The Way Back Ch. 03

NINE

I woke on Thursday to the sound of my phone telling me I had a text message. It was from Geoff, reminding me that he was picking me up at 8.30. I glanced at the clock by the bed: 7.30.

Now for a man in good physical shape, an hour is plenty to get washed, dressed and breakfasted. For me it was not so easy, and so I missed breakfast.

Geoff took me to the Toyota Dealership and we leased an automatic car. It would be delivered within the week. Then we met some buyers and I watched Geoff trying to do the job I used to be so good at. I put in the odd comment and each one seemed to help. On the way back Geoff thanked me profusely for it seemed my meagre input swung the deal. I doubted it but he repeated that it was so. Once in the office I asked for the contract we were going to sign. It was a mess, I just knew it without knowing how I knew. I tidied it up and gave it to Judy to retype. Geoff's smile grew even broader.

"With your memory, how did you know how to do that?"

"No idea!" I laughed, "it just came to me."

"If you do nothing more than you did today, say, once a month, you'll more than pay your way," he laughed, "You have a real talent in sales and especially contracts; must be in your genes."

"Never wear them!" I quipped. It was a lie. Trish had bought me some.

I reminded him (while commenting on the irony of me reminding anyone of anything), that I would not be full time for a while. I had to get my life sorted out first, but I promised that I'd help out whenever I could. I went home by taxi feeling much better and called at the gym on the way, doing a half hour 'brisk' exercise.

I was making my evening meal when David rang. Was I joining the gang tonight? Yes I was, provided I got a lift. Same as last week it seemed, so by nine we were sitting in our accustomed corner when Colin, and then Keith came in. Once again I sensed an agenda.

David began once everyone had drinks.

"While you were making hay, or sowing your oats with your girlfriend," he said to me with a smile which held no malice, "we've all been hard at work."

"Good," I replied. "I'd hate any of you to be idle. After all you have nothing else to do all day, do you?"

My irony was appreciated. They knew I was grateful that they took the time in their busy lives.

Colin began.

"I contacted York and asked about your missing person file. It was still open after a fashion, so I told them we'd found you but that you had been viciously assaulted. I wondered if they had any info on your last day. They knew basically what we know. I know one of the blokes there and told him I was on the case, and he 'asked me' to follow up the re-opened file." He grinned at the subterfuge.

"That meant I could legitimately go to Fanshaw. I took a DC and we called on Saturday morning. He wasn't delighted to see us. Interesting meeting. I asked him about the PI's report and he told me that they only needed it for the divorce and that he had destroyed it. So I asked him the name of the PI. He couldn't remember.

"Then things became interesting. Ann said she was sure she had his name and address and the photos somewhere and went off to search. Derek was not happy. He muttered and grumbled about losing his Saturday morning to a fruitless search for you Allan. Then Ann returned and she had the man's name and address and these photos."

Colin laid them on the table.

There were four. The first showed a couple having a cup of coffee together, the second the same couple kissing, the third the same couple at the booking office at the railway station, and the fourth the same couple leaving the hotel. I looked at Colin and waited.

"Well that's you, and the woman we're looking for."

I looked at the photos again. So that was what I looked like.

"Yes," said David, very seriously. "You were a good looking bloke, at least that's what the women I know say. Those bastards robbed you of that."

"So what do we do with these, then?" I gestured at the photos.

"I've already sent digital copies to our friend in Sweden," said David, "He was delighted. So it looks as if we may now have some success there." He smiled encouragingly.

"Anyway," Colin added, "I looked Fanshaw's PI up on the register of PIs when I got back to the Station and he wasn't there. I tried the address and it was a fast food take-way. He's retired apparently. I've asked York to look for him and see if he's kept his records."

David took his turn.

"The Swedish man is on the job. He's got a lot of names to get through though, but he's got the photos now. So we wait."

"From the look of these photos," I said dejectedly, "I had a relationship with this woman."

"Don't jump to conclusions," said David, "Let's find out for sure, eh?"

On Friday I was amazed to get my new car. The manual was so thick and detailed that it would take a degree to read it and I was sure there should have been an exam at the end. I skimmed it and opted for the brief guide, which told me all I wanted to know.

My memory was coming back. I remembered university, mainly the work side, though there were flashes of parties and meetings in pubs. I drove around until I felt the car was part of me, and then called in on Geoff. Then on to physio. My physical progress was matching my memory recall. I felt good while aching all over.

On an impulse I called Trish and suggested I come over to Newcastle the next day.

"Checking up on me?" Trish asked. It was light-hearted but stung me. There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Oh Allan, that was crass, I'm sorry. You have every right to check and I know you wouldn't dream of it."

"It's OK, I shouldn't be so sensitive. Perhaps I won't come after all."

"Oh no! Please come. I missed you terribly these past days. Tim asked me out again but I turned him down. I told him it was a big mistake and that my boyfriend was not happy at what we did. That frightened him!"

She laughed. "So I've been faithful every night, though I did play with myself once."

"Wicked girl!" I said sternly. "I may need to punish you for that self-abuse."

"Oh, yes please," she sighed sensuously. "I need punishing. Come tomorrow. I know I will if you do!" A guttural laugh.

"God, Trish, you're insatiable."

"Yes, and you love it!"

I didn't feel ready to drive to Newcastle, so on Saturday morning I set off for the station. My short-term memory was still playing tricks, but I was confident now in my use of Geoff's mobile and in fact had no difficulty in remembering where I was going. I also remembered the bus in Newcastle to get to Trish's. I arrived mid-afternoon and she was home after her early shift.

When she opened the door, it was clear she had been waiting for me. She was wearing a plain white blouse which showed a white bra beneath, white knee socks and a deep blue pleated micro skirt which only just covered her pert buttocks, and as she threw her arms round my neck to kiss me, I could see her plain white knickers in the hall mirror as the skirt rode up.

We kissed long and sensuously and my erection began to make itself felt and she giggled. My hands went to her bottom and swept up under the skirt to the waistband of her little panties, but she stopped me.

"Before you go any further, there is something you must do," she said with mischief in her eyes, and led me to the living room. She stood facing me. "Now you must punish me for being a bad girl," she said with a grin. "I need a spanking."

This was something new. Beyond a few encouraging light smacks as we neared orgasm we hadn't done any S and M, and I wasn't sure I wanted to, but I went along with it.

"Sit down," she said, "and I'll lie across you."

I sat down. "Take down your knickers!" I ordered, trying to get into character.

She reached up under her skirt and pulled the article down.

"Stop!" I cried, as the garment reached mid-thigh. She stopped and left it there, falling across my knee with her bottom before me, the position of her knickers giving me a hardness which I was sure she could feel.

"Now, punish me," she growled. "I'm ready."

So I began. I hit her upturned cheeks with the flat of my hand gently, after all this was sex play.

"No!" she cried. "Hard! Spank me hard."

I couldn't do it.

"Harder!"

I tried and failed, "Sorry, I can't do it, Trish."

"I need punishing for being unfaithful. Please, Allan!"

Why was she getting distressed?

"I'll tell you what," I said -- I was still hard, "As punishment give me a blow job. Then when I'm nearly there, I'll fuck you from behind and come before you can. Then you can be frustrated until bedtime."

She sat up and looked at me. "Really?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yes, I didn't get turned on by trying to spank you."

"Yes you did! I could feel it!" she began to smile. Thank God, I thought.

"No it wasn't the spanking, it was your little pure white knickers coming half way down your thighs," I sniggered. "Now, are you going to accept your punishment?"

She did not answer, but slid off the sofa and knelt before me, her knickers still at half-mast, stretched wide by her separated knees. She undid my pants and I lifted my bottom so she could slide them down along with my underpants. She slid back my foreskin and took me gently the way I liked it.

It did not take her long to get me near to orgasm, and she sensed it and pulled away, turning her back and presenting herself to me on hands and knees. I knelt behind her and thrust into her. She was wet and I slipped in easily. I began to fuck her with long slow strokes on the edge of my orgasm all the time, getting her excited. Then, when she began to groan as she neared her release I speeded up and came strongly, pushing my cock into her as far as it would go as I released my semen deep into her. Then I quickly withdrew and heard her moan of frustration.

"You want to come?" I asked, reaching down to her sopping slit.

"Yes!, but I'm not going to. Take your fingers away."

I loved her for that.

My knees ached from being on the floor, but she helped me up. Then we dressed and went into Newcastle for a meal. Neither of us brought up what had happened between us and I felt we were both avoiding the subject. There were questions about her reaction to her 'unfaithfulness' that needed to be answered, if that is, I could work out what the questions were.

However Trish seemed to be feeling a lot better, though she sat down gingerly at the restaurant, saying she felt 'squishy' from my earlier donation.

We went to a bar and had a few drinks before returning to her flat. Once in bed, Trish wrapped herself round me, rubbing her slit against my thigh. I pretended not to understand what she wanted, until she sighed in desperation. She was not going to ask for release from her frustration.

However, my penis gave me away and she chuckled as she took charge of it, working her finger magic on it and on my balls and perineum. I gave in and ran my hands over her body eliciting those little mewling sounds that showed her appreciation and growing excitement.

I kept clear of her more erogenous zones until she began to move her body to try to meet my fingers. Then I gave in further and stroked her breasts with one hand and her vertical and horizontal creases down below with the other until she began to gasp with pleasure, when I rolled on top of her and penetrated her soaking cunt, her legs scissoring over my back as she rotated her hips to drive me further in and press me hard against her sex for maximum stimulation.

It did not take long. My own orgasm was slow in coming after my earlier experience, but she was already primed and rapidly began her extended climax, at first wild and utterly intense as she gasped and cried out and twitched and yelped, then as it reduced in intensity and I could feel only a gentle thrill from her vagina, she began to sigh with relief. That was my signal to thrust hard and fast, and to submit to my own release.

We really were very good together, and that made me very happy. Here was I, aged over forty, ugly as sin with my reconstructed face and battered body, and she in her mid twenties, beautiful, shapely and long legged. This was why I hadn't expected permanence or faithfulness from her, and why I couldn't understand her overwhelming guilt at her dalliance with Tim. I said as much as we relaxed in the afterglow.

She then began to talk almost as if to herself.

"When I was eighteen I fell in love with a boy. We had sex and I was so into him, but he dumped me after a few weeks. He'd got what he wanted, he'd broken in a virgin. He boasted about it all over school. I was mortified. Then other lads hit on me. Now that I was broken in I was thought to be easy. I wasn't. None of them lasted more than one date. Then about six months later I really fell for another boy and again the relationship lasted until we'd had sex for a couple of weeks. He dumped me too.

"I was just nineteen. I enjoyed the sex, but both times I was used and heart-broken. I think that was when my best friend started taking me out on Saturday nights. She talked and I listened. She talked about boys and that they were after one thing and so was she. Have fun, have sex, always use a condom, and just enjoy your real friends -- girl friends. I realised I agreed with her. Boys used girls, why shouldn't girls use boys. So that's been my life until..."

"Until you met me?"

"Until I met you. You needed me and I loved being needed, part of being a nurse I suppose. Our relationship grew without sex. I used to pick lads for their looks but always made sure they were gentle, I couldn't abide the arrogant ones who thought you needed to be taken hard, often before you were ready.

"You weren't good looking but I'd been with you through the worst of your recovery and we had been through it all together. We shared our lives and gradually I began to fancy you. This time it was not a boy's hard body but a man's courage and guts that did it for me. I wanted you sexually as well as everything else and I used your fear of going out to have my way with you.

"I thought I was in the driving seat. I was going to teach you about sex. But then... that first time... you worshipped me and you loved me. I'd always taken sex from lads on one-night stands and they'd taken sex from me, but you gave, and I found myself giving as well. So we always made love; we have, haven't we?"

"Yes."

"I never got any closer to the guys I fucked. I only went with a couple of guys more than once. I thought the sex was good, until we started making love. Then all that fucking I'd done, well, it wasn't really up to much. I got orgasms, I made sure the men gave them to me, but now there's so much more and even the orgasms are deeper and more intense.

"Now sex is telling you how much I love you, and I know you're telling me you love me. Oh I know it's unlikely we'll be together for life, but now, this moment, our lovemaking is about just that, love.

"When I went with Tim it was out of habit. That's what I'd done for years, got drunk and then fuck the nicest bloke I could find. I think it was while he was screwing me I realised that I wasn't getting anything from it. He tried to get me off but nothing happened. I faked it in the end. And then the guilt!"

She tensed and I squeezed her to reassure her.

"Trish, you have nothing to be ashamed of," I said gently, though aware I was repeating myself. "You give yourself to me, without condoms and that means the world to me. You love me; you stuck with me through the really dark times. So you fucked up once? You found it wasn't enough for you. Perhaps you needed to do it the old way to show yourself that for you there's a better way.

"Personally I'm grateful for anything and everything you do for me. I can't commit to you, we've been through all that, so I don't expect you to commit to me. And once more, don't forget our age difference."

We hugged and I felt her tears wet on my chest.

"What that for now?"

"I'm so happy with you, that's all."

"No more guilt?"

"No more guilt, but I don't think I'll be fucking strangers ever again. You've spoilt me for that! Not that I mind. I was a hormonal teenager when I fell in love before. Somehow my love for you, and probably for anyone who may come later is more measured, less intense but rock solid. I like it this way."

And that was that. We slept. As far as I remember (which isn't necessarily saying much) we never discussed our relationship again, apart from telling each other that we loved each other.

Sunday morning we were awoken by the phone. It was David.

"Sorry to wake you. I've been trying to find you all weekend. Our man in Sweden has found your woman. Do you fancy a trip to Stockholm on Tuesday?"

I did not have to think for long. David promised to get the airfares and book a hotel. "Your woman is living in Vasteras, about an hour's drive from Stockholm. Tell you all on the way. Tomorrow I'll let you know the time of the flight; you are coming back tomorrow?"

I assured him I was returning the next morning and he chuckled and rang off.

We were awake. What does one do with one's lover when awake on a Sunday morning? Well we did that, then we dressed and walked to the shops for a paper or two. Trish had croissants in the freezer and we brewed coffee to go with them. The day was relaxed with a restaurant lunch, a gentle walk in the afternoon and a comfortable evening with some music, then slow lovemaking and sleep.

Trish was on lates during the new week and so saw me off at the station. We agreed she would come next weekend when she had some extra days and I suggested we take the new car for a couple of days in Wales.

On arrival at Piccadilly Station I took a taxi home to the flat, checked all was well and then drove to the factory, getting a beatific smile from Judy as I entered the holy of holies. It was worth going in just for that. Geoff already knew of my impending trip to Sweden and had the name and address of Jan Thomasson, the buyer from Sweden with whom I'd done business in York.

"It may help to jog that memory of yours a little more," he grinned.

He gave me a run down on how things were going and I settled to tighten up a couple of contracts made while I was away. I again apologised for not being there as often as I should have been, but he laughed it off.

"You come in here for two hours and make us a lot of money, Allan," he said, "and you don't get under my feet! By the way, it's cold in Sweden at this time of year. Have you got a really warm coat and hat?"

I hadn't, so he took me to what he called 'a proper man's shop' and kitted me out with a greatcoat, scarf, an all-enveloping hat and thick gloves. That done I drove him back to the factory and then went back to the flat where I phoned David. He was busy but phoned me back later. He reminded me that he had my passport and told me that we were flying from Manchester to Arlanda, the flight taking about two hours, followed by a train journey to Vasteras via Stockholm taking another two hours in all. He had booked a hotel in central Vasteras in which we could take stock and decide how to go about the interview. I told him I had the address of my business contact in Stockholm and he said he could factor that in for the return journey.

I packed a bag and went to bed early, immediately after phoning Trish. It had been a busy day and I slept well.

------

TEN

I awoke at dawn, which in mid February is about seven, so I had time for a shower and breakfast before the taxi containing David arrived. The journey was uneventful. As the train sped from Stockholm to Vasteras, I was intrigued, not so much by the red painted houses as by the feeling that this was all somehow familiar. I wondered if I had spent any time as a child or youth in Sweden.