What If It Hadn't Rained?

He didn't talk a great deal in the restaurant, the place was quite crowded and it seemed to make him shy but, after the meal, we enjoyed a gentle stroll around the harbour, looking at the small yachts and the fishing boats that gently bobbed on an incoming tide. There was a beautiful full moon by that time, bright enough to make the street lamps seem unnecessary and I made a remark about it.

"Yeah... it's the harvest moon," he said softly, "that's why it's such a busy time for farmers," he mused and, for a moment or two, my heart sank as I thought he might be looking for a gentle way of saying that he wouldn't be seeing again.

"It's one of those times of the year when it's all work... and very little time for play."

By this time we'd returned to the car and he was, once again, holding the door for me. I was starting to feel depressed. I'd had a wonderful evening with Monty and I didn't want it to end there. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to get to know him properly.

"I'd really... errm... really like to see you again, Sally," he suddenly blurted out -- and my heart did a couple of somersaults with full twist and icing on (I know that doesn't make any sense -- but it's how I felt -- so there!).

"Yes... errm... I'd like that," I said, trying to sound reasonably cool, "I really would."

The journey back was a quiet one. I think we were both reasonably content having agreed that we enjoyed being together, but when he drew up outside the apartment block, I had to make a decision about whether or not to invite him. I wanted to; make no mistake about that! I wanted him to carry me up the stairs and into the bedroom, put me on the bed, and make wild and passionate love all night long!

"I realise you're really busy, right now," I said, fumbling in my bag for one of the business cards the bank issued," but... if you really want to," I added as I scribbled my home number on the back, "just give me a call." And then, hoping I wasn't being too 'forward,' added a soft "Please."

He gave one of his big grins as he took the card.

"Are you doing anything on Sunday?" he asked, "I could pick you up and bring you out to the farm for lunch."

"If you're sure," I stammered slightly, "I... I mean... your parents...."

"They'll be delighted," he assured me, "You'll need to bring a big appetite with you though; the plates tend to be a bit full when mam cooks! Anyway, she said she can't wait to see what kind of nutcase tries to walk down that hill when it's raining!"

"Hmmmph! Thanks very much!" I said with mock-severity. "Anyway, if it hadn't been raining...." Then I stopped in mid-sentence, not wanting to go down that route. "Okay, Mr Montgomery... it's a date," I laughed.

He kissed me, very briefly, very gently, when he came round to open the door for me, said; "See you on Sunday, Sally," and was back in the car and away.

And that, when I look back on it, is probably the biggest 'what if' of my whole life.

If it hadn't been raining, I would probably have continued on my way down the longer, safer path -- blithely unaware of what my destiny could have been. Would have I met Monty anyway? Eventually?

Who knows? That's the kind of secret that I'll leave to much greater minds than mine to think about. The fact is that did rain; that I did have that accident and it led to me meeting my Monty.

Yes, I said 'my' Monty. That was a long time ago now. We were 'courting' (the kind of old-fashioned word Monty likes) for the best part of a year before our wedding. And, since this is Literotica, you'll probably want to know whether we had sex before marriage and was it good and -- tough! I'm not telling!

Did I tell him about my past? Yes... absolutely everything, because I didn't want there to be any secrets between us (He hadn't exactly led a monk-like existence either, as it turned out!). We live in a house that's really an extension of his parents' house (they're absolutely lovely, by the way) and we have two beautiful children; Sandra, who's nine and is named after probably my best friend (who's now happily married too, by the way), and five-year-old Alex (Monty's dad wanted him called 'Nelson' but we dug our heels in about that!). I don't work at the bank any more, but I do a fair bit around the farm -- especially sorting out the accounts, seeing the bills are paid on time and so on -- and enough physical stuff to ensure that my figure's still in pretty good shape for a mother of two. After all, I do want to be the kind of wife that my Monty's proud of.