Promise

Be warned, absolutely no hard sex here, and this is not really an erotic story. But it still seems to fit into 'LV' rather than 'Non erotic'

I sometimes get complaints that my stories can be a little unrealistic, but please remember it IS fiction. At least mainly so, as there is a thread of real truth in this little particular tale whatever you may think.

Couple of London slang words in there as well and they're all words I occasionally still use myself, but I'll leave you to work them out if you don't know them.

Please enjoy.

+++++++++++

It weren't as if it was a bad dance, not as dances go.

Not that I'm much of a dancer myself of course, but let's put our cards on the table shall we? Except for a few guys who know what they're doing, and the posers of course, not a lot of geezers out there are really, are they?

Cilla, that's my missus of course, loved dancing though, and we had this sort of unspoken agreement that once she'd had a couple with me and had her feet stepped on a few times, then I'd be let off the hook. Then I'd be free to renew my acquaintance with the bar and the liquid delights behind it, and she'd go off dancing with her mates, or other geezers as well if she wanted.

Now hang on there.

I know what you're thinking, and you couldn't be further off track.

I said dancing and that's just what I meant. No funny stuff and no canoodling and definitely none of that mucking about stuff.

In all the time we'd been married I'd never once even so much as suspected that Cilla would do anything like that.

So, no problem there, right.

Was there?

Well what would you think of the present situation then?

Cilla had been dancing with the same guy for the last half hour or more, and that weren't normal, no bloody way. Two dances was all right, and maybe even three if it was one of my mates or something.

But the half hour passed and still no bleeding sign of her coming back.

What was going on?

Maybe I was worrying about nothing ---- But a little wavering in my tummy told me otherwise.

There!

The music stopped and she'd be coming back to me.

But bugger it ----- She didn't!.

The wavering in my tummy turned to a big square lump of lead, and for the first time in our ten years of marriage, I felt the pangs of jealousy.

Cilla was a lovely bit of crumpet, though even I wouldn't claim her to be some Miss World or anything.

Pretty enough boat race and great Bristols and things, but perhaps her best feature were her pins. Lovely and long and shapely they were and just seemed to go on and on forever. That's why even at the age of thirty nine, Cilla could still get away with wearing such short skirts when we went out for the evening.

But she was still dancing with him ----- The same bloke that is. Six feet odd tall, bit on the thin side with dark blonde hair. Quite the opposite of my five feet ten, dark hair and more chunky build.

What the hell did she see in the bugger?

Christ! ----- That must be the sixth or seventh dance they've been together now.

Time to act!

Dragging myself up from the stool I was sat on, I mumbled something to the people we were sitting with about going to find the loo. Didn't want that lot know that I was worrying about the missus's behaviour.

Now where were they?

I made my way through the throng on the dance floor, trying to pick out the blue colour of my wife's short dress.

Ah! ---- There they were, over towards the corner.

My steps ground to a halt as I spotted the pair of them, my wife Cilla moulded up against the blonde bastard as if they were bloody well glued together. Neither of them hardly moving their feet as they clung to one another on the spot rather than danced, Cilla's head resting on his chest.

Oh Fuck!

My insides did a somersault, and I sucked in a deep breath.

This weren't right --- Not right at all. My Cilla hadn't never done anything like this before.

No ---- They weren't actually kissing or anything, and Blondie's hands weren't anywhere that would warrant giving him a thumping.

Not yet anyway.

No --- It was the way they were holding onto each other. That and the fact that she'd been with him for so damn long.

He said something to her and I heard her giggle, and reach up and stroke his cheek.

Too familiar ----- Far too familiar!

"Hi Cilla," I greeted her, as I strode purposefully up to the pair of them. "I've been wondering where you had got to."

"Got to?" My wife repeated in puzzlement as she glanced round in my direction, a blank look on her face. "Got to where?"

"You've been gone nearly an hour Cilla," I exaggerated a bit, fighting to control my temper. "What are you up to?"

I saw recognition dawn on Cilla's face, as she came back into the real world as it were.

"Oh, Ken," she uttered breathlessly, easing herself almost unwillingly away from the clutches of this other geezer. "This is Dave, Ken. We've just been dancing and chatting, that's all."

"For a bit too long for my liking Cilla," I insisted, and held my hand out to her, to take her away.

For one awful, long moment I thought she was going to reject it, and quite what I would have done then, I'm not at all sure. Thumped someone I suppose.

"Yes Ken, of course," Cilla spilled out after some hesitation, and gingerly reached out for my hand. "Can I just finish this last dance though please honey?"

"The music has stopped Cilla," I pointed the obvious out to her rather shortly. "It stopped a few minutes ago."

"Oh yes of course Ken," she mumbled in confusion. "I'll be right with you honey, but I've just got to say goodnight to Dave."

"No goodnights Cilla," I insisted irritably. "We're out of here and I mean now."

I was getting well pissed off, I can tell you.

"Now hang on a minute mate," her new friend Dave started to interrupt, but one look from me and he sensibly changed his mind.

"Now Cilla," I repeated. "Now or else I'm buggering off without you."

"OK Ken," came back Cilla, reluctantly letting go of buggerlugs. "I'll see you around sometime Dave."

--------------

Pissed off?

Well what do you think?

How would you have felt?

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at Cilla?" I almost screamed at my damn missus as I hustled her back to the bar. "Who was that bloody bloke? What were you doing with him?"

"Nothing Ken," Cilla fought back. "Nothing at all, but it's got me thinking that's all."

"Thinking? ------ Thinking? ----- It looked like a lot more than thinking to me."

Cilla looked at me steadily, and knew that she had that habit of being able to stare me down. But not that night and that's for bloody sure!

"We need to talk Ken," she said quietly at last. "Let's go home now and we can talk."

"Not at home Cilla," I exploded, recoiling at those dreaded words that I'd never expected to hear from my missus. "If we need to talk, then there's no time better than now."

"Better at home when we're on our own sweetheart," she insisted, but I refused, calling for her to come clean, on the point of boiling over.

"Ok," she agreed. "But listen me out."

I agreed, dreading what she was about to tell me, but I agreed, totally confused and wondering if the next few moments would be sounding the death knell of what I'd imagined to be our perfect marriage.

"This isn't a sudden decision honey," Cilla started with. "I've been mulling it over for a month or more, but the time has come, and I've decided to take you up on the promise you made me."

"Promise? What damn promise? I've never promised you that you can carry on like that with another man."

"The night before we were married," Cilla reminded me. "You made me a promise and the time has come honey."

"What promise?" I mumbled, feeling suddenly very, very empty inside. "I don't remember any promise."

But I was lying!

Oh my God, how I was lying!

I had made her a promise, just like she said, though I'd long since dismissed it from my mind.

"I think you do remember Ken," Cilla said quietly avoiding my eyes. "I'm really sorry honey and I don't want to hurt you. I'll be forty in a few months but as much as I still love you, I think the time has come."

Oh Shit!

Oh for Chris's sake, whatever possessed me to ever make that promise!

---------------------

Let's go back a few years shall we?

Back to the night that I first met my Cilla.

I, that is we of course, were at a small jazz club in south London, though at the time neither of us knew that the other was there.

There was a break in the music, and people all around me were standing up to replenish their drinks.

"How can I get rid of him Anne," I heard the pretty young woman just in front of me say to her friend. "I don't want to be rude or anything, but I really don't fancy him."

"Well he's gone to get us some drinks Cilla," the friend told her. "We could just leave without saying anything."

"I can't do that to him," the pretty blonde with the long legs told her pal. "It's not as if he's awful or being pushy or anything---- I just don't fancy him."

I looked at the girl and took a double take on the huge length of shapely leg that was sticking out below the hem of her mini skirt. Maybe, just maybe, I could help out a girl with a pair of pins like that.

I have to say that at the time I was two years into my divorce from my first missus, and all I can say is that I was having the time of my life with the ladies.

"Hi you two," I crooned as I leant forward between them. "Can I offer my services?"

The two of them stared at me as if I was something from another planet.

"I overheard what you said," I told the pair of them. "I can help you. Pretend to be your boyfriend or something."

"I haven't got a boyfriend," the pretty blonde protested. "What's it got to do with you anyway?"

Further discussion was cut short by the arrival of lover boy, who thrust the tray of drinks in front of the two girls. Actually, I could see why the girls weren't all that keen on him.

"Ah!" I startled him with, opting for another tack. "Are these for my sister and her friend?"

"Eh ..... Yes I suppose so," he responded nervously, eyeing me up uncertainly.

"And this one must be for me," I continued, picking up the beer that he had so obviously bought for himself. "Thank you very much mate. Bloody good of you."

"Your sister?" the poor sod queried unhappily, watching as his pint of ale started to disappear rapidly down my throat.

"Yes," I replied with a smile. "I've come to take her home."

"Home?" lover boy repeated, his disappointment evident.

"Home?" Copied my newly acquired 'sister' and her friend, equally surprised.

"Yes home," I went on nonchalantly, smiling at the pretty blonde. "You know you promised Mum that you'd be home early tonight."

Ok, I was taking a risk and from the look on her face I was about to be shot down in wonderful, glorious flames, but a cheeky bugger like me has had worse failures.

But then help came from another source.

"Can you give me a lift as well please?" asked Anne, and started to collect her purse and things.

"Of course Anne," I replied, surprising even myself by remembering her name, and stood up to escort the pair of them out, taking the blonde's arm as she hesitantly raised herself on those long, slim legs.

"Thanks for the drink mate," I called out to the hapless fellow who was still stood there looking lost, and quickly draining the pint that I'd just nicked from right under his nose.

"Drink up girls and thank the nice man," I instructed my young charges, which they did and muttered their thanks. "We'd better be getting home."

"But .... But ..... But," the poor chap uttered. "They're not little girls; they must be twenty odd at least."

"Yes but you can't be too careful these days you know," I teased him somewhat unfairly. So unfairly that I suddenly felt very guilty. "Look ---- See that red head with the big tits and the tight jeans on over there?"

"Yes," he confirmed, staring over at the redhead, one of my occasional bed companions when I wasn't feeling too fussy. "The one with the ring through her nose and the tattoo on her left tit?"

"That's her," I carried on jovially, pressing a tenner in his hand. "Go and buy her a vodka and tonic and tell her you're a friend of Ken's -------- Can't fail there sunshine, nobody does."

"Vodka and tonic eh," he repeated a bit bemused by the unexpected turn of events.

"That's it," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Get one for yourself while you're at it."

With that I guided the two giggling girls away from the table, resisting the urge to look back.

"You cheeky bleeding sod," laughed Anne as we went through the door. "You pinched the poor bugger's beer."

"Nonsense young lady," I retorted with a grin. "I bought him another and set him up with Lilly."

"True," agreed Anne. "By the way, this is Cilla and I'm afraid we're both nearer to thirty than twenty."

"That's Ok," I answered. "I'm more than thirty, so that makes it even better."

At that point, I stopped at my car, a six-month-old, top of the range Jaguar as supplied by my company, and their eyes widened just a little.

Hell! ----- That's what I got it for. I was their top salesman after all.

"Well ladies what is it," I asked them. "Are you two off on your own, or are we moving on somewhere for another drink?"

"A drink Ken ---- definitely a drink," gushed Cilla, almost the first words she'd uttered.

Anne stared at the Jag and then looked up at me before agreeing, and it was off we jolly well went.

---------------

The rest of the evening went well and we had real fun together, the three of us. They discovered that I couldn't dance for peanuts, but that I was good company, and I discovered that the pair of them were intelligent as well as pretty.

What did surprise me was that Cilla had got religion at some stage, and had gone overseas as a volunteer straight from university. She wasn't into being drawn on why, but she had become disillusioned with that life and her church, and had only recently arrived back for good in the UK.

Didn't worry me ----- I'd never really cottoned on to that religion stuff much anyway.

Several very pleasant hours later and we decided to call it a night, all tumbling back into my Jag, me wondering where the evening would go from there. They were both very attractive young ladies and I wasn't fussy which one I ended up with. The tall blonde with the perky little tits and legs designed to go with a mini skirt, or the brunette with the big Bristols. Of course I wouldn't have objected, but I didn't get the impression that a threesomes was on the cards.

"Can you drop me off first please Ken," Anne spoke up, somewhat pre-empting any suggestions that I might make. "It's on the way to Cilla's."

Ah well ---- that seemed to be settled then.

We arrived at Anne's, and I leapt out to open the door for her, doing my mature gentlemen's act. I walked her to her front and went to say goodnight. I almost went to shake her hand for God's sake.

"Thanks for tonight and everything Ken," Anne smiled at me, threw her arms round my neck, pulled my lips down to hers, stuck her more than ample tits hard up against me and all but sucked my tongue out of my mouth.

Strewth!

Nearly ten minutes later, by which time we'd added hand-to-hand wresting to our repertoire, we at last came up for air.

"What's going on Anne?" I demanded, enjoying, but puzzled by her unexpected behaviour. "Why the hell did you ask me to drop you off first, and then start to snog me like that?"

"Glad you asked Ken," she said sadly. "But when you went to the bar last time, we tossed a coin and Cilla won."

Oh ----- I'm not often speechless.

"Be careful with her Ken, she's led a bit of a sheltered life and not very experienced."

Oh dear! Perhaps the wrong girl had won me.

"If it doesn't work out though, don't forget me," Anne ended with, and with a final smile, she stuck her tongue out at me saucily, wriggled her bottom and disappeared through her front door.

'We'd see,' I thought. 'Let's see how the rest of my evening pans out.'

--------------

Right then!

Back to Cilla.

I jumped back into my Jag, revved the engine and made off sportily down the road, expertly working my way through the gears as I weaved through the traffic, trying to pretend I was Stirling Moss or Jason Button. Between you and me, it was pretty expertly done, and just the sort of thing to impress a girl.

"Wrong direction Ken," Cilla laughed at me.

They do have a way of putting you down these girls, don't they?

However, fifteen minutes later, I was parked outside her apartment building, up the stairs, in her flat and sat on her sofa with a drink in my hand.

Not bed ----- sorry, I meant to say --- not bad!

"No regular boyfriend then at the moment," I queried, fairly sure that I was on safe ground.

"No boyfriends for an awful long time Ken," Cilla responded wistfully. "I had a couple of very casual relationships at university and I've been in Africa since, and as a volunteer, that would have been frowned on."

"So what went wrong then," I asked.

"Don't want to talk about it," she replied just a little too abruptly. "But those who set the rules weren't always very good at keeping them in their private life."

And that was about as much as I ever got out of her on that subject.

"So I hope you're not thinking that you're going to end up in my bed tonight then Ken," my pretty little companion continued with a smile.

"I hadn't really thought about it Cilla," I shot back acting all hurt and innocent. "But since you mention it ........."

I left the comment unfinished, and she told me that I had no chance ----- No chance at all.

Half an hour later I was lying in her bed, watching her take what remained of her clothes off. I'm not sure which of us was the most surprised, and to this day I'm still not too sure how the evening progressed that far, that quickly.

"Stop looking at me," Cilla said shyly as she reached behind herself to undo her bra.

"I'm not looking Cilla," I informed her. "I'm ogling, and thoroughly enjoying it."

"I've never undressed in front of a grown man before," she murmured, blushing furiously, as she slipped her panties down her lovely long legs.

"Then aren't I the lucky one," I replied, grinning widely.

"I'm not used to this sort of thing Ken," Cilla said quite firmly as she slid her lovely naked body under the covers and up against mine. "Oh my God that feels so wonderful, just how Anne described it."

What?

Hey ---- She said she wasn't very experienced, but Cilla was in her late twenties and a very attractive girl to boot.

"You've never been to bed with a guy before Cilla?" I asked her incredulously.

"No, never!"

"Have you ever made love?"

"No Ken, never!"

You mean you're a virgin?"

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"You do realise what is about to happen though don't you," I asked uncertainly, not being used to this situation.

"Well I was sort of hoping that we could just mess around a bit Ken," Cilla surprised me with. "I don't think I'm really ready to go the whole way yet."

"But you jump into bed with me naked," I made my argument, somewhat flummoxed.

"Yes but I trust you Ken," Cilla responded, leaning over and kissing me as her warm, perky breast squeezed up against my chest. "You just seem such a nice trustworthy sort of guy."

Oh Golly Moses, how difficult can life possibly be?

Was I going to be the Gentlemen, or was I going to be my normal self?

But before I could think further she was all over me rubbing herself against me for all she was worth.

"Can I feel it please," She giggled, grinning at me like a twelve year old. "I've never really felt one before."

"Help yourself sweetheart," I replied sagely. "It's not going anywhere else this evening."