility of going abroad, but the problem was that I had never been anywhere outside UK, and he was losing confidence as he got older. Then I had a brilliant idea! Colin's daughter Mel, who was only a few years younger than me, had become a good friend. She had been abroad many times, so we asked her if she'd be our minder for a trip to Italy. She was delighted. So was I.

Our Italian holiday was a huge success. I loved flying and decided that when I came back for my second life I was going to be a pilot. We got on really well together, and with Colin's Italian, and Mel's organising ability, and my talent for flirting with waiters, hotel managers, taxi drivers policemen and street cleaners, we made an impressive team. We visited Florence, Rome, Venice, Sienna, Perugia and other places I can't remember. We hired a car, which Mel drove most of the time, and thank goodness she wasn't a mad driver or I'd soon have been puking.

We were away for nearly three weeks, starting off a week after Easter at the end of April. By the time we returned Colin was tired, even though we had been careful to pace things and give him plenty of resting time. He was in his mid-eighties now, and although he was well, he confessed to lacking the stamina he'd once had. For me it had been a lifetime experience. I loved Italy, and the Italians and the language. When we got back I was determined to find classes and learn to speak some Italian. I was encouraged that, by listening very carefully, I had been able to pick up a few words.

*****

As I had feared and predicted Mum and Colin died within a couple of years. Mum went first. She was 83, and she got pneumonia, quite possibly from a resident in the care home she still used to visit. I looked after her, with help from nurses and so on, at her home. She had told me that she didn't want to be revived if she lost consciousness. She was worn out really, and the idea of 'eternal rest' was very appealing. I wasn't prepared for how hard it hit me. I had been half-expecting it for some time, and I thought I had dealt with it. It was a real sadness that I felt: it seemed to me she had deserved a better life than she had. When I got over that initial feeling I realised that we shouldn't try to guess at what other people wanted in their lives. Mum was a great carer: of me and Tyler and everyone she came into contact with. I think it gave her a kind of happiness, and sense of achievement to make peoples' lives better.

Colin's death was simpler. He died beside me. I woke one night to find him sitting up in a state of confusion. He said he didn't feel well, but couldn't explain how. He kept asking for people he'd never even mentioned to me, and rambling on about he didn't want to leave me. I tried to calm him. I kissed his forehead, which was cold and clammy and held his hand. I wouldn't ever be separated from him, I told him. He carried on in a more and more disjointed way and then stopped. He was looking straight ahead of him as though he could see something that I couldn't. "I love you Colin Harwood," I said. He seemed to half-smile then tried to take a deep breath, making a curious noise, then a long sigh.

He was 88 years old. With him I had begun to live a life so much more rewarding than I could ever have imagined. I could have called this story, tongue in cheek, 'Tart of Gold': it could equally well have been called 'Eyes Wide Open'.

I cried a lot over the next few days, but there was an awful lot to do, and I couldn't allow myself to go to pieces. Besides, I told myself, he died having achieved so much, and with loving people around him: that's a lot more than most of us manage.

*****

Amongst the things that I had to do over the next week or two was to visit his solicitor. I had applied for the death certificate, but I had to find out what else I needed to do. Mel was coming to stay a few days to help with the sorting out.

A week later Mel and I had arranged valuations and begun to clear stuff from the house. I was glad that she and her brother were to inherit. She'd told me that Colin was quite a wealthy man, but she really seemed more interested in handing money on to her children than looking forward to a lavish life-style herself.

Mr Watts the solicitor was efficient but kindly - as all good personal solicitors should be. He first handed me a letter addressed to me in Colin's hand.

"When he gave this to me," said Mr Watts "he said it was personal, and did not need to be read in front of witnesses." I put it in my bag.

"Mr Harwood's wishes in respect of your good self were fairly straightforward. He and I had known each other for a long time, and I was a great admirer. I want to do everything he wanted as he wanted it done. He has left you a bequest of £500,000, free of tax." I gasped. "He instructed that you should have £100,000 immediately. The remainder he wanted invested on your behalf to produce an income for the rest of your life. At the moment that should yield about 3%, meaning an income of about £12,000 a year. I have made enquiries of a few firms of independent financial advisers, and I have selected one for you. Of course if at any time you want to change them, or if I think that they are not doing a good job, we can talk about it and perhaps change. I have no legal status as far as this money is concerned, but it was Colin's wish that I should keep an eye on it for you. Do you have any questions?"

"I'm almost speechless. I'm more than happy for you to help me look after this fabulous gift. Thank you. One question: what happens to the £400,000 when I die?"

"Well, first remember that it won't necessarily be the same sum. It might be less, or it might be more. You may want to go into a private nursing home, or be looked after at home: then we would need some of that money to help the finance. £12,000 a year would not be nearly enough. Whatever is left when you die is yours to leave to whom or what you want. Colin was at pains to make me understand that this money should not become a burden to you, which is why he asked me to help."

"Thank you again. Sorry I can't say more at the moment." Up to this point I'd been able to control the old waterworks, but at this moment it was touch and go.

"One more thing," said Mr Watts, taking a small, long package from a desk drawer, which he handed to me. "I have no idea what it is, but he asked me to give you this. I'd rather you didn't open it now. If I saw what it was I might feel I should include it as part of the estate."

*****

I walked out of the office in a state approaching trance. I've told you that I never set out to be stinking rich, and Colin had judged it perfectly. The £100,000 would allow me to have some fun now, and the rest would give me security for life.

I went home on the bus. As I looked around I wondered how many passengers would believe that I was now quite well-off. But I mustn't think like that, I should try to forget it, which was what Colin wanted, and why he'd asked his friend Mr Watts to look after things for me.

When I got home I opened the package. Inside was a beautiful leather case, and inside that was a necklace which I saw immediately was Italian. Of course. It was a simple rope of gold made up of hundreds of links that made it flexible. It had a centre piece of three rings just large enough to slide on the rope: the two outer ones were polished gold, and the centre one platinum or white gold studded with diamonds. I thought with a lump in my throat what a stunning gift this was, so carefully selected to be simple and stylish. I put it on and looked at myself in the mirror. Magic. Then I saw that there was a printed card in the lid of the box.

FOR JAN, THE TART OF GOLD

Friend, Mentor, Lover

With Gratitude and love - Colin

You don't blame me for shedding a tear, do you?

I'll end this story with the message that was in the envelope. I think it says as much about Colin as about me: I'll leave you to decide.

Dear Jan

When I met you, or rather ran into you, I couldn't have known what you would come to mean to me. Fate had me standing at that window. I ran into the road in fury.

I loved hearing about your life: so impressed with the way you had managed it. I laughed with you and I sympathised with you, but you never made me feel sorry for you. I decided to take you under my wing, so-to-speak. It was a very patronising thing to do, except that it wasn't, because I could see that you wanted to reciprocate and take me under yours!

It worked quite well, didn't it? I introduced you to a few new interests, and you reconnected me with a real world, where I had to recognise that people around me were not just extras there to complete the scenery. You were so real! All flesh and blood, heart and brain. If we're going to love each other, you seemed to be saying, it has to be full-blooded, the real thing.

That night when we made love for the first time: you'd worked it out and you weren't going to let me slide out with excuses about my ageing body. I knew then that it was for always.

I'm so sorry to leave you. You will recover and have fun again, and with my heartfelt blessings!

Always

Colin

THE END