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Educating Jack

By: jamie1987



Towards the end of my third year at university, we were asked if we would like to show pupils from a local sixth form around campus for a small fee. Being completely broke by this point in my studies, I signed up instantly. Little did I know what I was letting myself in for.

With the stress of coursework, I'd almost forgotten about it when the email from the university arrived telling me that the sixth-formers would be visiting the following Friday, and that we would each be allocated a student in a sort of buddy system. They had tried to pair girls with girls, but typically not many guys had volunteered, so according to the attached spreadsheet, my sixth former was an 18-year-old boy called Jack.

The Friday came round and I turned up at the central hall on time, just as the sixth-formers were awkwardly piling in. Chaos ensued as the admissions tutors paired off the undergraduates with the prospective students. After some confusion I was introduced to Jack, and 18-year-old upper sixth former. He was tall and skinny with pretty features and longish blonde hair: not really my type, but clearly an attractive young man. Despite this he seemed (in contrast to some of his more excitable peers) 

rather shy, shaking hands with me awkwardly and avoiding eye contact. Like the other boys and girls he was wearing his school uniform -- blazer, shirt, tie -- but, I presumed in act of rebellion, was wearing it with trendy skinny fitting chinos and black Vans trainers.

I gave Jack the grand tour of our small campus, taking all the "sights" (library, student union and so on). Away from the others Jack seemed to get more relaxed, chatting with me about student life. Once or twice I caught him not so discreetly checking out female students.

We had a bit of time to kill so I thought I'd show Jack the halls of residence where I lived.

"So, this is my room!" I said when we arrived. We both took in the surroundings: desk, sink, bed. Our eyes both fell on a pair of knickers I'd left on the bed that morning.

"And, er, those are my knickers," I said apologetically. Jack giggled nervously. Fortunately, they were a nice pair: pale pink satin with a lace trim.

"So, do you want to go and get a coffee, or--" I began. Just then my two friends Lucy and Alex who lived down the corridor came in.

"Hey girlfriend," said Alex, "Are you coming to the lecture? Oh sorry, didn't realise you had company!" she said when she noticed Jack.

"Guys, this is Jack," I said. "I'm showing him round today. Jack this is Lucy and Alex."

"Jack! Nice to meet you," said Alex, extending her hand.

"Hi," said Jack, awkwardly shaking hands with the two girls.

"So what do you think of the place? It's a shit hole right?" said Lucy.

"It seems very nice!" grinned Jack.

"Aren't you sweet," said Alex. "I like your outfit!" she added.

"Oh, thanks," laughed Jack. "They told us we had to wear uniform today."

"On your best behaviour eh?" grinned Alex.

"I like your chinos, Jack," said Lucy.

"Oh yes! Very nice!" said Alex.

"Uh, thanks," said Jack, hiding behind his fringe.

"I might get my boyfriend a pair of those," said Alex. "Can you turn around for us?" she added with a wicked glint in her eye.

"Uh... sure," said Jack, turning away from us.

Alex let out a whistle.

"Hey, your bum looks good in them too!" she said. "Hasn't he got a nice bum, girls?"

"Very nice," said Lucy.

"Thanks guys," said Jack, clearly enjoying the attention.

"I bet you're the kind of guy who wears nice underwear, too," said Alex. Jack just laughed. "Can we see?" she asked.

"Seriously?" said Jack.

"Yeah," said Alex. "Drop 'em, mister!"

Jack hesistated, then undid his belt, unzipped his chinos and inched them down below his bum. Underneath he was wearing a pair of red briefs with a white waistband. 

The two girls laughed in delight.

"Cute undies Jack!" said Lucy.

"Thanks," laughed Jack.

"Are you gay, Jack?" Alex asked out of the blue.

"What? No!" spluttered Jack.

"Okay, okay!" laughed Alex. "You have good taste in underwear for a straight boy, that's all!"

"Can we see your bum, Jack?" taunted Lucy.

"Yeah, come on Jack!" said Alex. "Let's get a look at that peachy ass!"

"Really?" said Jack.

"YES!" screamed the two girls before breaking into a fit of laughter.

"Don't make these two horny sluts make you do anything you're uncomfortable with, Jack!" I said.

"No, that's okay," said Jack. "I don't mind." And so saying he pulled the waistband of his briefs down below his bum.

"Now that," said Alex, "is a nice bum." And it was, too. Unusually (in my experience) for a skinny guy, Jack's bum was round and pert. A good handful!

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this," said Alex, and so saying gave Jack three hard slaps across his cheeks. He let out a squeal.

"Alexandra Morrison!" exclaimed Lucy.

"I'm sorry but he was asking for it!" said Alex.

"Okay guys, that's enough," I said, suddenly concerned of what would happen if the admissions tutor heard about all this. "Put them back on, Jack." Obediently, he pulled his briefs back up over his bum. He reached to pull up his trousers but Alex stopped him.

"Wait," she said. "Let's have a look at them from the front too."

"Um..." Jack hesitated. Alex grabbed his shoulders and turned him round to face us. Lucy let out a sharp gasp. For a second I wasn't sure why but then I glanced down and noticed that our young friend had an absolutely enormous erection in his briefs.

"Fucking hell!" laughed Alex. "Look at the size of it!"

"I guess he enjoyed showing his bum off for us," teased Lucy. Jack just looked at the floor, his hair in front of his face.

"Perhaps he'd like to show his big dick off for us too?" said Alex.

"Come on, guys," I pleaded

"Quiet, you," said Alex. "Get 'em off, Jack."

Jack, flustered, looked at me as if not sure what to do. I shrugged apologetically.

"Off! Off! Off!" chanted the two girls. Jack, apparently needing very little encouragement, pulled his briefs down. His erect cock sprang free of his tight underwear. 

The girls laughed.

"It's huge!" said Lucy. And it was, too: easily one of the biggest I'd ever seen. What's more it seemed to be getting bigger and more erect in front of us. For all his shyness, Jack was clearly loving this attention.

"How old are you again, Jack?" Alex asked.

"Eighteen," he replied.

"Oh my God, this is so wrong!" said Lucy.

Jack's cock was now fully erect, jutting out from under his white shirt.

"Can I touch it, Jack?" asked Alex. Jack grinned. "Sure," he replied.

Alex took Jack's boner in her hand. "Wow," she said. "So big and heavy!" She started moving her hand up and down his shaft.

"Alex!" I screamed.

"He likes it, don't you, Jack?" said Alex.

"Um, yes, thank you," said Jack.

"Your turn now," Alex said to Lucy, after a few minutes. Lucy hesitated before taking Jack's cock in her hand. She giggled nervously as she started to jerk him off.

"How's that?" she asked.

"Very nice," said Jack, glancing at Lucy's large boobs in her tight blue shirt.

"Would you like a go, Becky?" Lucy asked me.

"I probably shouldn't," I said. "I'm getting paid for this." Everyone laughed.

Alex stood behind Jack and grabbed his shoulders. "Are you going to come for us, Jack?" she breathed in his ear.

"Would that be okay?" Jack said, almost in a whisper.

"Of course," smiled Alex. "Would you like to come on Lucy's tits?"

"Yes please!" said Jack eagerly.

"He can't come on my tits! I have a class in ten minutes!" said Lucy.

"That's a shame," said Alex. "Wait, I have an idea!" she picked up my knickers from the bed. "Would you like to come in Becky's knickers instead, Jack?" she asked, 

waving them in front of his face.

"Can I?" Jack asked me.

"Sure," I said, realising the situation was now way out of my control. Alex tossed the knickers to Lucy. Lucy wrapped the silky fabric around Jack's cock and continued jerking him off.

"How does that feel, Jack?" Alex asked.

"Really good," said Jack.

"Are you going to come in Becky's knickers, Jack?" asked Alex.

"Um. Yes," said Jack.

"Ask nicely," said Alex.

"I'm sorry?" said Jack, confused.

"Ask Lucy if she will make you come in Becky's knickers," said Alex sternly.

"Um. Lucy, please will you make me come in Becky's knickers?" asked Jack.

"Yes, Jack. I will," laughed Lucy.

Jack took in a deep breath.

"Could you, um... could you spank me again?" he asked Alex.

"You liked that, did you?" said Alex.

"Yes," he replied.

"Well, ask nicely then!"

"Um... please could you spank me?"

"Say my name," snarled Alex, grabbing his tie.

"Please could you spank me, Alex?" he tried.

"While...?"

"Alex, please could you spank me while Lucy wanks me with Becky's knickers!" spluttered Jack. Alex began spanking him hard across his bum. Jack let out a moan.

"I'm going to come," he whispered.

"Go on!" said Alex, grabbing his tie tight around his neck as she smacked his bottom. "Blow your load in those slutty knickers, boy!"

"Oh fuck!" gasped Jack. His legs buckled slightly as Lucy made him come in my knickers. I watched as the pink fabric turned darker and his spunk oozed out. He seemed 

to come for ages, and by the end my knickers were completely soaked.

"How was that?" Alex asked when he finally finished coming, loosening her grip on his tie.

"Amazing," said Jack. Lucy unwrapped the wet knickers from his cock and handed them to me. "Here you are!" she laughed.

"Um, no thanks," I said. "You can keep those, Jack!" I meant it as a joke, but sure enough he took them from Lucy. "Thanks!" he said, red-faced, as he awkwardly pulled up his briefs and chinos.

"Well," I said, keen to wrap things up. "I guess I should get you back to your group, Jack!" Jack fumbled with his belt.

"I guess we should be going to class? Thanks for coming, Jack," Alex laughed. "If there's anything else you want to know about student life, do drop by!"

"Yeah. And next time, bring a friend or two," said Lucy.

Educating Jaime



 (The naughty bits can be found on page 4 - if that's too much first, well, you've been warned.)



Jaime had been asleep for a couple of hours when he woke up because his wife prodded his shoulder. He half turned her way and she stroked his chest, so he snuggled up to her and used his left hand so push her nightgown up over her chest - undressing before making love had been discarded with a long time ago as she found it took much time to get dressed again. He bent over to kiss her and then slid down under the duvet to attend to her breasts while his hands went to work on her nether parts. She liked having her buttocks stroked, and he had become rather adept at working on her pussy. She lay back and passively enjoyed his ministrations; it had been a long time since she'd allowed him to make love to her last. He knew it would take some time to get her excited enough, and he earnestly worked on getting her in the mood, glad that after all those months she felt like having him touch her again. 

He kissed her stomach and went for her navel; after the third time he'd tried she'd ruled out oral stimulation of her pussy because, she said, it made her come. He had never understood what on earth could be wrong about that, but talking about it would result in a long harangue followed by months of frost. Her voice would go up one or two pitches and a load of decibels, and he hated it. Any attempt at reasonable talk would flounder in loud unreason; nothing doing there. 

He returned his mouth to her breasts. Her body reacted favourably, and her nipples noticeably stiffened - and then she came with a shudder around his fingers. She immediately closed her legs. 

Oh God, he thought, not again.

His wife worked herself loose from his embrace. "We'd better go to sleep now, eh?" she said as she turned her face to allow him to give her a peck on the cheek, readjusted her nightgown and panties, rolled over and was snoring lightly within minutes.

He lay staring into the darkness for a long time, wiping the tears from his eyes and trying to keep his breathing regular. Sessions like this seemed to have become the norm; and they seemed to grow further and further apart. He couldn't remember when they had had intercourse, nor when she had cuddled him. It was all very much a one-sided deal. 

Then he tiptoed downstairs down the stairs and went into the living room. There was a DVD he'd bough and hid in a book his wife was not likely to read that he had not seen; it contained woman-friendly pornography according to the cardboard sleeve. He'd tried watching the other type a couple of times, but it didn't do anything to him; the girls' faces seemed unpleasant and entirely uninterested in what they were doing, the men were ugly and unfriendly, he couldn't for the life of him see what it was that anyone could see in anal sex or some kind of gymnastic exercise and the way the sessions ended, with the women kneeling before the men with their tongues stuck out as if they were to receive the host had disturbed him no end. Perhaps this would be better. 

He plugged in his earphones and started the DVD. After a series of disclaimers it showed a couple making love. The man seemed really bent on pleasing the girl, and they kissed each other with obvious enthusiasm. They looked at each other and smiled, and slowly, beautifully worked towards a mutual orgasm... He found watching them unbearable, and switched the DVD off with tears in his eyes, restored it to its sleeve and hid it again. He sat down on the couch, cradled his head in his hands and cried. 

When they first met Mara had been rather impressed. Jaime was funny, he wrote poems, wore his hair long and used all kind of words she seldom did; he played the guitar and sang and knew a lot about the kind of pop music they didn't play on the radio. He'd done A-levels and he had studied at Loughborough University, and his family was different, too. They lived in a house that seemed to stuck in the twenties, with loads of books and paintings and an atmosphere that was completely unknown to her. She wanted him. 

He had been as impressed by her as she was by him. She was beautiful - she had regular features and catlike green eyes, a sumptuous figure and an infectious level of energy in those things that she really liked. She could smile in a way that seemed directly aimed at his heart and loins alike... Head over heels would have been an understatement. She was his second girlfriend; the first one had been a true case of puppy love. His parents had never told him anything much about the ins and outs of love, and anything physical had been unmentionable. They had simply stressed the fact that as a male you had to behave, and instilled a kind of courtly love ideal in him that in retrospect had been old-fashioned, unworldly and unworkable. 

Mara had wrapped him around her little finger. She enthused about his likes and dislikes and as he had no idea what a normal relationship could be like he didn't see anything unusual in the way she kept him at a distance, physically, nor that a frequency of roughly once every three months could, perhaps, be seen has somewhat odd.

When she felt it was the right time she increased their frequency a little and got pregnant; after their first child had been born she got another one. Then she decided it was enough. There was no earthly reason to have sex more often than once in an anaemic blue moon; yet sometimes even she actually felt the need, after all. 

She began to find fault with her husband on numerous accounts. All those books had long ago begun to work on her nerves; so had his musical activities, both passive and active. She began to complain, and whenever he tried to defend himself she would play the wronged innocence. How could he? SHE always did everything for everyone, SHE would always buy the food he really liked, find nice shirts or pullovers for him, SHE would see to his every need... SHE had had all the pain and trouble bearing their children... But perhaps he wanted to quit? Well then, she would not be in his way, she'd leave home and rent an apartment somewhere and then HE could be happy with his stupid music and books, and he was never sociable and he would never do anything for someone else anyway... 

She presented a brick wall to him in which he could effect no breach; he'd been taught to treat others reasonably, and he did not know what to do about it. He simply tried to ensure he didn't do anything to release her fury - to no avail. Speaking well couldn't win her, not could saying nothing do it.

When Jaime had sat on the couch for so long that he felt thoroughly cold he crept back to bed; but he couldn't get to sleep. His predicament kept mulling in his head and by morning he had decided that he would go and talk about it once more. 

Mara more or less ignored him that morning. It wouldn't do to give him ideas; better keep him in his place. She needed her energy for the children. They, at least, were malleable enough, and she loved moulding them to her liking.

At work that day Jaime didn't perform too well. There wasn't anything he could do about it; his resolve to go and talk weighed on his mind like lead, and he kept trying to find the right way to put things so as not to aggravate Mara overmuch. He needn't have bothered.

That evening after dinner they put the children to bed as usual; then Jaime tried to be heard. He was, until half-way his second, rather hesitant sentence. Mara exploded. She hit him and called him any name she could think of, and accused him of treating her like a whore, not caring for her one jot, being a selfish sexist pig... It made his ears ring and seemed to go on forever. He felt the skin of his face go taut. There were footsteps on the stairs and their elder daughter came into the living room with tears on her face. Having an audience only increased Mara's fury. Myrtle, who at twelve was quite old enough to understand what she said, as she was obviously meant to do, looked at him in wide-eyed horror. Then something broke in Jaime. He turned around and ran from the room. Mara came after him, shouting at the top of her voice in a high-pitched cannonade of abuse. Jaime made for the spare room and locked the door. He put the ears of his I-pod in his ears and blocked out the continuous noise from outside.

The next morning after the children had gone to school Mara went to work, confident that she'd put that man in his place. Jaime rang his work and told his immediate boss he'd have to take the day off. He called the local housing agency and was fortunate enough to be provided with a not too unreasonable apartment. Then he made an effort and moved his belongings. He went to the bank, opened a new account and put half of their savings into it; he did the same for their current account, leaving the rest for Mara. He went to one of the town's charities for some furniture. It took him all day to get the place inhabitable; he went to bed very tired. For once he slept like a log.

For a couple of days he heard nothing from Mara. Then there was a letter - from a lawyer, to his relief. It was put in strictly reasonable English, even thought the demands made in it were not; but he thought he could live with that. He hired a lawyer himself and instructed her to deal with the situation and left the two firms to fight it out among themselves.

To his surprise he did not only hear nothing from Mara, he heard nothing from anyone else either. All those people he used to know seemed to have vanished from the earth altogether. Then he called one of his closer contacts; he made an excuse and rang off. He called another one, and was told he ought to be ashamed of himself before she slammed down the receiver. He didn't know what was happening; but he certainly felt he might as well be on a desert island.

That feeling grew when he asked on of his friends at work to come and have a drink. He said he had to go and take care of the children, something Jaime had never heard him worry about before. He gave up. Then the text messages began.

Two days later, on a Friday afternoon, four of Mara's friends met in Ye Olde Teashoppe, as was their wont. They placed their orders and embarked on a heated discussion of the iniquities showered on poor, lonely Mara by that no-good husband of hers. No-one knew who he'd been seeing lately, but he had obviously been cheating on her for a long time; and when she found out he'd left her holding the baby, deserted and stony broke. The bloody bastard! 

Molly, who had not heard of the altercations yet, asked how they knew. How they knew? Hadn't she seen Mara's sorry tale on Facebook? It was bloody horrible, the way he had treated her. She had to wear long sleeves to hide the bruises he given her, and he'd been beastly brutal to the children and emptied their bank accounts completely... No, it was ab-so-lu-tely terrible. Terr-i-ble. You'd never have expected it, but then, still waters ran deep, didn't they? Molly raised her eyebrows. Had anyone spoken to Jaime? Mo-lly! You must be out of your mind - spoken to that man? As if anyone would want to, no thank you. The idea. And what had happened to him? He had left Mara. He'd probably be living with that woman somewhere, but they didn't know.

They had more tea and discussed all the ins and outs in every grisly detail Mara had revealed on Facebook. It was horrible, oh, but it was thrilling, too. Wasn't it?

Molly went home and opened her Facebook account. She felt the gruesome story her friends had told her didn't ring true - and the tea party had felt too much like the meeting of a witches' coven to her liking. She had always thought of Jaime as a quiet-spoken, hardworking man who, if anything, seemed to be over-scrupulous and too much inclined to give others the benefit of doubt, and she had some trouble envisaging him beating up his wife. She found Mara's exposé easily enough. It wasn't an edifying read, and it was presented with an abundance of capital letters and exclamation marks. She went through the lurid thing twice.

Goodness, she thought. If a quarter of this is more or less true the guy is certifiable, to say the least. What's more, he'd have been locked up - and then she decided to go and find out. She certainly wasn't the type to go howling with the wolves at anyone's demand. Not she.

Molly went to Mara and found her in the garden. She was wearing a summer dress with thin straps and a pair of sandals. The children, June and Myrtle, were playing around a wooden hut that Jaime had built; they were yelling and having fun, and Mara had just poured herself a glass of red wine. Would Molly like a glass, too? No, she wouldn't - she was driving. But one thing was clear; Mara had no bruises on her arms. 

Molly stayed for a while; it was not difficult to draw Mara out on the subject of her defaulting husband. She was subjected to a variation on the Facebook story, with the obviously untrue bits left out.

"Your job will weather you through?" Molly asked.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm much too strung up to do my work right - and Jaime is too stingy to part with a penny," Mara replied with a catch in her voice. She went on to paint her dire financial situation and Jaime's unwillingness to pay for either her or his children in sombre tones. 

And then to think that he had settled in town in an apartment near his job, living a life of depravity, of course... Yes, almost in the centre, on 5 Laburnum Street... Molly stayed a little longer for the sake of appearance. Then she drove off.

She went straight to Laburnum Street. She had to climb a flight of stairs to reach the front door. She rang the bell. It was a little time before Jaime answered the door. He looked awful, Molly thought - not the way you'd expect a man in his love-nest to look at all.

"Hello, Molly" he said hesitantly. "Er, what can I do for you?" He remembered having met her at one of his wife's parties - she was one of the quieter friends Mara had assembled over the years.

"I er, I have come to ask you a couple of questions and show you something. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Well, er, no, I don't. Did Mara send you?"

"She told me your address, but she didn't send me. I rather think she'd be angry if she knew I'm here," she added, with a grim smile. "She's convinced you are having a good time with your new girlfriend."

"Oh, she may well say so - but I don't think she really believes it. She er - she may be a little vindictive, I'm afraid. But that's just her nature, you know." 

"All well and good," Molly said as she stepped inside, "but one's nature is not a free pass to do as one pleases."

Jaime showed her into the living room. He'd put his stuff in boxes along one wall and there were a table and three chairs in the centre of the room. 

"This is just makeshift," he said. "Heart Foundation..." He smiled a little sadly to himself.

"Right," she said, and sat down. "So how are you?"

"Old, tired, fat and ugly... I don't know. Er, it seems the world has crumbled around me."

"Look, I had better be a little blunt, but rumour has it that you had a terrible row with Mara, beat her up and left her broke. Er..."

"But I did nothing of the sort," Jaime said, a red rash creeping up his face. "We did have a row - or rather, Mara yelled at me for a long time, but apart from that..." He opened one of the boxes and took out a ring binder. "Look," he said, and he showed her the bank statements that proved he'd split up their accounts, and another one that showed their mutual account was now in Mara's name only.

Molly inspected them. "Good for you," she said. "But mind you, this will only satisfy a lawyer, and you could defend yourself in court with this. Mara will despise you the more for it."

"Despise me?"

"That's the way it works, you know. She would expect you to act the way she would - wage a battle over each teacup and each hanky. She will think being reasonable is a sign of weakness."

"So I should have made off with everything?" he said with a baffled look.

"No, of course not; but I expect Mara would have done so. Wouldn't she?"

Jaime sat down and stared at her. Then he moved his shoulders to relieve some stress. "I'm not sure. I hope not - but you may well be right." 

Molly nodded. "Do you have a computer around?"

"Yes," he said. " I brought my old laptop - I couldn't do my work properly without one, you see. I left the new one at home."

"And you have Internet here?"

"Yes, I haven't buried myself completely - not yet."

"OK, " Molly said. "Please get it for me, will you?"

Jaime complied at once; it had become a kind of second nature over all those years of being necessitated to ensure there'd be no quarrelling. Molly didn't notice; she was too busy devising how she could get the message across without letting matters get out of hand, but she really didn't see a way to get things done without causing pain. Eventually she decided to let events take care of themselves.

She started up the laptop and went to Facebook. She quickly found what she was looking for and then told Jaime to sit down and have a look. She watched him while he was reading; he turned very quiet, and his face went white.

"That explains it," he said. " I knew she was vindictive, but I never expected..." He put his head in his hands, and stared at the keyboard. "My God, I can never show my face in public again."

"So what did happen?" 

Jaime lifted his eyes from the keys and looked at her for a moment. He smiled at her, a little crookedly, and shook his head. "I tried to tell her I wasn't happy in our marriage..." he said. "I er... I wanted to talk about things, to get her to listen to me for once. I did my best not to tread on her toes..." He paused to try and frame his words as well as he could, and made a sound halfway a laugh and a sigh. "I don't think she heard more than my first two sentences. Then everything I'd tried to avoid for so long happened; it all went wrong." There was another pause. "She shouted the house down. Myrtle came downstairs..." He tried but couldn't finish his sentence. He held his hands in front of him and moved them from left to right and back, as if to shield himself. "I'm sorry," he said, trying to hold back his tears. "That's all, really."

Molly gave him a wide-eyed look. This, to her, seemed more likely than Mara's version. In her mind she saw her sitting in the garden, complaining of Jaime making off with the family fortune... Jaime turned out to be even more reticent than she had expected. She couldn't envisage him sitting at his laptop concocting lies about anybody. He had stopped looking at her and sat staring at the keyboard again. His face looked grey. 

"Don't you want to talk about it some more?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I don't think I could," he said. She saw his chin wrinkle and decided to call it a day. 

"Look," she said. "When you feel lonely you can always call me - I do believe you, and I don't think there's anything in Mara's allegations. I'm not really a member of her witches' coven..." Her image elicited the shadow of a smile, and Jaime lifted his eyes to look at her again. "What's your mobile number?"

He gave it to her and she called it. "Right," she said. "Now you've got mine. I must be off now. Don't worry, I'll let myself out."

She drove home, weighing all she'd heard and seen that afternoon. People certainly were funny. She had always thought of Mara as the epitome of a happy mother, and Jamie, who seemed to exist a little in the background, had appeared to be a quiet, contended husband. If he had been unhappy long he'd made damn sure no one noticed. She could hardly believe he'd abandon ship because of one tantrum only. But if what he described had been a common thing, then how on earth could he try and excuse it, even after what had happened? 




Educating Jaime



She thought of the conversation with her friends; it gave her a bad taste in her mouth. She didn't think it would do any good to try and vindicate Jaime; they were all much too bent on believing all poor Mara said. Poor Mara indeed, she thought, and then she had to brake hard - there was someone crossing the road. She concentrated on the traffic for the remainder of the ride.

Mara felt elated with the house, the money, and, she hoped, a quick divorce. It surely rankled a little that she had been unable to keep Jaime toeing the line - but it was a challenge to crush him altogether now.

There had been a lull in the series of abuse showered on her runaway husband as she had temporarily run out of inspiration - and then she realised that she could not have him vent his unhappiness to anyone at all, and by way of a pre-emptive measure she wrote tearful story about how happy they had been and how his alleged girlfriend had done all she could to ruin that happiness, and how Jaime had fallen for her stories... She put it on Facebook with a satisfied grin. There - that would serve him right.

It certainly did. Mara's friends satisfactorily commiserated with her, and Jaime was generally seen as the lowest of the low. The bastard, to leave a loving wife and two poor children like that - it was incomprehensible. Well, he could have fun with that woman; no one felt inclined to talk to a cad like that. 

Jaime found he got cold-shouldered by more and more people. The pub had turned into a palpably hostile environment; there was no fun in sitting with a pint all alone, and his friends apparently led themselves be led by Mara's counterfeited stories. One evening when he had just moved into the apartment he'd downed half a bottle of Grant's at home; it had been a sobering experience and he hadn't touched any spirits since.

He'd lost his appetite; he forced himself to cook, but half of his meals went into the dustbin uneaten. 

He tried to weather the storm as well as he could. He had bought a couple of cheap bookcases and put his books and his music in order, he had bought two decent armchairs and attempted to make the place inhabitable. He tried to find refuge in his books, but that didn't work too well; he was too upset to do any writing and half the music he liked had lyrics that came too close. He'd tried to listen to some CCR; but even they proved insurmountable. "Proud Mary"'s lines "And I never lost one minute of sleepin' worryin' bout the way things might have been" cut like so many knives... Most evenings he'd just sit and stare. 

Then he fell ill. He could not keep his food inside and he ran a temperature. He tried to keep on working, but found it was too much. He went home, to bed. He didn't have any aspirin, and he didn't know what to do with himself any more. Should he call a doctor? Then he remembered Molly had offered to talk with him if he felt the need. She'd been the last humane contact he'd had. He found her number in his cell phone and called her but she didn't answer. He gave up, and went to bed dressed in a couple of sweaters and with an extra blanket on top.

Molly, who at a little over forty thought she was a little on the plump side,, had gone for a swim that afternoon. When she got home she found a missed call on her phone, and answered it at once. Jaime answered the phone, but he was almost inaudible. Molly heard his teeth chatter and all she could make out was that he certainly was not ok.

She asked him if he could open the door when she came. He said he thought so. 

Molly rang off, got into her car and drove over. She scolded herself for not having contacted him sooner; she should have realised he was too inhibited or perhaps just too modest to contact her. 

She climbed the stairs and rang. It took a little while before she heard Jaime stumble through the hall and open the front door. He looked a sight - grey-faced, thin, tired, unhappy... She took his arm. Walking him back to his bedroom she felt her was shivering.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"C-c-c-cold," he said. "Sick. Tired." He retched.

"Got a thermometer?" she asked. 

He shook his head. "At Mara's."

"Any paracetamols?" 

He shook his head again.

"Alright," Molly said. "I'll go and get them, and then you're going to unburden your mind. And I don't care a hoot if you like it or not. Where's your key?"

She went and bought a box of paracetamols, a digital thermometer, and enough food for a couple of days. Then she drove past her own place to pack some clothes and necessaries, an air mattress and a sleeping bag. She had some momentary qualms about it. If anyone found out - Oh hell, she thought. Damn them all. She had felt very dissatisfied with the whole thing. She'd given their tea session a miss, and felt the happier for it; one of the others had texted her to inquire where she was, and she hadn't answered. 

Witches' coven, she said to herself - vultures, more likely. Bah.

She parked her car in front of the apartment and went in. Then she took Jaime in hand. She took his temperature, gave him a couple of paracetamols, told him to drink a mug of weak tea without milk and fed him a bowl of boiled white rice. 

"No gourmet's dream," she apologised, "but I can't have you throwing up all the time."

After finishing his rice Jaime dropped off. Molly nodded appreciatively. He had a nice face in repose, she thought - when awake you couldn't tell because he was so tense. She went to the kitchen to do the washing-up. She looked into the bedroom to find Jaime fast asleep, and went into the living room. There she inflated her air mattress, and unrolled her sleeping bag. Then she had a look round. 

The place was much more inhabitable than last time. There was a chessboard on a side table, and he'd put up a couple of pictures. On top of one of the rows of books she found an exercise book that was full of poems written in a hand that became increasingly illegible. With some difficulty she started to read them. They were love poems addressed to Mara. The first few sounded quite happy, and she thought one or two of them were rather erotic. Then they changed to a minor key; they became more and more desperate the further she progressed. 

Molly found them painful to read; she realised they must have been quite painful to write. She wondered what on earth Mara had made of them. She stolidly plodded on until she'd finished. The final written page must be quite recent - apparently Jaime had not been satisfied with it, for he'd made a large cross through the text.

Then she had a look at his books. He must have a lot of interests, she decided. There were books on music, whodunits, nineteenth century classics, modern ones, medieval texts, various collections of love stories, Chinese, European, the 1001 Nights in seven volumes... Two shelves were wholly devoted to poetry. No, she couldn't stomach any poetry after that exercise book, she thought. She selected a Ngaio Marsh she hadn't read yet, brought a chair from the room and sat down to read in Jaime's bedroom.

When she'd read some forty pages Jaime woke up. He sat up and look around him with a bewildered expression. Then he raised his eyebrows, closed his eyes and sank back onto the pillow. 

"Hello there," Molly said. 

Jaime opened his eyes again. "Sorry," he said. "I thought I was dreaming again. So you're actually here."

"Yes," Molly said, "and none too soon, either. You're ill. That's what you get from bottling things up - now you go and tell me all about your predicament, and please don't think you have to be nice about it. It won't help if you are. I promise you can trust me; but if you go on like this you will be in really serious trouble before long."

Jaime thought about it for a moment. Then he decided that he'd better try and believe her and started to talk, and once he'd started he couldn't stop any more - the words kept coming and coming, unstoppable like a stream of lava. Molly had some difficulty understanding him now and then, and she occasionally had to tell him to blow his nose before continuing. As his story progressed she got a better and better idea of what it must have been like for him to live there, a stranger in his own home... 

It was nearing ten o'clock when Molly's phone went off. 

Damn, she thought. She went to the living room to answer it. The caller was Mara, who had been told by a friend that Molly's car was in front of Jaime's apartment, and she was treated to a torrent of abuse. What on earth did she think to visit that bastard? And not at a decent time but at this time of night? She should have known Molly for the slut she was - and then Molly switched off, seething with anger. She tried to control herself for Jaime's sake, but it took a considerable time before she dared go back to the living room.

Jaime noticed she was angry, and asked her what had happened. 

"Oh, nothing," Molly said, "just an unpleasant conversation, really."

Jaime lifted his eyebrows. He thought he could guess, but appreciated Molly's reticence. 

She sat opposite him with her eyes closed. "Phew," she said. "I'm afraid I'm more upset than I realised. I could do with a drink. Have you got any?"

"Yes," he said. "There's some spirits in the kitchen cupboard. Be my guest."

She smiled a little at that. Right oh, she thought. She went into the kitchen, poured herself two fingers of whisky and carried it back into the bedroom, together with another cup of weak tea for Jaime.

"It was Mara, wasn't it?" Jaime asked.

She nodded. "If she went on like that to you, you've been much too mild describing things. I don't understand what's wrong with her... I've never heard anything like that before."

"Well," he said, "it didn't happen that often - as long as I managed to steer clear from any of her red flags... and the last few years I simply hardly ever talked. I just replied the way she'd expect me to..."

Poor man, she thought. What a life... "Look," she said, "from what I hear I can only say that you should realise you're not to blame. It might have been better if you had walked on her out sooner - but then, what with children and loyalties, I can understand that you didn't. Can I persuade you to have some more rice?"

Molly finished her drink while Jaime slowly had his rice; then she accompanied him to the bathroom. When he'd prepared for the night she put him to bed. 

"Have a good night, boy," she said and stroked his cheek for a moment. 

Then she went into the kitchen for another drink, rummaged through his CDs and found one that was sufficiently aggressive to make her anger with Mara subside a little. She put on his earphones and closed her eyes while the sounds of It's a Beautiful Day's "Wasted Union Blues" on repeat eventually blew Mara from her mind.

When she woke up she had some trouble realising what she was doing in a sleeping bag on someone's living room floor. Then she remembered she was in Jaime's apartment. OK, she thought. Time to have a look at my patient. 

Jaime was still sleeping peacefully, so she showered and got dressed. She went into the kitchen for some boiled eggs, she toasted some bread and put the lot on a tray. 

Then she sat down to her own breakfast. When she had finished she tidied up the kitchen and the living room and switched her cell phone back on. There were three missed calls, all from Mara - missed calls indeed, she thought - and five text messages. They were all from Mara's inner circle, and she deleted them all half-read. She thought she understood Jaime quite well now. It must be awful to be subjected to this sort of thing for years on end; no wonder he'd been intimidated.

She took the breakfast tray into the bedroom and resumed reading "A Clutch of Constables." 

When Jaime was awake she sat watching him as he had breakfast. She couldn't understand what it could have been Mara had found fault with. He was quite likeable, she thought, even though he didn't really look his best. She did remember him from Mara's parties - but she hadn't particularly looked at him then. He certainly had not struck her as bad-looking or something.

When he had worked his way through two pieces of toast and egg, and had some more tea she asked him if he'd had any abusive texts as well. Yes, he said, he'd switched of his phone after the tenth one. He'd only switched it on when he really needed it - when he'd called her, for example. 

"Is it still on?" she asked.

Jaime did not know. Molly asked where his phone was and went to investigate. She turned it on to find an avalanche of them. She patiently cleaned up the phone and went back to the bedroom. 

"It's free from them now," she said.

"For the moment."

"Yes," she acknowledged. "You're right. Look, is there no one else that you can trust?"

"You have to go home?" 

"No, you fool, I won't leave before I'm quite satisfied you're well again. Cross my heart and hope to die," she replied playfully - but Jaime understood she meant what she said.

She took his temperature again. It had subside a little but it was still far too high. 

"Looks like you won't get rid of me today," she said. 

He smiled. "I'm not a good host, I'm afraid."

"You're not in any position to. When you're well again you can show me if that's true or not."

"Would you come here when there's no need to?"

"Of course. People sometimes do things just for the fun of it. And the worst that could happen is Mara calling me a slut again." It slipped out before she knew, and she blushed deeply.

"So she was no different to you than she's always been to me?" Jaime thought about this for a moment. Then he said, "I think that's truly preposterous. We are married. I suppose that gives her the right to say what she pleases, but you -"

"Jaime! She hasn't! No one has any right to say what they please, not if they can't say anything nice! Don't you believe it. No one is ever justified in belittling anybody. I think it's a wonder you didn't walk out on her years ago, children notwithstanding."

It took some time for her words to sink in. Then he lay back thinking about what she'd just said, chewing on the inside of his cheeks. 

"Want some more toast?" Molly asked after a while. "Tastes as good as your cheeks or better!"

He grinned. "Mara would have told me exactly what she thought, with slides and bells on," he said. "I think I prefer your style. Yes please, some more toast would be nice."

Mara went into the kitchen to get some, happy she'd seen Jaime grin, not just wanly like ten days ago, but a real grin. Good!

She spent the day reading and talking a little when Jaime was awake. He told her about his youth, and how life had revolved around his sister then. She had a very quarrelsome disposition and he had hated the endless shouting matches this had involved. Holidays generally ended after two or three days because she'd throw a spanner in the works, and it had taught him to efface himself and to steer clear of any glowing embers...

"I thought it would stand me in good stead with Mara. But it didn't help much," he said.

She nodded. "It might have been better it you'd been more assertive, perhaps - but I think that wouldn't sit too well on you. By the way, I found your poetry. I hope you don't mind my having read it -" Jaime shook his head - "but I wondered what on earth Mara made of it. She must have noticed something..."

Jaime shook his head again. "She never read any. She was rather angry about them. She thought I was just playing. Oh well, I don't know. I'm not sure they're any good."

"I think they are. I suppose they kept you going, in a way?"

"It was the only way I could say what I felt, and... yes, I think you're right."

He lay back on the pillow and looked at Molly. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans, a black T-Shirt and a necklace of small glass beads. She had put up her hair in an untidy bun, and she wore no make-up apart from a little greenish eye shadow. When she smiled she had dimples in her cheeks, and he enjoyed feeling her eyes on him. She was decidedly nice, he thought. Her face got momentarily replaced by Mara's as he remembered it from their last evening together, and he shivered.

"Someone walking on your grave?" 

"I thought of our quarrel," he said. 

Molly smiled. He looked at the dimples in her cheeks and her blue eyes resting on him, and he thought how different this was from what he'd been accustomed to. He smiled back at her. 

"You don't know how happy I am to have you around," he said, and then he blushed.

"Alright," she said. "Would you like to try some coffee again?"

Yes he did, and it turned out to agree with him, too.

That evening he felt a lot better. They decided he would spend a couple of hours in the living room, wrapped in a sufficient amount of pullovers. 

Molly had prepared an easily digestible meal, and Jaime had eaten with quite an appetite. Now they were having coffee and biscuits in the living room. Jaime was going through a couple of letters that had arrived that morning, and Molly, who had finished her book, was looking for a new one to read. She had a look through the music section. There were a couple of books she'd heard about, and she took Sam Charters off the shelf. As she took it to her chair something fell out and she bent over to pick it up. 

Jaime turned beet-red, and looked at her shamefacedly with frightened eyes. 

Molly sat down and looked at it. It was a DVD in a cardboard sleeve with a blurred image of a woman's breasts on the cover.

She looked at Jaime and raised her eyebrows. Then she saw his colour and the look in his eyes. 

"Don't worry," she said, "I don't think you are a pervert because you've got an explicit DVD - I have a vibrator I sometimes use, you know. I might have if you went in for sadism or what. Is it nice?"

"I don't know," Jaime said. 

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said, "I only watched the first few minutes."

"Oh," she said, "So it was effective, at least."

He blushed fiercely. "No," he said, "you are getting me wrong." He hesitated a moment and then told her why he had had to try and still his needs by watching the disc and how it had only increased his misery. Molly sat listening to his story motionlessly. God almighty, she thought.

"I shouldn't have, I suppose..." he said, looking away. 

"Jaime," she said, "there is nothing to be ashamed of in what you did, and if you think of yourself as depraved I'm going to be very disappointed in you. That's what Mara said to me - you'd be living a life of depravity here. Well, she certainly deprived you of all that's human, and that's a fact. It's a good thing she's not around, or I'd give her a piece of my mind. I'm very sorry and I know she's still your wife, but I think she's a bloody bitch."

She felt to her dismay that she was close to tears. "Sorry," she said as she got up. "I need a drink. I won't be a moment."

In the kitchen she wiped her eyes. She looked in the mirror and decided to wash her face. I can't have him see me like this, she thought - enough trouble as it is. Then she went back into the living room with the whisky bottle and a glass.

Jaime handed her one of the letters. It was a message from Mara, announcing her terms for her pending divorce, wrapped in abusive language and making some mention of her as Jaime's slut. She read it and handed it back. 

"There's friendship for you," she said. Funnily enough it lifted her spirits a bit. "You know, this makes it impossible for me to take her seriously any longer. I think you'd better send this wonderful document to your lawyer and let her deal with it. It wouldn't do any good if you tried."

He nodded. "That's what I thought as well," he said. "Do you mind if I play some music?"

"No," Molly said. "Please do."

"Anything you dislike?" 

"Why do you ask?"




Educating Jaime



"Oh, force of habit, I suppose. I bought a good I-pod because -"

"Because Mara didn't want to listen to your music?"

"Yes," he said. "Well?"

"No," she said. "Well, yes. Heavy metal or house..."

"I haven't got either," he said. "Alright."

He put an old Dolly Parton sampler in the CDplayer. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I do like this at times."

"So do I," Molly said. She leant back in her chair and poured herself a generous measure of whisky. "I'm afraid I will have finished your bottle before long."

"You'd better buy another one on Monday," he said. 

"I will. Cheers!" 

They listened to the music in silence – "Apple Jack", "Two Doors Down", "Jolene", then "Bargain Store"... 

Oh dear, Molly thought, this comes a little too close. She looked at Jaime and saw he was crying. She walked over to him, sat down on the armrest of his chair and put an arm round his shoulder. 

"Jaime - this is not the end of the world. You're better off without Mara anyway, and now you've split you can make a new start."

He swallowed hard. "It's just - it's just that all I've tried to achieve, all I've tried to offer - it was never accepted... I really did my best..."

She just held him and let him cry. She had to admit to herself that she rather liked holding him; he was a good sort, and she liked his presence a lot. When he stopped crying she said, "It seems to me Mara wanted you for the wrong reasons. She simply pursued some dream in which your usefulness ended too soon - I'm not sure you can blame her for that, but her treatment of you once your best before date expired is beastly. You really should stop finding any of the blame for that in yourself. Some people are impossible to please; Mara appears to be one of them."

She ruffled his hair, got up, found a new CD and poured some more whisky.

"You'll turn me into an alcoholic yet," she said with a grin, as the Dixie Chicks blasted into their first track.

"Mara hated this."

"I love it," Molly said. 

The next day Jaime was a good deal better again. He was back on normal food, he spent a part of the afternoon in the living room, had dinner in bed and got up again for some time that evening. 

"Was Mara your first?" she asked.

No, he said, there had been one girl before her, but that had been a rather platonic sort of thing. And he had danced with another girl at a party of a classmate who had invited his entire class. He smiled, looking back at it. That had been the first time he had felt a girl's breasts pressed against him. They'd played a couple of slow songs over and over again, the Bee Gees and the Brothers Four. He grinned. 

"Which songs?" she asked.

" "Holiday" and er, "Come To My Bedside" or something," he said. "It seems a very long time ago. I thought it was really good; I had a crush on that girl and I used to sit next to her. I never saw her again after I left school."

He got up, turned on the CD player and found the Bee Gees. "Funny lyrics," he said, "but the song's nice."

He sat down with the remote, consulted the track list and pressed play.

Molly listened for a moment. Then she got up and said, "Come. Let's dance." Jaime put an arm round her back, and she put her hands on his shoulders. They slowly moved around to the music and Molly felt her nipples stiffen. She really enjoyed the feeling of Jaime's body against hers and she liked his smell. To her regret the song did not last long.

They sat down again. "Yes," Jaime said. "That was nice." He smiled at her. "Do you think I could try a little whisky, too?"

"It's probably alright if you feel like it," she said as she got up to get another glass.

Jaime enjoyed his drink. Then he started to feel very drowsy.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good company," he said, "but I'd really better turn in."

"Very good," Molly said. "Want any more help?"

"It's alright, I think I can manage."

"Ok then. Goodnight."

He got up and went to her. "Goodnight," he said and kissed her awkwardly on the cheek. "You're a real friend."

"Thanks," she said as he disappeared into the hall.

She sat thinking about him for a long time. She took his exercise book and reread the first, happy poems and tried to envisage how he must have felt when Mara even refused to look at them. She'd have loved it if anyone had written poetry for her. She shook her head. People are funny, she thought. She would have known what to with him; he was really nice. He had an intelligent, kind face and she had loved that little bit of physical contact... 

She didn't feel like listening to any more music. Better go to bed, too, she thought. She brushed her teeth and crept into her sleeping bag, and found the sensations of that day were too vivid to get to sleep at once. Molly, she thought, don't let the situation run away with you. Even so, she slipped a hand into her panties to give way to the feeling that had been building within her for the last few hours. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

That Sunday Jaime's temperature was almost back to normal. They breakfasted together at the kitchen table and Jaime asked Molly to tell him something about her life. 

She smiled at him, and told him about her youth in London, about her father's move to the provinces and how she'd initially hated that, about her little sister, who was born with Down's Syndrome, and who consequently demanded most of her parents' attention, and about the way in which her mother ensured that she did get some time with her after all. 

After secondary school she'd done some secretarial studies, and so she'd found a job as a part-time secretary - and she still worked there. She'd had a couple of really nice boyfriends. Unfortunately one of them emigrated to Australia when his parents did, and she stayed behind to look after her ailing mother, her father having died far too young. The other relationship had slowly drifted apart. She still met Bill now and then; he was married and lived in the Midlands. He had a couple of children...

Didn't she wish she'd kept up that relationship?

"No," she said. "We would have got on each other's nerves eventually. Now I like seeing him occasionally. We have a lot of fun when we do. Much better, really."

Jaime nodded. He knew what she meant alright. "And your sister?" he asked.

"Well, she is in a special community that tries to get the best out of disadvantaged people. She actually has a boyfriend, and she's very happy in her own world. I don't go there very often but it's really nice to see her then." She nodded and saw her little sister in her mind's eye. "Yes," she added. "She's a real personality, handicap and all."

Then she got up, cleared the table and put the kettle on. "Coffee time," she said. 

They had their coffee in the living room and Jaime said he thought he was quite up to facing life again. Would she mind to stay till evening? 

"Well," she said, "that's Ok - then I'll leave after dinner. Have you really got Mara out of your system?"

"I think so," he said. "You helped me lay her ghost no end." 

She nodded. "You do play chess, don't you? Shall we try and play?"

He didn't answer but got up to get the set. "You can have white," he said. 

They played slowly, and talked a little too much for the sake of the game. Molly soon found he was the better player, but she kept defending her position well, and the game lasted a long time. 

They spent the afternoon with some violin sonatas and talking some more, and then they cooked together. 

After dinner they put the kitchen back into shape. Mara had already packed her things and when they had finished she left.

Jaime held both her hands while he thanked her profusely; then he kissed her on the mouth and drew away from her blushing. She smiled at him. 

"Look," he said. "Would you like to come over on Friday? Then I can cook dinner and show you whether I can be a host of sorts."

"Deal," she said. "Gladly." She gave a wave of her hand and rushed down the stairs, determined not to show that she had tears in her eyes.

Damn and blast, she thought, that's what you get from getting too involved.

The first half of Molly's week passed uneventfully enough. Her old friends apparently were not in league with Mara, and the vultures didn't speak to her any more. Fine, she thought.

Then on Wednesday evening the doorbell rang. Molly opened the door and found Mara standing there. 

"We need to talk," she said through clenched teeth.

"You'd better come in," Molly said. Mara marched into the living room, waited for Molly to arrive, turned her way and embarked on a tirade that seemed interminable. Molly was a slut and a whore, she'd spent all weekend fucking her poor, misguided husband, she was a family wrecker, she -" Molly only heard half of what she said. She was livid. She felt her anger build up inside until she thought she would burst - and then she suddenly grew calm. She bided her time until there was a hitch in Mara's words and then she butted in and proceeded to give Mara a piece of her mind. In slow, measured, curt, even tones she told her exactly where she got off, entirely emotionless. To her great satisfaction she saw Mara's face change colour until all the blood drained from her face. Eventually Molly produced her cell phone. She told Mara to go and get lost if she didn't want to be removed by the police. Mara opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, like a fish on dry land. She muttered, "You dirty slut," but the performance lacked heart. Then she turned on her heels and fled from the room.

Molly stood back and leant against the doorpost, panting. Phew, she thought, that really felt good. 

Her cell phone rang almost as she thought so. She answered it curtly. 

"Hi there," a familiar voice said. "Nothing wrong, I hope?"

"Oh, hello Bill," she answered. "No, everything's fine. Don't worry."

"Oh, well, you see, Gwen found some Facebook stuff that had your name in it, and she thought you'd might be in trouble - chick called Mara -"

"Hmph, I just took her down a couple of steps."

"Jeez! That bad?"

"Worse."

"My God. It must have been something for you to go to such a length."

"Yes," she said. "It really was."

"So you don't want us to organise a rescue expedition?"

"No. Thanks for the offer, though. How's life at your end?"

"Oh, great. The children are doing fine and Gwen asked to say hello!"

"Give her my love. OK, have to go. Thanks for the call."

They laughed, greeted each other and rang off. Good old Bill, she thought.

Molly took her car keys. She first drove to the nearest off-licence and bought two bottles of whisky. Then she drove on to Laburnum Road. She took one of the bottles, climbed to Jaime's door and rang. 

Jaime opened the door. His face broke into a big smile when he saw Molly on the doorstep. She had not seen him like that and she thought he looked great; rather sexy, in fact. 

"Hello," he said. "Come in. What's up?"

"Mara came around," she said. "I got promoted and I told her off."

"Promoted?"

"Whore, this time. We spent all weekend fucking, remember? Huh, she's out of her mind."

"But - but how did you get rid of her?"

"I just told her what I thought of her." She grinned broadly remembering the result. "She fled. She ran for her life and sped off. I feel like celebrating; I feel like a drink - just one, though, have to go back -"

Jaime's face fell. "I'd hoped -" he started and then he checked himself. Molly thought she could just guess, but she was not going to make the first move, not yet. He'd been passive too long; she thought it was high time he asserted himself, and the least he should do was to say what he thought.

"Well?" 

" I er - oh, let's just have that drink first..." He looked very nervous all at once. Molly wondered what he would do. If he wanted to make love to her, she certainly wasn't going to stop him.

Then he became even more distraught. "Oh blast," he said. "We finished the bottle when you were here. I'll have to go to town -" 

"I brought a bottle, silly. Go and get it from my car."

"Yes," he said. "Yes, of course. Can I have your keys?"

"Jaime," she said and looked at him, "that's the wrong idea. When a woman orders you around, you don't have to jump to attention. We've got legs, too, and what you want is not less interesting or important than what I do; Mara seems to have trained you a little too well. Most women don't want a valet. They want a boyfriend with ideas of his own. Not a bully, not some awful macho, but definitely a person. Do you think you could try and become a real one again? I can see who you are in those poems, in your music, in your books, in your smile. Come on, get a life! I know it's an bloody cliché, but in your case it's really what you must do. Now you wait here. I'll get that bottle."

She ran down the stairs and bounced back to his living room. To her surprise he had already put two glasses ready, and he had put a CD in his stereo.

"Ok," he said apologetically, "er, I find this a little difficult, you know. But I loved it very much last time, and I would like to ask you if you might feel like dancing with me again? I could put it on repeat, as it's so short. But if you rather wouldn't..." He looked at her as if he feared she might up and go straight away or start shouting. 

"That's a great idea," she said, and she meant it. 

"Really?"

"Yes. Honestly. Shall I pour us a drink?"

She raised her glass and said, "Here's to your recovery!" 

Jaime solemnly took a sip of his drink. Then he put down his glass. "Let's dance," he said.

She put her glass next to his. He stepped up to her, took her hand, and pressed the play-function on the remote. The slow song started, and they moved to the rhythm together, round and round. Jaime held her a little stiffly at first. Molly had put her hands on his shoulders, like the first time; when Jaime relaxed and lowered one hand to the small of her back she put her head on his shoulder. She pressed into him a little, and to her delight she felt his erection against her stomach. She smiled. Seemed like there was some life in the old devil still. Like the first time she felt her nipples harden. They got considerably stiffer, though. She wondered what he would be like in bed - timid, she . But that could be changed, perhaps. It would be a pleasure to give it a try.

"That was really nice," Jaime interrupted her thoughts. "Shall we sit down?"

She released him, nodded, and went to a chair. 

"Had enough?" she said.

"Well, er -" He blushed. 

She grinned at him. "I've felt an erection in someone dancing with me before," she said. "I don't mind if I don't dislike the man - I'm not a nun, you know."

"No, but..." he found it difficult to put into words what he felt. "Oh well," he said. "Cheers!"

When Molly had left Jaime sat in his chair for a long time, thinking about this amazing friend of his. Everything seemed natural when she was around, not at all like the past eighteen years or so - she seemed to like his suggestions, and she didn't tell him off all the time. And he liked her humour, and he felt extremely grateful for the praise she'd given his attempts at poetry... He thought of her smile and the dimples in her cheeks, and he tried to compare her to Mara but somehow Mara seemed much harder to picture now. When he thought of her face it seemed almost like a mask. Molly's face was alive. Then he thought of their dance and blushed. It wouldn't do to have her feel he got aroused - but then she had. She had been very nice about it, though... 

Life was complicated. Mara was very complicated - she was completely unpredictable. Molly, on the other hand... She seemed outspoken enough on the things she didn't like; but those were not at all like the ones Mara made a fuss about. He couldn't imagine Molly worrying too much about the way someone put up a picture, or whether his shirt and pullover matched... She'd make a joke about it, he thought. 

Eventually he roused himself, got up and found the DVD. He put it in the player and watched the lot. Beautiful, very nice. Perhaps, he thought...

Molly was really looking forward to Friday evening. She had enjoyed dancing with Jaime a lot, and she missed his quiet presence. Come on, girl, she said to herself, you're not supposed to fall in love with him - but it seemed she didn't want to listen. However, she firmly told herself to let Jaime find out what was what, and to break free from his engrained habits of servitude and passivity. She did not want to end up mothering a man a few years her senior; and she definitely didn't want to boss it over anyone in particular.

The weather was hot and she had put on a nice dress. She'd put on a little make-up, she'd carefully arranged her hair and selected her high heels - she owned just the one pair as she didn't really feel comfortable wearing them. They hurt when you had to stand in them long. But they complemented the dress much better than a pair of boots... she smiled a little to herself. She was woman enough, even though she had no time for Barbie-dolls.

Jaime had prepared a vegetable quiche, a rice dish with sweet corn, Edam and ham and a cucumber and tomato salad with goat's cheese and olives, and bought some good, Spanish red wine. He'd laid the kitchen table as nicely as the contents of his cupboard allowed, and he eagerly awaited her arrival. He hoped she would approve. Actually he thought she would; Mara would probably have found fault with all he'd done. Molly...

The doorbell! He opened the door and drank in the view. He'd never seen Molly in a dress before; he looked at her with big eyes. She was really beautiful, he thought. The dress displayed her figure to advantage, and he loved the way her jutting breasts were just a little visible over the dress, and the curve of her belly and... 

"Hi there," Molly said. "Do you like what you see?"

Jaime started. He blushed and looked up to her face; to his relief she smiled at him the way he'd got used to. 

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Well, I'm not," she said with a grin. "It's not like you backed away in disgust." She entered and kissed him on the cheek.

Dinner was lovely. She lavished praise on his cooking and on the arrangements he'd made, and his face flushed with pleasure. He couldn't remember Mara ever having said anything similar. They animatedly talked about their experiences in the last few days, and Jaime reported on the progress made by his lawyer – very little as yet – and said he had had another letter from Mara. He refused to divulge the contents until after dinner.

"It would spoil our meal," he said. 

"Huh," Molly said, "won't she ever stop? I haven't heard anything from her any more, and I'm not going to take any of her claptrap ever again. How do you feel under it?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Well, you know, it's still a little hard sometimes – but I tried to think of her face, and it didn't come out right, not completely, and I don't get the jitters any more when I think of her. The letter actually seems ridiculous – you've shown me that much."

She nodded. "Excellent," she said, and emptied her glass. "Can I have some more, please?"

After dinner Jaime said they'd better leave things on the table; he'd see to the debris when she'd left. She'd almost told him they'd better wash up but she checked herself and thought better of it. It was his party, after all; he didn't want a new Mara telling him what to do.

Coffee? Good idea. She went into the living room and saw the empty DVD cover lie next to Jaime's chair. Hmm, another improvement, she thought. 

He came in with two cups. He sat down, too and then saw the cardboard square where he'd left it that Wednesday. He gave her a half-apologetic grin and then manned himself. "I watched the thing after all," he said. "I thought it was quite beautiful." 




Educating Jaime



"Ok," she said. "Perhaps I can borrow it."

"Of course. Er, would you really like to? You're not trying to save me from being embarrassed?"

"No, I think I'd like to form my own judgement about it." She made a grimace. "Like the slut I am," she added. "Sorry, but that still rankles a little."

Jaime removed the disc from the player and put it in its sleeve. Molly took it from him and put it in her bag, and then asked for the letter Jaime had mentioned over dinner. He went through a pile of letters and handed one to her. 

She read the contents in silence. It accused Jaime of the most impossible crimes, improbable sexual relationships and preposterous behaviour, and it was even more unstable than all she'd heard before. Her own name regularly cropped up. She shook her head. 

"She simply can't admit defeat, can't she? This is just a lot of ineffectual nonsense, nothing more."

"Yes," Jaime said. "It leaves a bitter taste, but it hardly hurts any more." They looked at each other and shook their heads simultaneously. It seemed so precisely timed that they burst out laughing. 

"Well," Molly said when she'd wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes, "there's nothing deadlier than being laughed out of court. Goodbye, Mara girl, you've had it."

Jaime sat thinking about it for a long time. Then he took the letter and tore it up, and he did the same with all the other letters she'd sent. 

"Do you think I should tear up my poems, too?" he said.

"No," she said. "These letters are mean and spiteful; your poems are your history. You can't eradicate that!" 

He nodded. "I'm afraid this not being a good host," he said, "but I think I'd like to write a retort, and have done with her ghost once and for all. I'll have the legal side sorted out in time, and perhaps you can help me find a way to ensure I'll not lose my daughters altogether. Would you mind?"

"No," she said. "Would you like me to go now, or shall I stay and read through your letter?"

"Yes please," he said. "I don't want to fall in the same trap as she does."

It took Jaime quite some time, but by the end of the evening he had composed a beautiful letter in which he defied Mara once and for all. Molly recognised a kindred spirit in his writing; she was glad it wasn't she who was to receive this chilly document.

"Wow," she said. "I wonder if she'll read this through – but you did an excellent job."

"Yes," he said grimly. "Now I can let her be."

She nodded at him. "Well done," she said.

They were not in the mood for dancing, and Jaime still didn't know if he dared ask Molly to stay, so she took her leave round eleven o'clock. "I think you really are a good host," she said. "Can I ask you to come over to my place next week?"

Jaime's letter had the intended effect; Mara gave up and left things to her lawyer to arrange. Even the vultures had grown a little tired of it all, and the dust slowly settled on the wreckage of their marriage. At work Jaime didn't feel entirely persona non grata any more, but he kept his distance; he wasn't going to act as if nothing had happened.

Molly had watched Jaime's DVD. It didn't really turn her on; she didn't think it was disgusting either. Most couples she saw made uncomplicated love with a huge degree of enthusiasm, and that was quite something, more than Jaime had ever had. Mara's treatment of him still made her angry. Oh well, that was all over and done with now.

She was looking forward to the Friday; she would prepare a simple pasta dish, and some salad, and she hoped he would relax in untainted surroundings.

Jaime was about an hour early. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I just couldn't wait to see you again." He handed her a large bunch of roses, and she took him on a tour of the house. He saw that she likes pictures, and that she apparently loved to read; her books looked well-read and she had rather a lot of them, just like he. The house was small but comfortable, and well cared-for. 

"This feels like a welcoming place," he said. 

"You like it?"

"Yes," he said. "Yes."

Jaime loved her lasagne. Molly rinsed the dishes after dinner and stuck the lot in the dishwasher. Then they went to the living room. Jaime's roses sat in a vase on a small table, and he smiled at the sight.

"You really make me feel at home," he said. "Did you like the DVD?"

"It was alright," Molly said. "But – oh well, I don't get much of kick from watching, you know." 

"You'd rather do it yourself?" 

When he realised what he'd said he froze. To his surprise Molly broke into a grin. "You bet," she said. 

"Would you, er, would you perhaps -"

She smiled at him, waiting for him to go and say what was on his mind. "Would I?" she said, and looked at him encouragingly.

"Would you like to, er," he almost stuttered, "to make love with me?"

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I would. I've hoped you would make a move for a long time."

She rose and waited. Blushing like a little girl Jaime got up and walked up to her. She put an arm round his shoulder and offered him her lips. He gave her a peck on the mouth and moved back to look at the results. She smiled and said, "Come on, I won't bite – you can do better than that!" 

He took her by her shoulders and kissed her again; this time she opened her mouth. Jaime got the idea, and really kissed her, bending her way, not touching her. She broke their kiss and told him to come closer. "I want to feel all of you, not just your lips!"

Then he came and wrapped his arms around her and let himself go on the waves of his emotions; he finally allowed himself to feel how much he needed her. She held him tight and stroked his back and his bottom, and rubbed her breasts against him. She could feel his cock straining against her and her panties grew moist. While they were kissing she reached down with both hands and undid his belt and trousers. 

Jaime broke their kiss. "Don't you want to go upstairs?" he asked.

"Later," she said, "I want to kiss you some more first."

"But I will be able to see you then," he said, blushing again.

"You don't mean to say you only had sex in the dark!"

"Er, yes," he said. 

"Well, I like to watch you while we're at it – and I like to be watched, too. Especially if you look at me like you did last week!"

She wrapped an arm round his shoulders and found his cock with her free hand.

"Hey," she said, "You can stroke me, too!"

"What do you want me to do?" he said.

"Whatever you like. There must be things you daydreamed about."

"Yes," he said. "Lots."

He loved the feeling of her hand on his cock, and took her words for what they were, permission, no, a request to please do what he liked. He lifted the skirt of her dress and let his hands slip into her panties. He fondled her buns, and tried to find her pussy between her legs. She spread them and moaned into his mouth as his fingers slipped between her labia. 

"I'd like to touch your breasts," he whispered in between kisses.

She sucked his lower lip into her mouth and softly bit him. Then she stepped back.

"I'd love you to," she said as she looked into his eyes. Jaime felt a pang of happiness - he loved the way her eyes looked at him, and he told her so, looking for the right words as he did so.

"And I love to have you in my arms. Don't be afraid to say what you feel," she said. "You could never say something wrong. Come, would you like to take off my clothes?"

He nodded, with a lump in his throat. Mara had always denied him that privilege. 

"May I? Really?"

"Please," she said and lifted her arms.

Jaime lifted her dress over her head. He carefully draped it over a chair , and turned back to Molly to look at her. She wore pale pink underwear, that clung to her breasts and buttocks like a second skin. Jaime bit his lower lip. "Wow," he said. He lifted his hands to touch her breasts. 

"Go ahead," Molly said, eagerly waiting for him to touch her. He reverently touched the undersides of her breasts. He slid his hands up to her nipples and gently rolled them between his fingers, bent down and blew at them. She felt a shiver run down her back, and her nipples were almost painfully hard. Then he put his lips over one of them and massaged it through the thin material with his tongue.

"Wow," Molly said. "You're making me mad! Please, take off my bra – I want to feel you on my skin!" 

Jaime didn't have to be asked twice. He put his arms round her back, undid the hooks and slid the thin piece of clothing down her arms. Molly threw it on top of her dress while Jaime resumed nibbling and licking and rolling her nipples with his mouth. Molly was dripping. She squeezed Jaime's cock and rubbed her clit, and moaned while Jaime did what he had learnt to do to perfection. 

"Hhh... Jaime..." she panted, "Let me... have... a go at you... please!"

She let go of his cock and unbuttoned his shirt with both hands. Then she pushed his trousers down his legs, and his underpants. His cock stood at attention, and she looked at it appreciatively. It was big enough to fill her completely, and not so big as to cause discomfort. She stroked it lovingly and then she turned around and said, "What about my panties?"

Jaime looked at them. They were so thin that he could see the crack of her behind straight through the material. He knelt down behind her and slowly pulled them down. Then he planted a kiss on her behind. He put his arms around her and found her dripping pussy with his hands. Happy she could not look at him, he asked, "May I ask you a favour?" 

"Yes?"

"Can I eat your pussy, please?"

"Favour granted," she said, "but I'm not sure... who is... on the receiving end. I love having my pussy eaten... Please!" 

He got up to face her, and she said, "Let's go upstairs – it's more comfortable on the bed."

Her heart danced; Jaime was as sexy and as eager as she had hoped, and he wasn't squeamish about touching her with his mouth – super, she thought. She led him up to her bedroom and quickly closed the curtains. Then she lay down on the bed, spread her legs and lifted her knees.

"Shall I turn off the light?" Jaime said. 

"Don't you want to look?"

"Yes, but..."

"No black-out for us, then," she said. "No nightie under my armpits, and no blankets on top."

"Then I'll look at you first."

Molly understood what he didn't say. Jaime looked at her with deep admiration and awe; hers was the first real pussy he ever saw in his life. 

"You can look at me as often as you want," Molly said, and Jaime understood that she knew.

"Gladly," he said "You're more beautiful than the stars."

He knelt down between her legs and lowered his mouth over her most intimate parts. He went to work earnestly and joyfully, and his timidity turned Molly on no end. I have a lot to teach him yet, she thought – and then she didn't think anything any more because Jaime had really got into it and a wave of joy overtook her She grabbed his hair and raised her hips to meet his tongue, and he put his hands under her buttocks and pressed her pussy into his face. His tongue seemed to be everywhere as he slowly prepared her for a brilliant climax. When he eventually concentrated on her clit she came with a wave of come streaming down his chin. Her climax was so strong it shook her a bit. I hope he doesn't think I peed on him, she thought. 

Jaime felt over the moon. He'd tried his best to let his newfound goddess have all the joy in the world, and he sensed that she'd had. When she released his head he crawled her way, lay down beside her and smiled. She put an arm around him and pulled him close, and she opened her lips and kissed him deeply. "Thank you very much," she said softly. "You really did me a great favour."

Then she sat up and took his cock in her hand. "Can I taste you now?" she asked.

Jaime's eyes grew wide. "Do you really want to?" he stammered.

She smiled at him, stroked his cheek and nodded. "Yes," she said. "I think it's really nice and intimate, and I've been looking forward to doing it to you. Ok?"

He nodded. He felt too happy to speak. Molly went down on him, softly at first. She kissed the tip of hiss cock, and licked along the shaft, and then she moistened her lips and ran them along both sides of the stem. She stopped for a moment to smile at him, and he smiled back with a red flush on his cheeks – not from embarrassment now, she knew. She took him in her mouth about halfway, and started to hum around his shaft. Jaime had closed his eyes. He felt as if there was only one part of him that was alive, and he concentrated hard on the pleasure Molly gave him. Then he opened his eyes again. He saw her backside close to his face and touched her with his hand, running a finger along her slit, and half-raised his upper body. "Molly," he said, "If you don't want -" 

"But I do," she said. He lay back with a sigh of happiness and watched as Molly made a fist around his shaft. She rolled and squeezed his member with her hand while she planted butterfly kisses all over the tip, and when she felt his cock start to jerk she closed her lips around him. Jaime couldn't tell exactly what happened then, but it felt good. It felt better than he could remember sex had ever been.

"Molly," he said when he was able to speak again, "this was the loveliest thing that ever happened to me."

She smiled at him. "Let's wait a little," she said. "I'd love to have you inside of me."

She lay down beside him and rested her head on his chest, and he stroked her breasts softly. She ran a hand down his belly and legs and then up again to tickle his scrotum. She put her thumb and index finger around his balls and squeezed gently, and she felt his half-hard cock start to move against her hand. Releasing his balls she wrapped her hand around him and slowly moved the loose skin up and down. Jaime responded and cupped her vulva with his hand. He pressed her cunt together and released it again, and then he used his fingers to caress her pussy lips. He enjoyed the feeling of her inner labia immensely, and tried to memorise each and every sensation. 

When Molly was satisfied with her handiwork she used her other hand to pull Jaime's head towards her. She licked his upper and lower lip; then she pushed her tongue inside. They lay like that for a little while, and then Molly said, "I want to fuck you now. Can I be on top?"

In answer Jaime rolled onto his back. He took Molly's hands and said, "That's another thing I've dreamt about." 

She sat up on the bed and swung one leg over his middle. 

"Look," she said and she slipped two fingers in her pussy. "Look how wet you've made me!"

He took her hand in his, and to her surprise put it to his mouth. She broke into a wolfish smile, and she lifted her body on her legs and positioned herself over his cock. Jaime was rock hard and looked at Molly in amazement. Panting, with heaving breasts, she reached between her legs and took his cock in both hands. She moved the tip back and forth along her slit and then he felt her pussy clamp down on him. She wiggled her bottom, bent down over him so deep that he could feel her nipples move against his chest and have her tongue in his mouth, and then she rode him, hard, fast and utterly wonderful. He tried to meet her thrusts as well as he could, and ran his hands all over her body – that lovely, wonderful body that seemed to need him as much as he needed her. He took one of her hands and pressed it, and she pressed back. She lifted her face for a brief moment and gave him an Eskimo kiss, then her mouth was back on his. They were covered in perspiration, and looked into each other's eyes, all smiles and promises, until eventually Molly's ministrations proved too much for Jaime. "I'm almost there," he gasped, and Molly felt him contract. "Jaime," she panted, "I've waited so long for this – do come – please come – " and then she became incoherent as she felt him come while her own orgasm washed over her.

She slumped down on top of him, and they lay panting, stroking each other for a long time. Eventually Jaime found his tongue again. 

"This was absolutely wonderful," he said. "Absolutely. There can't be more angels like you." He kissed her softly. "I think Mara's last tantrum was the best thing that could happen to me - I would never have met you otherwise. If I try to be a person, like you said, will you want to keep me then?" He stroked her hair and added, "Can I stay?" 

"Oh, Jamie -" she said - and she suddenly felt the tears stream down her face. Then she locked her lips on his.