Guy picked up the wine bottle and refreshed our glasses. Taking his time he sat back in his chair, not regarding me, but looking as if he was contemplating his past.
“I know exactly what you’re saying. When I was ten and my sister was fourteen, my parents divorced. I stayed with my mother. My sister went with my father. I’d never been close to either my father or sister, but even at that age, I promised myself if I ever got married and had children I would have a Walton’s family home. Anyway, my mother passed away when I was eighteen. I put all my efforts into my career. My relationships were purely physical. Now I realise I’m in the autumn of my years, that my live-for-today attitude may not have been the right choice.”
From what my mother had said about Guy I never thought settling down an agenda with him. Perhaps he’d never met the right woman?
I laughed. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. You sound just like Eleanor, my younger sister.”
He nodded and smiled. “Ah yes, Eleanor. Always full of energy as a child.”
“That’s her, and her sentiments are live-for-today. She’s twenty-eight, the only one of my parents’ children who could have gone on to do great things. But she has spent her whole life flittering from one worthless job to another. Lived a Romany life, crashing on friends’ sofas. That was until she moved in with me after Phil left. She parties nearly every night. You really should spend time talking with her.”
Never expecting Guy’s next move, it happened so quickly I could hardly take it in. He slid forward on his chair, took one of my hands and held it tight in his. His other hand tenderly stroked the side of my face, his eyes intense, but I could see this was no lame request. It was very genuine.
“I’d rather spend more time with you, Clare.”
Oh my, was I the one? For goodness sake, Clare. Get a life! Someone like Guy Foreman wouldn’t be seen dead with a woman like you. He would go for a stunning professional like Gayle. Yes, just like her. A judge. Maybe another doctor of the same status. Not an over tired, underpaid and overworked midwife. She would be the same age as him or maybe slightly younger, just like Gayle. Not like me, I mean, let’s face it...he could quite possibly be my father. They would spend Sundays reading the paper over fresh juice, croissants, and French coffee. Certainly not coco-pops, eggie bread and instant coffee. You stupid, stupid cow, of course. He will be taking Gayle home tonight. Why else would he be here? He is just being a polite middle-aged gentleman. I certainly am not going to run for my bag, grab my diary and arrange a night out. I must avert the conversation.
“So, why take Dad’s job when you were already head of your own department?”
“Diverting me so you don’t have to answer...I like that,” he smirked. “All right, going along...St. Andrews is the best teaching hospital. Your father’s department is the best in the country and three times bigger than my old one. Plus, my dream has always been to step one day into your father’s shoes. So dream complete, I can now fix my time and efforts looking for personal happiness...a nice, beautiful, intelligent midwife maybe with whom to share my lonely nights. See how I diverted the conversation back?”
“Doctor Foreman, I don’t mean to butt in...” We both looked up with a start to see Jess looking tremendously uneasy, as if she was interrupting President Obama at a Summit meeting. “But Gayle said she was sorry...she had to dash off. Her husband rang. One of the children is apparently ill.”
Oh, well that put the kibosh on my idea of him and Gayle. No, wait...was all that about lonely nights insinuating he wanted me to...?
“Oh, not to worry, but thank you,” He turned back to me to continue our conversation, realising that Jess was still hovering. “Of course, yes. She needs a lift home. I’ll be there right away. Tell her.”
“No, she’s called a cab. She’s waiting in the hall. It will be another five minutes or so. I thought you might like to say goodbye?”
“Yes, of course.” He lifted himself out of the chair, then leaning back down to squeeze my hand, he said, “Clare, do you mind? I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”
“Of course not.” I looked at my watch. “Gosh, is that the time? Really, I’ve kept you here talking, and your poor friend...what must she think? Please take her home. I’ll be leaving shortly myself.”
“OH NO! YOU CAN’T,” screeched Jess, Guy nearly falling back in surprise at her outburst. “You have to stay, the both of you. I mean, the cab is coming, and it seems such a shame to spoil your little chat.”
What is with all the panic? Hang on a darn minute. I know that tone of voice, and I know the way she is looking at me. Jess is up to something. Oh God, she had heard Guy going on about sharing lonely nights, too. Bloody hell, did she just give me the thumbs up from behind Guy? Surely she can’t think...?
“Well, if you’re ready to leave, Clare, I could drop Gayle at home and then drop you off afterwards.”
Saints preserve us, Guy had read between the lines and cracked Jess’s tactless code.
“Really, Guy, no. I only live around the corner. I can walk from here.” I smiled politely at Guy and frowned at Jess.
“I won’t hear of it. Can’t have you walking the streets at this late hour. Let me speak to Gayle and fetch your coat.”
“No, honestly, it’s so close I came without a coat.”
Me and my big mouth. What was I thinking?
“Well,” he lifted his arms in confirmation. “There is no way you can walk home. It’s freezing out there. Back in a sec.” Guy sprinted out of the kitchen, while it took me all my time not to strangle Jess.
“Thank you would be nice,” said Jess.
“For what?”
“Oh, come on, Clare. I must have come in this kitchen half a dozen times, and neither of you knew I was there. The pair of you are so smitten with each other.”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Jess,” I laughed. “You are so barking up the wrong tree. Guy is an old friend of my dad’s and HELLO! Sixteen years older than me. He could quite well be my dad. Remember when Mr. Noland, the French teacher, got that sixth form student up the duff? There was only seven years difference with them, and what a scandal that was.”
“Sixteen years, what does that mean? At our age, it means sweet Fanny Adams. Look at that Zeta-Jones woman with Michael what’s-his-name. Then that girl in the paper the other week...nineteen. Married a man seventy. He was older than her granddad. Anyway, I thought you had a crush on him?”
“Yes, when I was sodding sixteen, you burke,” I wailed.
“How long is it since you had sex?”
What that had to do with my teenage crush I did not know, but I humoured Jess anyway. “Long enough for me to think it has all healed up down there, and they have probably changed how you do it. No, Guy will be working at the hospital. It’s unethical, and boarding on insanity, I do have some morals.”
“You never had any of those when you were at college. I seem to recall you slept with that pathologist, the one with the lazy eye, bad breath, and a limp, so he could help you get an A in Pathology. And then when you specialised in midwifery you were tempted to sleep with the course tutor because you thought she was going to give you a B.”
“Okay, okay, keep your voice down, will you. But I’m telling you no way am I going to sleep with Guy.”
* * * *
“Well, thank you for the lift home and walking me all the way up the path. I really could have done it on my own.”
“The pleasure was all mine.”
I turned to unlock the door. Turning back, I hesitated in the doorway. “Would you like to come in for a coffee? Eleanor is at an all-night party, of course, and Olivia is at her dad’s.”
Why did I say that? I sounded like some silly teenager, telling my spotty boyfriend the coast was clear of parents so we could make out on the sofa.
“Or...” He stepped forward and slid his hand around my waist.
It happed so fast, taking me in his arms, pulling me so tightly into his body that he almost drained me of ox
ygen. My arms atomically wrapped around his neck, responding with the same urgent kisses. Stumbling through the door, he pushed me up against the wall, lifting my arms above my head, his head burrowing into my neck, his hot breath on my cool skin, as he began kissing down my neck. He released one hand and began opening the few buttons down the front of my dress, softly grazing over my chest and down to my already stimulated breasts. Softly he ran his tongue around my nipple. As it became harder with desire he rolled it between his teeth. I gasped as a hot arrow of heat shot right through the centre of my body.
“I have to confess,” he panted. “I never came looking for ice. I came looking for you, Clare. As soon as I saw you at the party, I found you enchanting, a real breath of fresh air. I knew if I didn’t take you home tonight it would be the biggest mistake of my life.”
His mouth came down hard on mine, his tongue exploring every crevice, every tooth he had straightened. Hormones that had not been released for over a year pumped around me, sending sensations of sexual pleasure to every nerve ending in my body. Sexual thoughts, that to be honest I only had read in erotica, spurred me on to physically carry them through. Finding myself tugging at Guy’s clothes. Explaining in great detail what I wanted him to do to me. And more shamefully what I wanted to do to him.
* * * *
So there I was, straddled above Guy, riding him as if I was in the two forty at Epsom, when my bedroom door flew open.
“The party was...” My sister froze in the doorway. Eyes popping out of her head like stalks.
There was no way I could stop, and I sensed by the bucking bronco underneath me that Guy felt the same.
Let’s face it, my chances of sex at the start of the night had been 100-1, and yet here I am on the home stretch heading towards the finishing line.
“Get out,” I screamed.
“Oh, shit, Clare,” screamed out Eleanor, moving a step forward into the bedroom. One more step and she would have been standing at the side of the bed. “Is that Guy Foreman?”
I couldn’t speak. I was just about to gallop home. Grabbing a pillow, I hurled it at Eleanor, to which she quickly retreated out of the room. As the door slammed closed, I heard her say, “Dad is so going to kill you.”
I couldn’t have cared less. Arching my back in a climax of sexual excitement, my body hot and moist, a shudder ran from my forelocks down to my withers. Guy had just unsaddled me.
Collapsing on top of him, satisfied and alive, I gasped, “That was amazing!”
“It certainly was.” Taking a firm grip on my shoulders, he turned me over onto my back and looked down at me.
God, he looked even more breathtaking with that after sex glow.
“Are we nuts here, Clare?”
“Maybe. I mean, I’ve just had the most amazing sex with the man who I had an awful crush on when I was sixteen.”
“Now that is a real passion killer. I suppose what I meant is, sixteen years difference in our ages is a lot. So...”
No, this couldn’t be happening. Please God tell me I’m not just another physical conquest? Is this a courteous way older men tell you you’re just a one-night stand?
I pushed him away, sat up in bed, drawing the sheet tight around my nakedness. “So what? We just forget everything that happened here tonight?” He was silent. “Well?”
“No, Clare, even after I knew that you were Trevor’s daughter I didn’t care. All I kept thinking about was getting to know you better, and I mean not as a friend. However, I think Eleanor could be right. A relationship with me would affect your whole family. Trevor is hardly going to crack open the port and offer me a cigar and welcome the idea that I’m doing his daughter, now is he?”
I knew Guy was right, but on the other hand I was also a stubborn mule when told I couldn’t do something. “NO! Guy, I’m thirty-six. A grown woman. I make my own decisions, and if my family don’t approve they will jolly well have to live with it. I am prepared to suffer the consequences. Are you?”
He took me in his arms. “I don’t want to end it here, believe me. But I would never forgive myself if I put a rift between you and your family. I’d better go before Eleanor does something stupid like call your father.”
I could not take it all in. What exactly was happening here? Was he going forever? Coming back tomorrow or what?
He was just pulling back the sheet to get out of bed when a knock came on the door. Guy jumped back under the covers, his coffee skin almost white in fright as if my father had magical appeared outside my bedroom door.
“Clare, it’s me again. Eleanor. I just wanted to say I’m sorry I freaked out like that. I’ve taken some time to think.”
Guy and I looked at each other and had to smile. It had been no more than ten minutes tops. “Well, Rosie talked some sense into me actually. Dad won’t kill you. And it’s no one’s business other than yours if it makes you happy. And I want to see you happy, too. And for the record, you certainly looked ecstatic. Well, that’s it. I’m going to Rosie’s. I’ll see you in the morning. Love you.”
We waited a few moments. Just as Guy was about to speak another knock came on the door.
“Sorry, forgot. Goodnight, Doctor Foreman.”
Guy and I stifled our laughter until we knew Eleanor had gone for sure.
Sliding back under the covers, I ran my hand over his thick moist chest hair. “Well, it seems Dad and Eleanor wouldn’t care two hoots.” My hand slipped further down to his firm stomach.
Guy took a small intake of breath as my hand slid further down and said, “Maybe we can talk it through a little more.” I slid down the bed and pulled the sheet over my head.
“Or maybe you can carry on doing that,” he gasped.
* * * *
As I rushed into the kitchen, late for meeting Guy, Olivia sat at the kitchen table, doing her homework.
“You look pretty, Mummy. But why aren’t you wearing your gym clothes. It’s Monday.”
“Not tonight, sweetie. I’m meeting friends for dinner.”
I hated lying to my daughter, knowing full well I should have worn my gym clothes before I left the house and changed on the way at Jess’s house. My lateness had been due to Olivia’s school Christmas pantomime rehearsals running late. Joseph had tripped over one of the shepherds’ crooks, fell and banged his nose on baby Jesus’ manger, causing a nosebleed and covering the stage in blood.
Eleanor looked up from reading her magazine. “Wow, I thought you said you were going to that bistro in Hampstead?”
“I am. Why? Do you think it’s a little OTT?” Looking at my reflection in the kitchen window, I must admit I looked hot in my silk red camisole, cropped black and red jacket, skin-tight black jeans, and the knee length boots that sent Guy crazy with desire when I wore them. I couldn’t wait until he unrobed me later tonight.
“It’s perfect,” said Eleanor. “But seeing you dressed like that, he’ll want to skip the main course and go straight for dessert.” I shot her a warning glare. Realising her mistake she mouthed ‘sorry’.
Over the last eight weeks I had kept my love life and my family life separate. The only people that knew about Guy and me were Eleanor and Jess, and I intended to keep it that way. My two nights at the gym had proved a great excuse for meeting Guy. Well, I hardly needed Tums and Bums now. Guy was very aerobic in the bedroom. Come to think of it, in the bathroom, lounge, and kitchen and once in his office.
Twice a week dressed for the gym and a set of suitable clothes in my sports bag, I would leave the house, Olivia none the wiser. Next morning I would leave Guy’s apartment and arrive home in plenty of time before she woke. Alternate weekends when Phil had Olivia, Guy would come over to me. Needless to say, there had been a few hairy moments when either my parents or my brother David turned up unannounced, poor Guy having to hide upstairs on one occasion. Not quite quick enough, he spent half an hour in the cupboard under the stairs.
“Auntie Eleanor said he. You said friends.” My daughter looked at me curiously. For a
moment I wondered who the mother was and who the child was.
“Did I? Sorry, I didn’t realise.”
This was precisely why you should never lie when your seven-years-old daughter has the perception of a grown-up.
“Do I know this friend?” Olivia sounded remarkably like me when she asked if she could sleep over at a school friend’s house.
“No, it is someone I knew years ago,” I answered honestly, feeling happy I’d not told my daughter a barefaced lie.
Closing her schoolbook, she stood up from her chair, a mini version of me, hands on hips and enquired. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“Scoot,” I pointed to the kitchen door. “Give me a kiss, and get ready for bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I don’t mind if he’s your boyfriend. Daddy and Maria both say you should find someone before it’s too late.”
I stood shocked that my ex-husband and his goddess had been discussing my love life with my daughter. “Good night, Olivia.”
She gave one of her exasperating sighs when she knew the conversation was going no further.
“I was only saying,” and then strutted out of the kitchen. “Bring me back some dessert, please,” she shouted as she thumped up the stairs.
I turned to my sister, once more engrossed in her magazine. “Eleanor, has Olivia spoken to you about Phil saying I should get some significant other?”
“Not a sausage. The only thing she asked me was when she was older did I think she would have boobies as big as Maria Aphrodite. I said she was a Coleman. Coleman women had boobs like plums, not stonking great watermelons.” She put down the magazine. “So what’s the problem? You have Guy, so tell Phil.”
“I’m not ready yet, and to be honest, can you imagine the laugh Phil would have when I tell him Guy is sixteen years older than me?”
Eleanor laughed. “Yes, it would leave the gates open for a whole host of insults.”
Always Mr. Wrong Page 2