Was I Man Enough?

But in a way it is no longer relevant as I can't see me ever taking that role again. I've discussed it with Roger, and I will hand over all of my clients' surrogate work to Sally and two new surrogates we are hiring as a result of my crisis with you. I'm doing this because I want to put us first not my clients. I'm not going to deny that I gained a lot of satisfaction from that side of the process. Taking a broken couple and giving them hope for a new future meant a lot to me. There is only so much that can be done by talking, at some point you have to get your hands dirty. Nonetheless, those days are behind me now.

I know you have other questions and I will do my best to answer them but most importantly all the clients are tested every week and in the case of penile penetration they must wear a condom there are no exceptions. I'm checked routinely as well so there is no need for you to get tested, but I'd understand if you decided to go ahead and get checked.

I can't discuss specific cases but as I tried to tell you I was never emotionally involved with any of the clients, and as far as I am aware you don't know any of them. Yes, I've felt pleasure in that part of my work, and I can't deny that I have come on occasions. But that was never the goal of the physical sessions. Their function was only to teach the couples how to have a good sex life, any physical pleasure I got was an unexpected bonus.

What did I do with them? I've taught men techniques to delay an orgasm. I've taught men how to give pleasure to women, and I've taught wives and girlfriends how to arouse their partners and give them an erection. But I've only ever done this after many therapy sessions to get to the root psychological causes of their problems. Every action I've ever taken with a client was the result of hours of discussion and debate. Every move, every touch was thought out in advance.

Why is that important - because everything I've ever done with you has been spontaneous and full of passion and love. I've never calculated what I want from you, I just see you and want to feel you inside me. I've never consciously compared you against anyone else. I just know you are the best lover I've ever known.

Daniel we need to be together soon either here or in England. I miss you, I need you to put the ring on my finger. I need for us to move on together in a way that is acceptable to you, even if that means I stop work entirely.

I love you. I hope to see you soon.

Mia xxxxxxxxx

I pressed send and it was gone, and I hope my future hadn't gone with it. I packed a bag and I was ready to go.

Daniel

I sat around the hotel in London for a couple days trying to decide exactly what to do next. I knew I had to find out from Liz why she had treated me the way she did. But just turning up in the village wasn't going to work. I called David, her brother, he was the only one from the old days I'd kept in touch with. His phone went to voice mail and I left a message.

"Hi mate, it's Daniel. I'm back in the UK for a few days and I really need to see you. I'm staying at the Park Lane hotel. Call me back please."

It was a day before he got back to me. A simple text message:

Will be in London tomorrow. Can be at your hotel at 6 pm if that works - Dave.

I texted back to him: Works for me.

Over the past few days I'd been researching as much as I could about sex surrogates in America. There had been a thought at the back of my mind that it was another form of prostitution. I quickly lost that notion; it was a fully licensed profession with training courses and its own professional body, the International Professional Surrogates Association or IPSA. I thought back to Mia's office, and I recalled seeing an IPSA diploma on the wall amongst the many others. I'd been staring at them while she spoke, as I hadn't wanted to look at her face.

I read interviews with several surrogates and called the IPSA for background information. It always amazes me how much information you can get when you tell people you are an author researching a book and you want to get your facts straight. They even gave me the e-mail address of a surrogate who practiced in London, and I made an appointment to talk to her.

Our discussion was very revealing. I'd given her the impression that one of my characters in my next book was going to be a sex surrogate to explain my interest in her profession. When I told her my pen name she opened right up, it's nice to have fans. I took her to dinner as a thank you and promised to send her signed copies of all my books.

I think that it was that conversation that finally made me understand Mia and why she did what she did. I began to question my reasons for leaving. Yes, the need to understand Liz and find out why she had treated me the way she had was real. But did that justify what I was putting Mia through?

The book idea had been a ruse but as I got back to my room that night I was scribbling notes, there was a great novel in here and I needed to get my thoughts straight. Two days later, I had the outline and the first two chapters fleshed out.

Friday evening Dave walked into the bar at the hotel and sat down at my table.

"Mine's a pint of best bitter, you old tosser."

I looked up from my laptop. "Shit, when did you grow up," I replied, "I thought you were still drinking poncy larger and limes"

We laughed and hugged, "Crap, I've missed you," I said.

We sat drinking catching up on the news although we both carefully skirted around the spectre of his sister. Finally, though when he asked about Mia it was time.

"So how is the new girlfriend, what was her name ... Mary?" He asked.

"It's Mia and it was going fine until last week."

"Oh crap man; she sounded like a keeper, what happened."

"I asked her to marry me and she told me she's been sleeping with other men while we've been a couple."

He looked at me in shock, "Ohh fuck, not again mate."

I shook my head, "No, I think we are going to be ok."

Dave looked at me with a disbelieving expression. "I'm sorry mate but how's this different from Liz?"

I held up my hands to stop him. "It's not the same, it's her job, and it's not what you are thinking! She's a marriage councillor and relationship therapist. She specialises in sexual dysfunction. She works with a sex surrogate but sometimes she also need to work with the clients. She told me because she didn't want me to find out accidentally. She's had several relationships crash and burn in the past because of it."

"So why are you here?"

"The trouble was she took me by surprise, telling me when I proposed. I panicked and ran away. But since then but I've found out a lot about the sort of thing she does and it's not at all the same as Liz."

He looked at me for a long time then he asked, "You're a bigger man than me mate. So why are you here then?"

"Because I completely freaked out when she first told me, and all I could think about was Liz sitting up in our bed screaming at me that afternoon." I looked him in the eyes and said, "It made me realise that I need to understand why she did what she did, if I ever stand a chance to move on with my life."

He looked at me sadly saying, "I honestly don't know why she did it. She would never talk to me about it. I do know that it wasn't her that spread the rumours around the village mate. About a week before you left she found out that it was Gordon spreading the rumours, and she had a stand up row with him in the pub that evening. He left the village a couple of days later and no one's seen him since."

"But remember it was her who called me a wanker, a limp dick, and a fucking useless lover that afternoon. Do you think she would talk to me?" I asked.

"I've no idea, we can but try," he said. "But first, we are going to go out on the town tonight, get drunk and in the morning you are coming to stay with me until we get an answer from the silly bitch."

And that's exactly what we did. Just before we left the hotel I decided I'd played around with the mail to Mia for long enough so I sent the mail and crossed my fingers.

We staggered back to the hotel at three in the morning decidedly worse for wear. Dave slept on the sofa and it was eleven o'clock before either of us stirred. I'd gone to sleep in my clothes and I staggered into the bathroom to shower and refresh myself. I heard Dave throwing up while I stood in the shower. By the time I got out and dried he had washed at the sink and rummaged through my suitcase and found a clean tee-shirt to wear.

"I've ordered coffee and aspirins," he said.

He pulled out a napkin from his pocket and looked at it blankly. "Who the fuck was Gloria?" he asked.

I racked my brain for an answer, "I think it was the blond in the second, no third pub."

"Shit yes, the bottle blond with the double D knockers."

"Nope that was her mate; she was the one with the butterfly tattoo on her breast that she kept showing us."

He grinned at the memory my words had triggered.

The doorbell rang and it was room service with the coffee and a bottle of aspirins. I don't think I've ever been so grateful for a coffee in my life. We sat and drank the coffee. Then I packed an overnight bag. Minutes later we were in Dave's car heading out of town.

Two hours later we pulled up outside Dave's cottage down in Kent. We sat down at the kitchen table, and we ate the pork pies and sipped the beers we'd picked up at the local shop.

While we ate I opened my laptop and logged into Dave's Wi-Fi. There were a number of new messages in my inbox. Rachael, my editor at the publisher, had sent me the latest revisions, and I cursed when I saw the extent of the rewrites she wanted. I sent her the synopsis and the first two chapters of my surrogate novel. I trusted her opinion and I knew she wouldn't pull her punches. If it was crap I knew she'd tell me, I could be sure of that.

The rest were from Jenny, I needed to decide when I was going to start the book-signing trip, I think I was pushing her close to her breaking point. Just as I was about the log off the reply from Mia dropped into my inbox. I hesitated for a fair few minutes before I opened it. She seemed very eager to reassure me and she answered most if not all of my questions. She was also willing to give up a part of her job she found very fulfilling.

So now I was in a quandary, did I let the woman I love stop doing something I knew gave her great satisfaction, or did I step back from her and allow her to continue?

The rational part of my brain kept telling me, she's been doing this since she left college and she hasn't ever crossed the patient - doctor divide, why would she start because she's met me. The irrational part kept screaming Liz, another Liz at me.

I looked up from the screen and said, "Dave I need to find Liz, you said she's still in the village."

He smiled back at me and glanced at the kitchen clock then he said, "We will see her, I expect she will be home in a few minutes."

I stood up and picked up my coat, "What's her address I'll go and wait for her outside."

He took my coat from me and led me into the parlour. "I'll send her in here when she arrives; she been living here with me since you left."

"Does she know that I'm back?"

"I haven't told her. When you first called, all you said was you wanted to talk to me, you didn't mention my sister."

I poked at the fire he'd lit when we'd first arrived and placed a couple of logs on it. I sank down into his old armchair and sat staring at the door, listening to the crackle of the flames. It must have been twenty minutes later I heard the front door open and close.

Liz called out, "Dave, I'm home, be a love and put the kettle on I'm gasping for a cupper.

I heard him say something to her and the door to the parlour opened and she stood framed in the doorway.

Her face went white and her hand went to her mouth. There was a strangled cry of, "Noooooo," and she staggered back into the hall. She turned on her heels and ran up the stairs. I heard a door slam and the sound of her crying.

Dave stood at the bottom of the stairs; he turned to look at me as I joined him. "Well, that wasn't the response I was expecting," he mused. "Do me a favour; wait for me at the pub. I'll take her tea up and see if I can get her back on track."

I went to get my bags from the hall but he shook his head. "Don't be daft you're still staying here; I'll put your bag in the spare room."

I nodded and picked up my backpack with my laptop and walked out the door. The pub was on the other side of the village green. As I walked across I paused as I always did at the war memorial. There were six Davidson's engraved on the plaques around the base. Four were from the Great War, and two uncles from the second. I was named after my uncle Daniel. He'd died in the hedgerows of Normandy in 1944 a week after his nineteenth birthday.

It was as if time had stood still as I walked into the Plough. Jimmy the barman looked up from his paper. "Wotcha Danny, pint of the usual?" he said. I nodded and dumped my bag at my old table by the fire.

I walked over to the bar and he placed my old silver tankard full of Bishops Finger in front of me. I went to pull out my wallet but he stopped me. "On the house lad, it's good to see you back." I thanked him and sat down and looked around me. There were only a couple of the old regulars in and I greeted them. They looked pointedly at their almost empty tankards so I gave Jimmy the nod and he took a fresh pair over to them. I pulled out my laptop and started working on the new story.

Around me the pub began to slowly fill up and it was a bit like I'd never been away. I'd get a casual greeting which I would acknowledge, then they would let me get back to my writing. Jimmy kept my tankard topped up.

There are two pubs in the village, the Star and Garter, where the townies and the weekend residents drank their fancy drinks and ate their overpriced food. And then there was the Plough, which was where the locals drank. Jimmy would only serve food to the locals, his wife's specialty, homemade pies and puddings.

I needed a stretch and a piss. On my way back I went up to the bar for another pint. I gave Jimmy a couple of hundred quid and told him the drinks for the regulars were on me until the money ran out. I took my pint back to the table and pecked at the keyboard. I'd given up working on the story, in my mind I was going over my relationship with Liz and as I had done many times before trying to work out what had gone wrong.

Liz was two years younger than me and I'd known her most of my life. Dave, Gordon and I had been best friends since our first year at the local village primary school. Liz was a presence, the younger sister, tagging along behind in our games. It had been the events at her sixteenth birthday that made me look at her in a different light.

The summer before I went off to uni she'd had her sweet sixteen birthday party. It was held at their house and she'd pleaded with her parents for them not to be around. She pulled big brother Dave into the discussion and he'd offered to be the responsible adult and of course he roped Gordon and me in as support.

That party was the first inkling I got that Liz was no longer the awkward young teenager and there was a beautiful young woman trying to break free. A little too much alcohol was sneaked into the party and we'd had our work cut out trying to control the randy sixteen-year-olds. Finally, I'd had to intervene in an awkward situation involving Liz, a boy and a non-consensual make out session in her bedroom.

The cries of no from Liz's bedroom had alerted me as I walked out of the bathroom. The door to her room was locked and I'd had to give it a hard push with my shoulder to force it open. Liz's dress was torn open and her bra was pushed up exposing her woman's breasts. The boy was on top of her and she was crying out and trying to push him off. I recall grabbing the kid and throwing him out of the room and then Liz was in my arms sobbing and shaking. Dave appeared moments later and wrapped a blanket around her and he calmed her down. The boy made a fast exit ably assisted by Gordon's left foot.

We set everything to rights, and Liz and Dave's parents never found out about the incident. But I could no longer see Liz as Dave's little snotty sister in pigtails. For the next few weeks before I left, I couldn't help but notice Liz dressed in much more mature clothes, and she was always hovering nearby when I was at Dave's.

Just before I left to start university Dave let me into a little secret. She was in love with me. I was her knight in shining armour. I have to say I laughed and he showed me some sheets of paper he'd found. She'd been practicing her signature Mrs Elisabeth Davidson or other various combinations.

We had a good laugh and as far as I was concerned that was it. For the three years I was away I only saw her very occasionally. And when I returned to the village Liz was away at university herself so it was another two years before I began to see her around more often.

Not long after I returned to the village one of my older cousins had inherited his family fruit farm but he hadn't wanted to give up his job in the city so he offered me the position of farm manager. 'Why me?' I'd asked. Because you're bright and you are family, I trust you, he replied. So at twenty-three I was managing a farm with over fifteen thousand fruit trees, a small brewery and a farm shop, and enjoying myself. I had the occasional girlfriend but nothing serious, and of course I had my writing as an escape.

I was twenty-seven before Liz reappeared in my life. After uni she'd got a job in London and shared a flat with another girl. She started a torrid affair with her boss. I knew this because Dave would tell Gordon and me all the family gossip over a pint at the Plough. Like most of these affairs she got burnt and came back home with her tail between her legs.

She hid out at their parents' house for a couple of weeks before Dave managed to drag her down to the Plough on a Friday night. I missed her first couple of outings as I busy with the harvest, but I understood from Gordon that he'd seen her with Dave. It was a couple of weeks later that I managed my first night out for six long weeks. We'd just finished the apple harvest and the cider pressing. I hadn't seen her for a couple of years so I was surprised when I walked in to the pub that she jumped up from beside Gordon and hugged me and wouldn't let me go. I glanced across to Gordon and almost missed the look of annoyance that flitted across his face. For a moment I wondered what it was about, but then I shrugged it off. May be I should have taken more notice, but then hindsight is wonderful isn't it!

She felt wonderful in my arms and I didn't want the night to end. The girl I'd known had gone and a vivacious young woman had appeared. That night I took her back to my apartment, and we hadn't fallen asleep until the early morning sun had crept above the horizon. She moved in with me, and I got her a job in the farm office.

A year later we got engaged and had set a date. I'd had to postpone it after dad died from a massive coronary and mum had just lost the will to live. She died six months later from a stroke, and I buried her next to dad amongst the rest of the Davidson's in the village church graveyard.

We moved into my family home and Liz wanted to get married right away but with the harvest season was just around the corner we finally agreed on an October wedding.