“Shouldn’t we be getting back?” asked Stacey. “Mum will bewondering where we are. I wish I had my phone. I’m sure I put it in my bagbefore we left.”
“Yeah, bad news on that front, I’m afraid,” I said. “Mumtexted me earlier – apparently all the train drivers have walked out on strikein a dispute over Christmas pay. We can’t get home by train today.” It was apretty lame excuse, but she bought it and, since she had no phone, she couldn’tcheck the news to discover that I’d made it up.
“What about the buses?” asked Stacey.
“Let’s forget the buses,” I said. “I’m in one of the mostfamous cities in the world with one of my two favourite people in the world.Let’s stay over and make a night of it.”
Stacey was thrilled. She had been to London before, as she’dalready mentioned earlier in the day about the time I’d taken her to theAquarium and the Science Museum a few years ago. This was her first time as anadult.
Of course, I already knew London very well from my gambling-fundedexploits, so I booked us a couple of rooms at one of my favourite hotels. Lasttime I’d stayed in this hotel it had been with one of London’s finest hookersat £800 an hour for the pleasure.
All of that was long behind me now. Being with Stacey,enjoying some family time, was infinitely preferable.
We dined at a lovely little steakhouse in Covent Garden,washing down our meal with plenty of drinks. I was certainly splashing the cashabout. Unlike before when it had come out of the bookies’ satchels, this timeit was all going on the corporate Amex.
Plenty of other colleagues did it and just claimed it as“entertaining clients”, some getting into trouble for it, but I didn’t have anyof that to worry about. It fell neatly into the box marked “No consequences”.
I’d definitely done the right thing. Stacey had reallyenjoyed her day and I had got to spend some quality time with her. I hadsuccessfully shielded her from the news of her mother’s death and pretty soon,if all went according to plan, she would never have died in the first place.
The following morning I awoke back at home. This had beenthe day that I had been looking forward to more than any other since my lifehad begun. I was not to be disappointed. I opened my eyes, and there, lying onher side, back turned to me was my beautiful, resurrected wife, sleepingpeacefully.
I sat up and took a while just to look at her. Her long,blonde hair reminded me very much of how Stacey’s had looked when I had firstseen her. Her naked body was slender with smooth, pale skin unblemished by thepassing of time. She looked much younger, at 39 years old, than I had expectedshe would.
I lay back down, pulled the covers over and snuggled into her,touching her body for the first time. I had wondered for so long what thismoment would be like, and now that she was here, it seemed almost unreal.
I put my arm around her, and she awoke, turning to me andgiving me the chance to see her face properly for the first time. I’d seen herin photos a thousand times, but they didn’t do her justice. She really wasbeautiful. There was no doubting where Stacey had got her looks from.
Excited to be close to her naked flesh, I felt some familiarstirrings down below. She felt them, too, pressing into her leg and, amused, shesaid, “To what do I owe this pleasure? It’s not my birthday, is it?”
I had never heard her voice before, and it came as asurprise. I knew she had been born and bred in South Wales, but the accentstill caught me unawares. I liked it, though: she had a lovely, lilting, tonethat instantly attracted me, as if I wasn’t turned on enough already.
“No, it’s not your birthday,” I replied, “but it is thefirst day of the rest of your life,” and, unable to contain myself any longer,I slipped my hand down between her legs and let nature take its course.
Such was my state of excitement that it was all over veryquickly, something Sarah wasn’t shy about remarking upon.
“That was quick,” she said. “Not like you at all. I trustyou’re going to help me finish myself off?” And with that she reached into herbedside table and pulled out a monstrous-looking device I’d later discover wasknown as a Rabbit.
“My pleasure,” I said, getting to grips with the toy. “Youknow perhaps we should do it more often,” I suggested. “It might slow me down abit.”
“You’ll get no complaints from me on that front,” she said,sighing, as I got busy with the toy.
This was a most promising start to married life. Mygorgeous, sexy wife was clearly no prude, and all of this was in stark contrastto the bleak picture that Nick had painted of his two failed marriages. He wasof the opinion that sex died completely after ten years with someone.
Well, that might have been true in his case and thismorning’s session may have had some novelty value for me, but Sarah didn’t seemlike someone who’d lost any enthusiasm for sex and we had been married foreighteen years.
I wasn’t planning on going into work on this most importantof days, so I phoned the office and made up some story about driving to Norfolkto negotiate a new contract with a company that made bog cleaner.
One of the great things about being the boss was that no oneever questioned me. Sarah was definitely going to work, though, and there wasno point me trying to talk her out of it. She worked in a small legal firm, andtoday was the day of their Christmas party.
“Don’t forget I won’t be home tonight,” she said, overbreakfast. “We’re going straight into town for our Christmas do after work.Probably won’t be back until pretty late.”
“That’s OK,” I said, then added, “I’ll wait up for you.”
“I’ll probably be pretty hammered when I get back,” sheadded, “if last year is anything to go by.”
After she
