It's Gill with a 'G'

"Andy, I love it when you kiss me down there, but I feel selfish as I haven't returned the pleasure. Would you mind if I tried to suck your penis? Do you think that will give you the same feelings?" I had no idea. Having read up on cunnilingus, the article referred to fellatio, and a little research explained that. I assumed it would feel good so I invited Gill to try. She was tentative at first, aware that it would hurt if she caught me with her teeth. She simply licked to start with, then sucked just the tip into her mouth. Almost immediately she raised her head.

"Is that alright? I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No, not at all. In fact it feels rather good. Very sensitive though."

"Shall I carry on?"

"Only if you want to." She smiled and nodded.

"Yes. I quite like it. It feels a bit spongy, but silky smooth and warm. It's good in my mouth." She returned to her task. She was attuned to my movements, and soon learned from my movements what worked, and also what gave a little discomfort. Soon she was taking more and more of me into her mouth, sucking hard as her head came up, and licking and moisturising with her saliva as she went further down. I could feel the churning in my groin announcing the onset of my climax, and told her that I would spurt soon. She paid little attention. Holding back was a problem as I felt that tightening in my testicles and behind my penis that couldn't be denied.

"Gill! I can't stop myself." I tried to lift her arms to pull her away, but she was having none of that, tightening her grip on my legs. I was out of control, and my climax hit me, and I spurted my semen in her mouth. She stayed, taking the repeated spurts in her mouth, until I had finished. She raised her head with a big smile of accomplishment. Some of my semen clung to her lips, and I wondered where the rest had gone. She opened her mouth.

"I swallowed it all, Andy. It was lovely."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Why? It came from you. We share everything, and I wanted to share your sperm." I pulled her up, and kissed her. Licking her lips to remove the traces around her mouth. She in turn pushed her tongue into my mouth, sharing my emissions.

That was how we were. Talking about everything, and trying out what we thought would be good. There were no inhibitions in our bed. Openness and honesty came hand in hand with trust. Her trust that I would not hurt her, and my trust that she was there for me. Our innocent fumbles taught us how to please each other. Gill brought up the subject of anal sex. I had to admit that I was not too keen, but if she wanted to try it then I would go along with it. I cannot recall which of us came up with the understanding that some lubricant would be required, but on the evening there was a large tub of cold cream by the bed. The first attempt was not too successful. I was inhibited as I feared that I could hurt Gill, but we persevered, finding the right position for my penetration. Afterwards we discussed this activity openly. Gill decided that whilst there was some good feelings for her, it would never get close to how she felt when I was in her vagina. For me the tightness of her anus was such that I had trouble in controlling my ejaculation. Interesting we decided, but not something to indulge in on a regular basis.

For the next six years our marriage was great. It was then that Gill came off the pill, as we had decided together that now was the right time to have a baby. Eagerly we went about the baby-making procedure, there was an added thrill to making love, the thought that this could be the time that my sperm would meet her egg. Then something happened that shook me. Gill called out just as we were about to climax together.

"Fuck me, Andy. Fuck me!"

I suppose for many married couples that would be a tremendous spur. But not for me. Call us innocent if you will, but we had never used words like that in our love-making. Gill had picked that up from somewhere, or someone else. I put it out of my mind. It had to be something she had heard at the office, I knew enough from the girls in my office how they would talk about all sorts of things and very often sex was an important content of their conversation. Little did I know that it was the distant thunder heralding a storm.

Two days before that Gill had attended her office Christmas party. She had come home around ten thirty, happy, but possibly a little taken by wine. She gave me a great kiss of greeting as she came through the door, and I imagined that I was going to enjoy some uninhibited love making tonight. Not so. No sooner had Gill got into bed than she was out like a light. I smiled lovingly, as I tucked the bed sheets around her, and got in my side. I thought she would probably have a hangover in the morning. The following week, it was my office Christmas party. I am embarrassed to say that I too was non-combatant for Gill, when I got home, and the headache the next morning was one of those that had you declaring "Never again". With the Christmas holiday, visits to parents and relatives, the incident of Gill's swearing had been forgotten.

That lapse of memory came back with a vengeance in the new year. It was rare that I had to go and visit clients. This particular client's brief was that part of the advert should focus on his office procedures. Normally we would use a set and actors for this, but he insisted that we should if possible use his premises and his staff. I wasn't happy with this but he was the client, so I went along. His offices were in the same building as the Inland Revenue, where Gill worked. I wasn't seeking to see Gill while I was there. I was working and she was working, so contact would have been unprofessional. I made my call, and was pleasantly surprised as Mr. William's office and staff could work quite well. He was happy and accompanied me back to the ground floor. We waited for the lift to take us down. The 'ping' announced it's arrival and we turned to the opening doors. There was a man and a woman in the lift, kissing passionately. With an insouciance that had to be admired, the man reached out and pressed the close door button, all the while maintaining his kiss. We were left standing in the foyer bemused.

"That bloody man. At it again, no woman is safe from him." Mr. Williams hissed angrily. "And he just shut the doors on us. I shall go up to the Revenue offices and let them know that Perryman has to be dealt with." I said nothing, as I was in shock. The woman was my wife, my lovely adored Gill. And she was kissing another man passionately!

The journey back to my offices passed in a fog, and even there I was useless for the rest of the day. No paper that came to my desk was read, the black symbols became hieroglyphics as far as my mind was concerned, indecipherable, unintelligible. All I could see was those doors opening and Gill and that man kissing. The scene was replayed many times, as if by the replaying the characters could suddenly change, and it would not be my wife there in his arms. It didn't happen, it did happen, no it didn't. But it did! I told the staff I wasn't well, and went home. I must have made quite a spectacle on the bus, as tears ran down my face. Men don't cry do they? Oh yes they do, and this man was certainly crying.

I made myself some tea once I was home, and then sat in the lounge, thinking sadly, in agony. All the things that I had thought certain were no longer. I had a pain inside that would never cease. I got cold and curled up on the settee, hugging my self for warmth. The tea got cold, not even a sip had been taken. The afternoon light faded as my hopes and dreams faded. Somewhere along the way, I suddenly remembered Gills words. The words that I had set aside and forgotten. "Fuck me Andy, Fuck me!" I knew then that it wasn't only a kiss, however hurtful to me that would have been, Gill had allowed him her body. There was no evidence but I knew, I knew!

Gill found me, still curled up on the settee when she got home. Her concern was palpable.

"Andy! What's wrong? Are you ill? I'll get the Doctor." She picked up the phone.

"No, don't do that." I called. "There's no need." Gill put the phone down and with worry etched on her face came to me.

"What's the matter, Andy?" I knew no other way, we had always been open with each other.

"When were you going to tell me about Mr. Perryman?" For a moment I saw the guilt on her face, but she quickly covered herself.

"Oh, John. We work together, that's all. He's a bit of a friend I suppose."

"Only a bit of a friend. Do you usually open your mouth for kisses from men who you describe as a bit of a friend?" Gill shook her head, not saying anything. I continued. "And is the lift the normal place for you to entertain a bit of a friend?" Gill got up and sat in another chair.

"How...how did you know that?" Uncertain of how much I knew, uncertain of herself and uncertain of me. I put the uncertainty out of her mind.

"I was in your building today, seeing a client. We were waiting for the lift, and the doors opened and lo and behold! There was my wife, kissing another man." I took a deep breath to calm my anger. "And I suppose it was him who taught you to say things like "Fuck me Fuck me!" Her tears came then. I was pleased, at least I was not the only one crying that day.

I went to the kitchen and got a tissue for her, then went upstairs to wash my face. When I came down ten minutes later her tears had dried, but it was obvious that it wouldn't take much to start them again.

"Have you nothing to say?" I asked calmly. Gill shook her head.

"I'm sorry."

"You've had sex with him, haven't you?" She nodded and quietly said.

"Yes." Gill's tears had dried, but mine ran slowly down my cheeks. Her confirmation of what I suspected just devastated me. She saw my hurt, and got up as if to come to me. I shook my head at her.

"Go. Get out." She nodded sadly, and put her coat on. At the door she turned.

"Andy, I am so sorry." She left, and my life went with her.

Half an hour later I felt terrible. All Gill had was the clothes she had worn that day, and her handbag (purse). She would have little money, she usually only allowed herself sufficient for her bus fares and lunch. I was frantic. How can this hurt exist alongside compassion? Where would she go? How would she get there? I called her mother. I didn't want to tell her what was going on, so I simply said that we had an argument, and that she could probably see Gill very soon. Mrs. Walton laughed a little.

"I wondered when you two would have a spat. Don't worry Andy, it's all par for the course. I'll tell her you called when she turns up." I thought to myself that her mother may have different thoughts when and if Gill did arrive.

I couldn't stay in the house that evening, so I went around to my parents. Mum was of the same opinion as Gill's mum, but in private I told my dad what had really happened. He was thoughtful.

"Give me some time to think this over, lad. Let's sleep on it and discuss it in the morning." He had obviously told mum as at breakfast the next morning she was grim-faced. Her advice was unequivocal.

"If she will cheat once, she will do it again, Andy. Go see a solicitor and start divorce proceedings." This was from my mother who was totally opposed to divorce, yet also totally opposed to adultery. Dad proposed caution.

"You have got to talk to her. See if this is a one-off, or if it is an affair." He and mum got into an argument about their seemingly opposing stances. I made my mind up.

"Mum, Dad. I love her so much. But she has hurt more than I thought it possible to be hurt. I don't know if I can put that hurt behind me, but I think I have to talk to her to see if something can be salvaged." Brave words I suppose, but events were already making that course a non-starter.

I phoned my boss and asked for and got some compassionate leave. Despite my misgivings I had to tell him the truth. He was properly sympathetic, and gave me three days off out of my holiday allowance. I had gone back to my house the next day, somehow hoping that Gill would be there. I couldn't have spoken to her politely, but even the fact that she had come home would have told me that there was some possibility of putting our marriage together again. She wasn't there.

The day after her mother phoned.

"Andy, I'm worried about her. She hasn't been here. I phoned some of her old friends, and they haven't seen her either. I don't know what to do." I thought for a moment.

"I shall call her office. They don't like personal calls, but at least I will know she's alright."

"That's a good idea, Let me know won't you, Andy."

"Yes Ma. I will call you as soon as I know."

The Civil Service was a byword for secrecy, except of course when they were State secrets. The manager of the office, Mr. Grumman, would only tell me that Gill had taken sick leave, as from the previous day. He would not comment further than that, until I asked him if Mr. Perryman was at work. That caught him. He asked my why I wanted to know that.

"I believe that Mr. Perryman and my wife have been behaving inappropriately."

"I can't comment on office gossip. But he is not in today." I knew it, he was aware of this relationship.

"Mr. Grumman, could you ascertain that my wife is alright, and where she is? I ask not for myself, but for her mother, who is very worried about her." I gave him Gill's mother's phone number.

"I'll see what I can do. But it's very irregular."

When I got home from work a couple of days later, Gill had been. Most of her clothes had gone, together with her make-up and toilet stuff. She had left a little note on the table. All it said was 'Sorry. I love you'. Yes I thought, you love me, yet if you had waited for me we could have talked.

Mr. Grumman did find Gill, when he phoned Perryman's flat. He didn't want to tell me, but Gill had asked him to let her mother know, and of course her mother told me. Then she asked the question.

"Andy. What is going on? Why is Gill at this man's flat?" I gave her the simple facts, there was little point in trying to sweeten the news.

"I am so sorry, Andy. What must have possessed my daughter. Now I know why she didn't come to me, she was aware of my views on infidelity. Oh I could wring her neck I am so angry with her. What was she thinking of, she had you, she loved you and you loved her. What is going on in her head. Andy! What are you going to do?"

"I was going to try and talk with Gill, to see if we could salvage our marriage. But I fear that can't happen now. She's taken her clothes and gone to him. Obviously she has more feelings for him that she does for me. I will see a Solicitor and seek a divorce." I put the phone down then as my anguish overwhelmed me, and my sobs would have made speech impossible.

The divorce went through without problem. I took my Solicitors advice and used the grounds of Misconduct. If I had tried for Adultery, he believed that Gill would fight it, and as I had really no evidence apart from Gill's confession to me without witnesses, it would have been a hard and long struggle. She was still living in his flat throughout this time, so I considered that Gill was lost to me for ever. I had accepted that, but had no answer to the question, why? What did I do wrong? I didn't know it at the time but that thought would keep me from any other relationship.

Chapter three

Life was now empty. Six months ago it was full of absolutes, the love I bore for Gill, the love she had for me, the wonderful vista of our life together, stretching far into the future, the planning of a family. All these were gone except one, the love I had for Gill. Despite what had happened, despite my divorcing her, I still had love for her. Why? Why could I not take a knife and cut it out of me, like a surgeon would cut out a growth. Perhaps it was because we had grown together, from the age of seventeen until now. Eleven years we had, thinking together, planning together and talking together, always talking. I knew Gill as I knew myself, and she knew me. That was why when I asked her if she had sex with Berryman, she told the truth. I would have known if she lied. I knew Gill. Lying would have been the ultimate disrespect, and she would not have done that. Perhaps that said something, that she still had some regard for me. I don't know, and that is the essence of my problem. I don't know what I did wrong, I don't know why she was intimate with this man, I don't know why she couldn't tell me what was wrong in our relationship. I don't know why she went straight to him. There was so much I didn't understand, about her actions, and equally about mine. But I still loved her, I cried.

I had recovered from the trauma of these events sufficiently to be able to work well. The evidence of that was an invitation to lunch with one of the partners. Alex Wellman had been in the States for some time, and understood their attitude towards advertising. He had brought this knowledge back to the UK and set up this agency, Wellman Goff and Co. Who the Goff was, no one knew. I arrived at the Penns Hall Hotel, where he was staying and where our lunch appointment was. I told reception I was there, and they paged him.

"Andy." He approached me with a smile and a hand outstretched to shake mine. "It's great to see you. Come on in, we'll have a drink before lunch."

"Thank you Mr. Wellman."

"Hey, none of that Mr. Wellman, call me Alex." We had drinks at the bar, and then went in for a superb lunch. Our talk was casual until we got to coffee.

"Andy, I know about your personal problem, but I hope that is behind you now." I acknowledged that it was. "Good. We like your work. Some of the copy you have come up with is sensational. Hits hard, but in a very subtle way. Fantastic. Now we want you to take the next step, and join us in London, working on national schemes. There's going to be a change coming in TV advertising, we are looking at making a series, that plugs the product, but draws the viewers in because there is a story being told. In effect we will be making a drama that will entertain as well as sell. So we will need the best dialogue, written by the best writer we have, and Andy, that's you. What do you think?" My mind was tumbling over the possibilities, an opportunity, a chance. Not because of the work, my thoughts were about getting away from Birmingham and the memories, starting afresh some where else. The job was secondary.

"I like the idea, Alex. Is this a firm offer?"

"Yes, Andy. We want you there. You get a great rise, London weighting allowance, and we will pay all your legal costs for the move. What do you say?"

"Sounds good. What salary am I looking at?" He got out a piece of paper, and wrote down a figure, then showed it to me. I was shocked for a moment it was a lot!

"Did you put the comma in the wrong place?" I asked cheekily. Alex laughed.

"That, Andy is exactly why we want you. That throwaway remark that asks a question, yet contains humour, and says in one second what others would need a minute for. Yes, the comma is in the right place. Do a good job for us, and I will move the comma the right way for you." He held out his hand. "Do we have a deal?" I took his hand and shook.

"Yes, Alex. You've got yourself a dramatist."

I put the house on the market, packed up everything I wanted to take and within a month I had moved down to London. The office was close to Fleet Street, Apt I thought, as contact with the press was important to the advertising industry. Some would say the two biggest fantasists in one place. Alex had arranged a hotel room for me, just off the Bayswater Road. The arrangement was that the company would pay for three months, after that I had to foot the bill. The house in Erdington sold quite quickly. I offered my dad the deposit he had made for us, but he indignantly refused. So I wrote a cheque for half the profit and sent it to Gill's through my solicitor. There was nothing in the settlement covering this, but it made me feel better, and it was a subtle way of reminding Gill, that I still had her in mind.