Guess Who Just Got Back Today

Somehow that managed to adequately close the two months subject once and for all.

'Don't really know the woman,' Kat said, 'but I'm glad I beat her to it.'

Logical Dave (escaped from her shackles and chains) unexpectedly chipped in.

'How long will you be at the Widget Company?' my mouth asked on her behalf.

'I'm doing twelve months or however long Key Phase Two might last. So I'll be around minimally ten more months.'

'And you've already done at least six months at the building society.'

'Yes I have. This is going to be the longest in-between travels yet.'

'What about your rental? How's that going to work?'

'I'm not sure. I asked my landlord for an extension and he quoted me something astronomical. I guess I'll have to look around for a short-term.'

Slamming the door on Logical, Fervent jumped into play, also using me as a mouthpiece.

'Tell your bastard landlord to eff off and move in here instead. Here's free, not twice the going rate.'

Kat had tears in her eyes again. 'I couldn't,' she mumbled.

'Yes you could. When is your current lease up?'

'I've another two, maybe three months.'

'Bollocks to that. How much deposit have you paid?'

'It was two months.'

'Fuck him, then. Move in with me today. Let him keep your deposit and go whistle.'

Ruthless as that might have sounded, I knew the market. The landlord would make indignant noises about the "lost" third month's rent but in reality he would let again in a week or two and be quids in. No way would he sue for a "loss" that would never exist or be able to be proven.

Kat was staring at me. I expected aversion and avoidance but she was being logical in her own right.

'I couldn't stay without paying my way,' she said.

'The mortgage is my commitment alone,' I said, surprising myself with my vehemence. 'I have to pay every last penny myself. Don't ask why; I just do. But we could split everything else down the middle, like before. That's big savings for both of us.'

'Can we really go back to "before"?' Kat's moist eyes were beseeching.

'Judging by last night we already have.' I laughed. 'Come on girl, say yes and open your legs. I want you again before we go dine in the Busser.'

Kat rubbed her face vigorously, blinked a couple of times and then broke into a grin.

'Yes,' she said, 'but you open your legs.'

I considered various objections before recalling her mouth on me, doing the most amazing things.

Like before . . . yet also like "new" and like "ahead" and "full of possibilities" . . .

'Go for it babe,' I purred. 'I'm all yours.'

And I was by no means disappointed.

*****

Lunch in the Busfeild (my dining home from home) happened rather late. That wasn't unusual in itself but I was known and Kat wasn't. Consequently she got a lot of covert attention. There again she was the sort of woman who always got attention. God only knows what it would have been like if she'd still been in her slinky silver dress.

Cue an aside. A little earlier, when I finally pulled her up and away from my exceedingly wet bush, she expressed some reluctance to be seen out "like I've been clubbing".

I reminded her she'd left some clothes with me when she'd ducked out on my twenty-first. She looked round my palatial mistress bedroom and asked where.

'In your old wardrobe in the spare, I'm afraid. But it's all still there. And I put softener sheets and herbs in with them. They shouldn't smell too rank.'

Kat cried again at that. 'I thought you didn't think I was coming back.'

'I didn't. But what would life be like without hope?'

Cue both of us in tears.

And, eventually, cue a spell of very vigorous mutual masturbation which almost made us miss lunch altogether.

Afterwards, hand in hand, we drifted from the restaurant area into the middle bar to find Joyce putting the world to rights with three or four male barflies.

I cursed. What with one thing and another I had missed seeing who she had paired off with last night. For all I knew she could have had sex right there in the ballroom; I'd have been none the wiser.

'Dave,' she said in greeting, turning away from the barflies (all of them familiar with the way we often got together; all of them ogling Kat).

'This is Joyce,' I said to Kat, 'our Credit Manager. Joyce; this is Kat; our new star programmer.'

One thing Joyce was not was a shrinking violet. 'Together again at last,' she exclaimed, 'oh thank you God for that!'

I winced while Kat blinked in shock . . . or something.

'Dave's gone on about nothing but you ever since she split with that cow, Philippa,' Joyce continued. 'I have been looking out for her . . . like a carer . . . so I know everything.'

'Have you been fucking her?' Kat asked, thankfully in a whisper.

Joyce hooted. 'Of course I have. But worry not. We are friends with benefits. I'm twice as footloose as she is. I'm only too happy to hand the role of carer back to you. God only knows, that's what you both want, isn't it?'

Astonishingly, Kat instantly took to Joyce. In fact I believe she fancied her.

'Yes I do,' she said. 'Has she really been going on about me?'

'Non-stop; she hasn't been able to praise you more highly, except she's done you down looks-wise. I expected a diva, not a goddess.' Then, clapping Kat on the arm like her best mate, she digressed.

'Are you hands-on with my systems issue?'

'Legacy or . . .'

'Both. The frigging new system can't keep up with the old one. What's that all about?'

I tuned out while my companions talked shop. Thankfully Joyce hadn't specified exactly when I'd split with Philippa. I wanted Kat to keep on believing it was recent and I'd swooped on her straight after, as soon as soon.

Come to that, now aware that she still wanted to be with me, I wished I'd swooped on her as soon as soon.

I also wondered about me and Philippa. That first big argument; I'd given her my ultimatum and I had punished her before I knew Kat was back. But why had we argued in the first place?

Yes, Philippa had been getting clingy, but hadn't I been getting increasingly grumpy? And hadn't I got increasingly grumpy because, even without a set date, I'd known Kat might imminently be back?

It was, I had to concede, possible I was subconsciously estranging Philippa, pushing and pushing.

Could I really have been such a bitch?

Should I really have been such a bitch?

My inward grin was rapacious. Fuck rights and wrongs, whatever I'd done was correct.

End of.

Our time in the middle bar was not unlimited. Politely coughing, I reminded Kat we needed to make a move if we were going to collect all her stuff in Maxine.

'Maxine?' Kat echoed.

'It's her Mini,' Joyce explained. 'Don't ask.'

'I love Maxine,' I countered. 'I'll be devastated when I have to trade her in.'

'See what I mean?' said Joyce.

'Sort of,' agreed Kat.

Then Joyce surprised both of us by gripping Kat's wrist.

'I love this girl,' she said, soft, yet sincere, 'let her down and you'll have me on your case.'

Kat didn't bat a lash. 'It's not forever,' she replied, 'I'll be here for another ten months. I'll be back after that, though. And I won't let her down. Not ever.'

'Nothing is forever,' I added. Then, misquoting badly: 'Not even Freddie Mercury.'

Chapter Five

That second spell of cohabiting was beyond brilliant. We woke up together, showered together and dressed together. I drove us into the office together and, although out workday duties seldom brought us together, we always got coffees for two . . . like maybe fifty times a day.

We weren't corny enough to lunch together; Kat was always in the gym, toning her so-sexy abs. But we did travel home together and we invariably stopped off at the pub for "a couple of quiet ones". And we always arrived home together. Sometimes we would watch TV or videos and fool about on the settee before retiring upstairs.

And sometimes we'd be ripping clothes off each other before the door shut behind us, both anxious to be the girl on top on the kitchen table.

Yes, it was indeed beyond brilliant.

Travelling did, of course, loom on the horizon. Kat was determined to be off again and I couldn't begin to think about going with her. I had a house to restore (and pay for!) and Maxine to replace. And I was madly in love with my job at the Widget Company. Who needed Sydney Opera House or the Golden Gate Bridge with all that on her plate?

Separation terms were discussed at great length. Including the over-run on Key Stage Two, Kat had been back living with me for eleven months. During that time we had been totally faithful . . . not least because, as before, we'd both been too busy fucking each other to chase after anyone else.

This time everything was spelt out. It was only a temporary separation and contact would be made on a regular basis. I'd call Kat every Friday at 6pm GMT without fail. Even if it was the middle of the night wherever she was, Kat would respond.

Sex-wise we agreed there were no limits. Well, I did ask her to take precautions with guys. Otherwise we sort of left each other to our own devices.

I suppose you're expecting Joyce to come back into my frame and I suppose you'd be right. But by a coincidence I find incredible, she wasn't the first. No, I dropped Kat off at Leeds/Bradford, parked my Maxine on the Busfeild car-park . . .

And found Margot waiting for me at the bar. Four in the afternoon, me on a half-day and her missing, presumed lost for a year, and there she was, large as life and twice as sexy.

And she'd had a (very much un-needed) boob-job.

'Hiya babe,' she said in greeting. 'Have you missed me?'

I'd wanted to get maudlin drunk and maybe cry on Joyce's shoulder later, when she dropped by for a drink on her way home. Fat chance! I got maudlin drunk and ended up crying into Margot's stunning new cleavage instead. Leastways I think I did. All I know for sure is I woke next morning with a tear-tracked face, claw tracks on my back and springy tits squashing my nose.

Not that I'm complaining. There are worse ways to wake up.

*****

I guess Margot kicked me off on the right foot for a suddenly-single-again woman. Next night I slept with a very sympathetic Joyce and then spent the weekend with a barmaid who I'd have sworn was straight.

And how glad was I to be proved totally wrong!

The dreaded Monday Morning Feeling never happened for me. Okay, so maybe it did, but I was off on the motorway before I knew it, speeding south to save a branch in Portsmouth. Location and an issue with spare parts enforced an overnight. And guess what . . .

I had overnighted while back living with Kat and had ignored the door-knocking prostitutes. In fact I'd been so busy having phone sex with Kat I'd hardly even noticed them. But suddenly forty quid for an hour of forgetfulness seemed like a good deal again.

For God's sake don't tell Kat about me and ladies of the night. And don't tell her about my friend, Sue in Aberdeen, either. Using up my holidays I visited her three times while Kat was away, experiencing another unforgettable Hogmanay and enjoying a three with her and her workmate, Sandra, on several occasions.

Yes, I always stayed a few nights and Sue had finally fallen for Sandra's punky charms. Suddenly she was "seeing" her regularly but didn't mind sharing. And sharing with those two . . .

Heaven; it was simply heaven.

I don't want Kat to know about my friends north of the border, by the way. Officially Kat and I reveal all to each other. In practice we girls have our secrets. Don't we?

Well, don't we?

*****

So I passed the best part of another year back in slut/whore/harlot mode and enjoyed every second, even as I missed the love of my life. And, as that weekly contact worked like clockwork, I was able to be there to meet Kat back at Leeds/Bradford, holding a card with her name felt-tipped on it in massive capitals.

WELCOME BACK KAT!!

Okay, hers wasn't a very busy flight; there weren't thousands flooding into Arrivals all at once, but it got me noticed. And omigod; wasn't it good to see her back safe and sound.

Kat had already fixed her contract at the Widget Company. Key Phase Three had been a disaster and she was urgently needed to help sort it out. She was a shoo-in for Key Phase Four and her name was already down for the latest Christmas party. Craig's only reservation on taking her back was over her preference: was it turkey again or did she fancy beef?

What a happy homecoming that was! It's not credible to say we screwed more than ever before but I swear on the bible, that's how it seemed. Sharing workloads some nights, switching roles on others, it was an idyll which matched the two before.

But somewhere along the way I'd developed itchy feet. And before too long I fucked up.

*****

On the face of it that particular Friday wasn't anything special. Departing from our daily routine Maxine 2 took us to ASDA and we got the weekly shop. Then, leaving our purchases in the boot, we went into the pub, turning left to dine.

(By then my dream cottage had been fully renovated. The Busfeild was no longer my dining place . . . apart from Fridays, when we treated ourselves and didn't need to squabble over whose turn it was to be chef.)

As chance would have it, there was only a table for four vacant. As we were very regular customers we were made welcome with open arms, seats pulled out for us. Then another couple arrived and the hostess wrung her hands.

'I'm so sorry,' she said, 'we're full. Maybe in half an hour . . .'

'Join us,' Kat called out.

The couple were and were not strangers. We'd seen them in the pub before, nodding hello but never speaking. Being obviously straight . . . and with us being obviously lesbian . . . I half-expected them to shy away. But they didn't. Thanking both of us profusely, they joined us and we quickly got to know each other.

They were Alice and Ross and had recently moved into a "new" house in West Morton, maybe a mile away. You know me and guys, right? Well, whatever I might have said before, I found Ross to be dry and amusing. And Alice was sex on legs. She also made it quite clear that she saw us as a couple in our own right and admired our openness.

Sharing a table led to sharing drinks in the middle bar. That led to us meeting up two or three times a week and regularly dining on Fridays. We swiftly became friends and, after a beer or six, conversation tended to be free.

Even so I was astonished when, perhaps two months into our friendship, matters progressed.

Chapter Six

I'd been called out to resolve an issue in the new Widget Company branch in Morecambe. For once it was a quick . . . but necessarily physical . . . fix. In other words there was no pressing requirement to hang around overnight.

(I'd quit answering door knocks again, and doubted that I'd get any in Morecambe anyway. Down the coast in Blackpool it would have been a different kettle of fish. Well, knock-wise it would. I still would not have answered . . . honest!)

So there I was, fix completed, driving home in Maxine 2. For two rather populous counties Lancashire and Yorkshire both have a lot of glorious countryside. And the run from Morecambe to Keighley is as glorious as can be. You get it all: a magnificent sea view followed by lush green meadows, spreading hills and white limestone. The sun was shining and I was in no great hurry, being generously paid by the mile as well as the minute.

Then my phone rang.

Being on call I expected the worst. Maybe it would be a catastrophe in Cardiff or Camborne.

Personally I hoped it would be in Jersey, the Isle of Man or Dublin. By then I'd done most everywhere else in England, Scotland and Wales. Failing that I hoped it would be Leeds, so that I could get home to sleep in my own bed.

But it wasn't my work phone.

Clicking onto hands-free, I answered.

'Hi Dave,' a familiar voice said, 'it's me; Alice. Sounds like you're driving; are you okay to talk?'

'Hiya,' I replied, 'yeah, I'm hands-free and in the middle of nowhere. It's me, a few clouds, bright blue sky and the open road.'

Alice didn't waste time on small talk.

'Remember our chat last night?'

As if I'd forgotten. While Alice chatted up Kat Ross had told me all about the orgies they had attended in Gloucester. Then Alice had joined in with a lot more info and little had been left to the imagination.

Alice and Ross were both "professional" people, aged maybe thirty. They had no kids and maintained they wanted "a life, not children".

And I undersold Alice. She wasn't just sex on legs, she was far more alluring. Short hair so blonde it was almost white, a snub of a nose that could have been mine . . .

Why oh why did she always throw herself all over Kat whenever we met? Why didn't she throw herself all over me?

'Yes,' I replied a tad stuffily, 'I remember.'

'Well Ross and I have been talking. We think opportunities exist.'

Too true, thought I; they think opportunities exist for Spiky Blondie Babe to fuck my girlfriend.

'We were thinking about wife-swapping,' Alice continued, 'but not in the old "car keys in an ashtray" way; know what I mean?'

Up until last night I wouldn't have had one clue. Thanks to Ross and Alice I now knew that was how random swaps could be made when several couples were involved. The guys would put in their car keys and the girls would take turns to pick one out without looking. Then she'd ask whose key she'd got and . . . bingo. He was her new partner for the night.

Or maybe he was her new partner for the next hour before they did it all again. Who knows; some of those parties sounded very wild.

'What actually do you mean, Alice?' I asked aloud.

'I mean there's nothing random in what I'm proposing. Everything would be premeditated and agreed in advance.'

'Hmmm,' I went.

'Listen,' Alice continued, clearly scenting my doubt, 'we're mates and we're grown adults. And I fancy having sex with you like fuck.'

That came out of left field. I gulped and almost ran under a combined harvester. Somehow avoiding the fatal head-on, I asked:

'You fancy me like fuck?'

'Of course I do. I fancy Kat like fuck too, but I can see how it is. For now let's call it horses for courses and count Kat as your "wife". Ross will swap me if you'll swap Kat.'

'How long for?' my treacherous mouth enquired.

'We usually do Friday night through to Saturday lunchtime. But other options are available.'

'Let's reserve other options for later.' I drew in a breath and wondered how I'd ever sell this to Kat.

'We can eat out together as usual,' Alice went on, 'but when it comes to home time . . . nine o'clock, say . . . Kat goes home with Ross and I go home with you.'

'And Ross is up for this?'

'He was up about eight inches when I suggested it last night.' Alice laughed. 'I'm sorry if that was too much information.'

Avoiding a speeding Land Rover Defender . . . it was well over in the wrong lane! . . . I laughed with her. 'It's too much info for me,' I said, 'but it might just seal the deal if Kat has any reservations.'

*****

Being sneaky I waited until bedtime to run Alice's proposal by Kat. In fact, having insisted on regularly taking her again and again, I waited until she was on the verge of drifting into sweetly sated slumber.

And hearing me her eyes shot open with an almost audible click.

'Alice wants a wife-swap,' she echoed.

'Yes.'

'Do you mean as in me and her?'

'No, as in me and her,' said I. 'I quite fancy it, to tell the truth.'

(Was that the understatement of the year or what?)

'Hang on. Are you saying I'm your wife? That Ross lends you his missus and you lend him yours?'

'Yes, but purely for the sake of the exercise. You know me; I don't like assigning strict gender roles.'

'Not unless it gets you to bed the beautiful blonde.'