The Neighbour's Gardener

I just shook my head in disbelief. How was it possible to sit and conduct a normal conversation after what had occurred.

"Your garden is very nice too. When I asked Mrs Donkins what she wanted me to do with her garden she said to make it look just like yours. That was asking the impossible. I just about managed to clear the weeds and set up a couple of decent sized borders. Who does all the work on yours?"

"We both do but Philip is the real gardener. How did you come to be working on her garden in the first place?"

"I do a bit of work for charity when I have the time, mainly helping old people. I just happened to get sent next door. Having you to look at all week was a bonus."

"Well what do you know – a rapist with a heart," I interrupted bitterly.

He laughed. "I guess that's fair although this is a bit out of character for me. I do spend a hell of a lot more time working for charity than I do raping beautiful women."

'What a slimy bastard, the cunt would want a medal next'. I closed my eyes and also tried to block my ears against any further self justification that he might be going to spout. I think that my mind must have drifted away because, after a while, with a start I realised that he was asking me a question. "That old Kirk Douglas film that was on TV the other week, the one where he catches a guy in bed with his daughter, what the hell was it called?"

Without thinking, I provided the answer, "Once is not enough."

"That is just what I always say," he grinned triumphantly. "What do you say sweetheart?"

"If you must," said Ann. Her voice sounded completely disinterested but she jumped up with surprising speed and lay down in her previous position on the floor. This time she had opened her legs wide right from the start and I had an uninterrupted view of her vulva. The cunt lips were open displaying the pink interior and I did not know if they were distended from before or eagerly preparing to welcome him back.

I think that my wife's alacrity had also surprised him. He drained his mug and stood up then paused and looked reflectively at me. "There is really no reason that you shouldn't sit in a chair now, the floor can't be very comfortable."

"I'm fine," I muttered, rejection his generosity. I did this for two reasons. Remaining on the floor maintained an illusion of helplessness to justify my inaction - but more importantly, I could see far better from where I was.

"If you are sure? Is there anything that I can get you?"

I started to shake my head wishing that he would do what he had to and get the fuck out of my house but then I remembered something that I did need badly. "I could do with a new pack of cigarettes. They are in the cupboard to the left of the sink in the kitchen."

He disappeared on this small errand leaving Ann lying in position ready to be screwed. After a couple of minutes when he had not returned, my wife seemed to get impatient, craning her neck to look in the direction of the kitchen. Then, coming to a decision, she half sat to grab a cushion off the settee which she worked underneath her bottom, bouncing herself to make sure that she was comfortable. It was at least a minute more before he returned muttering sheepishly, "I know that you said the cupboard on the left but for some reason I have been looking in the one on the right." So saying, he tossed the requested packet to me. This time I suppressed the inbred polite thanks, just tearing open the pack and lighting one.

Now he looked down to were my wife lay patiently awaiting his pleasure. I thought I detected some hesitation and took pleasure in guessing that the frustration of his search on my behalf had diminished his ardour. It was not enough however to make him call it a day for he dropped on one knee and lightly caressed her cunt, slipping one and then two fingers inside. That was all that it needed. Next moment he had undone his belt and was moving into position to drive himself home.

This time it was far less urgent with long languid thrusts and I could tell that he was savouring the moment. It was easy to see that the damn cushion was making it better for them both, giving the impression of a consensual act not penetration by compulsion. It seemed to go on and on. I stubbed out my third cigarette from the new pack and lit another. Her arms were round him again and now I could not pretend that this was an unconscious action for her fingers were spread and pressing into his skin. Nor could I convince myself that she was not responding to him because anyone could see that her body was now moving in unison with his. Now it was not a matter of him raping her because they were definitely fucking. For the duration of the first assault, my prick had remained shrivelled to one the size of a small boy's but now, faced with the scene in front of me; it sprang into vibrant throbbing life. Ashamed, I tried to push it down between my thighs but, stiffer than it had ever been before, my cock felt liable to snap when I tried to do so.

I never dreamed that he would be able to make Ann cum but suddenly I could tell from her breathing that she was hovering round the edges of an orgasm. Thankfully, I was spared this final humiliation because he lost it before managing to push her over the edge. I wished though that she had not drawn blood from his back as he squirted his hot stuff up inside her.

If to you the reader all of this seems unreal then how the hell do you think that I felt. Coming home in birthday mood after an afternoon at the shops, anticipating a spicy evening with a better day to follow, I was confronted with every husband's worst nightmare. To make matters worse, the two other participants behaved as if it was an everyday occurrence with no great trauma involved. I'll say it seemed unreal.

He stood up and fastened his trousers and my wife had moved to perch on the edge of the settee.

"I would like to hang around and make an evening of it but if I don't dash I'm going to miss my transport," he said as any guest might on departure. Then turning to Ann he said, "Thank you lovely lady. I am going to remember that for a very long time."

I half expected Ann to say 'It was a pleasure,' but she did not. He took a few paces towards the door then stopped and turned looking genuinely awkward as he said, "Look, by rights I should now cuff you both to something until I get away but I am worried at how long you might be stuck like that. If you promise that you will do nothing for an hour then I will leave you as you are."

"We promise," said Ann quickly and I nodded my head.

"Right, it has been nice knowing you," he said, turning and striding towards the door with just one pause to bend, snatch Ann's discarded pants and stuff them in his pocket. By rights I should have immediately rushed to comfort my wife but instead, pulling up my trousers I went to the window and watched his back recede as he walked down the garden path.

I waited until he had left the garden and felt sure that he would not turn round to come back, then went over and picked up the telephone. As I started to press the digits Ann pressed her fingers into the cradle to break the connection. "What are you doing?" she asked sharply.

"Ringing the police, what do you think?" I pushed her hand aside and started dialling but again she stopped me saying, "We promised to wait for an hour."

"Don't be stupid. Any promise we made to that fucking bastard doesn't count. It was made under duress if nothing else," I snarled, wresting her hand away and attempting to dial again.

"A promise is a promise and I do not break mine," she insisted.

"I did not promise a damn thing. Did you hear me speak?" I told her, hitting the digits again with quiet determination.

Ann was equally determined, "I don't want to call the police at all. I do not want anybody to know about this." It seemed to me that she was prepared to physically contest for possession of the telephone.

I carefully put the phone down and stepped back. My demeanour was icy calm as I spoke, "Pray tell me why I should not inform the authorities what that bleeding cunt has just done and get him put away where he belongs."

"He only fucked me for God's sake."

"He raped you."

"OK. He raped me if that is how you see it but he didn't hurt me. I am not damaged in any way."

"He raped you twice."

"Once, twice, all night – it makes no difference. I have not been harmed and I would prefer to just forget all about it, write it off to experience."

"But at one point you were prepared to kill him to prevent it happening."

"That was because I was afraid that, if you charged in and it ended in a fight then you were going to get badly hurt. Whether he had sex with me didn't bother me at all."

I was amazed. "I always thought that women who were raped finished up traumatised."

"Most women who are raped are also brutalised or worry that they are going to be killed afterwards and that is was causes the trauma. If you know you will not be hurt and the bloke is one that you would happily screw in other circumstances then I can't see anything to get bitter and twisted about. Apart from the start, did you feel that he intended to hurt either of us?"

I had to shake my head. Nevertheless, I insisted, "I still think we should tell the police. We have a pretty good idea who he is so the cops should be able to pick him up easily. Then it will be an open shut case."

"Is that what you think? He obvious defence will be that he was having an affair with me and that you came home and caught us. He will claim that I accused him to cover my own back."

"But that's not true. We were out together and came home together."

"But could we prove that? You did your shopping alone while I sat in the park - I bet that I don't appear on a single CCTV. Even in this road, nobody could have seen me getting out of the car.

So it is our word against his and the defence will have detectives digging into my background and character to try and back up his story. I just do not want to take the risk, especially when I don't think it is worth it in the first place."

"So you want to just forget that it happened?"

"Yes, I can do that very easily, I don't know why you can't too."

I thought carefully how to explain that the rape meant more to me than it apparently did to her. Speaking slowly I said, "I know about your past – you told me, I didn't like it but, accepting it as the past, I was able to put it out of my mind. This is completely different. Now for the first time since we met, another man has had you and it breaks the continuity, destroys the purity of what we shared. Now the memory of him will always be between us and I worry that your feeling for me will not be the same. It wouldn't be so bad if he had not been a rapist, if what happened had been voluntary and not imposed. I am sure I could be a lot happier if that had been the case."

Ann looked at me thoughtfully for what seemed a very long time and then she said, "Go and do us some drinks love and make yours a large one. I have got something to tell you."

I did as instructed and then having sat down facing her, I lit a cigarette, something about Ann's face telling me that I would need it. Having composed myself I looked up."

"He wasn't the first. I mean, he is not the only man I have been with since we were married. For a start, I have been screwing your brother for the past two years whenever he calls."

My brother Gary was three years younger than me. For the past six years he had led an exotic life style travelling the world on two and three month's assignments, something to do with photography. Every time that he returned home, we were his first port of call and he came laden with gifts plus duty free cigarettes and booze. His comings and goings were unpredictable. I would come home from work to find him chattering and laughing with Ann in the kitchen, both of them drinking from large mugs of coffee. After a welcome home meal prepared by Ann, we always enjoyed an evening of boozing and hilarity with me invariable ending up almost paralytic and needing to be put to bed. He would then spend the rest of the week staying with various friends, followed by a week at our parent's house before jetting off again.

With a jolt of memory, I remembered one night that I had awoken in the early hours to find the bed empty beside me and Ann's place completely cold. She returned at that moment and finding me awake had muttered about a gippy tummy and sitting on the loo for ages. By rights she should have been frozen but on the contrary felt exceptionally warm. Gullibly I had assumed that the tummy upset had also left her feverish but in the morning she had completely recovered.

As if reading my mind, Ann said, "Yes, at night too. It was mainly in the afternoons before you got home but we did it at night when you were too drunk to know. You almost caught me out once."

"How did it start?" It was only one of many questions that had started bubbling up in my brain.

"He turned up on a day when I was feeling very pissed off with you. There had just been a delivery of new gear and I asked if he would like a fashion show to give his opinion on it. I acted more like a lap dancer than a demonstrator and he got very turned on. Then I told him straight out that if he wanted to fuck me he could – and of course he did. You must not blame Gary too much because I seduced him. Almost any man would have done the same."

"But why? Why suddenly then – he has been visiting us almost all the time that we have been married. What the hell got you so pissed that you would do it with my brother?"

"Surely you know that," she said coldly. "Think back – what else happened two years ago?"

"I don't know. I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. You will have to tell me."

"Janice Wilkins happened," she said. "Now do you remember?"

Janice Watkins worked at another division of the company that employed me. Her office was in a city some 60 miles away from the one where I lived but the whole staff from there had been shipped en masse over to our office for a joint Xmas party. She was small with the kind of figure that used to be described as pocket Venus, a pretty vivacious face and a mass of fluffy black hair. I was entranced at first sight and enquired of someone I knew from her office if she was new. He told me that she had joined the firm almost two years ago after getting married but for some reason had missed last year's party. He also said that she was twenty three.

I worked my way over to stand near, happy to just feast my eyes on the delectable creature but suddenly, in the ebb and flow of people we found ourselves alone. She started chatting to me quite naturally and pretty soon we realised that we both liked each other a lot. In short, the pair of us finished up in the stationery cupboard with a lot of passionate kissing and mutual groping. I think that it might have gone a lot further but suddenly the door opened and my boss blundered in with one of the typists in tow. The cupboard was very small so I gave way to seniority and we left. Before the party was over, Janice and I exchanged home telephone numbers.

At that time Ann was running Lingerie parties for Anne Summers on two or three evenings of the week. The nights varied except that Wednesday was a regular feature. As it happened, Janice had told me that her husband was never home from work before midnight on that night due to his works computer always being temporarily connected to one in America. If we had lived closer, that night would have been perfect for liaisons but the distance ruled this out as Janice did not have her own transport. So we made up for this by spending hours on the phone every Wednesday, telling what we would like to do to each other if ever we got it together.

Following a brainwave, we both told our respective spouses that we were going on overnight courses to do with the firm but instead met at a Motel. I arrived first and in retrospect realise that I should have got us booked in but had entertained romantic notions of doing it together. The first downbeat sign was finding two women who were obvious hookers in the office ahead of us. Their men were paying and I was shocked to find they were being charged £20 per hour for the room. When our turn came I managed to persuade the man behind the counter that we actually wanted to sleep there and was able to negotiate a more acceptable rate for the whole night. Reaching our cabin, I felt that Janice looked rather nervous and subdued but then I was not feeling particularly encouraged my self.

Inside, possibly due to nerves, I had urgent need for a slash so went straight to the small bathroom. This contained a toilet pedestal, a minuscule shower cubicle and a hand basin with mirror above. On the bottom of the mirror someone had written triumphantly in possibly eye-brow pencil, 'I stuffed Lisa up the ass. She took every inch.' On the wall underneath, another hand had neatly explained in biro, 'Lisa is a slag. She takes everybody up the ass'. The first entry bore a date that was three months old.

After emptying my bladder into the unhygienic looking porcelain receptacle, I took a tissue, spat on it and tried to eradicate the legend on the mirror but it might have been etched onto the glass for all the effect that I had. Giving up, I used my foot to activate a small pedal operated trash can and glanced in as I dropped the tissue. Inside there was an unwrapped sanitary towel with half a dozen used condoms intertwined on top that seemed to writhe like obscene silver grey snakes.

Back in the bedroom, there were two scruffy looking armchairs and the turned down sheets on the bed looked in far from pristine condition. Janice was walking about restlessly smoking a cigarette and I was surprised that she did not look at me. According to the script we should start frantically tearing off each others clothes but I felt strangely reluctant to begin. Actually needing to force myself, I went to Janice and turned her to face me but when I did so she said in an almost inaudible voice, "I'm sorry Phil, I don't want to do it any more."

"Is it this place?" I was rather feeling the same way myself.

"No – it's Trevor. He loves me so much. I have never done this before and I don't think I can do it now. He has just bought me a lovely ring and asked if we can get married again in a church. Neither of us believe in God but he says it will be a spiritual commitment instead of just a legal one. To be honest, if he was not so hopeless in bed I would never have dreamed of cheating on him."

I kissed her chastely on the forehead and told her that I was having second thoughts myself. I said that I had never imagined that it would be quite so sordid. Trouble was that there was nowhere we could go and so still had to stop the night. We found a tatty pack of cards with one missing, that provided some entertainment for a couple of hours, then slept fully dressed on the bed under the top cover. The next couple of Wednesdays we had short apologetic conversations on the phone but then contact between us ceased.

The following years Xmas party was held in a hired hotel reception room. I spotted Janice in the distance but was deeply involved in a conversation and could not easily break off. Searching later she had disappeared. As I was heading out through the lobby on my way home, Janice emerged from a lift with my boss's arm around her. She looked radiant.

"How do you know about her?" I gasped. "Anyway nothing happened."

"A night together in a seedy motel, of course something happened and now you have the nerve to talk about the purity of our relationship."

"But nothing did happen; we just played cards all night."

"Yes – I believe you," Ann retorted in a voice that said the opposite. "Anyway – that's what had pissed me off. Any woman would have felt the same. It was not the fact that you had done it as much as feeling that you had taken me for such a fool. You made no attempt to cover your tracks at all. Who the fuck takes a floozy to a sleazy motel and pays the bill with his Barclaycard for heavens sake?"