He stretched his long body across the king size bed, smelt the clean crisp sheets he changed earlier and was only too relieved that Beverley’s scent had gone. Most of the afternoon had been spent thinking long and hard about his eventful experience. He prayed he never clapped eyes on Beverley King again but then again the reality was he’d never forget. He was absolutely drained mentally and physically and it wasn’t long before he fell into a deep sleep. He dreamt that Beverley broke into his apartment, took her lucky G string, tied him to a chair, performed an act of bondage by torturing him with a whip and then she pulled his penis so hard, it killed.
‘No … arh … arh.’ He woke up in a cold sweat holding his balls and sighed with relief when he realised it was just a bad dream; after quickly manoeuvring himself out of the bed he became paranoid. He double checked the front door, taking his time to tiptoe around the apartment, then he looked behind his blinds. So many thoughts bombarded his mind. He was getting a headache thinking about it. Tomorrow he’d get the alarm for the house fixed, make further enquiries about Beverley and if need be inform the police. Call it intuition or paranoia, maybe she would break in and have her wicked way.
He felt a little nervous going back to bed, so he made himself a cup of cocoa, made his way into the lounge, fell into his armchair, then turned on the TV. The very attractive Trisha was on and the repeat episode being aired was ‘Confess or I’m leaving you.’ One guy on the show had a lie detector test. His wife accused him of having an affair and he was sick of it. The guy was middle aged and definitely had the middle-age spread to show for it or maybe he had downed one too many pints during his lifetime. Whatever the case was, Mark wondered which woman in her right mind could possibly find this guy attractive.
It was after the commercial break that the results came in. The lie detector test revealed that this guy had been unfaithful on more than one occasion. The wife ran off the set crying but when she returned to the set Trisha asked if she wanted to make the marriage work and offered the couple counselling. If she wanted the marriage to work she had the option of leaving with her husband through one door; if she didn’t she’d leave through the other door by herself. The woman thought about it for three seconds or so and dragged the man through the doors. The lucky sod had been given another chance.
Mark couldn’t believe it. That’s exactly what he wanted, another chance with Veronica. His one-night rendezvous with Beverley made him realise what an idiot he’d been. He questioned why he couldn’t keep his pants on when temptation was placed in front of him. He needed to win Veronica back, tell her how much of a jerk he’d been, beg her to take him back, then show her he could and would commit. He’d been a fool and wasn’t too proud to admit how wrong he was. He realised that he’d spent the past six months pretending to get on with his life, but the truth was, who was he kidding and the conclusion he came to was that if he wanted to change things he’d have to get his life back in order and so he found his writing pad on the floor and scribbled on the pad, ‘To do list’.
My to do list
Dispose of Beverley’s G string
(Then again the police may need this as evidence)
Ring Colin about alarm
Make appointment to have HIV test….bigeeeee. Don’t chicken out!
Go to police
Buy crate of lager (I’ll need it)
Phone Veronica and win her back. (Miracles happen, even to you)
Send her flowers, don’t be tight with money
Phone Tony but don’t tell him you’ve been a jerk again
He placed his notepad on the floor then placed both his hands in his boxers, held unto his balls, curled up on the sofa and fell asleep.
Chapter 3- Taking the first step
The last three months were stressful for Mary. She wasn’t sure how, when or what happened to her relatively happy life. Her bubble burst, her ego was bruised. Actually she’d spent the last few months feeling sorry for herself.
She paced the kitchen floor, rehearsed 10th April in her mind and questioned why her plans to seduce her husband had gone up the creek.
She remembered it like it was yesterday, how she’d taken a bath, rubbed herself all over with sensual aromatic oils, called Tony at work, nearly frightening the poor man to death, then squeezed into her lacy white Basque. She then lit some candles and said hello to her Barry White CD.
As soon as Tony came home, she had lured him into the bedroom with her womanly wiles. She threw him on the bed, turned the thermostat up on her sexual gage and hey presto, Tony failed to rise when the oven was hot and ready for cooking. She’d been selfish and worse still she’d not only accused him of having an affair but she assumed it was with the busty, long-legged blonde, Sadie.
They’d never experienced problems in the bedroom before. In fact their sex life was great. Tony was a passionate lover, a master of sexual satisfaction. He certainly knew how to be put the ooohhhhhhhh in orgasm.
She remembered just how sexy she looked that day. She played it over in her mind again. The Basque was sexy, a little tight but sexy none the less.
She was on fire and then her world fell apart because Tony couldn’t get an erection. She wasn’t sympathetic and she didn’t think for one moment that he may have been tired.
No, it didn’t matter to her how tired he was. All it ever took was one stroke to the tip of the penis and Larry was awake and ready for action, so she assumed the worst: that he was having an affair with some young floozy or maybe he wasn’t aroused by her any more.
They hadn’t spoken about the 10th April because Tony flew out to California the next day; when he returned he went straight to the studio. She knew he was at the studio because she’d instructed Roger, Co- Producer of ‘fabulous rooms’ to call her if Tony showed up. She wanted to surprise him, talk things over but when she arrived at the studio and walked into Tony’s office then saw Sadie bending down in a rather short skirt that left nothing for the imagination, Mary inevitably put two and two together and came up with five. She wasn’t aware that Sadie had dropped some papers just as Mary opened the door. What Mary saw was Tony’s chair situated in the corner of the room and Sadie’s bottom angled in the right position that gave Tony a full view. She remembered steaming past Sadie and giving Tony a humongous slap across his face.
It had been three weeks since that little episode took place and they were barely exchanging words. Tony was getting up in the mornings, leaving early, returning late, didn’t call during the day. He looked absolutely miserable and of course Mary was being stubborn. She turned her back on him every night and only spoke to him when it was absolutely necessary. They had disagreements before but this was different. This wasn’t just another disagreement, this was two people hurting. They were unable to communicate and what’s more they both knew it.
Today was a new beginning thought Mary as she walked from the kitchen, through the patio doors then through to the garden. She felt miserable. Deep down in her heart she knew Tony hadn’t slept with Sadie. She had blown the whole thing completely out of proportion.
She sat down on the little garden bench, a birthday gift from Tony. Taking in the fresh air, she looked around to admire her surroundings. Their large Edwardian home was set behind acres of land and the garden stretched for miles. An array of bright colours bloomed and the flowers yielded their scent. It was truly a picturesque sight both lovely and beautiful to behold.
She heard the sound of gravel rustling as his Lexus pulled into the drive. It was 3.00 pm, and Tony was home early.
Out of nowhere came Rex, Ricochet and Mistral, their German shepherds. The dogs barked with excitement as their master parked the blue Lexus into the garage. They jumped up and down on his legs and Tony stroked them gently and pulled their ears playfully while Rex tried desperately to lick Tony’s face.
‘Down Rex, down … OK you guys, that’s enough now.’ Mary quickly appeared and rescued Tony. She threw the remains of her lunch in Rex’s direction and immediately the dogs s
campered after the food.
‘Thank you,’ said Tony. She gave a faint smile then made her way into the kitchen and he followed her.
Mary loved their large Edwardian home but she loved the kitchen especially. The cupboard units were porcelain white, the walls were blue and above the stove there was a design of the Greek goddess of love and on the one wall the kitchen was a bright and vibrant yellow and a large waterfall picture took its position on the feature wall. It was in the kitchen while baking bread or making dinner for the family that she felt content.
‘The bread smells great.’ Tony slowly moved towards her. There she was thought Tony, looking beautiful as he admired her, whilst she stood by the kitchen sink with a tea towel in her hand. He stood behind her, wrapped his hands around her waist and held her close. ‘Mary, I’m miserable, I can’t go on like this.’ She turned to face him and touched his face.
‘Tony.’
‘No let me finish. I barely know what to say right now because I can’t explain what’s happening to me, all I know is, I love you.’
She couldn’t contain her emotions any longer and her eyes filled with tears.
‘Tony, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ve been stupid. I’ve been really stupid and selfish.’ A tear rolled down her cheek and he gently brushed the diamond teardrop from her face.
‘Mary, don’t cry.’
‘I was wallowing in self-pity, Tony.’ He held her close and she rested her head on his chest.
‘Mary.’
‘It’s true, Tony.’ She paused for a moment and looked up at him with her big brown eyes. ‘I should be more understanding, more sympathetic, but instead I accused you of having an affair. I’m the one acting like a spoilt child when in actual fact you could be seriously ill.’
Tony laughed. ‘Mary, you’re over reacting.’
‘It’s true, Tony.’
‘No, it’s not.’
Mary pulled away. ‘Yes it is, and I don’t want to argue about it. It’s my fault you can’t…..’
She paused but Tony finished her sentence. ‘Can’t get it up, right?’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. I meant you can’t please me in the way you’d like to, that’s what I meant.’ Tony pulled up a chair. It was Mary’s recent creation, an old chair she had stripped and painted in the last hour, only he hadn’t noticed it, what with all the other smells that filled the kitchen.
‘Watch the chair, there's paint on it.’ She stretched her hands out to move it but it was too late, Tony's trousers were covered in yellow bean paint.
‘Perfect, absolutely perfect,’ shouted Tony.
A flood of tears came streaming down her face again. ‘It’s my fault. I should have stuck to baking bread.’
‘It’s no one’s fault, you didn’t know I was going to sit on the chair.’
‘No, Tony, it’s my fault, I should have warned you.’
Tony held her arm. ‘Mary, we’re arguing over a dumb chair.’
‘Oops the bread, I need to take it out of the oven.’ She opened the oven door and turned the baked bread out of its tin and onto a plate.
Tony stepped out of his trousers and held them up to observe just how bad the damage was. Mary turned, looked at him and smiled. ‘Tony what’s happening to us?’ He shrugged his shoulders and didn’t quite know what to say, what could he say, he was wrestling with all kind of emotions right now. She walked towards him and brushed her soft lips against his.
‘You look so sexy standing there in those silky boxers.’
‘Mary, have I ever told you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me?’
‘You’ve told me so many times, my sweet.’
‘Mary.’ He looked deeply into her eyes. ‘You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’
‘Arh, Tony.’ And then she fell into his arms again.
‘OK, that’s enough you two love birds, it’s about time you two stopped all that mushy stuff, it’s sickening.’
Their son had such impeccable timing. He walked in, headed for the kitchen drawer, pulled out a sharp knife and proceeded to cut the freshly baked bread which was still rather hot. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, opened the fridge, scanned its contents for something to drink then poured some fresh orange juice into a large tumbler before scampering up the stairs. When he reached the top of the stairs he shouted, ‘Oh Dad, put your trousers back on, there’s a time and a place for everything.’
Mary looked at Tony and smiled. ‘You’d better go upstairs and put a pair of trousers on.’
‘I suppose I should. I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘Shall I make you a coffee?’
‘Yes, that’ll be nice darling, thank you. Oh and I’ll have some of that lovely bread as well.’
‘OK, sweetie.’
‘Are you cooking a roast?’
‘I sure am. It’s your favourite meal: minted lamb with vegetables and I was just about to do some mashed potatoes.’ She gave him a soft pat on his bottom. ‘Hurry up then, Mr Manning.’
Tony darted up the stairs and walked down the long hallway that led to their bedroom. He pulled a pair of casual slacks from his wardrobe then slowly eased his longs legs into them. He zipped up his fly, adjusted the waist then checked his trouser pocket. He pulled out what felt like a card and then he remembered it was the same card Mark had given him weeks ago. He smiled to himself.
On the back of the card was the telephone number of Tara Johnson, counsellor and therapist. He sat on the floor and stared at the card for some time. Demands at work kept him busy, too busy to even think about Tara and he hadn’t spoken to Mary about it – well, he couldn’t because they weren’t really communicating until today. But now, staring him in the face was Tara’s phone number.
Holding the phone in his hand he toyed with the idea before finally giving in. He dialled the first few numbers but then he gave in to his nerves and ended the call. ‘This is stupid, what harm can it do? I’ve got to get it together. I should be downstairs unbuttoning Mary’s dress and ravishing every inch of her body until she melts in my hands. OK, maybe not, I’m not horny and haven’t been for some time, so why am I kidding myself.’
With the phone still in his hand, he lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling and then he heard a voice, ‘Tara Johnson’s office, how can I help you? ... Hello, is anyone there?’
He accidentally pressed redial on the phone. This was it, thought Tony, it’s now or never. ‘Em, Tara Johnson please.’
‘Who shall I say’s calling?’ The voice on the other end of the phone was squeaky and deafeningly high.
‘Mr Manning.’
‘Putting you through, sir.’ The squeaky voice placed him on hold and the next thing he heard was Robbie Williams’s ‘Angels’. After one minute of being compelled to listen to angels, he was just about to hang up the phone when Tara answered.
‘This is Tara Johnson.’
‘Hello.’
‘Hello, Mr Manning, this is Tara Johnson. How can I help you?’
‘Sorry to have bothered you, I’ve made a mistake, goodbye.’
‘Wait…….don’t hang up, Mr Manning. Most people that phone me do so for a reason, it’s OK.’
‘You wouldn’t understand.’ said Tony.
‘Wouldn’t I, Mr Manning? Please don’t be too cynical. Actually I think it’d be great if we met and we talked, don’t you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Tony.
‘Yes, 2.00 pm tomorrow, I've got a cancellation. I can fit you in then if that's OK with you?’
This was all happening too fast, he wasn’t ready yet. ‘But it’s—’
‘The address is 34 St Clement Place, SE4. Have you got that, Mr Manning?’
Tony hesitated. ‘Yes, but I’m not sure.’
‘See you tomorrow then.’
‘Miss Johnson.’ It was too late. Miss Johnson hung up the phone. He closed his eyes then opened them again and stared up at the ceiling. Had the conversation taken place, had he ima
gined it and should he tell Mary? These were questions that ran through his mind. After ten minutes he managed to compose himself before finally making his way down stairs and into the kitchen.
Mary watched him closely as he pulled out a chair from under the dark oak dining table and sat down.
‘What took you so long?’
‘I had a bit of a headache coming on so I thought I’d lie down for a few minutes.’
‘I think you’re working too hard,’ said Mary.
‘Maybe I am. Anyway, there’s something I have to tell you.’ He pulled out a chair for her. ‘Come and sit down.’
She sat next to him, looked into his eyes, sighed then began to stroke what was left of his hair.
‘Mary, I spoke to Richard this morning. He wants to carry out some tests … um … my problem could be psychological but first he wants to rule out anything that might be physically wrong with me, but I don’t want you to worry.’
‘Well of course I’m going to worry. When will you have the tests?’
‘Tomorrow morning.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘Mary, I’d rather go on my own.’
Mary let out another a deep sigh. ‘Tony.’
‘Please Mary, let me do this on my own, I’m having a hard time with it as it is.’
‘I want to come with you, I want to be there for you.’
‘Mary, please try and understand.’
‘OK, just this once but if there’s anything wrong, if you’re dying, I want to know.’
Tony laughed. ‘You’ve been watching too many of those daytime soaps.’
‘I’m worried, that’s all.’
‘I’m sorry baby.’ He leant towards her and kissed her forehead.
‘Do you know how stupid I feel? I thought you couldn’t, you know, have an erection because you felt guilty about something. I thought you were having an affair, or you didn’t fancy me any more when in actual fact you may be ill or worse still you really could be dying.’
Those Mid-Life Blues Page 5