“It certainly was. But with all my jizz on your T shirt, weren’t you cold on the way home?”
“Not really. My sheepskin is really warm and the jumper is too. Anyway, as soon as I got home, I had a really hot bath and lazed about all afternoon. After dinner, I watched telly with my mum.”
“So you didn’t have to dash off straight afterwards?” David felt mildly put out.
“Well, I could hardly hang around the clubhouse with your cum all over my clothes, could I?” She laughed. “I had no idea how long you would be with your mates and I just thought it would be more sensible. Anyway, I’m here now, aren’t I?”
She leant over to him and kissed him on the lips. To stop her chair over balancing, she put her hand on his thigh. As she expected, he responded and as she opened her lips, she felt his tongue pushing between her teeth. She slid her hand further up his thigh to his crutch and was rewarded with a growing bulge.
“Someone might see us.” David felt a little concerned.
“Not at this table. And I know exactly why you chose this one.” She giggled again. Looking into his eyes, she took his hand and placed it on her own thigh. “I wonder what you might be able to do with that.”
Her mini kilt was so short that none of it was actually on the chair. He stroked her thigh up to her own crutch and was surprised and a little disappointed to feel a pair of knickers. The look of fleeting disappointment on his face had obviously given him away.
“Were you hoping for a repeat of Saturday?” she whispered.
“Not really… Well, yes, actually!” he stammered.
“That can always be arranged.” She got up from the table and disappeared into the Ladies loo. When she reappeared, her black socks were now over her knees. As she sat down, she seemed to flick her bottom so the hem on the mini kilt avoided all contact with the chair. “Have another go,” she suggested.
David put his hand on her thigh once more. When he reached her pubic mound, he found it devoid of knickers and hair. She opened her legs a little and he could feel her dampness. He moved his fingers against each thigh in turn, opening her legs just a little further and then a little further still, until he was rewarded with an access to her opening labia and her clitoris. As he gently rubbed it, she moaned quietly and invitingly. He stopped.
“Oh God!” she said, pleading with him. “Don’t stop now. It feels so good and I know how much you enjoy doing it to me.”
He returned to his task with a gentle enthusiasm and, suddenly, she arched her back and squeaked. He felt a flood of liquid on his fingers and reached for a paper napkin.
“Thanks.” She took it from him and put it between her thighs, mopping up the liquid on her chair.
“Did I make you pee?” he asked, somewhat concerned.
"No. Sometimes when I cum it’s so powerful that I squirt this liquid. I don’t know why, but it feels really intense. I know it’s unusual, because the girls at school don’t react like that. At least they don’t say that they do.
“I don’t suppose you noticed, but I squirted on Saturday as well. When I was with you.”
She looked at her watch. It was ten past six. She got up, put on her coat and with her back to the rest of the café, she put on her knickers.
“I’ve got to go. I promised I would be home for dinner and I’ve got to get ready. Let’s meet again soon. Are you busy tomorrow? Let’s go to the cinema.”
“No. I mean, yes. It’ll be great to see you again and I’m sure I can be free tomorrow.”
And with that she was gone, leaving David frustrated, exhausted as though he had just run a marathon and with his thoughts all jumbled in his head.
With the return of the rain in Essex, even though it wasn’t very heavy, Martin still felt that the ground was too wet to plough and, because of that, all his frustrations were back. Who would be a farmer? he thought. The weather is always difficult. Too wet, too dry and too windy.
The phone rang and as he was in the office, trying to stave off his depression, he was able to answer it straightaway.
“Hello! Martin Havers speaking.”
“Hi, Dad. It’s me, Charlie. I thought I’d ring because, with all this rain, I realise that you’ll be going up the wall with frustration.”
“Hello Charlie. You are absolutely right. We had a couple of decent days over the weekend and I was able to get the top field ploughed, but everything else is waiting for this damn’ rain to stop.”
“Thought so. I was wondering if Paula and I could come and stay for a few days. I’ve got to get some holiday in before the end of March and it would be great to see you and Mum.”
“’Course you can. You know that you are both welcome at any time. When do you expect to get here?”
“Tomorrow evening, if that’s OK? We can then help you with some odd jobs on the farm over the rest of the week and the weekend.”
“I’m sure that’ll be fine, but apart from the ploughing, I’m pretty much up to date. But that doesn’t matter because it’ll be great to have a chance to catch up and put the world to rights. We could do that over a couple of pints.”
“Sure will, Dad. And thanks. I’ve got to go. Give our love to Mum.”
“Will do. See you tomorrow.”
And with that, Charlie was gone, leaving Martin holding the phone in his hand and wondering what the real reason was for a visit at such short notice. Charlie had been an excellent pupil through his school career, but he ducked out of university in order to go ‘travelling’. Surprisingly, his subsequent career wasn’t affected by this. Tall, good looking with broad shoulders and invariably well dressed, Charlie had never been without a pretty girl on his arm.
Since returning to the United Kingdom, he worked in the Information Technology industry selling all sorts of technical matters that basically floated well above Martin’s head. He always seemed to be doing well, judging by the cars he drove and the holidays he took. On one occasion, he flew all the way to Australia for a long weekend simply to attend a friend’s wedding. Some might have thought this somewhat extravagant, but Charlie just considered it to be the norm.
Now in his mid-thirties, he was settling down somewhat, with a delightful girl, Paula. To his family, it was rather a surprise that Charlie chose to marry a more down to earth lady, compared with the string of vacant, trophy-like photographic models. Paula was intelligent, good looking and practical. She maintained a firm grip on Charlie’s lifestyle and Martin suspected that she was also trying to organise his career. No longer pretending to be part of the jet set, Charlie seemed to be more interested in walking his chocolate Labradors and helping out at the local cricket club.
I wonder why they want to come and stay. Martin’s thoughts drifted through all the negative reasons, until he decided that it would just be better to wait until they arrived. He wandered through to the kitchen, where Jennifer was preparing their evening meal.
“Who was on the phone?” she asked, as he opened the kitchen door.
“Charlie.”
“That’s strange,” she replied. “I forgot to tell you. James phoned earlier today and asked if he and Megan could come and stay for a few days.”
“I wonder what’s going on,” Martin muttered, quietly and then said, out loud. “That’s exactly what Charlie said. He and Paula are coming tomorrow evening and staying until the end of the weekend.”
“That is strange,” repeated Jennifer. “I wonder if we should now be expecting a call from Helen.”
“I doubt it. The last we heard, at the end of January, she was in New Zealand. I might send her an email, to see if she knows anything.”
They sat down to their evening meal, as the wind started to pick up from the west.
Chapter 10
Wednesday – One Day to Go (Day)
The high pressure over northern Europe had spread to the west over France and Great Britain but was now receding in the face of the two deepening depressions, the first in the north Atlantic moving towards Norway and the secon
d just to the south of Ireland. The winds were increasing and all along the extended cold front, there was heavy rain or snow.
The northern front was now dragging freezing temperatures from the northern Polar Regions, causing unprecedented blizzard conditions. The wind was blowing at force 9 southwards across the northern Atlantic and the snowfall over both the western and eastern Scottish coasts was causing havoc. Fort William in the west was already cut off, as were Inverness, Aberdeen and Dundee in the east. The National Grid was struggling with the increase of electricity usage as the public turned up their thermostats and this was worsened because of the weight of snow on the power lines, coupled with the vicious wind, causing a multitude of breakages. Telephone lines and telegraph poles were damaged in an increasing number of locations and all bridges and motorways were closed to high sided traffic.
In the south of the British Isles, the wind was now blowing straight up the English Channel at over 60 knots, this being “violent storm” force on the Beaufort scale. The wind was causing exceptionally high waves, with much increased airborne spray being added to the heavy rainfall. Visibility was reduced to nothing. Trees had been blown down over Cornwall and Devon, but the snowfall of the previous day had disappeared in the face of the exceptional rainfall. Flash flooding was forecast and, as in Scotland, there were many blackouts as the National Grid struggled to maintain a power supply.
The Meteorological Office had sent an urgent note to the Cabinet Office in Downing Street, urging concern that these weather fronts were likely to cause widespread damage, local flooding and structural damage.
The Prime Minister looked round the Cabinet Table and asked for comment. The Home Secretary asked if there were any specific forecasts for certain areas.
“Apparently not, as yet,” answered the Prime Minister. “I am advised that the weather conditions in Scotland are exceptionally appalling, with many interruptions to the power supply. No doubt the First Minister will have her finger on the pulse.” He looked at the First Secretary for Scotland.
“I have had no word from Holyrood,” he replied. “And based on our last exchange of words, I don’t really expect any.”
The Home Secretary continued. “You may recall, Prime Minister, that considerable coastal flooding was forecast in East Anglia a couple of years ago. We advised local people to evacuate and seek refuge on higher ground.” The Home Secretary didn’t add that because the flooding hadn’t actually happened, the evacuees were not happy with the over-cautious attitude promoted by the Environment Agency. She looked over at the Secretary of State for the Environment.
“The Environment Agency has advised that the country is likely to suffer from two weather fronts, one in the south and the other in Scotland. I have also been reminded that the Spring Tides are likely to reach their maximum tomorrow. I feel that we would be wise to heed the advice of the Agency, to put all the emergency services on alert, including the Armed Forces.”
The Prime Minister looked at the Defence Minister. “As always,” he responded, “We will work closely with the Police and the Fire and Rescue Services wherever possible. I feel that the most important matter is to ensure that the public are kept fully informed with a series of hourly bulletins.”
The cabinet meeting moved onto other agenda items before breaking up. A statement was drafted for the media, especially radio and television. In a further attempt to bring the appropriate information to as many people as possible, the same messages were sent out on social media.
On his way to the station, Michael Varley reckoned that the wind was so strong that there were likely to be delays throughout the rail network. He was carrying both his briefcase and a small overnight bag. His mind was full of conflicting thoughts. His speech, due to be delivered first thing tomorrow morning, was uppermost in his mind, but this was overlayed with the anticipation of being with Alice overnight.
As it happened, there was no delay to his train and he was able to reach his office by half past eight. As always, Alice was there before him and the coffee was already made. In addition, there was a small, warm croissant on a plate with a pat of butter and a small amount of raspberry jam.
On entering the office that morning, Alice put her own overnight bag into a cupboard, ready for the coming evening. She considered that, even with her increasing hold over Michael, she was not yet ready to stand her ground against his advances completely. After all, having just extracted a pay rise, it might be better to demonstrate her thanks rather than to be detached and distant. She took in his coffee and croissant and was rather surprised that, when she put the breakfast tray on his desk, he did not put his hand on her waist. Indeed, he ignored her completely.
Perhaps his manners are improving, she thought.
As she left his office, to return to her own desk, she saw that the post had arrived. She carried it through to her office and started to open it.
After breakfast, it suddenly dawned on Martin that, this coming weekend, he and Jennifer had been married for forty years. That’s why the boys have been in touch, he thought. I must nip into town and get her a present and a card. Every year, I forget and every year, Jennifer has a go at me. Well, not this year, because I’ve remembered!
He lifted his head to see Jennifer looking at him quizzically. “Are you all right?” she enquired, wondering why he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“I’m absolutely fine. Why do you ask?”
“When you sat down, you appeared to have all the troubles of the world on your shoulders. I realise that you must be very frustrated with the weather and I can’t blame you for that. But suddenly, your face changed. You started to smile, as though you had just received some exciting news.”
Martin shook his head. “No, not really.” He said. “I was only thinking that it’ll be good to see Charlie and James tonight. We haven’t had a houseful for such a long time.”
“Yes and I’ll have to get down to the shops to buy enough food for them all, so I won’t be lingering here this morning. What have you got planned?”
“The weather is even worse today,” Martin replied. “Have you heard this announcement from the Government that the weather over the next two days is going to be pretty awful with local flooding, interrupted power supplies, gale force winds. I thought I would walk down to the river, to make sure everything is OK down there.”
“You be careful. I know what you’re like. If you see something that needs to be fixed, you’ll get on with it with no thought whether you need two or three other people to help you. If you do find something wrong, please wait until Charlie or James get here.” And with those instructions, Jennifer put on her coat and left through the kitchen door. Martin watched her get into the old Astra and drive out of the yard.
I’ll give her five minutes, he thought. He tidied away the breakfast things, put on his coat and muffler, before closing and locking the kitchen door behind him. He got into his somewhat smarter BMW series 3 and drove out of the yard towards Brentwood. Some years before, he was delighted to discover an excellent jeweller on the High Street. Since then, for several Christmases and Birthdays, he had become quite a regular customer.
As he entered the door, he realised that he was dressed more for working on the farm, than for purchasing some jewellery. He felt rather unkempt and dishevelled but was immediately put at ease by the proprietor.
“Good morning, Mr Havers.”
“Good morning. I do apologise for coming in dressed like this.”
“Not at all. As always, you’re most welcome. What can we do for you on this rather blustery day?”
“Forty years married and I almost completely forgot.” Martin found himself explaining about Charlie’s odd telephone call and then being told that, earlier the same day James had been talking with his mum. “So, it seems that I’m to be the butt of an elaborate family joke, because it’s a well-known fact that I regularly forget birthdays and anniversaries.”
“Has the date been and gone?”
“That�
��s the thing. It hasn’t. Not yet. The actual day will be on Saturday.”
“And did you say forty years?” enquired the jeweller.
“Yes. I suppose there’s a specific stone for forty years and I expect that will cost me a fortune!”
The jeweller looked closely at Martin and replied, “Not necessarily.”
Some twenty-five years before, the jeweller moved his business from Hatton Garden in London to Brentwood. He did not regret the calmer atmosphere away from the city. He shrugged, opened his arms slightly and gently grimaced. “Traditionally, forty years is celebrated with rubies.” The grimace was replaced by a smile.
“Bloody hell!” Martin exclaimed. “Rubies. I suppose it’s some sort of a reward for putting up with the husband for so long. I mean forty years is two life sentences and more. Come on, let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Have you any idea what you have in mind?”
“Not really. A pair of earrings and a necklace, I suppose.”
“I won’t be a moment.” The proprietor disappeared through a door at the rear. When he returned, he was carrying two trays and several boxes.
“These are rather nice,” he murmured. Opening the first box, he produced a pair of ruby earrings, set in silver. “I can do those for £200.”
“Each or for the pair?” Martin laughed nervously.
“Oh, the pair, of course.” He chuckled.
The jeweller opened the second box. The ruby earrings sparkled up at Martin. The stones were slightly larger and the setting dangled a little lower than the first pair. “I think you will find these will match this necklace rather well.” He jeweller murmured, encouragingly.
The necklace was a sliver chain which spread slightly over the chest to accommodate three rubies, one larger than the other two. They were set in a similar design to the earrings. Martin noticed the price in the corner of the tray was £400. This is going to be one expensive day, he thought.
“I can only agree with you. They do match – really well,” he commented. “I can see the price of the necklace, but what about the earrings.”
Thursday Page 14