Those Mid-Life Blues

by Caroline Campbell

  ‘Mary, will you stop saying that.’

  ‘I’m sorry Tony, but that’s how I felt!’

  ‘I could never have an affair. I love you too much to even think about doing that to you or to myself. I have never, ever, been with anyone since I met you.’ He kissed her softly on the nose. ‘I’d fancy you even if you had no teeth, if your breasts were down to the ground I’d pick them up off the floor and I’d still suck my babies.’ Mary chuckled.

  ‘I want to be with you, Mary, only you. Grow old and wrinkly with you and make love to you even when we’re 95.’

  ‘Oh Tony,’ sighed Mary.

  ‘It's true and right now, I do have a problem. I don’t know what the problem is but I intend to find out and I’ll put it right, Mrs Manning, and when I do I’m going to make you come and come and come.’

  She smiled at him and nodded. ‘Tony, we could try.’

  ‘Are you suggesting we go upstairs and make love?’

  ‘Tony, I’m saying that we go upstairs and enjoy each other.’

  ‘Just be patient with me, Mary, that's all I ask.’

  ‘I love you, Tony Manning.’ She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him ever so softly on his mouth before undoing his trousers and unbuttoning her shirt.

  ‘Mary, what about Raymond, he’s in the house.’ But she continued kissing him on his neck.

  ‘Um.’

  ‘Mary, stop. I’m sure I heard Raymond.’

  Sure enough, Raymond reappeared. Mary stood up, fixed her clothes and just about managed to zip up his flyer.

  ‘Raymond, I do wish you’d stop creeping around the place.’

  ‘Why Mum, so you can have your wicked way with Dad. You’re a pair of old fogies that can’t keep your hands off each other. It’s disgusting.’

  ‘Less of the old, thank you very much.’

  ‘Come on, Dad, you’re getting old. Anyway folks, I’ve got a date tonight so don’t wait up.’ He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the worktop before scarpering.

  ‘That boy irritates me, why doesn’t he get a job or something?’ asked Tony.

  ‘He's going to university in September, honey. He’s on holiday, remember dear?’

  ‘Oh yeah, I guess I am getting old.’

  ‘Yes, and you’re also deaf darling. The phone’s ringing honey. Can you answer it? It’s probably for you.’

  ‘Hello, Manning residence.’

  ‘Hi Tony, it’s me, Mark.’

  ‘Mark, why didn’t you call me on my mobile, anyway, no wisecracks, not today.’

  ‘I called your mobile, it went straight to voicemail. Anyway, I hadn’t heard from you in a while, so I thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.’

  ‘I’ve had better days.’

  ‘How are things in the bedroom?’ Mark was always direct but Tony was used to that.

  ‘How tactful, Mark.’

  ‘Have you seen Tara yet?’

  ‘No, I’m seeing her tomorrow.’

  ‘Good I told her you’d call.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her what the problem was. She knows you’re one of my best buddies. I didn’t mention anything else.’

  ‘Are you sure, Mark?’

  ‘Would I, Tony? Have some faith in me. Anyway, just hang in there buddy. She’ll help you get the old bad boy back up and in fighting action. I mean...’

  ‘I know what you mean Mark.’

  ‘OK, so what time are you seeing her?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘Do you know how to get to her office?’

  ‘I’ll find it and if I don’t I’ll call you for directions?’

  ‘Tony, you know me, I’m always there to give a helping hand.’

  ‘Yes Mark.’

  ‘All the best buddy.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Tony gently placed the phone back on the wall then walked towards Mary.

  ‘Who were you talking to?’

  ‘Mark.’

  ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘Everything’s fine baby; let’s go upstairs.’

  ‘What about dinner, I’ve just set the table?’

  ‘It can wait Mary. I just want to hold you in my arms again.’

  ‘And you can hold me, you can hold me all night.’

  They lay in bed for quite some time, entwined in each other’s arms and then with his fingers he stroked her vulva and she moaned with pleasure. There was no penetration but it was OK, she was satisfied and Tony felt loved. Tomorrow he’d tell her about Tara.

  chapter 4- You’ve got it bad

  Martin’s latest addition of toiletry products, sage and Camomile moisturiser, a new line in moisturisers from the Body Shop, fell out as he attempted to open his bathroom cabinet door. The little tube of moisturiser was crammed alongside a collection of after-shaves, facial washes, deodorants and his most treasured toiletry possession, Listerine’s Minty mouthwash.

  Fresh breath was a necessity and rinsing his pearly whites with mouthwash formed an important part of his morning routine. He picked up the little tube of moisturiser off the floor and tried to cram it next to his bottle of Calvin Klein after-shave but it was no use. There were too many items in the cupboard that already struggled to stay in place only he was determined to close the battered cabinet door that suffered from his constant attempt at slamming it shut.

  ‘Stay in there, my precious essentials.’

  He stood in front of the mirror for some time, leaned his face to one side and admired his jaw line. His smile did justice to his white teeth, evidence of an effective oral program. Every morning and evening Martin held a conversation with himself in the mirror and today was certainly no exception.

  ‘Martin, you stud, you handsome man. Take a good look at yourself. Look at those sexy eyes and those kissable lips. OK, maybe your eyes aren’t so sexy and maybe those lips look worse for wear but at least Larry’s packed full of energy, right buddy.’ He was wearing a pair of black thongs that an ex-girlfriend bought him but ouch, it was painful; so with one gentle move of his hand, Larry was placed in a more comfortable position.

  ‘OK pal, let’s put you over here, where you’ll be more comfy. How’s that Larry. I know how to take care of you, eh buddy. You know how much I love you don’t you, you’ve never let me down.’

  God knows what Tony was going through, thought Martin. He wondered how he’d handle things if the foot was on the other shoe and the thought of erectile dysfunction was a sad one.

  He barely took two steps out of the bathroom when he stumbled over some clothes. Tidying up was a chore, a misdemeanour especially since Rosie had gone. Rosie used to be his housemaid and had been for nine months but after sleeping with her, things just weren’t the same.

  He didn’t want a relationship, she did, but right now he wished she would come back and clean the flat. He kneeled down to pick up his pants off the floor and the stack of dirty clothes that lay in a pile next to the radiator. So much for potpourri, thought Martin.

  It did nothing to mask the musty odour that filled the hallway. He’d have to get rid of the smell before his date arrived.

  After tipping everything out of the airing cupboard he eventually found a bag to put his dirty clothes in. On the floor was an old porn magazine with the pages stuck together. He picked it up, flicked through the pages and then casually aimed it towards the bathroom bin but cursed out loud when it missed the bin and landed in the bath and then he smiled to himself. Earlier in the day he’d been on the phone to Mark arranging their next game of golf when somehow they got unto the topic of pornography. He’d told Mark that as much as he loved women he’d rather see them in the flesh than spread out in a magazine. Mark thought he was crazy but it was a matter of taste and so it was uncanny that the magazine fell out of the cupboard.

  Rosie was the last person he’d slept with and up until three months ago she was the only one with access to his apartment. Maybe she swung both ways. He smir
ked at the thought and then wished he hadn’t have been so hasty to end their relationship. OK, Martin get that thought out of your head, what would Joan say?

  On the odd few occasions when he kept the flat tidy, it was quite vibrant and indeed spacious. The walls were painted in mystic blue and sandy orange and most of the furniture bore the trademark of Ikea. His black leather settees stole the show. They were his favourite pieces of furniture as was the collection of glass chess pieces he’d bought two years ago at an auction. Now they lay scattered in all areas of the room.

  At forty-three Martin had never been in love. The truth was he was afraid to love, afraid to let any woman get too close. He tried living with a woman but after only one week, Ella, the twenty-seven-year-old Romanian found out about his one night with the luscious Natasha Benton and that was the end of that relationship.

  Martin took a scan of the room and noticed that his spider plant encased in a white ceramic pot on top of the window sill was dying. The plant was a gift from Sharon, another former girlfriend who attempted to add a natural feel to the room. However, that relationship lasted five days. He wasn’t too keen on plants but accepted the gift. After all, it was the least he could do, considering he had told her he was contemplating having a sex change – that’s why he had to break up with her to spare them both the heartache and pain. It was a crazy thing to say but drastic situations called for drastic actions, at least that’s what he thought.

  Its neighbouring companion, a smaller cactus, was also dying a slow death. Martin stood in the middle of the lounge for quite some time and contemplated whether or not to throw the plant in the bin when the phone rang.

  The ringtone was quite faint and he couldn’t recall where he placed the phone. It was one of those portable phones, useful for talking when you were on the move but annoying when you didn’t put it back in its rightful place.

  No doubt it was under some pile of mess and he cursed himself out loud for allowing his home to be so messy. He located the phone which by this time had stopped ringing.

  ‘Hi there, this is Martin Truman, I’m so sorry I can’t answer your call at the moment but please leave a message after the tone and I’ll get back to you.’

  Martin laughed at the message Harry left on the answering machine. ‘Uh … Martin … yeah it’s me Harry … where are you Martin. Logo’s 2 Go want us to sign contracts……give me a call … and … I hope you’re not doing anything you’re not supposed to.’ Beeeeep.

  Today was D Day, deadline day to sign contracts with Logo’s 2 Go but it’d have to wait until tomorrow. In a little while his date would arrive but first he needed to sort out his washing. He could never remember which washing program to use and there was no time to fuss over which setting to use. White and coloured clothes were hurriedly thrown together, inevitably a creation for disaster. He needed to tidy up and at least try to make the place presentable.

  An hour later and what was a rather messy room became a creation of cleanliness and Suzy his feline friend hadn’t woken up despite his vacuuming. She was curled up in a ball in the corner of the living room, sleeping and purring. Time was ticking away. In less than twenty minutes he’d be basking in Joan’s presence.

  Joan was a black girl with an incredible laugh and thick calves. They’d met two years ago through mutual friends at what seemed to be a boring dinner party – that was until Joan opened her mouth. She was funny and stirred up a good debate on any subject but as wonderful as she was, she was hard to bait.

  She turned him on but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was she did to him and why he felt this way because all they ever did was talk and talk and talk some more.

  He struggled with the fact that he’d known her for two years and had failed miserably to woo her into the bedroom. She gave him no choice but to accept their friendship for what it was – friendship with no extras.

  She made him laugh and he treasured her company every time, although their meetings were few and far between. Weekly prayer meetings and church rallies took up a lot of Joan’s time. She was a Christian and attended church regularly; hence when she told him the only person she was intimately close to was Jesus, he wasn’t surprised.

  He respected Joan’s wishes but hoped that one day she’d give in to him. But if he couldn’t have her in the way he wanted, just having her as a friend made all the difference to his life.

  Getting into the warm shower was refreshing. He looked down at his admirably sized penis and wondered how Tony was doing. He hadn’t spoken to Tony since their last meeting at Lorenzo’s; their schedules had been tight. What with Tony’s television series taking off and his plight with Mary he thought it best to give Tony some space and wait for Tony to call.

  He wondered how Mark was doing with his fear of Beverley King and the G string.

  Massaging Larry with his left hand, he spent a few minutes battling with fantasies of getting Joan into the shower. The only place Joan wanted to get him into was in the baptism pool. Sometimes he thought it might not be such a bad thing, going to church, and becoming a Christian. He believed in God but committing to the faith meant giving up a lot of things, including sex unless he was married.

  Feeling fresh and revitalised he made his way into the bedroom and successfully managed to locate a clean pair of boxers in the top draw of his bedside cabinet. Next to the boxers was a leopard skin thong but after his experience with the black thongs he wore earlier, he decided to stick with the safer option, boxer shorts from M&S. There was no denying the thongs were sexy, only they were a killer to wear and Joan wouldn’t be in a position to exactly appreciate them.

  Just as he stepped into his boxers the doorbell rang. He looked at his bedside clock. It was 6.30 pm. Joan was half an hour early. He should have known. She was always early.

  Most women he knew were always late but not Joan.

  In one quick swoop he pulled his new black shirt from the wardrobe and stepped into his not so new black slacks. There was no time to moisturise or put on any after-shave but he managed to spray on a whiff of deodorant.

  He darted out of his bedroom, flew down the hallway, tripped over the rubbish bag that he forgot to put outside, opened the door with one hand and without Joan noticing, he gave the musty odour lingering in the hallway a quick blitz of his deodorant. He figured it was the next best thing to air freshener, as he tossed the can of deodorant to one side before opening the front door.

  ‘Hi Joan, looking beautiful as always but why are you always so early?’

  Joan stood there looking radiant as ever. ‘I like to be early, Martin, you know that.’

  ‘Come in … and um … excuse the rubbish bag right here, I was just about to throw it out.’

  ‘Oh, Martin, don’t worry about that, I’ll do it for you.’

  ‘No need, Joan, I’ll take it out … um … go in, take a seat in the lounge and I’ll be with you in just a two ticks.’

  Martin picked the rubbish bag up, ran down the hallway, sped round the corner and threw the black bin bag down the shoot. He ran back into his flat panting and coughing.

  ‘Are you alright out there?’

  ‘Fine, just fine … touch of the old asthma.’

  ‘I didn’t know you suffered from asthma,’ shouted Joan, not realising Martin was in the room.

  ‘Oh there you are.’ She was 5ft 2in and it showed when he towered over her with his 6ft 1in frame.

  ‘Martin, I think you’ll need to adjust the zipper on your trousers.’

  Martin looked down at his trousers. Fortunately Larry was safely hidden in his comfortable boxers. He turned around, zipped up his trousers then turned to face her again.

  ‘Oopsy daisy, sorry.’ Joan gave a little laugh. Her laugh was similar to that of the Caribbean cook, Rusty Lee. She’d been introduced to Mark a few months ago but Mark found her laugh irritating. On the contrary Martin found her laugh infectious. He loved her laugh and everything about her. She was short, curvaceous and had a very large, mighty fine b
ottom and larger-than-life breasts. She was a full-figured woman, every inch of her, and given half the chance he would take every inch of her body and pleasure her with his tongue.

  ‘I think you’ve overdone it with the deodorant.’

  ‘I know.’ He paused for a moment and then blurted, ‘I like to smell good.’

  ‘No, it’s not you, silly. I can smell it in the hallway.’

  How did she know he sprayed deodorant and not air freshener? Did she have a radar nose or what? Thought Martin. Anyway that wasn’t important right now.

  ‘Joan, have I told you, you look beautiful.’

  ‘Yes, but thank you again.’ She wore a black blouse which revealed absolutely nothing and a skirt that draped the floor. Her long curly hair was pinned up and her skin was flawless. She never wore makeup, washed her face every day with dove soap and moisturised with Johnson’s cocoa butter.

  Although her apparel left nothing for the imagination to desire he envisaged her solid body underneath her baggy clothes. She never denied the fact that she loved food, plenty of it for that matter, but she was careful not to eat junk food. Her problem was portion sizes. She wasn’t one for dieting but she exercised as often as she could.

  In Martin’s eyes, Joan Anderson was undoubtedly a short woman with a big body and a big heart.

  ‘Well, are you dressed or is that a new style?’ In a mad panic he had rushed to answer the door for Joan and hadn’t buttoned his black silk black shirt and now his milky white chest with a few strands of fair hair was on show.

  ‘Oh dear, please excuse me. I’ll be with you in five minutes. Please, help yourself to a drink.’

  He sat down on the edge of his bed to put on his socks and button his shirt. ‘I think there’s some white wine in the fridge,’ shouted Martin.

  ‘I don’t drink alcohol, remember,’ she shouted back.

  The fridge was virtually bare, with the exception of an old piece of cheese which had grown some mould and a few slices of bread and a half-finished bottle of white wine but there was no sign of any squash. She removed the cheese and bread and threw it in the bin. As she bent down to close the fridge door Martin was standing over her.