The Woodworker's Wife

Zoe came into the workshop after her client had left and standing on the far side or the bench I was working at handed me a mug of tea. "What are you going to do tomorrow when Marcus's here?" She asked.

I put down the plane I was using. "Does he really need to be here? Can't you just for this time work from photos?"

"If I thought I could, I would, but you know that's not how I work."

"I can't help it Zoe, I wish you'd never taken this commission. I just don't trust him."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you're being very rational about this. Marcus's been the perfect gentleman every time we've met."

I groaned, "And that's the problem, from what Linda tells me, all the women who have had affairs with him say that he's the perfect gentleman all the way to their beds."

"It's always Linda's friend says this or that, but how can she honestly tell. It's not like it's her that's had one of these alleged affaires."

I had to look away; this was the crux of my problem. I know that Linda was talking from her own first-hand experience of Marcus's technique. But I'd promised faithfully not to tell anyone about her affair. All I could do was plead with her to talk to Zoe.

"I do trust you love, and I won't get in the way tomorrow. Just don't take everything he says or does at face value." I said.

"I'll be careful," she replied and she came around my bench and gave me a hug. I suppose the unasked question in the back of my mind was did she intend to be careful around Marcus or me?

~ ~ ~ ~ <> ~ ~ ~ ~

Friday came and Marcus announced his arrival in his usual flamboyant style. I was in the office on the computer trying to find a supplier for a length of extremely rare hardwood I needed for the inlay on a panel. He greeted Zoe with a kiss to her cheek and she glanced at me to see my reaction. They disappeared into her studio and he closed the door behind him. I was getting up to open it, when it opened again.

Zoe propped it open saying, "Sorry Marcus but the door stays open."

"Oh ok, it's just I was getting a cold draft from it last time."

"I've got a fan heater if you get cold."

She smiled at me apologetically before turning around and stepping back into her studio. I sank down again, and returned to my search. Thirty minutes and a lot of calls later I found what I was looking for plus some other pieces I'd be able to use. All the time there was a background murmur of voices from the studio. My head had swivelled in their direction several times when she gave a short laugh at something he'd said.

And that's when what he had said earlier finally clicked. If as Zoe had said she'd only painted his face on Wednesday, why had he complained about the draft? Given the suit he usually wore, he could only have felt a draft if he was undressed. The trouble was it left me with two scenarios either Zoe was lying to me or Marcus was just using it as an excuse to get the doors closed.

I spent the next half an hour planning and sanding the cupboard doors with a growing sense of unease until finally I did something I rarely did. I stopped working and stepped inside the doorway of her studio while she was painting a client. I leant against the doorframe and surveyed the studio. At least Marcus was wearing a pair of boxers but that was all. He was on a couch angled away from the doorway so he didn't see me enter. Zoe was bent over her palette blending a colour to use and neither could see me.

Marcus was saying, "I don't think I've ever met someone as talented as you."

"I keep telling you it's not true but thank you, honestly Dave is far more talented than me."

"You are just being modest again. I'll keep saying that you have so much more talent than a furniture maker. He's a carpenter not an outstanding artist like you."

She laughed, "And now you are being silly."

"That's better; you look beautiful when you smile

She gave an embarrassed giggle and put down her brush. "You've moved again slightly."

She moved over to him and gently tilted his head a couple of inches, running a finger along his cheek. He turned his face and kissed her fingers; she giggled and moved his head back to its original position. His hand reached out to stroke the back of her leg. She ran her fingers through his hair and started to lean forward. I cursed and she turned and gasped as she saw me standing there. His head swung round and a grin flickered across his face.

Zoe's mouth opened and closed several times before she said, "Dave, I err..."

I looked at Zoe holding her eyes, silencing her. Her face had lost its colour and she knew I was pissed off.

"Marcus, get fucking dressed and go," I said the anger evident in my voice, my face felt ridged in my anger.

He made no move to get up, ignoring me and returning his gaze to Zoe, "I don't think so, it up to Zoe. The sessions not finished there's another hour to go," he complained.

"That wasn't a suggestion!" I said icily. "Zoe's done for today."

Zoe didn't take her eyes of me, then without looking at him she said softly, "Marcus, I think Dave's right, you need to go."

He hesitated and then in one languid motion stood. Moving over to a table and chair in the corner he pulled on his clothes. All the time nobody spoke.

He came over to her as he was walking out of the studio. She turned away from him towards me. As he reached the door I said, "Call before you come back, we may need to cancel your next appointment."

"Fine, but Zoe please don't forget the deadline, I will need to hold you to it."

"Marcus," I said and he paused. "I'm aware that it's your deadline, not Zoe's, and at this moment I'm this close..." and I held my hand up for him to see my finger and thumb less than an inch apart. "To insisting that she cancels the bloody commission and trash the damn painting."

He glared at me and then shrugged his shoulders, "Fine, Zoe I will call to confirm on Monday." With that he left.

I followed to see him get in his car and drive off scattering gravel in his wake. I found Zoe slumped on the sofa in the office.

She looked up at me and I think she expected me to be full of rage and anger. And in a way I was, but not at her, at him. This was just a game to him and he didn't care how many people he hurt in the pursuit of his goal.

Disappointment was the driving emotion I felt when I looked at her. How many times did I need to warn her?

"Dave, nothing was happened believe me," she whispered.

I sat down beside her and she rested her head on my arm. "But it would have if I hadn't come in. You feel something for him don't you," I said.

She whimpered and started to shake her head. Then she stopped, "I don't know, honestly it was just a bit of harmless flirting. He's fun and interesting to talk to. So many of my patrons just sit there saying nothing. He wants to know all about me...us."

"He doesn't seem to think a lot of me does he, apparently I'm just a furniture maker."

"David," she only ever called me by my full name when she was upset with me. "You are one of the most talented furniture makers in the country."

She took one of my hands in both of hers, "You have more skill in this hand than I have in both of mine."

"But what are you going to do?"

She squeezed my hand. "I really want to finish the painting, please Dave don't make me stop. It's some of my best work and he's agreed that I can submit it to the Royal Academy."

Shit, I'd been trying to get her to send a painting to the academy for years. The only piece she'd felt was good enough in the past was her painting of me at work and she refused to take it off our wall.

"You're going to cancel Marcus's session on Monday and we will talk about what happens next over the weekend," I said. I hoped that the extra time would allow me to come up with a solution. "Do you want me to pick up Siobhan," I asked looking at the clock.

"No I'll do it, it's my turn. Tell you what, if you lock up, I'll get changed. We can both pick her up and go into Brighton for something to eat." She got up and picked the car keys of the desk.

"Sounds like a good idea," I thought for a moment, "Don't forget that the week after next is half term and we've made plans."

She stopped and looked at me. We usually kept the diaries clear half terms so we could concentrate on having fun with our daughter. The implications of what I'd just said hit her.

"Oh." She started walking to the car.

"I'm going to call Marcus and cancel Monday," I called out.

"No don't, it's my problem I'll do it," she called back.

Of course, once we got there Siobhan made us walk all the way to the end of the famous west pier so she could ride the roller coaster. We bought fish and chips from a chippy in one of the arches on the Esplanade. We ate them from the paper sitting on the pebbles of the beach. We didn't talk about elephant in the room, just fun family things with Siobhan that we would be doing over her half term.

Siobhan fell asleep in the car as I drove back to the house. Zoe carried her up to her bedroom while I poured us each a glass of wine. The evening had turned chilly so I settled down on the sofa in the lounge and waited for Zoe to come down to talk as we had agreed.

I was still waiting an hour later so I went upstairs to see what was keeping her. She was asleep on top of Siobhan's bed. Her face was streaked with dried tears. I didn't have the heart to wake her so I loosened her jeans and top and covered her with a blanket from the airing cupboard.

I locked up and briefly tidied up downstairs before going upstairs and showering. I climbed into our empty bed and lay there trying to fall asleep, and wondered for a long while if this was to be my life in the future. Damn it not if I can help it.

~ ~ ~ ~ <> ~ ~ ~ ~

My daughter woke me early the morning as she climbed into bed with me. She curled into the crook of my arm and fell asleep again. A few minutes later Zoe said, wistfully from the doorway, "Is there room for me as well?" She stood wrapped in a towel fresh from the shower.

I pulled the covers open and she climbed in beside me. She curled up against me and pulled my arm around herself. Her damp hair smelt of the peach shampoo she uses.

She whispered, "I'm sorry, I know you wanted to talk last night but I must have fallen asleep cuddling little one. Thank you for covering me up."

"You had been crying," I said.

"I know, Dave I'm scared I'm spoiling it for us. I know you're worried and I've listened to your concerns but that's not the Marcus I've seen. I still want to finish the painting. I don't know what the matter with me is. Please don't make me stop. I will if you insist, but it's going to be one of my best, I can feel it." She looked at me hopefully.

The knot in my stomach tightened and I knew I couldn't refuse her. She was putting me between the rock and a hard place. But would I be able to live with the consequences?

"Ok, finish and then submit it, but there are some conditions."

"Anything, Christ I'll paint in a chastity belt if you want me to."

"I wasn't thinking about anything that drastic but now that you mention it..."

She punched me gently on the arm. "What then?"

"Try to ignore him while you paint. You know he's going to think he's got one over me if you carry on painting. He's not to just drop in and you are to do as much as you can from photos. Plus and this is the deal breaker, I want you to submit your painting of me at the same time, both or none is the deal."

"Don't make me Dave, It's not good enough. When I paint you I want it to be perfect. Please don't make me."

"Why, what's wrong with it, or is it the subject you don't like."

"You're the perfect subject. I love you that's why it has to be perfect, and I can't do it, it's full of flaws - my flaws, not yours."

"You're wrong, it's better than the one you're doing for him. And I love the fact you see the flaws, they tell me how much you love me."

Her lips traced feather light kisses under my chin. "OK. If his is good enough then I'll apply to submit both pieces in January next year. Will you take the photos for me?"

I smiled, "You remember the selection process, I'd be happy to help."

She shivered slightly in my arms, and on my other side Siobhan stirred and crawled over me wriggling in between us. She had that sweet child smell that make you want to bury your face in their soft hair and just inhale it until your lungs burst.

"I'm hungry," came her sweet voice.

"Then let's go and get breakfast for daddy and my beautiful girl," Zoe said.

She stood and quickly pulled a pair of panties on before unwrapping the towel from her body. She slipped a bra, jeans and a top on before she picked up her pyjama clad daughter and tucked her on her hip.

I washed, shaved and got dressed before heading downstairs in the direction of the pleasing aromas of frying bacon.

I sat down at the kitchen table and my daughter carefully brought me a half full mug of coffee.

We talked quietly as we ate breakfast; afterwards Siobhan hurried off to the lounge and settled down in front of the television for her Saturday morning treat of cartoons.

I stacked the dishwasher while Zoe finished off her tea.

"I called him last night to cancel Monday," she said indicating her phone on the table. "And he sounded sad. He thinks you're blowing it up out of all proportion and that you don't want me to carry on because you're jealous of my possible success."

Now I was a bit pissed off, were the tears last night for me or for him. "And is that what you think?"

"Nooo, don't ever think that Dave. I'm just telling you what he said. By the way what did you mean when you said 'his timetable' yesterday?"

"I just thought it was convenient that suddenly he needs to travel a lot next month. He didn't mention any such plans when you agreed to the commission."

"He's an important person in his company; of course he has to travel. Ask Linda she works there."

"Christ, he's only a bean counter, and next time I see her I'll ask," I replied.

We puttered about in silence again skirting the elephant in the room for the rest of the morning, doing the chores we'd been putting off to the weekend.

"Do we need to go to the supermarket today?" I asked.

"I suppose we should, we can go after we drop Siobhan off at Wendy's birthday party. It starts at three."

Oh yes, the joy of children's birthday parties and the hyperactive child that is returned to you. This was the first year that Siobhan didn't want one or the other of us to stay with her. She'd run into the first party of the year saying I'll see you later daddy.

Siobhan looked a picture in her party dress and Zoe snapped a couple of quick snaps on her phone. I reminded myself to download them later from her cloud account and add them to the family photos album on the PC.

We collected our hyperactive daughter at six and sympathised with Wendy's fraught parents.

"It's bloody McDonald's next year I tell you," her mother exclaimed.

Oh hell, it's our turn in two months' time, McDonald's sounded promising.

While Zoe dealt with Siobhan, I unpacked the car and put the shopping away.

Zoe came up to me and put her arms around me, resting her head on my chest. "She's exhausted the poor little tyke. I've put her to bed, she's stuffed full of cake."

"Do you want to cook?"

"No, let's just order in Chinese."

When it arrived we took our full plates and a bottle of wine into the lounge and sat on the sofa. The television was on and we half watched a film that was on while we ate.

Zoe curled up against me and sighed contentedly. "You know that I love you," she whispered."

"I know you do, the important question right now is 'What's Marcus to you?'" She stiffened under my fingers.

She wriggled round to face me. "I don't love him if that's what you mean. He's nice and I enjoy his company, that's all. I know I let it get away from me on Friday but nothing would have happened. If you hadn't have been there I would have told him to stop and let me paint and that would have been the end of it."

She paused to kiss me. "It's no different to our friendship with Linda's Paul, you let me dance with him and nothing improper happens. I'm the artist and he's the model, that's all there is."

She settled back against me and I again wondered if I had over reacted. What had I really seen? An artist repositioning her model or a would-be lover's caress. I'd seen her touch many a male model and I'd never reacted that way before. Would I have even worried if Linda hadn't mentioned her concerns? No, Geraldine had seen the same thing. No, that was more than just positioning a model, the kiss to the fingertips showed Marcus's intentions.

"Take me to bed, let me prove to you that I'm yours," Zoe whispered.

I picked her up and took her upstairs, setting her down I went to take off my shirt but she stopped me.

"I need to do this, you're mine and I'm going to prove it." She pushed me up against the wall undoing the buttons and bestowed feather light kisses across my chest before sucking my nipples causing me to moan in pleasure.

"You are all mine," she whispered, "and I'm all yours and I'm going to prove it until you beg me to stop."

She fumbled at the belt of my jeans, undoing it and the jeans. She pulled them down over my hips and groaned happily to herself as she saw the bulge in my boxers. Sliding the waist band down freed my eager cock from his confines. Her mouth swooped and swallowed the head, sucking hard and running her hands along the shaft. I leant back against the wall, moaning as her head bobbed faster as she swallowed more of me each time.

"Shit, Zoe, I'm going to cum."

She grinned up at me and sucked harder. I came with a shudder, filling her mouth and she swallowed, licking me clean. I pulled her up and she kissed me savagely, sharing my taste with me.

"My turn to pleasure you," I whispered and I quickly stripped her clothes from her and she lay back on the bed, letting her thighs fall open. I kissed my way slowly up the inside of her thighs until my lips hovered above the centre of her sex. Glistening beads on her puffy labia attested to her arousal. The little sighs of pleasure became a loud moan as my tongue slid along the length of her slit.

"Please just there," she whimpered as the tip of my tongue circled her clit.

She rolled her hips pushing up against me as my mouth and fingers moved tirelessly teasing, first one then a second screaming orgasm from her soul.

"Fuck...me...now..." she gasped out.

Her fingers trapped in my hair pull, urging me to cover her. I pushed in deep and hard. Her legs wrapped around the back of my thighs. Her fingers clenched and un-clenched the skin on my back, as I thrust hard and fast into her silky soft cunt.

I kept up the pace, changing the rhythm of the strokes in tune with her needs and the rolling of her hips. Her body stiffened as she came. She babbled out my name repeatedly. I kept moving, she was mine and I was going to prove it to her.

She whimpered and cried out again as another and then yet another orgasm washed over her. Until I came with a rasping gasp, pumping my hot cum against the entrance of her womb, covering her cervix with my possessive essences.

Her fingertips were dug deep in muscles on my back and the walls of her passage clenched tightly around me, milking the last drop from me.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at me with a familiar look of love and desire. I rolled to the side but Zoe refused to let me pull out. Her finger traced a line of sweat running down my chest. She kept squeezing my shaft with cunt.

She kissed my nipple, "I love you so much," she whispered, "I am yours, please don't ever stop loving me."