Cathy and Chris Ch. 14

Sliding her index finger between her thighs, the wetness she found amazed her. She had swollen enormously, and her touch on the tiny piece of skin around her clitoris had her weak at the knees. She looked at herself in the mirror, playing with her image in her head. The hand that had played moved slowly back up her body, stopping to spread wetness around one nipple.

The arm that had covered her breasts slid down to take the place of the other at her vagina and slowly, almost before she'd realised it herself, her finger was between her lips tasting her own slightly salty tang for the first time not from his face or his penis fresh from fucking her.

The hand cupping her groin squeezed hard and she almost fell back. The spell almost broken she moved her legs, allowing her panties to fall to the floor before she daintily stepped out of them. With hands and arms half covering -- half fondling breasts and pussy, she stepped across to his bed and lay down to continue her personal self-exploration.

Toying with her breasts and her clitoris meant that she was at a very high point of arousal and she knew that it wasn't going to take much to make her come. Pulling the duvet over herself added to her warmth and security and with visions of Chris fucking her, Chris taking her from behind and his final declaration of love in the forest in that magical night, the first few strokes on her ivory clitoral nub was enough and she crashed to an enormous orgasm, writhing and rolling on the bed, gasping and groaning as she continued to stroke herself in the same way he would, helping her to extend into a second climax.

She lay and basked in the afterglow, falling into an easy sleep. When she awoke, she felt more relaxed and more at peace with herself than she had in years.

She reached over for her mobile phone and wrote a text message. "I'm naked in your bed after masturb8ing myself to a fantastic cum. Any chance U can cum home early or for lunch?" After a few minutes she received a reply,

"Hello Darling, this is Mum, who did you want?" She flushed scarlet at the thought that she might have sent that to Mum, but on checking the number to reply to saw it was him. That kind of practical joke was just like him.

She replied, "Bastard!"

"Sorry m8, some of us have to work these days. Might be able to get 2morrow afternoon off tho."

She looked at the message, he couldn't even come home for lunch? She thought back to the last time they had made... had sex.

It was almost a week ago. She had slept in his bed every night though, naked, with her either coming through after they had all retired for the night, or going through to his room before he had gone to bed. Each night they had kissed and cuddled and held each other, before falling into an easy and most wonderful sleep from which she awoke totally rested.

She realised that he must think her the most awful coward, wanting the benefits of a lover and a husband, without the drama or commitment. She picked up her phone again and started to press buttons.

"You OK?"

He replied, "just busy."

"Sorry I'm still a bit wishy washy about all this."

"?" His reply to her generalisation was minimal.

"In what we are doing and how we are doing! Our 'special' friendship!"

"Particularly like being 'friends' with you. Sadly can't get back today, some of us have to work remember! Will see you tonight."

The vibrator stayed where it was and after a very thoughtful few minutes she got up, freshened up, dressed and went downstairs. She prepared a light lunch, got on her bike and cycled down to the town and walked around the shops.

She'd stop at Tesco and get some steak, the thick one he liked. Some baked potatoes, mushrooms, tomatoes and something sticky and sweet for pudding; something he could spread all over her and eat like he had done when she became an integral part of his last birthday cake. Shit but she needed some; at least that was never a problem these days, at least not until recently.

She dashed home, excited by the prospect of what they might do tonight, she locked her bike in the garage, and carried the goodies she had bought into the kitchen, beginning to wish she had got some special underwear for the evening.

The answer machine had a message on it, and she pressed the 'play' button.

"Oh... one of these things... err... Hi," it continued in the voice heard the whole world over that said the speaker didn't like talking to a piece of equipment that was probably sat between a toaster and electric kettle, "it's Mike Stafford here, hello Cath... Catherine," he stuttered, "I was wondering if you'd, that it is if you'd been able to find the standard bearer things we spoke about," she sighed.

She hadn't bothered to so much as look for them. "Only we err... we need them for..." his pause was just too long and even made her think that he was making it up as he went along, "for a special event... this... this Sunday. I'm in your part of the world Friday night if it's OK for me to come round and collect it."

His slow pace and delivery started to pick up the same tone as Brian, and common to those without any experience of real authority placed into a position they felt gave them some. Now sure of what he was saying he got his second wind,

"You see, Catherine, we really need the gear back you understand, could you ring me back and let me know if you have it? If you want to drop at the club tomorrow night that we would be OK, let me know and I'll have a diet Coke with lemon but no ice waiting for you." She could hear the lift he tried to give his voice. "Anyway, give me a ring and let me know. Bye."

With a sigh, she stood and went back out to the garage; the sooner she got this done, the sooner he'd be out of their lives.

In the garage were the brooding mass of 'those' boxes -- Brian's bits and pieces that she had still to get around to sorting. His clothes and shoes had all gone to the charity shop before his funeral, as did some of his less personal bits and pieces; an unused electric razor still sealed in the box, packs of playing cards, humourous gift items from the kids, friends and family, but these boxes were 'his' things, things that he'd treasured and she didn't want to throw them away from the old house as it seemed disrespectful.

But in this new place without the memories, good or bad, they just presented a reminder of Brian.

OK he had died, and in sudden, tragic if avoidable circumstances, but she had to move on and she wanted it to be with Chris.

She ripped the first strip of brown plastic tape off of the first box.

Ornaments; his mother's collection of nicotine stained china animals, sad clowns, a cottage with matchbox holder built in, a Blackpool Tower holding a thermometer, tiny porcelain dogs and comedy cats carefully wrapped in newspaper. She knew it wasn't in this box. She moved it to one side, and reached for a second. That box first could go to the charity shop.

On second thoughts though, she thought she really should give them to Brian's sister Maureen.

She didn't want the grief and the accusations of disloyalty to the man Maureen would think she should still be wearing black for. But the nice person in her just thought it would be a nicer way of doing it.

The next box was a collection of fishing magazines that Brian had every month and read page after page religiously; which was strange because he never went fishing, ever, didn't even have any rods or reels. The sudden, and almost forgotten reek of cigarette smoke that had disappeared from her life almost made her want vomit. Slapping the box closed she marched straight out of the garage door to the recycling wheelie bin and dumped the magzines, box and all, straight into it. A second and a third box of fishing magazines went the same way. The fourth held his 'files'. Boxes of trade journals, instruction books, and pieces of wallpaper of all things, and a few receipts. She did his tax return each year and it suggested that they barely made a living. There was a lot of 'cash in hand' work, which she hated, but that was how Brian operated. He had been dead over a year, and she had sent the last of his paperwork back seeing as he had the sense to die right at the end of the financial year. That box went in the bin as well.

Finally, in the fifth, smallest and last box she found it. The box contained his maroon beret, with his medals and their boxes - one for Northern Ireland and his long service and good conduct medal. She would keep those, he had always been proud of them and so in a way had Dan.

His maroon blazer he wore so proudly, with the Parachute Regiment badge on the pocket; and wrapped in the centre of that the highly polished leather standard bearers harness and white gloves.

She pushed the rest of the stuff back into the box, the emotions of all of this coming back to her. Her eyes watered and it wasn't from the smell of cigarettes.

She went back into the house, and put the harness on the table, then as if she didn't want its dark, sad presence and what it represented in her favourite room, she picked it up, and took it out to the hall.

There was a mess of coats, fleeces, hats, gloves --all representing her 'new' family; it couldn't go there. She trotted upstairs and left them on her dressing table, the one she'd brought from the old house, and had been a gift from Brian.

She did a 'last caller' check on the phone, and pressed to re-dial. It was a mobile number and went straight to answer phone.

"Hi Mike, it's Cathy, got your message and I've found the standard bearer harness." It was her turn to stop and think, "OK, you can come round this evening if you are able, can you do between five and six? Only it's the best time for when the Chris is dropping off or collecting the children... OK see you later."

It wasn't just that, she knew that Chris and Dan would be in late, Chris at the gym and Dan rugby training. She didn't want her two favourite men in the world, still psyched and pumped with adrenaline from their work-outs, arguing with him!

She picked up the three little ones from school and when she got back found another message from Mike.

He couldn't do this evening but as he had said, he was free tomorrow night, and asked in what he must have considered a jaunty and cheeky tone, what time he should come round.

She rang him straight back, and got HIS answer phone again.

There was nothing for it, tomorrow they would all be in early, so she said for him to call after half six when she knew that Dan at least would be out for a burger and trip to the cinema.

At least it meant that her special meal with Chris would go unaffected. Daniel arrived a little later and was surprised to find his tea on the table ready for him. Dan, although showered at school still had that after-glow on him from his exercise.

Tall, but light and muscular, Dan could move across the pitch or the court like lightning. Brian of course had tried to bully the boy into a man's sport like boxing but Daniel had rebelled like all teenagers are supposed to.

But here, he had taken to physical exercise in a way Brian would never have given him credit for. In the months since his Father's death Dan had become his own person, not a child sat in his father's shadow, biding his time until he was old enough to be the man Brian wanted him to be.

Chris had just helped him grow both physically and in maturity. Chris had got Dan a membership at the gym close to his office as his 'son' at a reduced rate. Their closeness gave added evidence to this. Chris also encouraged him occasionally playing racketball against him and more often than not loosing to him.

Danny's shoulders had broadened, his face had lost the puppy fat and his improved diet and the showers they had in new house rather than the old bath at the last one, had done for the mess of flaring red acne spots that had afflicted him for the last three years and his dark eyes were looking more and more like Chris's each day, although she couldn't think for a second how they could do. His high cheek bones and square jaw line were to die for and, in the nicest way, reminiscent of Brian. For the final touch, and something she had NEVER been able to do, Chris had ignored the local barber or the electric clippers that she had previously cut Dan and Brian's hair with, and had taken him to a hair stylist in town.

They had gotten rid of the grunger's mop he'd insisted on, taming his thick, dark brown almost black locks into a short, snappy but most of all easy to manage cut which, with addition of some gel, overnight turned her baby boy into someone with the looks of a performer in a boy band.

Add to that clothes shopping with Chris for style rather than fashion, he was becoming a totally new... boy? No, MAN!

Twice this week she'd answered the door to some of his new friends. In the last house this was normally the start of a long argument about why he shouldn't hang around with the three hoodie wearing, baseball-capped hooligans that she had at the door, at least two of which she knew had criminal records for stealing cars while the third probably had just never been caught.

That school and those boys were miles away; now the callers were either smart young men like him picking him up for a sport of some kind; racketball mostly or, amazingly, rugby practice.

Brian would have loved Dan's new found like for the sport, which was of course why Dan had previously hated it.

Chris had sat with him through some of the six nations championship matches on the TV, explaining and more often complaining about how the particular player had messed up. One evening Chris had announced that he'd been given some tickets for to see the County team playing, and Dan cheered as loud as the regulars for a game he now understood.

Once Danny found out that his football boots could be worn for rugby, he was hooked.

If not one of an ever growing list of nice friends playing sports, playing music or doing homework then those awful tracksuit wearing, car-stealing villains had been replaced by very attractive girls looking much older than their 14, 15 or 16 years, bashfully asking if Danny, or occasionally 'Dan-Dan', was in and likely to come out tonight. She had smiled, stepped back to allow them into the huge front room, while she called him from his homework, resisting the temptation to grin knowingly at him, just saying, "Hi Dan-Dan, these young ladies are here to see you, don't stay out too late.

Chris arrived and had big smiles for everyone. The oven was lit, potatoes baking and the surprise dinner was in the fridge ready for the off.

He headed upstairs to change, reappearing half and hour later, looking and smelling great; splashed with her favourite aftershave and wearing the jeans he looked best in, she wondered if he was horny too. She smiled a huge expectant smile to him that he returned fully.

"I'm out tonight," he said looking at his watch, "just some mates from work." She tried to hide her disappointment, "no need to cook for me, I'll grab something while I'm out."

"Oh," she said.

"You haven't started anything have you?" He said looking around, worried.

"No," she said grinning as best she could, "No I haven't, what time will you be back?"

"Not too late," he smiled, "Still got work tomorrow after all."

"Driving?"

"No, only popping into town, so I'm walking."

"Oh," she said as her balloon burst within her, "I'll make myself something later then."

"Sorry mate, you hadn't planned to go out had you?"

"No," she tried to smile it off, while still leaving some indication that she wasn't totally OK.

"OK then." He grinned, picking up his mug of tea and heading out to the Hall.

He helped the three young ones with homework, read stories, helped her load the dishwasher, put the three to bed, said goodnight to Danny and was putting his thin jacket on when the door bell rang.

"I'll see you tonight," he said, "don't wait up."

"Night Chris." She called after him, and walked to the dinning room and the large bay window.

Far from seeing the group of men, 'mates', she had expected and that her experiences with Brian had prepared her for, there was three men, and four women; the couples were evident.

The 'spare' woman was blonde, very pretty and smiled at Chris in a way that set all of Cathy's alarm bells ringing. She said something to him and wagged a finger for some reason, her body was fantastic! She was late twenties, had a cropped fitted black top that showed a flat stomach and fantastic full breasts with no apparent bra, and her jeans fitted like a second skin. Even her high black heels made her shapely legs look even longer. They turned and headed along the road she guessed for the small village centre.

He was going out with a woman! She was worked up to the point of wanting to go out and remonstrate with him -- didn't he realise how much this would hurt her? How dare he! That bastard! That rotten, cheating...

But she couldn't. She had given up that right on the few times he'd asked her to go out with him, and when he'd expressed his love for her and she had continued to turn him down.

Shit. What now?

She fretted her evening away, not concentrating on the TV that played to itself in the front room. She ate one of the baked potatoes, with cheese, and left half of it.

Should she go out with someone else too? The only bloke that had shown any interest had been that awful Mike, and it was obvious that he had the same kind of attitude to women that Brian did, and she hated that.

But here was this gorgeous thing, younger than her, blonder, prettier, no kids to follow around and with a figure that made Cathy green with envy.

She tried to tell herself that it could be nothing, just a few work friends and he was there to make up the even numbers. But that smile, that thing that had flashed across her face and illuminated her pretty features the second he made eye contact with her; nothing matey about that, she was sure.

She went to bed, her bed, first time she had slept in it in days, and tossed and turned for forty minutes, desperately seeking sleep. She must have managed, as she heard the front door being locked and the gentle creak of his footsteps on the old oak stairs. She wanted to jump out of bed and run to him, to tell him she was sorry, to beg him not to get married to this new girl, not to start a family with her (She didn't stop to think how that would be possible after his vasectomy), not to chuck her (not her children her subconscious missed out) out on to the streets to fend for herself, she'd go out with him any time he wanted if only...

She stood up and tiptoed to the wardrobe, and opened the door. She was naked and trembling ever so slightly. She was horny, hot and cold at the same time; she had a damp pussy, hard nipples and mind of total turmoil and as she made to slide the wall open a thought struck her.

What if he'd brought the new woman back with him? What if he was stripping her out of her clothes and massaging her to an orgasm the same way he'd done to her so often?

Shit.

Well, gloves would have to come off, she resolved as she walked back to her bed. She felt sadder than she had since Brian had died.

They were everything to each other, how could he just stop loving her and turn to this other woman. He had just halved the mortgage; he couldn't bring someone else into their home surely?

At last she stopped feeling sorry for herself. Her weeks living with Chris had proved to her that she could do anything she wanted and that anything was possible.

She would have to fight to keep him, keep him on her terms of course, but she could not give up all of this, the great days and fantastic nights. She had it all now and wasn't going to give it up for some blonde bimbo with sprayed on jeans and a fake tan!