Whatever it was that he did, he was clearly successful at it and made plenty of money, judging by the red Porsche 911 he turned up to meet her in. She recognised it as the one in his dating profile photo.
John certainly knew how to treat a girl, she had thought to herself as he presented her with a big bouquet on arrival and insisted on paying for everything that evening. The conversation flowed easily, almost as easily as the wine, and bit by bit he encouraged her to open up to him and tell him all sorts of intimate details about her life. He wanted to know everything about her, he said, and every time he topped up her glass, she became a little bit more loose-lipped.
She was not good at flirting, but with John, she felt sexy and interesting for the first time in a long while. He was confident and oozed charm. She was beginning to feel like she had won the lottery and for once, the violent thoughts she harboured for her ex-husband faded away in the smoke from the two, small candles on the table. Maybe she really could put all the bad stuff behind her and move on.
‘You are a very sexy lady you know. I can’t believe you’re still single,’ he drawled, shaking his head to reinforce his amazement.
‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she replied playfully. ‘Believe me there are a lot of very undesirable characters out there in the internet dating world.’
He laughed and raised his glass to hers. ‘Well, here’s to us then…two of the good ones.’
She took a small sip from her wine glass before speaking again, leaning in towards him and thrusting her best assets forward, courtesy of the daringly low cut top she had bought specially for the occasion.
‘It’s weird…I feel like I’ve known you forever. You’re so easy to talk to. I’ve already told you things I normally wouldn’t dream of telling anyone on a first date.’
‘I know exactly what you mean. We have a real connection I think,’ he replied, holding eye contact until she blushed.
She hadn’t planned for it to happen, or so she told herself, but by the time they were onto the main course in the restaurant, she knew she would be having sex with him that night. She was glad she had at least had the foresight to put on matching underwear ‘just in case’, but she was still self-conscious about her weight and was already stressing about removing the Spanx she had put on over her knickers at the last minute.
As it turned out, she needn’t have worried, as John was quick to put her at ease when she tentatively broached the subject, by refusing a pudding and telling him she was starting a diet.
‘I’m just not into skinny, bony women. I can assure you I prefer real women with curves in all the right places and some flesh on their bones.’
He winked suggestively, looking her up and down.
‘Hmm, well I’ll take that as a compliment, I think…,’ she joked, secretly relieved.
As she led him into the bedroom later, in eager anticipation of a long-awaited night of unbridled passion, she could hardly believe her luck. Here was a guy who was into ‘larger ladies’, looked presentable and was clearly loaded. All boxes ticked as far as she was concerned. She had no intention of letting this one slip through her fingers.
The following morning, John left early for a business meeting with a client in Northampton, he kissed her lightly on the lips and assured her he would call soon.
She lay in bed alone for a long time, not quite sure how she felt about the previous night’s activities. His approach had been unusual, to say the least, not at all what she had expected, but, emboldened by the wine, she had been desperate to please him and prepared to do whatever it took to make him want to see her again. The morning’s sober version of herself was a little more uneasy about it all and she squirmed uncomfortably as a vision came into her mind.
A vision of herself, naked and spread-eagled on the bed, arms and legs stretched wide and secured to the metal frame with the silk scarves he had calmly produced from the bottom of his briefcase.
Fortified by the wine, it had not bothered her in the slightest at the time. In fact, she had found it all highly erotic and had proved to be an extremely enthusiastic participant in the role play. John had taken on a very different persona in the bedroom, making it clear who was in charge of the evening’s entertainment as he stood back and took his time to scrutinise every inch of her body. She recalled his face as he smirked down at her, probing insistently between her thighs with the fingers of one hand while massaging her breasts roughly with the other. Several times he brought her to the brink of orgasm and then stopped abruptly, leaving her desperate for more. She recalled how he had suddenly straddled her, seizing both arms in a grip that was a little too tight.
‘You’re gagging for it, aren’t you? Lying there, hoping I’ll give you a proper seeing to, fuck you good and hard, just the way you like it.’
The tone of his voice took her by surprise and had a raw, steely edge to it. When she did not answer immediately, he had used one hand to lift her hip roughly and slapped her hard across the backside with the other. She let out a startled little scream, feeling like she had somehow been transported onto the set of a low budget porn movie.
‘Answer me, bitch. If you want it, you’re going to have to beg me for it.’
He slapped her twice more, harder each time, which she was slightly ashamed to find she thoroughly enjoyed.
She wanted it alright and, despite it all being new to her and the uncertainty of what she was supposed to say, she was more than ready to enter into the spirit of things and give it her best shot.
‘Oh God, yes, I want you, I really want you. Don’t make me wait any longer… please….’ The raspy sound of her own voice took her by surprise. She did not recognise herself or the words coming out of her mouth, but she was encouraged by his reaction.
‘That’s more like it…come on now; you can do better than that. Tell me exactly what you want.’
She remembered the words of some of the characters in the trashy novels she liked to read and proceeded to regurgitate them, hoping she sounded convincing.
‘I want to feel you inside me right now. I can’t wait anymore, I’m begging you...,’ she gasped, writhing around in what she hoped was a seductive manner, arching her pelvis upwards to offer herself to him.
She felt like every nerve in her body was tingling with desire. He smiled triumphantly, apparently pleased with her performance, and entered her roughly. It was all over disappointingly quickly and he came almost immediately, leaving her feeling frustrated and confused. Afterwards, he had silently untied the scarves to release her and kissed her chastely on the forehead, before rolling over contentedly and falling asleep, snoring loudly.
Wide awake and alone with her thoughts, as she pleasured herself absent-mindedly, she came to the conclusion that she was not averse to more experimentation in the field of bondage and role play if that was what did it for him. She hoped fervently that he would come back for more because, in her humble opinion, he was most definitely a catch.
Four days later, she had heard nothing from him and she was going frantic, convinced she had blown it somehow. She did not want to appear needy, but could not resist the temptation to try his mobile number on three separate occasions, instantly regretting it when it went straight to answer-phone.
When he finally turned up at the house he was armed with more flowers and apologized profusely for not having been in touch earlier. Apparently, he had been visiting a customer, whose factory was in the middle of nowhere and phone reception was atrocious.
‘Of course I tried to call you…several times actually… but I just kept getting cut off.’
He smiled lasciviously at her. ‘How could I not want to see you again? I had to hide the massive stiffy I kept getting when I had sex flashbacks….’
She surprised herself at how easily she was won over and blushed at her own flashbacks.
‘Don’t worry, I understand, really I do. Sorry for being such a nag.’
‘You’re not a nag, but I do need you to understand that I’m jus
t not a 24/7 kind of guy. My work gets in the way too much. I even have to work over Christmas this year, which is a real pain, but I guess that’s the joy of owning your own business,’ he sighed resignedly.
‘I can live with that,’ she assured him quickly, anxious to appear relaxed about the whole thing and get away from the subject.
They skipped the preamble of dinner that night and went straight to the bedroom, where, having had four days to research and prepare, she was keen to show him she could be a much more confident participant.
The following day, when he had gone off again to see another customer back up in Derbyshire, she looked at her reflection in the mirror and noted the red marks on her arms and inner thighs.
It was just a bit of fun and experimentation between two consenting adults behind closed doors, right?
It would be years later and a lot of water would have flowed under the bridge before she answered that question.
The Good Life
Never compare yourself with others and never compromise your dreams for others.
Grace
‘Make sure you’re at the airport for nine, Grace. We don’t want to miss our slot.’ Charles looked at me meaningfully; he knew I was notoriously late for everything as was his wife Samantha, who was also my best friend.
‘Roger, Captain.’
I gave him a mock salute and laughed. There was no way I would be arriving late for this. Our fourth Christmas together as a married couple, Daniel and I were flying out to spend it in the beautiful Austrian ski resort of Lech. Not only that, but we were also going to be travelling in Charles’ private jet. I already felt like a film star. Charles smiled and kissed me on both cheeks.
‘I know you, remember. See you on Friday.’
I hugged Samantha as Daniel and I left.
The four of us met at a sailing regatta on the Isle of Wight shortly after we were married. Charles owned a Corel 45 and we all got talking in the bar after sailing one day, dissecting the race and analysing where things had gone brilliantly well and spectacularly wrong for us. Samantha was not really a sailor, but she and I hit it off instantly. We soon became firm friends, catching up regularly on the racing circuit and enjoying many wonderful holidays together, either cruising in the summer on Charles’ Swan 80 in Monaco or skiing somewhere in the Alps in the winter. Charles had built up a highly successful property development business and had recently added a private jet to his portfolio of toys. Our trip to Lech was its first time out.
Charles’ passion for flying was shared by Daniel who had recently attained his helicopter pilot’s licence. He was looking to buy a machine of his own (Charles already had one) and intended to build a landing pad in one of the fields outside our house. There was always an undercurrent of competition between the two men that could easily turn a discussion into a heated and volatile argument. Samantha and I became experts over the years at diffusing the situation so that our friendship could remain on an even keel, but I knew Daniel was jealous of the fact that Charles had more disposable income than he did and that his business was more successful. He could not stand to be the underdog and constantly acted as if he had something to prove. Sam and I decided it was a macho thing, boys will be boys and all that, but, given our lifestyle and everything we had, I found it hard to understand why Daniel was never satisfied. Charles and Sam lived about two hours away from us, on the North Wales border near Chester, so Sam and I didn’t see as much of each other as we would have liked, but we made the most of the holidays together.
New Year’s Eve at the Petersboden Hotel above Lech was magical. The seven-course meal, washed down with free-flowing Champagne and red wine was incredible, although I was so full after it I could barely move. We all headed outside for the fireworks at midnight and I felt strangely detached from reality as we looked across the valley at the sparkling lights of the town below. Samantha and I dressed alike, in black fur coats and white fur hats.
‘You two look like a pair of Russian princesses,’ Daniel commented, laughing. The photo he took of us huddled together in the winter wonderland and laughing as the snowflakes fell all around us, would take pride of place on the kitchen wall at home.
Later that night I lay contentedly beside my husband, looking up at the stars through the little skylight in the ceiling. It seemed the perfect moment to broach the subject:
‘Let’s have a baby,’ I whispered.
Silence.
‘Did you hear me?’ I waited for a response.
‘Yes, I heard you, but I don’t quite know what you want me to say. You know I don’t want kids. I always told you that.’
‘Well actually, you always said we would have them one day, just not straight away.’
This was not the way I had anticipated the conversation going.
‘I don’t remember ever saying that. Anyway, the fact remains that I don’t want them. I thought you understood that. Come on Grace, kids just wouldn’t fit in with our lifestyle. We certainly wouldn’t be able to do all the things we do now, like sailing the boat together or going on holidays whenever we feel like it if we had a kid in tow.’
‘I suppose not, but you just adapt, don’t you? It doesn’t have to mean the end of all life as we know it.’
‘Oh really?’ His voice had a hard edge to it. ‘I think you’re being a bit naïve there. I think you’d find it would most definitely mean the end of all life as you know it because you would be the one left at home with the baby, not me.’
‘I suppose…I don’t know. Other people seem to manage,’ I added lamely, thinking of our friends Frieda and James, whose two young children went everywhere with them.
‘I’m tired. Let’s talk about it another time when we’re home. Don’t ruin a great holiday with an argument as usual. Jesus Grace, nobody has the ability to wind me up like you. Anyway, I’d be a terrible father. Look at my own dysfunctional family. I don’t want to bring a child into the world and end up like that. Just drop it. Please.’
So that was that. Conversation over. I was not exactly happy about his dictatorial attitude, but I decided I would leave it for another year or so. Thirty was hardly old. I had time.
As I lay there, turning things over in my mind, I decided I needed to find out more about Daniel’s past. What had happened in his own family to make him feel so negative about us starting one of our own? I needed to understand and he refused to give me the answers I craved, so I decided to look elsewhere.
Once we were home, I arranged to go out for dinner with Frieda. She had known Daniel since they were kids, ever since he and his family had moved over to England. She had also been friends with Julia, his first wife, and because of that I had kept her a bit at arm’s length I suppose, but it was time for all that to change. I needed to know what made him tick.
Frieda was easy going, chatty and fun and I immediately regretted not having made the effort to get to know her better earlier. I decided it was time to get to the point.
‘I really need your help, Frieda. Daniel won’t talk to me about the rift between him and his family. I don’t want to put you in an awkward position obviously, but it would be nice to understand a bit more about it and why they don’t have anything to do with each other.’
I looked at her and waited, hoping she would shed some light on the matter. She took a sip of her wine and shook her head, sighing.
‘Daniel’s always played his cards very close to his chest, but he didn’t have a particularly bad upbringing as far as I know. His parents were in the sailing club and used to bring the boys down with them, which is how we all got friendly. The boys were always arguing and his mother would try to intervene, but Daniel was vicious towards her and it was almost like she was scared of him. I remember the family going off on camping holidays abroad, but they were never close by anyone’s standards. There were a lot of rumours about affairs on both sides and stories going round that his parents were part of the local swingers’ crowd…. I don’t know for sure if any of that is true, but t
hey were certainly a bit weird. I remember one time when his parents suddenly disappeared on holiday by themselves and just left the boys to fend for themselves at home. There were some seriously wild parties that week. When his parents split up, his father went to live with his new partner and his mother had some sort of breakdown I think. She just walked out of the house one day to get milk and never came back. Nobody ever heard from her again.’
‘Daniel told me she went back to Ireland,’ I protested.
‘Truth is, nobody knows. They reported her as missing, but even the police couldn’t find her. There were all sorts of rumours flying around about domestic violence and various theories from amateur detectives as to her fate, but as I say, nobody knows.’
‘Wow. No wonder he doesn’t like talking about it.’
‘Daniel and his brother were left to their own devices in the house after she left and there always seemed to be an ever-changing assortment of random hangers-on, who used the place like a squat. There was all sort of stuff going on: car ringing, petty theft, drugs and bad behaviour. The police were always up there. Daniel moved out when he married Julia, of course, but Kieran was never far removed from trouble.’
She paused and sighed at the mention of Julia, before continuing.
‘Daniel was a bit of a loner, to be honest, and he always seemed to be embarrassed by his parents, especially after one of his mates was staying there and came face to face with his mother, wandering around the house completely starkers. When we were younger, he used to tell people who didn’t know him that his whole family died in a car crash and he was the only one left.’
Twenty Years a Stranger (The Stranger Series Book 1) Page 4