With Age Comes Experience

THEY say 'With Age Comes Experience'. They also say 'Life Begins at 40'. Then again, 'They', whoever 'They' are, say a lot of things, most of them pretty pointless, when you think about it. But I'll let them off about the Life Begins at 40 bit – it's near enough. In my case, it began at 42.

That was a few years back, mind, but it was one of the best, most exciting, most liberating yet bittersweet times of my life. And now my past was coming back to – well – maybe not haunt me, but confront me, and the butterflies in my stomach were churning.

I wandered into the kitchen for the umpteenth time to see Rose busily preparing the salad and Hannah putting the finishing touches to the trifle. Delicious smells of a superb roast dinner wafted out of the oven and I felt my mouth watering. But still those butterflies overcame the pangs of hunger. Because I'd be seeing her again.

"How's it coming along?" I enquired, with a jollity I didn't really feel.

"It's just fine, Dad!" exclaimed Hannah. "Same as it was ten minutes ago!"

Rose turned round from her salad preparations. "For goodness' sake Clem, why don't you just go down to the Golf Club for a pint with Bob?" she chided, although gently, in her usual way.

I felt myself smiling as I took a good, long look at my beautiful partner. Lustrous red hair (admittedly tinted, but weren't we all a bit grey nowadays?), low cut fashionable rugby shirt which only a girl of Hannah's age or a woman with plenty of sex appeal at Rose's age could wear well and figure-hugging jeans. Any wrinkles she had were definitely laughter-lines and her greeny-blue eyes regarded me as they always did – with an exasperated fondness, underpinned by a deep loving.

"I'm being a bit of a nuisance, aren't I?" I said sheepishly, with the slight shrug and little-boy-lost look which Rose found endearing. Most of the time anyway.

"Yes, you are, Dad." Hannah interjected. "They might not be here for another hour at least. It'll be all right, I said it would. Daniel's cool."

"And they're coming from different directions, so there's plenty of time for you to go and have that pint, Clem." said Rose. "Now – off you go and let us do our womanly work, toiling away in the master's kitchen." Hannah gave a mock snort of derision, although she grinned at Rose's joke.

I held my hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm off," I said. "I'm just going to check something on the computer, then I'll be out of your hair, okay?"

I reversed out through the kitchen door to a chorus of exaggerated Byeeeeeees from the two women in my life. Yes, a drink would be good – it'd settle my nerves if nothing else.

I crossed through the living room into the adjoining den, pausing only to pour myself a scotch from the well-stocked drinks cabinet. I had no intention of going into my study, I had another plan. I ran my finger along the several volumes of photograph albums on one of the upper shelves of the tall den bookcase, selected the right one and pulled it down. I blew the dust off, eliciting an indignant snuffly sneeze from Ridley, my Chocolate Labrador who was, as ever, sprawled across the battered old couch.

"Sorry fella," I muttered absently, patting him on the head. "No, no don't get up – I'll sit over here, shall I?"

As I sat down in the patched old armchair opposite the couch, Ridley, oblivious to the sarcasm in his master's voice, yawned expansively and settled himself even further down into the couch cover, having had no intention whatsoever of getting up. He'd had his morning run, that was it now until late afternoon as far as he was concerned.

I shook my head at the supreme laziness of certain members of the Labrador breed and then began to flip through the album. As I knew, it was pictures of the family when the kids were teenagers, just before and just after Maggie did her flit. There she was, in fact, looking as arrogantly confident as she always had, designer clothes, big earrings, perched on the couch with Hannah one side and Daniel on the other, her arm round Daniel. Hannah was smiling, but only for the camera's benefit. Daniel had always been Maggie's favourite, Then again, he was male, the fact that he was her son was just incidental.

I smiled wistfully as I flipped over the page to find a couple of the last pictures I'd ever taken of Rufus, my old Golden Retriever, lying out on the lawn, enjoying the sunshine, a dog in the autumn of his life but content for all that. As always, I felt the lump grow in my throat and the slight sting of tears in my eyes when I thought of Rufus, so I skipped the page and then – there she was!

Samantha. Sammy to everyone.

Both pages I was looking at contained a montage of different photographs of Hannah and Sammy. Best friends and what a pair they were! Hannah, the slightly more serious brunette with fuller figure, in contrast to Sammy, with her strawberry blonde hair, deep blue eyes and slim figure.

Hannah and Sammy in party dresses, off out to the disco, or club, or whatever it was, 15 year-old man killers, wearing blue eye shadow and very little else. Sammy and Hannah messing about in the paddling pool with next door's younger kids, Hannah in the one-piece dark blue swimming costume, Sammy in the pink bikini. Hannah and Sammy in school uniform, ties loose, collars open wide, hugging each other and larking about in the garden and in Hannah's room, supposedly doing homework.

Hannah looking serious as she planted a shrub in the garden. Sammy looking wickedly amused behind her, wearing lurid sunglasses and a skimpy green tank top, belly button showing, the rose tattoo clearly visible on her shoulder. Ah yes, the tattoo… that's what started it all really.

I slowly closed the album and sipped my scotch, letting my thoughts drift back three, no, four years to that fateful day…

* * * * *

"All right, Mr Clements?"

I looked up from my newspaper and smiled as Sammy bounced into the living room alongside Hannah.

"That time already is it?" I said, casting a glance at the mantelpiece clock which indicated just after 4.15. "School okay, was it?"

"It was school," muttered Hannah, undoing her tie and flopping down into an armchair, grabbing the remote and flicking the TV on, rapidly scrolling through all the satellite channels in ten seconds flat.

"That's the Sixth Form for you," I said, "The work gets harder."

"It wasn't too bad. Had Double Maths last thing though," trilled Sammy, plopping down onto the couch next to me, just slightly too close as she always did, and then shifting along further. "You had a good day, Mr Clements?"

I couldn't help but look down her open blouse, catching a glimpse of a pink, lacy bra beneath. As if sensing this (sensing? She knew!!!), Sammy loosened her tie a bit more to allow more of her cleavage to be shown. She wasn't a tart, not like some of the girls of her age at the school, but she was well aware of her charms – and why not? She was extremely attractive.

"Not bad, thanks, Samantha," I said recovering myself slightly and trying to sound like a grown-up. "And I've told you before, Love, call me Clem. Everyone else does, it's okay."

I stood up, hoping to God she wouldn't see the telltale bulge in my trousers. She beamed up at me, bright blue eyes flashing. "Thanks Clem," she said, "And call me Sammy. Everyone else does."

"Oh right – of course. Sammy it is," I said. "Ummm… cup of tea. Sammy? Hannah?"

Hannah grunted, which I took to be a yes, while Sammy said pleasantly, "Yes please, Clem. Milk, no sugar, remember?"

"Tea will be served shortly, young Misses," I replied, in a posh, butler-type voice.

Sammy laughed. "You're more fun than my dad," she giggled. "Especially with your old 80s music. You're cool, Mr Clem – um – Clem – you know that?"

Hannah raised her eyebrows. "Pul-leeeeease!" she exclaimed.

"Don't think your Old Man's cool then, kiddo?" I chuckled. "I was a New Romantic, I'll have you know. Not that long ago, either!"

With that I swiftly gyrated towards the kitchen, singing the old Adam Ant lyrics; "Unplug the juke box, and do us all a favouuuurrrr. This music's got no taste, so try another flavouuuuuurr!" attempting to do the dance steps at the same time. Sammy laughed. Hannah pulled a cushion over her face. Once in the kitchen I blushed. Just what was I trying to prove and why? I was 42 for God's sake, not 22! Acting the way I did with Sammy wasn't being very grown up! I was old enough to be her father, after all.

Rufus yawned and stretched on his big, soft doggy beanbag next to the washing machine and gave me a quizzical look.

"Don't ask." I said.

I busied myself with the tea, which I brought into the living room on a tray for the girls, left it on the coffee table in front of them and excused myself to my study. "Dinner'll be at 7.30, Hannah," I said. "Does Sammy want to stay?"

Hannah stood up and picked up her school bag and mug of tea. "We're going to my room to do our homework," she said. "You wanna stay, Sammy?"

"I can't tonight," said Sammy, looking genuinely regretful. "Sorry Clem – you're a great cook an' all. I always like your meals." She followed Hannah, mug in hand, paused at the living room door and smiled at me. A really nice smile, lips parted, white teeth showing and the tip of her pink tongue. A sexy smile.

"See you later, Clem," she said, quietly.

* * * * *

I spent the next few days thinking about Sammy. Not constantly, but frequently. Yes, sure I was old enough to be her father, but she wasn't my daughter. She was a very attractive, 18 year-old, not a kid, a young woman. Okay, she as still at school, but that didn't make her any the less attractive. All the same though, I chided myself, I shouldn't be harbouring thoughts like that about one of my daughter's friends. If I wanted female company, I should try looking for someone closer to my own age.

The fact was though; I hadn't had any female company since Maggie had finally gone. Hadn't wanted any.

So I busied myself with work – these days I was working as a consultant from home and could e-mail anything which was needed rather than spend tediously long hours in office meetings. Was I ever glad that I was able to leave that job and set up to work from home? And it was nice to know that the money wasn't too much of a problem these days.

Rufus got his regular walks – even though he was a lot slower and stiffer than he used to be, thanks to advancing years, and I would meet up with Bob, Reefer and some of the lads at the King's Arms for a pint or two. Bob was always trying to get me to join the golf club, saying how I'd really enjoy the game, but somehow I always resisted. Perhaps one day….

In keeping busy and occupying my time, I wasn't thinking about Sammy. Well, not every often anyway. The trouble as, she often came home from school with Hannah and my thoughts about her intensified. It wasn't just simple middle-aged lustings, I was sure of that. Sammy flirted with me outrageously at times, so it was as much her doing as mine.

Confirmation of her feelings about me came one afternoon in late September. I'd been working in my study, busily communicating with an American client by Instant Messenger, so I'd lost all track of time. When I'd finished the conversation and e-mailed the required documents, I glanced at my watch and realised that it was nearly five o'clock. Hannah must be home from school by now, but I hadn't heard her come in.

I went out into the hall and listened up the stairs. I heard music playing and was amused to hear that it was Duran Duran – Hannah must've got one of my old cassette tapes on in her room. I walked up the stairs and paused outside her door; ready to knock when I heard voices. The music wasn't too loud, so I could discern most of the words. I could hear Sammy's voice clearly. Suddenly, the song came to an end and the music stopped abruptly. The tape must have finished. The girls carried on talking.

"Oh, but he can be so embarrassing about his music sometimes," said Hannah, obviously referring to her Dear Old Dad.

"Leave it out," chided Sammy, coming to my defence, "Your Dad's cool. He's nothing like my Dad. At least he's not boring and always going on about school work and complaining about your clothes."

I felt myself blush slightly. She was standing up for me!

"Yeah, I s'pose so," came Hannah's voice. She seemed a little further away, so I figured she must have been fiddling with her tape deck. "He's pretty easy about most things. I reckon he's just happy to have a quiet life since my Mum went."

"You never say much about her," said Sammy curiously. "I never used to come round for ages when she was here. What was she like?"

"I never used to ask anyone round because of her," replied Hannah quickly. "Anyway, she's gone now, so that's it. Dad's happy enough I think."

"Has he got a girlfriend?" giggled Sammy.

Hannah giggled back. "At his age?"

I felt myself scowling. Cheeky little…

"He's not that old! I bet he's got loads of women after him!"

"I dunno. Maybe he has. Horrible thought, though, having sex at that age, isn't it? If he has, he never brings them back here."

The music started again and I took a few quiet steeps away from the door, then walked briskly forward and rapped on the door. "You home Love? Is Sammy with you?"

Hannah opened the door. She'd changed into her usual casual attire of crop top and jeans. Sammy was sitting on the end of her bed, still wearing her school uniform – or most of it anyway. She cocked her head round and flashed me a brilliant smile and a little wave. "Hi Clem!" she said, perkily.

"I'm doing dinner in a while," I said. "Would you like to stay, Sammy?"

She enthused that she would, so I set to in the kitchen, my ego somewhat boosted by Sammy's robust defence of me to my own daughter. I was cool! And she must fancy me – it was obvious!

Dinner (beef bourguignon) was gratefully received by both girls when I placed it in front of them. Sammy's eyes widened when I placed three bottles of ice cold Budweiser on the table. "Go on," I smiled, "It's only light. One won't get you drunk, I bet you drink far more than that usually." I raised my own bottle and took a swig. "Cheers!"

"Cheers" responded Sammy, taking a swig. Hannah rolled her eyes but she, too, took a swig.

"That reminds me," I said, reaching across to a pile of papers on an unoccupied dining chair. "I got these photos back today. They're from August when we were planting the shrubs in the back garden, the day before your 18^th birthday party, Sammy. I bet you had plenty to drink then!"

"Yeah, so did Hannah," giggled Sammy, ignoring the 'daggers' from my daughter.

I passed the photo envelope over to them and the girls leafed through the photos, laughing and exclaiming at how they looked.

"You can see your tattoo nicely there, Sammy." I said, leaning across and pointing at the photo of her standing behind Hannah, who was planting a shrub. I felt Sammy's cheek brush against my arm, with slightly more contact than was needed. I withdrew my arm, but slowly.

"Yeah," she said, sadly. "I'm having it removed next month, though, Clem."

"Why?" I asked.

"Oh, my Dad's been anal about it ever since I got it done, and that was ages ago, on my 16th birthday for God's sake," she exclaimed, her brow furrowing. "Anyway, I've got fed up with it too, because it wasn't really what I wanted. Anyway, he's forking out to have it removed by laser surgery."

"I wouldn't let my Dad tell me what to do like that," said Hannah. "Not to do with my body."

I shot her a filthy look. "I wouldn't be uptight like that, would I?" I snapped. "Did I mind when you had your ears pierced a second time? Or had the belly button stud put in?"

"All right, all right," muttered Hannah, attacking her food moodily. "You're cool, aren't you Dad?"

I saw hers and Sammy's eyes meet. Sammy scowled. Now what was all that about?

* * * * *

It was two weeks later when things came to a head. Literally.

It was a bright, crisp, mid-October day. Blue sky, warm sunshine and the leaves changing colour, a slight nip in the air. Rufus had enjoyed his walk in the park, snuffling through fallen leaves and I had a spring in my step. Days like this just made one feel glad to be alive. Especially after how bad things had been for me…

I'd not long been home, having just cleared away the plate on which I'd had a sandwich and was contemplating another cup of tea when the doorbell rang. Rufus raised his head from the bed and gave a half-hearted bark then flopped down again. The walk had worn him out.

I walked down the hallway, unsure of the silhouette on the other side of the frosted glass of the front door. I was surprised and delighted to find Sammy there when I opened it.

She looked up at me and smiled, a rather shy smile, head slightly cocked on one side. She was wearing her school uniform including her blazer, and was rather awkwardly holding her rucksack-bag on her left shoulder, as opposed to the right, which she usually favoured. "Hi Clem," she said.

"Come in Sammy," I said, recovering myself quickly. "I'm just about to brew up. You fancy a cuppa? Er – Hannah's not here." I cursed the stupidity of my last remark. Of course Hannah wasn't here. She'd be at school for the next couple of hours.

"I – er- had a free afternoon," said Sammy, "Study time, y'know? But I wasn't feeling up to it. My shoulder's aching."

"Is it?" I asked, closing the door after her and noticing that she was removing her blazer very gingerly. I took the blazer and hung it up on a wall peg. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's where I had the tattoo removed," winced Sammy, walking through to the kitchen as I motioned her to with my hand. "It's been over a week, but it still stings."

"Of course, the tattoo, yes," I said, dropping tea bags into two mugs then pouring boiling water onto them. "Did the hospital manage to remove it okay?"

Sammy sat down at the kitchen table and unbuttoned her cuff, and began to roll her blouse sleeve up, pulling it as high as she could, trying to get expose her shoulder. I felt my groin hardening at the sight of her doing this, my mouth suddenly becoming very dry indeed.

Sammy gave up on the sleeve and pulled it down. She tugged back her open collar (two top buttons undone, I noticed), revealing her slender shoulder. It looked smooth and pale, like the rest of her skin, except for a small pink patch at the end, where the tattoo had been removed.

"It stings more than when I had the bloody thing done." she said, delicately tapping he pink patch. "And all my Dad goes on about is how much it cost him to have it done private. Stingy git! The surgeon was one of his mates and did it on the cheap anyway."

I couldn't help myself… I had to touch that soft skin. Just to show concern. Also… also to show my interest. If I felt her react against it, I wouldn't pursue it and everything would be fine.

"May I?" I asked, delicately running my fingers across her shoulder to the end, stroking the pink patch and then running my fingers back towards her neck. I noticed she had a leather thong necklace on, with some sort of Celtic cross pendant attached. My index finger ran under this and pulled it up slightly. "Um… nice necklace," I said, hoarsely.

Sammy slowly reached and put her hand on my hand and extracted my finger from her necklace. That's it, I thought, she's offended. She thinks I'm a dirty old man out to grope her…

But instead she laid my fingers flat on her shoulder again and gently guided them along her shoulder and back again, then nuzzling down into my hand. I could feel the warmth of her cheek.

I reached my other hand behind her head, stroking her hair, highlighted by the sun shining through the kitchen window and traced my fingers round her cheek and under her chin, which I gently moved up so she was looking directly at me. Her eyes sparkled, deep and blue, her lips, smeared with only the most delicate pink lip gloss, parted, showing her even, white teeth. I bent down towards her, my breath rather ragged, but I veered away towards her shoulder and kissed the pink patch lightly. I felt her squirm with pleasure and sigh deeply. I took a chance, kissing her further along her shoulder, then on the side of her neck.