23 comments/ 89524 views/ 7 favorites Doing Time Ch. 01 By: Britease Another loving wives tale, but split into three chapters. All three are finished and will be submitted over three or four days. The first two chapters are 'loving wives' and the last 'romance'. Yes, it's going to have a happy ending. This first chapter is quite short, and sets the story up. Sorry but not too much in the way of explicit sex. +++++ I took a long deep wholesome breath. The air was no different from that which I had breathed for the last eight years. No different at all. It just felt as if it was. CLANG! The heavy steel door doors shut behind me, mingling with the good wishes of the two men closing it. The two men amongst others, who over the last eight years had controlled my life so completely. "Good luck Jim." I like to think that they had meant it. I like to think that maybe I had earned it. Who knew? ---- Who knows? ---- It wasn't my call. -------- Bedford. Bedford prison in middle England. My home for so long, and the place that I was so pleased, yet equally so uncertain, and so very nervous of leaving. It hadn't been so bad really, as I stood there recalling my experiences. No! No, that wasn't true ---- the first year had been awful, the first month unbearable, and the first few days unimaginably terrible. But it had got better, more acceptable, more within my understanding. Then gradually the whole experience changed. I made it change. I changed my life and my expectations. But even so! It was half past eleven and what was I to do? I had no wife to meet me, to welcome me, to rush into my arms. No! No fuck that cow ---- let her rot in hell. It was her fault that I had just spent all that time incarcerated. ------- Turn left, stroll along the busy road, and then left again as I weaved my way through the Victorian streets of the northern part of old Bedford town. I knew where I was going, and I knew what I was looking for. There it was! The Welly! ---- The Wellington Arms. According to the screws in the Nick, the best bloody pub in the town, and serving the best real ales in the region. Go in --- Look around ---- Go on ---- nothing to be frightened of ----- I was a free man. Bloody hell just look at that. Boddingtons, Ruddles, Green King, Breakspears .......... Too many for me to take in. "Pint of that one there," I demanded, pointing at a brew that I had never heard of before. Licking my lips as the guy behind the bar pulled on the pump and the gorgeous amber liquid filled my glass to the brim. "Best pint I've had in years," I told him as I took my first taste. Though I doubted if he realized quite how honest I was being. Quite how much I savored that first wonderful pint. Feeling in my pocket I took out my money. Forty quid. Just forty quid ---- the same forty pounds that I had handed over eight years ago when I had gone into prison. The total sum that I was left with after that bloody cow, my damn wife had turned me over, and taken everything from me. But it wasn't the money ---- it wasn't the house or the car. It wasn't my lost career, or my lost prospects. What was it then? I didn't know and had never worked it out. She's deserted me, abandoned me for someone else after I had given her everything. Left me in the lurch and gone off. I hated her ....... Or did I? Did I still maybe love her? Why had I thought of her virtually every day that I had been locked away? ------ Three pints and a pork pie later, and with the first hint of a real smile on my face, I was ready to face the world again. Ready to restart my life. Back to the town centre, and down the main street. Barclay's bank --- Good old Barclay's bank. With the merest hesitation, as if I didn't have the right, I entered the august premises and marveled at how things had changed in the eight years since I had last visited such a place. Personal Bankers! What the hell was a personal banker? Who cares ---- pick the prettiest one and sit down at her desk. "Can I help you sir?" "Yes young lady. My name is James Merchant, and I think you may have been expecting me to call today." She had no idea who I was of course, but she covered it well, asking who I had been in contact with. I told her, and she picked up the phone to tell him I had arrived. We sat there looking at one another in silence while we waited. I hadn't seen any pretty young ladies for some time, especially in a mini skirt, which I was so pleased to discover was back in fashion. I can't honestly say that it was anything but a very pleasant experience for me. "Mr. Merchant," the young man greeted me holding out his hand and affording me a broad smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you sir ---- a rare experience." I took his hand and followed him to his office, looking back at the pretty young girl with the lovely, long, slender legs, and smiling at her as she watched me disappear, wondering no doubt who the hell I was. She'd maybe find out soon enough. -------- An hour and a taxi drive later, I found myself outside the garage in the south end of Bedford. It was the one that I had been corresponding with for the last few weeks, and an hour after that saw me driving off in my new Jaguar XKR. A green one ----- a new one ----- a convertible ----- with all the extras imaginable. If nothing else, then I hadn't wasted my eight years in prison. ----------- I tried to get on with my life ---- I really tried. I tried not to think about her, not to wonder where she was, not to wonder who she was with or what she was doing. More than anything I tried not to wonder what she now looked like, smelt like, felt like. I needed her like I needed a hole in my head. But I knew that I couldn't carry on till I found out. I needed closure! I needed to know what had happened to Angela since the last time I'd seen her. Since that night that had so changed my life ---- the last day of freedom until that door had clanged behind me just the other day. Was she still as beautiful, so full of life? I didn't know ---- I had to find out. But I suppose I have to explain to you all why. Why I hate her ----- why I still love her --- why .....,? Oh, I don't know why, I just don't know. Sorry. Sorry but I just can't do it. I just can't sit here and explain what happened. Explain what she did to me that is, it's too hurtful. There's an easy option though, and I'm going to take it. I hope you'll all understand why and forgive me. After I'd been banged up for a few weeks in prison, the screws discovered that I understood computers. Not a great expert, not a real fundi, but I did have some learning, and anyone with a degree from a university was looked upon in there as some sort of genius. It was the best thing that could have happened to me. They put me in charge of the prisoner's computers, and I ended up teaching the inmates how to use them for the next eight years. By the time I had finished I had four young guys helping me. But I digress! Having unfettered access to the computers, I discovered the world of the Internet. I discovered things that I never knew existed. I discovered things that I never imagined would interest me. I discovered the multitude of free stories available. I discovered Literotica! I discovered to my surprise that I had some ability to write myself. Eventually, I simply knew that I had to give it a try. But what subject? What category? What plot? It had to be didn't it, as if it had been prophesized. As if the good Lord above had planned it that way. 'Loving Wives' My first ever story on Literotica was the history of my life with Angela. How we'd met, fell in love, married and ....... And the rest. Well, just read it and see for yourselves. See what you think. ---------------- ---------------- ---------------- LITEROTICA No way honey ---- Angela By James Merchant ++++++++ To be continued. Well, what did she do? Will he find her? Where did he get his money from? Why did he end up in prison? Find out tomorrow. Doing Time Ch. 02 This is the second part of three in a loving wives saga. The final part will be posted tomorrow. Having got out of prison, Jim lets us read a story he posted himself on Literotica, to explain what happened between him and his wife. Read on. Sorry, not a lot of sex. +++++++ My first ever story on Literotica was the history of my life with Angela. How we'd met, fell in love, married and ....... Well, just read it and see for yourselves. See what you think. ---------------- ---------------- ---------------- LITEROTICA No way honey ---- Angela By James Merchant I've always been an ordinary sort of guy. Never rich, never poor, but with a good education. I joined my engineering company straight from university, and slowly made my way up through the ranks. By the time I reached the exulted age of twenty-six, I found myself as manager of operations, with my own office, and a staff of seven people under me. The title sounded maybe grander than it was in reality, and my company was not above handing out titles if it saved a few bob in wages. But I was happy. I was getting somewhere, and my career seemed more or less secured. Along with my new position I was due an assistant. A secretary really, but in line with my company's policy we advertised the post as a personal assistant. That meant a woman. Sorry but they were that bit cheaper, and who was I to complain? Four women's CV's passed the first scrutiny from our personnel department, and four women were summoned to be interviewed that day. Two very suitable, forty something, matronly women, one miserable cow ---- and Angela! Oh Angela! ---- I was smitten from the moment that she walked through the door Imagine it if you can. A beautiful young woman in front of you, and all her personal information detailed on the application form in your hands. Twenty-two. Single. There were two more pages, but that's all I seemed to see. I was more interested in the fact that she was slim, good boobs, nice legs, pretty face with a cute little turned up nose and the most wonderful tumbling mass of lustrous dark red hair. Could I really have her? Was it really that easy? Did all I have to do was say yes? -------- "Knew you'd choose her Jim," said Mark, our personnel manager. "Couldn't let someone like her escape could you?" "Had nothing to do with how she looked," I tried to claim. " She just seemed to be the best qualified. The one that I felt the happiest with." He just smiled. I smiled back. Mark and I had already been friends for some time. ------------- Angela started work a week later, and proved to be every bit as competent as I had hoped. But there was a problem. An interesting one as it turned out, that Mark and I chatted about in the pub several evenings before we decided what to do about it. Angela, bless her was a doll. The trouble was she dressed the part, and the length of her skirts and brevity of her tops started to cause some consternation in the ranks. Strange! Not a single man complained. Even so, it became very obvious that dear sweet Angela came from a somewhat different background to most of us there. I hadn't noticed in the interview quite how obvious her cockney accent was, or quite how sluttily she had dressed. Wasn't her fault that she dressed that way. It was how she'd been bought up. Wasn't my fault I hadn't noticed --- I was already half in love. For that matter, Mark hadn't noticed either, and he was supposed to be a professional. Gives you some idea of quite how attractive and engaging this remarkable girl was. What to do?? Sort her out of course. The reality turned out to be that dear Angela had been born and bought up in very 'reduced' circumstances. A dad that not so much as disappeared, as never apparently existed in the first place, and a mother that thought more of her nights out at the pub, than looking after the interests of her children. There were two of them. Angela, and her sister Anne, some six years younger, and at that time a rather snotty nosed and stroppy teenager. Pretty, but nothing but trouble. The answer ---- the solution for her --- Angela that is, our problem. Two of the senior secretaries took her in hand. Yes --- she was nice enough for them to be happy to do so. Within weeks she changed, and she emerged from her chrysalis like a beautiful swan. Well dressed, well groomed ---- what a change. Bloody hell she was gorgeous, and I got first dips. Yes, even though I was her boss, I was the first one from the company to date her. Well the only one of course. Well I think I was. I'm pretty sure I was. At least at the time it never occurred to me that it could be otherwise. Subsequently ---- well --- who knows. I guess she chose the best bet. The best opportunity to advance herself. It turned out that that was very important to Angela. Find someone with whom she could better her situation. That would have been me of course. I think. Anyway it was me that she dated, and it was me that fell in love with her, did everything for her, and yes --- eventually married her. Yes! I married the bitch. Wasn't actually that straight forward though, despite what one may think. How the fuck do you marry a woman that ...... Well --- let's just tell you the rest of the story. ------ When I first asked Angela out to have lunch with me, there wasn't any problem at all. Within a week, I had taken her to lunch four times, and it was obvious that we got on very well. I then asked her to go out with me one evening. She said no --- no hesitation, just no. I have to confess that I was a bit put out, and not a little surprised. But I'm not one to be put off too easily, so when we were at work together I kept just dropping little hints. The next time I asked her, she looked at me seriously, grinned, and said, "Oh OK, why not?" We went to a little restaurant I know and really had a lovely evening. I wasn't expecting to rush her into bed or anything on that first proper date, but I did expect a tad more than the chaste kiss that I received on my cheek. Still, I'd enjoyed it. It took me well over a week to persuade her to go out with me on a second evening, but since she didn't seem to be flirting or anything with anyone else there, I didn't worry too much. For our second date I got some tickets to some up and coming pop group that I'd heard her talk about. When I first hinted at another date, she was very hesitant, but then when I told her about the tickets, she quickly relented. It turned out that she'd never been to a live concert before, and it was the best thing I could have done. That evening she not only kissed me goodnight at some length, but I managed to introduce my left hand to her bare breast. She loved it. So did I. I realized that this was not going to be some quick conquest, but since I was looking for something other than a one night stand, I took my time. We had four more dates before she allowed me to slip my hand inside her panties one evening, and from there, as it were, everything seemed to slide into place. After that every date seemed to end back at my place, and I was to enjoy the sight of her beautiful naked body quite often, and quite what it was like to make love to her. However I should have seen it --- maybe I did. Maybe I hid the thoughts of what she did to me in my subconscious. Maybe I lost my mind. But what we experienced in those first early days blew my mind. Where the hell did she learn all that? Did it matter? Who knows? All I know is that she devoured me, and I thought I did the same to her. Who Knows? I don't, though I thought I did at the time. Angela lived in a tower block. Not a fancy one though, but a council owned one that had become a burgeoning slum. I'm sure they used it to dump problem families in, and from what Angela told me about her mother, though I'd never met her at that point, it seemed that she fitted that mould. We started dating seriously three or four evenings a week, going on somewhere straight from work, but sometimes straight back to my flat. Angela always insisted that she wasn't too late back home, and only on a few special occasions did I get her back there much after eleven thirty or so. Even then I was never allowed into her council flat, and indeed not even up into the tower block. It was a combination of things really. Firstly of course she was ashamed of where she lived, and ashamed of her mother. Didn't even want me to meet her. Then she always insisted that I shouldn't leave my car unattended outside in that area as it probably wouldn't be there when I got back, or if was, then the wheels would surely have gone walkabout. Well ---- she may have been right, and it was maybe no surprise that I never so much as suspected that there might be another reason as well. We got in the habit of pulling over about half a mile away in a somewhat safer area, and saying our goodnights in the car. Strange at that stage in a relationship, that even when we'd been back at my flat fucking like bunny rabbits for several hours, we still had to make out in my car before we could bear to be parted. Then, reluctantly, I'd drive her the last half mile or so, while Angela rearranged her clothing. Then we'd kiss goodnight. Really ---- even after all that, we'd still spend some time kissing one another goodnight. Such is young love. It was wonderful. ---------------- We'd been carrying on like that for a couple of months, both of us falling deeper and deeper in love, when I at last persuaded her to spend the whole night with me at my place. We'd been to an office party, and at long last she agreed that it would be unreasonable to go home that late, and that her younger sister who she worried about so, would surely be OK on her own for one night. The party went well, and Angela looked fantastic, her incredible long legs and slim figure turning eyes where ever she went and who ever she talked to. Even a few of the bosses were glancing in her direction and asking around them who the pretty little thing in the cute little black dress was. Well ---- she was my girl, that's who she was. Before we left she rang home to make sure that Anne, her sister was still OK, but that didn't seem to go so well, and she wandered off on her own to continue the conversation in private. Ten minutes later she came back with a smile on her face, but evidence of at least one small tear on her cheek. "What's up honey," I asked her. "Can't Anne look after herself for just one night?" "Yes sweetheart of course she can," Angela replied quietly. "It's just that it's so rough around there, and Mum's sure to come home drunk again." "Bloody hell Angela," I retorted. "Anne's quite old enough to look after herself by now isn't she?" "I guess so Jimmy," she responded sadly. "It's just that I worry about her." After that short episode, all was fine. We said our goodbyes, I laughingly fought off several of my mates desperate to give Angela one more goodnight hug and kiss, and off we went. Our first full night together. It was worth waiting for. It just seemed so different undressing her, knowing that we were not going to have to get dressed again to take her home. Stroking her lovely pert breasts seem so special --- running my hands over her naked body so wonderful. Sliding my hand down between her thighs even more pleasant than normal. Opening her legs and sliding into her, feeling the warmth of her around my erect member, and feeling her react to my movements as I stroked ever more urgently in and out of her. Better than ever before. No surprise perhaps though for any of you who have been so in love, was the wonderful experience of cuddling up with her afterwards, engulfing her warmness with my arms and my body, as we fell asleep together, exhausted but happy, is if we were just one single entity. Even having breakfast the next morning together was so special. Our first time, and we both knew it would be far from the last. That's when I asked her to marry me. Just like that ---- I didn't plan it, I didn't think about it, it just came out so naturally. I'm a bit like that to be honest. "Oh Jim that would be so wonderful," Angela replied straight away, making my life complete. She didn't have to think about it either, and I guess she had been half expecting me to ask her at some stage. In fact now I'm sure she had been expecting it, and planned for it --- damn sure! At the time, it simply never occurred to me that she had said it would be wonderful, and that she hadn't actually used that magic word 'YES' -------------- We went into work together, me dying to tell all and sundry about our wonderful news, and Angela urging caution, telling me that she wanted her family to be the first to know. Why the sudden concern for her family? No --- in my euphoria, that hadn't dawned on me either. Still, I held back, only mentioning it to a few close colleagues, who immediately gave the game away by rushing around to congratulate Angela. Yes --- Ok, she was a bit angry with me. Told me off for not being able to keep quiet. But my shear enthusiasm won her over, and by lunchtime everyone in the office knew of our news. Out to lunch to celebrate with our friends, and what a wonderful day it was turning out to be. The whole daylong people kept coming in to talk to us, and tell us what a lovely couple we would make. Angela joined in happily, laughing and joking, smiling and grinning the whole daylong. She was much more somber later on as she prepared to go home and tell her mother and sister, and was so obviously worried at what their reaction would be. She kissed me good night, and told me she'd see me the following morning at work, and I went off to the pub to celebrate with a few friends. I did point out that it was time that I met her family, and Angela sighed deeply, and said," Yes, I suppose so. Just give me a few days to get them used to it please Jimmy." That was OK. The next day, Angela asked me to take her out to a pub we frequented after work. "Can you stay the night Angela?" I asked her hopefully. "Perhaps," she replied. "But if we are going to get married, then we have quite a few things to talk about this evening." I went like a lamb to the slaughter. ---------------- "Pint of Bombardier, and a gin and tonic please." I smiled, almost grinned at the barman, hardly able to hold back from telling him the beautiful young lady sitting in the corner, was about to become my wife. "Four pounds twenty please sir," he demanded, placing the drinks in front of me. "Keep the change mate," I said to him in a rare moment of over generosity, such was my mood. "Thanks guv.," he came back, his smile almost as wide as mine. I walked over to our table, admiring my new fiancé, wondering why she had such a nervous look on her face when everything was so wonderful. I sat down and soon found out. "Jimmy, there's a reason why I have to tell my family about our marriage before it becomes too public." "Well just tell them Angela," I encouraged her. "Just tell them." "It's not that easy honey," my future wife mumbled back at me, obviously something troubling her greatly. "Is it your mother your worried about?" I queried, trying to help her out. "No Jimmy, it's not her," she replied, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry honey, but this isn't easy to talk about." I began to wonder if she was from some gangster family or something, but encouraged to tell me anyhow. "Come on Angela, tell me what the problem is." "It's my husband Jim," she told me reluctantly. "I just don't know how the hell I'm going to tell him that I'm going to divorce him." Disbelief, as my whole world fell apart. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. There was something wrong with my ears. She was joking. She was inventing it for some reason. Someone was blackmailing her. Who was forcing her to tell this lie? Those, and a thousand other thoughts shot through my troubled brain. "What?" I managed to croak out. "I'm really so sorry honey, and I know I should have told you a long time ago, but I'm married to a guy called Alf. We've been married nearly three years ------ I'm so sorry." "Do you love him?" I nearly choked as I asked her, not sure that I wanted to hear the answer. "Of course not Jimmy," she replied. "I like him. I like him a lot, but I only love you honey. You're the only one I have ever loved --- will ever love." I just sat there looking at her. Staring at her, not knowing what to say. "Would you like me to explain Jimmy," Angela offered. "Will you listen to what I have to say?" I nodded my head in acceptance, unable to find the words. "I've told you how terrible my life at home was Jim, and when I was about seventeen I just knew that I had to escape. ........" Angela went on to explain how she'd agreed to marry this guy Alf, that she'd known from her early school days, in order to escape from the drudgeries of her life at home with a drunken mother. He worked as a gardener for the local council and had always been pleasant to her, but there had never really been any real love between them, and she had been able to move away from home. When she'd applied for a job with us, she had hidden the fact that she had a husband, because she was desperate for the job, and thought that being a pretty girl, she might have more chance if she said she was single. That we might not worry that she might leave in a few months to have a baby. There was certainly some truth there. My reaction to first seeing her, and the rights of young mothers to have extended leave, with all the new regulations could certainly cause a company problems. "Where is he now?" I demanded, finding my voice for the first time. "Where is this Alf geezer?" "At home," Angela replied meekly. "At home where?" I questioned her. "At the flat," she continued uncertainly. "In the tower block where we live." "You still live with him Angela?" I fumbled. She just nodded to confirm that she did, frightened to say more. Oh bloody hell! Oh damn it! Oh shit! -------------- It took some time to get the whole story out of her, about her unsatisfactory marriage, and how she never imagined that she would fall in love with me the way she had. I should have walked away from it then. Yes I know I was a fool, but who is more stupid than a fool in love? She did eventually tell him of course, and she assured me that it hadn't been too bad. He was all right with it ---- more or less. The day she left I went with her to help pick up her stuff, though in fairness she really didn't have much. It might have been better if I'd never met him probably, but then again I wasn't taking any chances. He had been half expecting it. But he wasn't all right with it. He wasn't all right at all ---- far from it. Poor Alf cried when I met him, though he started off bravely, demanding to know if I was the bastard who was stealing his wife from him. If I was the no good who had been fucking his woman behind his back. I should have listen shouldn't I? Stupid or what? But love is blind, and I was so in love that I understood nothing. Only that this Alf character was an unfortunate hurdle to get over. With him out of the way, then Angela could truly be mine. And so it came to pass! Some six months later we got married and became Mr. and Mrs. James Merchant. I eventually met Angela's mother at the wedding for the first time. At least she behaved herself and didn't get drunk. I later wondered in fact if she ever got drunk. Doing Time Ch. 02 In fairness we had four years of married bliss. The sex was fantastic, and she could cook. Bloody hell --- what a combination. We'd been so busy in bed that we were almost married before I even found out what a great cook she was. When we went anywhere, no matter where, my beautiful Angela just got better and better, quite the middle class wife that she strove to be. Within two years it was her that was pushing me to keep up with her in her quest to be 'someone' in the local society. I regretted nothing. I loved her, and loved the sophisticated woman that she was becoming. I loved the looks she got from other men when we went out, and I loved the looks of envy that I got as well, for having such a lovely woman on my arm. How could life get any better? What could possibly go wrong? -------------- Stupid ............. Bit hard maybe. Simple .............. Maybe. Naive .............. Yes! --- I think we've just about got it there. I had no experience of life in this mode. I didn't know the real way the world worked. Beyond all, I had no idea whatsoever, quite how ambitious my darling loving bloody damn wife was. That was the problem! Once we announced our marriage ____ made it public, then the 'powers that be' decided that having a husband and wife working together that closely just wasn't on. No problem for me, and in fairness to her at the time, no problem for Angela. But the powers that be? God bless the powers that be! One of us had to be transferred, and pretty clearly it couldn't be me. So Angela bless her heart had to find another job, either inside our company or elsewhere. They didn't rush her, and eventually we decided that it would be better if she spread her wings a little, and looked outside. Much I suspect as when I had first interviewed her, Angela had no problem whatsoever finding another place. On top of her natural beauty, she had by then become a well dressed, well spoken attractive young executive type. Three interviews ---- three offers. What a surprise??? ---- Not for me. Angela decided to join Partridge Enterprises, one of the biggest companies in town, and a few weeks later, started as the personal assistant to the financial director there. I forget his name --- I never met him, and no --- don't jump to the wrong conclusion ---- Angela didn't end up having an affair with him. Our life continued quite blissfully, and our marriage prospered. We even started to think about children. Angela had always been keen on having some kids, but not till she had made some mark in her career. She had moved well on from being a simple secretary by then, and genuinely deserved the title of P. A. We put the kids thing on hold, but promised ourselves that it would not be for too long. Another year or so passed --- a year of loving and cuddling and kissing. Then she came home one night full of excitement. If only I had known? "Guess what?" My wife asked me as she put her things down. ""You're pregnant," I replied, more in jest than anything else. Though we had been taking more risks than we normally did. "No silly boy," she responded. "I've been promoted. Next Monday I start as the PA to the boss of the company." "The boss?" I queried. "Yes the boss-man himself. Stan Partridge, the guy who owns the company." "Crikey." I couldn't think of anything else to say. Stan Partridge was a big wheel in that area, and a self made man who had made his fortune and was often in the newspapers. Stan Partridge himself ----- I could hardly believe it. It did actually make a difference to our life. Firstly Angela got a big rise, by which time she was earning almost as much as I was, which was good. She became more of a genuine PA as well though, and being a big wheel it meant she had to spend more time at work. That wasn't so good. Quite often Angela had to stay late, sometimes very late, and once or twice was obliged to stay away for the night. Warning bells? ........ No not at all. Maybe I'd forgotten to tell you that Stan Partridge was sixty-two years old and so was no threat to me or our marriage. Besides Angela never changed during the two years she worked for him in any way that I could discern. She didn't dress any better or sexier. She didn't change the way she made up. She didn't reduce the amount of our sex together, and for that matter didn't increase it. Well --- that last item wouldn't have been so easy really. In fact, she was so bloody gorgeous anyway, that it would have been difficult for her to have changed that much. No! Life was fine, and continued to be so. Kids were still at the forefront of our mind, but we decided that they would come when they came. ----------- It was early spring. I remember it because the daffodils were in flower. Angela and I had just spent the week-end down in Devon in a little hotel that we'd found sometime before. We'd more or less made our mind up that if we didn't commit ourselves to having children soon, then we were in danger of missing the boat. Not really, but neither of us wanted to be middle aged when our kids were still studying. We were nearly there. Almost decided. Virtually committed. Angela declared that she would, honestly soon would, come off of the pill altogether. It was a great weekend, and we came back after it deeply in love. I thought. I still think we were. That Monday evening Angela was due to be back very late, as she had to go to some meeting or other. Apparently Stan the man himself was busy somewhere else, and she had to stand in for him. I was proud of her ----- I really was. Especially when I thought back to how she had been when I had first clapped eyes on her, first interviewed her just a few years before. She really had moved on in the world. I had nothing else to do that evening, so when Joe one of the other managers at my place asked me if I fancied a drink after work, I saw no reason to refuse. We went to the local and sat there fairly quietly, supping our beer as we talked about our lives. Poor Joe. His wife was a bit of a bitch ---- always nagging him and complaining about something, not like my Angela. He was a little envious of me ---- well of course he was --- most of them were. Three pints of Adnams, and we both decided we needed something to eat. Beer gets you that way. Normally it would be off for an 'Indian', but the evening was still young so we decided to try out the local hotel and see what their carvery was like. It was good. No honestly it was good. We sat there enjoying our after meal cognacs, when Joe suddenly sat bolt upright in his chair. "Did you say Angela was working late at her office tonight Jim?" He asked me. I nodded. "Yes, won't be home till after midnight." "Then who is that over there then?" He demanded, indicating the other side of the dining room. I smiled, but humored him, glancing over to the far corner, taking in the small group that had just entered the large room. A woman and three guys. Ah yes ----- Easy mistake, and even I could see the resemblance. The woman had a lovely slim figure, nice shapely long legs from the high heels she wore, up to the hem of the short black cocktail dress that came to an abrupt halt half way up her thighs. Angela of course didn't even own a dress like that. Besides, the woman's hair was ..... a mass of tumbling dark red tresses. And the cute little turned up nose. And the huge green eyes. And ..... Oh Christ no! My stomach started to knot up. What the fuck was my wife doing there. Of course there was an easy explanation. It was easy. Nothing to worry about. No really, honestly! Nothing to worry about. She was no doubt entertaining some clients for Stan in his absence. So why the hell was Stan there by her side? So why did bloody Stan have his arm around her waist? Why was he cuddling her tightly up against himself, and why wasn't Angela pushing him away? "Bloody hell Jim," whispered Joe through the haze in my brain. "That bastard's getting a bit familiar with your Angela isn't he?" What do you say? What do you say to a pal when he asks you why your wife is canoodling with another man, unaware that you are there watching her? What do you say when he says "Bloody hell Jim" when he watches as your loving wife reach up and kisses that other man. Kisses him in the same intimate way that she normally kisses you. The same way that she'd kissed you that morning. If only the ground would open up and swallow you whole. If only you weren't there. If only ...... "Careful Jim," Joe warned me as I rose from my chair. "That's bloody Stan Partridge and you don't want to mix with him." No choice! Man or mouse ---- I've never really liked mice very much. By the time I'd crossed the room and started to get close to them, I had the pleasure of watching Stan cup my wife's breast in his hand and make some ribald remark to his friends. Bastard! At least Angela looked embarrassed by it, though she made no attempt to push his hand away. Cow! "What's going on?" I shouted at them as I stood there in front of them. "Who the fuck are you?" screamed Big Stan in my face. I'd met him before, but just the once and I obviously hadn't made much of an impression on him. Angela's face lost it's colour, as big Stan and I confronted one another. One of the guys with Stan started to edge me away from him, but I refused to be budged. "Get you're fucking hand off my wife's tit," I screamed at him. I guess I couldn't have been more direct. He didn't. The bastard simply slipped his hand inside the top of dress, and made a great show groping her bare breast. Not a guy to be intimidated wasn't Stan. "Is this Jim?" He questioned my wife, looking down at her. She nodded in agreement, unable to look up to meet my eyes. Stan looked at me --- scrutinized me. I could see his brain working. "Fuck off Jim," he eventually said to me threateningly. "We're here on business; just go away and stop bothering us." I couldn't believe it. Just fuck off and leave my wife --- my wife mind you, with him to do whatever he had planned. And the bastard was still fondling her breast, even while we stood there confronting one another. "Jim," said Angela at last, in not much more than a whisper. "Better if you push off. Don't worry ---- I'll see you at home later on --- please honey" What would you do? Come on now. What would you do? Well I'll tell you what I did --- I took a swing at the fucker. I gave him no warning, and he may have been years older than me, but I just took a swing at him. The next thing I remembered was lying on the floor wondering how the hell I had got there. Strange! The group of them towered over me, laughing at me as I lay there. Except Angela --- at least she had the decency to look upset. It was only later that I discovered that Stan was a black belt at Judo. Something about Dan's third man or something. Though who the hell Dan was, I never discovered. Joe and one of the waiters helped me to my feet. My last sight of the four of them was as they waltzed out of the restaurant, Stan's arm still round Angela's slim waist, claiming her for his own. She at least had the decency to glance back at me as she left, but what was the nature of her look. Pity, contempt, compassion, love, hate, disinterest. Who knows? To this day, I still don't know. ------------ I waited at home, but I waited in vain. Eleven O'clock, twelve --- one in the morning. I had worked out what I was going to say, then changed my mind ten times or more. But it was wasted ---- all wasted, as I realized that she wasn't coming home! ---------------- I woke up with a start wondering where I was, unsure to begin with why I was slumped on the sofa. Then it came back to me. The awful realization that my life had changed forever ---- that nothing would ever be the same again. A blackness descended. I wanted to cry, but fought to hold it back, my mind a muddle of mixed emotions, my brain fighting to come to grips with my terrible memories of the previous evening. Why me? How could she? Did I still love her? Too many questions. There was a ringing sound. The door, the front door. Was it Angela who had come back to me? No! She wouldn't ring. "Yes, what do you want," I asked the tough looking guy stood at my front door, wondering where I knew him from. "I've come for Angela's things," he informed me, as if I had no say in the matter. But at least I remembered where I knew him from, recognizing him from the previous evening. "If she wants her things then she can come and get them herself," I told the toughie, who then made to push past me into my house. I threatened to call the police, and he had second thoughts, trying to stare me down. "We'll be back," he threatened, as he turned on his heels and withdrew. First round to me, but did I really stand any chance in the long run? Did I care? Of course I bloody well cared. I loved Angela --- she was my wife and the dearest thing that I possessed. Wrong again ----- Quite clearly she simply wasn't mine any more. --------- It was two days later that Angela eventually turned up on our doorstep, with big Stan and the other guy, who was some sort of bodyguard in tow. I would have preferred to have left them outside, but wasn't given the option. "That's it then is it Angela?" I asked my wife as she stood unhappily in what had been our lounge. "I'm sorry Jim," she replied with a catch in her voice. "I didn't mean it to end this way honestly." "Well it doesn't seem I have any choice in the matter do I?" "Please Jim, please understand," Angela pleaded with me. "It's not that I don't still love you Jim, but I just need to move on." "First Alf, and now it's my turn is it?" I asked, but got no answer. At that point I lost it. I can be a bit tempestuous at times as you may have gathered, and I lost my cool. "Well fuck off you bleeding cow," I screamed at her in temper. "And don't waste any love on me, because I hate the damn sight of you." "Oh Jim," she whimpered and promptly burst into tears, her sobs wracking her lovely body as she cried aloud. I couldn't do it. Sorry but I couldn't just stand there hard hearted and watch her crying like that, and my heart broke along with hers. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms round her, protecting her, trying to make it all better, and Angela, my sweet Angela collapsed into my arms. It was a mistake. The next thing I knew big Stan was tugging her from my arms, and his sidekick was pulling me away from her. Angela was desperately trying to cling onto me, but the combined efforts of the other two were too strong. I felt Angela being torn from my grasp, and heard her cry out in anguish. Shoving the other guy from me, I rounded on Stan, who pushed Angela off to the side and confronted me, a sneer of disrespect on his face. "Leave him alone Ted," Stan ordered his acquaintance angrily. "I need to teach this tosser a lesson in manners." Stan confronted me, not even deigning to bother to take up any form of stance, convinced that I offered no serious physical threat to him. "Please don't hurt him Stan," cried Angela. "You promised you wouldn't." I told you I was impetuous --- prone to doing things without too much regard to the consequences. I found my left hand wrap round a big glass vase on the table. It had been a wedding present from a group of friends from work. Whatever, I took a huge swing at him, aiming for his head. Stan ducked easily, avoiding my attack. "Pathetic little bastard," I heard him comment. But he wasn't quite as quick as he thought he was, and I bought my right fist up in a perfectly timed uppercut, straight to his exposed chin. It was a cracker ---- an absolute peach! I actually heard his teeth click loudly together as the sudden force of my blow snapped shut his jaws, even as he finished the word 'bastard'. For the briefest moment he stood there tottering, his eyes staring straight at me, a look of utter astonishment on his craggy face. Then his eyes glazed over, and he crumpled, his legs giving away under him as he fell backwards like a dead weight. There was a crack as his head struck our fireplace, and then Stan lay there, not moving, not even groaning. Euphoria! I'd won, the victor of the battle. I'd defeated my enemy. Destroyed him! I suddenly remembered the other guy, what was his name again --- Ted? Why wasn't he interfering, getting involved, taking me apart for whacking his boss? Why was he simply standing there staring, looking down at the crumpled figure at my feet? Why was Stan still not moving? Why didn't he at least groan ----- or something --- anything? And why was that trickle of blood coming from his left ear, leaving such a big sticky red pool on the carpet? ------------------ The ambulance arrived a few moments before the police. Who had called them I didn't know. I suppose it was Ted. I just sat there waiting ----- nothing else to do. Angela sat there right beside me, her head in her hands, sobbing steadily, and occasionally mumbling, "Why did I do it? Oh God what a fool I have been?" ------------------ The next few weeks, months even were a jumble, and I lost all interest in myself or my wellbeing. My life became a mismatch of half phrases and sentences, and the rest just passed over my head. 'We are arresting you for the murder of ..... Anything you say may be used in evidence ........ This interview is timed at eleven thirty. Present are Detective Inspector Buckley and ..... I swear by almighty God to tell the truth ....... How do you plead --- Guilty or ....... Answer the questions Mr. Merchant. You must answer the questions. Members of the jury, you have heard ...... Court is adjourned till ..... All rise ........ Members of the jury, have you reached a decision? GULITY! You are hereby sentenced to twelve years at her majesty's pleasure.' It didn't go well for me. The trouble was so many people had seen me take a swing at Stan the night before, and then there was the heavy glass vase that I had used. Called it a deadly weapon they did. I wouldn't mind, but I never even hit the bugger with it. I guess the caution that I'd got when I was a teenager for hitting some guy didn't help either. My own fault for acting before I thought about it yet again. Oh well, at least they reduced the charge from murder to manslaughter, and I only got twelve years ----- out in seven or eight for good behavior with any luck. Could have been worse. -------------- As I said the first few weeks or so were awful, but once I settled in and learnt to keep out of trouble, then it wasn't so bad. Angela never came to see me, but she did write every week for over a year. Never knew how she managed to fill her letters though, as I threw them away without so much as opening them. It dropped off a bit after that, and then not surprisingly I got notice that she was divorcing me. Couldn't blame her of course, and a short time after that, the letters dried up completely. Doing time, inside a prison plays funny tricks on your mind though, and it was only when the letters stopped arriving that I realized how much I missed her. Despite everything, how much I still loved her. Did I say loved her? I meant hated her, detested her. Oh bloody hell, I didn't know how I felt. How would I? The end ------------- ------------- ------------- It was then that I thought about writing, to see if I could do as well as others who's works I by then regularly read on the Literotica site. The above story was the first I tried my hand at, and it was well received, not getting very high marks, but lots and lots of comments which I really appreciated. Some were completely stupid of course, but I even grew to be able to smile at them. Doing Time Ch. 02 +++++++ Well, now you know the half of it. Poor Jim! But, will he find Angela? Will they get together and live happily ever after? And still ---- where did Jim get all his money from. All will be revealed tomorrow, but be warned --- it's a happy ending. Maybe exactly what you are expecting. Then again, maybe not. Doing Time Ch. 03 The third and final part of the story. It won't make any sense at all, unless you read the other parts. Posted under 'Romance' as that is what happens. Sorry but not a lot of actual sex. ++++++++ It was then that I thought about writing, to see if I could do as well as others who's works I by then regularly read on the Literotica site. The above story was the first I tried my hand at, and it was well received, not getting very high marks, but lots and lots of comments which I really appreciated. Some were completely stupid of course, but I even grew to be able to smile at them. ----------- So there I was, my freedom, my new Jag, new clothes and money in the bank. Yes, I hadn't wasted the opportunity that my years in prison had afforded me. A couple of days down in London to sort out some business, and I found myself back in the Huntingdon/Bedford area. I had unfinished business, and that was the place to start. It was the area where Angela and I had been bought up in, met, married and split up. If I was going to find her, then that was a good place to start. I didn't know what to expect, and had no idea what I would do if I did find her. I just needed to find her to get some sort of closure. I needed to be able to write her out of my life! Who was I kidding? The Internet is a wonderful tool, and the electoral roll throws up some interesting combinations. Would she still be going under the name of Merchant, or have reverted to her previous name, Jones. Probably not Jones, as that was Alf, her previous husband's name. So if it wasn't Merchant then it would be Simpson, the name she was born with. Then again Angela could have been living under any damn name. She had divorced me and could have re-married. She could have done anything. I had a few false leads and was on the point of calling in some professionals when suddenly it stood out like a beacon. 23 Bean St Occupants A Simpson C Simpson M Merchant Too much of a coincidence maybe. 'A' could be Angela, 'C' could be anyone, but who the hell was the 'M'? To make it worse, right underneath that entry was the following for the house next door. 25 Bean St Occupants A Jones T Jones G Jones. Again, 'A' could be Angela. But how likely was that? Dammit --- it was only just down the road and I was fed up with sitting around, so I simply decided to go and find out for myself. I parked the Jag a few doors down from number 23, in a street of nondescript terrace houses, and sat there staring at that house for some time, willing some unknown person to walk in or walk out, so that I could drive straight off again. Patience was never my strength though, and after half an hour or so, I was pushing the doorbell, almost praying that nobody was there. The door opened, and a very pretty young lady stood there looking at me. Not Angela for sure, but somehow familiar. I was tongue tied --- didn't know what to say, despite all my preparations. "Hello Jim," the attractive young woman said to me. "I've been half expecting you to call for the last few days. How did you find us?" To say I was surprised would indeed be an understatement. Following her into the house and through to the lounge, my mind was racing trying to sort out who on earth this woman was. Why was she expecting me? How did she know me? And where did I know her from? "Cup of tea of something Jim?" She asked me with a smile. "Please," I replied, and watched her as she went over to the open plan kitchen, admiring the way her bottom looked, clad in the tight jeans that she had on. "Still support the Arsenal Jim?" the girl asked, surprising me with her knowledge of my favorite football team. "That's all I get from the two of them next door --- Arsenal this and Arsenal that." Who the bloody hell was this lovely young woman? "I guess you know about Angela Jim," she asked me, a more serious look clouding her face. Then it came to me ---- bloody hell! 'A Simpson' ---- this was her, but not Angela Simpson, This was Anne Simpson, her younger sister. The one who had been a snotty nosed little teenager the last time I'd seen her. The one that I hadn't thought very much of at the time. But Gawd Blimey ---- look at her now. What would she be, late twenties at the most. Very trim figure, possibly a bit curvier than Angela had been, and tits just that little bit bigger, which didn't go amiss at all. Long shapely legs which those tight jeans failed to camouflage, and long lustrous dark hair, with maybe, just maybe a tint of red in it. Yes, even the familiar little turned up nose, and the big green eyes. But those big green eyes were looking at me sadly, and I wondered what I was about to discover about the current situation of my ex wife. "No idea Anne," I answered her, not giving on that I hadn't recognized her from the start. "Afraid I haven't really heard from her for years. How is she?" "You really don't know Jim?" Anne demanded, her eyes visibly misting up. I shook my head, indicating that I didn't, wondering if she'd got involved in yet another bad marriage or something. "She's gone Jim." "Gone ---- what do you mean gone." "Dead Jim. I'm really sorry but she's dead." ZONK! My mouth must surly have gaped open as that was something that I really hadn't been expecting, and stood there like a zombie not knowing what to say or do. "I'm sorry Jim, but I thought you would have known," Anne told me, crossing the room towards me, and putting her arms round me to give me some comfort. Angela may have been a bitch ------ But dead? "I think I need that cup of tea please Anne." -------------------- Anne spent the next twenty minutes explaining what had happened. How after I'd gone to prison and Stan was no longer around, that Angela had retired back into her shell somewhat. There was something else there that she wasn't quite telling me, but I didn't push it, and let her get on with the story. After a few years she'd taken up with a new chap Mike, who had pots of money and had started to give her the life she had always dreamed of. The like of which apparently not even Stan, never mind me or poor Alf before me could have provided. But the dream was short lived, and some five years previously, they had both been killed when his private jet had crashed somewhere in the sea off the coast of Spain. I was stunned by quite how much that shook me. I admitted to Anne that I hadn't so much as opened any of Angela's letters, and that I knew absolutely nothing about her life since I'd been imprisoned. I confess ---- I don't know why, but I felt extremely guilty. Silly, but I felt as if I'd let her down in some way. "Well Jim," Anne continued with a somewhat resigned tone. "You've got a bit more catching up to do yet." However, before she could explain further, a miniature bundle of energy burst into the room. It was about three foot or so tall, maybe three or four years old, dark ginger hair and female. With freckles. "Hi Mummy," it, or should we say she, called out at the top of her voice. "Garry's got a new computor for his birthday and it's a proper one." Adding, when she noticed me standing there, "Oh --- who's this man Mummy?" "This is your Uncle Jim," Anne told the little bundle of energy. "You know Carrie, the one that I warned you might be calling round." Well that explained who C. Simpson was didn't it. "Is he as nice as you said he was Mummy?" demanded little Carrie, bringing modest smiles of embarrassment to both the adults faces. I never did get to find out what Anne would have answered, as at that moment her attention was diverted back to the door that Carrie had just burst through. I turned my head to see what had caught her attention, and there stood another young girl, maybe four years or so older than Carrie, as pretty as a picture, with the same dark red hair and little turned up nose. "You must be my real daddy," the girl stated confidently, only the look on her face giving away how nervous she really was. "Why have you never been able to come and see me before?" ZONK ---DOUBLE ZONK! What had she just said? Did I really hear her correctly? For Christ's sake, how many more surprises was I due to get that day. "This is Mary Jim," Anne told me as gently as she was able. "Sorry I wasn't able to warn you, but she seems to have introduced herself." Mary? Mary Merchant? But that was my mother's name, God bless her soul. From the first instant I never doubted it. I never doubted that she was my daughter. There was simply something about her that looked so familiar, and the longer I spent with her, the more and more I saw the likeness of my own mother in her. Apparently Angela had discovered that she was pregnant while I was on trial and had written to me, frightened at how I would react if she confronted me face to face with the news. And what had I done ---- fool that I was? I'd thrown all her letters away unopened. I'd had a daughter of my own all those years and never known. Fuck me what a bloody, damn waste! I asked why the authorities had never let me know about it, but all Anne could do was shrug her shoulders and tell me she didn't know. The only person who could maybe tell me was by then dead, and she had presumed that I just didn't want to know. How sad. How really, really sad. ------------ For the first ten minutes or so, Mary and I skirted around one another cautiously. Both desperate but frightened to get to know one another better. I wanted to hold her in my arms, but was terrified that she would reject me or something. I simply didn't know how to handle it, and poor Anne looked on, equally unsure. In the end it was the bundle of energy that came to our rescue. "Mummy, can he be my Daddy as well please," sweet Carrie demanded in what seemed to be the only level of volume that she conversed in. "If Mary doesn't mind that is." "We'll have to see about that Carrie," replied her mother chuckling at her daughter's innocent cheek. "I don't mind sharing my Daddy with you Sis," added my own dear daughter. "Let's give our new Daddy a cuddle then Mary," screamed the little one, and made a charge towards me. My daughter needed no further excuse, and to everyone's surprise Mary beat her to it. And that was it ---- we never looked back. Within moments the two little darlings were clinging to me, cuddling me, climbing up onto my lap. It was difficult, but I gave back as good as I received. I glanced up, and there stood Anne, tears streaming down her face, sporting a smile the like of which would light up a huge room. I held out my hand to her in offering. She hesitated. Uncertainly, she covered the few feet between her and us three, slid down onto the floor in front of us, and threw her arms around us. Could the day get any better? Before long all four of us were bawling our eyes out with happiness. It had been years since joy anywhere near this level had ever passed through my life. "Why am I crying when I feel so happy Mummy?" Carrie demanded. "Oh, you'll understand when you're a little older sweety," came back the reply. --------------- I stayed for supper, and caught up with a lot of news. After we had tucked the two little ones in bed, Anne told me about her life since we had last met. She had taken over the care of Mary after her sister's untimely demise, fortunately being left a reasonable sum of money that enabled her to put down a good deposit on the house we were then sat in. I neglected to point out that the money in question, could well have been the proceeds of our house after Angela had sold it. It no longer mattered, and I didn't care. Besides, someone had been paying for the upkeep of my daughter. Then Anne had taken up with some guy, she didn't even mention his name, but when she found herself pregnant, he scooted off as quickly as his legs could carry him. "Seems to run in our family," she commented, thinking no doubt of the father that she had never met. I was reluctant to leave, but I wearily made my way back to my hotel, the Swan, on Bedford Embankment, and had one of the most relaxed sleeps that I had enjoyed in some time. The next morning, earlier than good manners should have dictated, I'd rebooked my room for the week, and was soon on my way back over the A1 to Anne's place. Just in time for breakfast. My first ever breakfast with my daughter. Or was it two daughters, because it certainly felt like it. We went out for the day. Can't remember where. It was wonderful. By the time we got back, the girls were full of ice cream and sweets and McDonalds and everything that you shouldn't normally allow youngsters to over indulge in. It was wonderful. We put the girls to bed, and sat there talking again but this time about everything and nothing. Time came for me to go back to my hotel and I didn't want to leave, but I had to. It was like being a teenager again, and having spent several hours chatting and talking, we then proceeded to chat for another forty minutes at the door as she saw me out. You must have done that. It's different somehow. Seeing someone off at the door gives you an excuse to stand close to them, hold them a little, and yes, you may have already guessed it, to give your girl a good night peck on the lips. That's all it was, a little peck. But it was wonderful. Silly sod that I was, I was falling in love. The following day, I realized that I had heard quite a lot mentioned about someone called Garry. Who was Garry, other than the boy next door that is? That must be G Jones, Garry Jones. Anne was obviously very friendly with his mother, who of course was called Tracy, and I eventually worked out that they had been to school together. I did wonder when I would be introduced. After all, it did appear that we were all Arsenal fans. It was that afternoon while the girls were out at dancing lessons, that I had my third surprise. Not as great as the others, but they do say things come in threes. It began when Anne was explaining how she came to chose that very house. How Angela had helped the guy next door to start up his gardening business, not with money, but helping him with his books and paperwork and how to market his services. It appears that all had gone extremely well for the first couple of years, but then when, alas, poor Angela was no more, things slowly fell apart. "I'm really worried about them," Anne told me mournfully. "They're such good friends, and the kids get on so well together, but they're in a terrible financial situation." "Has he gone bust?" I enquired. "More or less," continued the lovely Anne, her concern written all over her face. "He should go bankrupt I suppose, but he's so damn proud and won't duck out from his debts." "Very creditable," I interjected. "Most people might well just cut and run." Anne looked at me, and sniffed. She was obviously more upset than I had realized. "Trouble is, they've fallen behind with all they're payments, and now the bank are threatening to take their house away from them." I asked why he just didn't sell his house, but she told me that in the current market there were few buyers, and they had just about run out of time. "Tough,' I commented. "And where would they live?" Anne asked. "Me and the kids would miss them terribly." Deciding to leave it there for the moment, I changed the subject, and she cheered up a little. It was only when I asked if we could maybe pop next door and meet her friends, that she pulled a strained face. "Well we could Jim," she admitted. "They are both in." "But?" I queried. "There seems to be a 'but' in there somewhere." "Well I'm not sure you remember him Jim, but in many ways, that was the reason Angela helped him in the first place." "Remember who?" "Alf," Anne mumbled quietly, almost embarrassed to tell me. "Alf Jones. The chap my sister divorced to marry you Jim." Well bugger me! That explained 'A Jones' didn't it, and the other two turned out to be Tracy and Garry of course, his new wife and son. I thought about it. What a turn up for the book. Angela wasn't all bad then after all, not if she came back and helped him set up his business. Oh what a sorry mess! "Let's go see them," I decided. "No problem for me." "Not you I'm worried about," said Anne, but she started to put her coat on anyway. ----------------- It wasn't easy. I have to say that. Tracy and Garry were friendly but reserved, whereas Alf was certainly reserved, but not exactly very friendly. Couldn't blame him, could I? Much as with my daughter when I first met her, we skirted carefully around one another, but this time it was Garry who broke the ice. "Are you the guy with the Jag?" he asked. "What Jag?" butted in Alf, his interest suddenly sparked. "Yer that's me," I admitted, though I had been fairly careful about not parking it obviously outside of Anne's house up to that point. "It's an XKR coupe." I aimed the last comment directly at Alf himself. "The one with the back like an Aston Martin?" he demanded. Golly --- he was interested. I nodded in agreement. 'Four point two litre job?" Alf continued. I nodded again. "Nice car," he commented unsuccessfully hiding his enthusiasm. "Not like the old Jags though. Not like the old E-Type." "If you're talking old Jags Alf," I retorted, getting into my stride. This was a subject that I had studied at some length while in Prison, having plenty of time on my hands. "The car that I'd really like is an old XK, the model before the E-Type." Alf's face lit up. It really did, and I noticed that Tracy, who had been observing her husband with some concern up till then, suddenly started to smile. "Which one Jim," he asked me. For the first time he actually used my name to my face. "I worked on a 150, last year with a pal, and that was fantastic." "I'd go for the XK140 myself." I was by then really getting into my stride. "The 120's a bit rustic for regular use, and the 150 a bit soft. I think the 140 is a great compromise." "With a 'C' type head of course," Alf added. "Of course," I agreed. The ice was indeed broken. "Can I go for a drive in your Jag Jim," Garry butted in, managing at last to get a word in edgewise. "Course you can Garry. If it's OK with your parents." Alf agreed readily, and Tracy simply looked up at the ceiling, maybe trying to conceal the grin on her face. "Want to drive Alf," I asked cautiously, offering him the keys. His smile was as wide as his son's by then, and we all grabbed our coats and made for the door. "Jim supports Arsenal Dad," piped up Garry. "Might have guessed it," laughed Alf, smiling at me and offering me his hand which I took willingly. I decided that Alf was probably one of the nicest guys I'd met in a long, long time, not capable of holding a grudge, and I had a feeling that we were going to be friends. "We'll probably stop for a pint down the Crown while we're out," Alf informed his missus. She smiled and nodded, the two women giving one another knowing looks. "Men!" commented Tracy. "Little boys and their big toys," replied Anne happily. ------------- Later on, after we'd got back to Anne's place, I excused myself for an hour or two, as I had a little business to attend to back in Bedford. By the time I got back, dinner was on the table, and the girls had returned from their dancing lessons. That evening was as good as the previous few, and after cards, monopoly, and lots of swinging around, the girls eventually retired to bed again as exhausted as they had been before. Anne and I ended up sat side by side on her sofa chatting, simply enjoying being so close. Till then other than a simple goodnight kiss as I left, there had been no close physical connection between us. Doing Time Ch. 03 That changed. Not a lot, and I wasn't going to push it, but it changed. I turned to say something to Anne, and we both stopped dead in our tracks, realizing that we were facing each other, our lips very close. Neither of us moved, both worried about the reaction of the other if we did. Slowly, I dipped my head a little closer to hers, stopping so that our lips almost touched, letting her take the final decision. I held my breath, my heart thumping. She hesitated, as unsure as I was, then I felt the softness of her sweet lips brush up against mine. That first taste of her, the smell of her, will forever linger in my mind. The kiss didn't last too long, but it didn't matter, and we both knew that we had crossed that line, and that it would only be a matter of time. I slept well again that night. Unfortunately in my hotel bedroom, but I'm sure I slept with a fixed silly grin on my face. --------------- Still having a few business matters to complete, I didn't get over there the next morning, till around lunchtime. I was greeted by Anne who was as happy as Larry, grabbing me by the arm, and dragging me inside. "You never guess what Jim," she gushed at me. Sounded like really good news. "Arsenal have signed one of Manchester United's top players?" I guessed, acting silly, and earning me a playful tap on the shoulder. "No it's Alf and Tracy," she rushed to tell the story. "They had a call this morning from some Agent in Bedford, and there's some local property company made them an offer on their house, totally out of the blue." "Good offer?" I asked. "Great offer. They've offered them the full asking price. Didn't even ask for a discount." "Unbelievable." I commented "Not only that, but it's a cash offer, and the property company wants to rent it out, and asked them if they want to stay on as tenants." "Good rent?" I queried. "Absolutely! --- They can easily afford it, and what's even better, they'll have enough left over from the sale to more than cover all their debts." "Unbelievable." I again commented. I had really great difficulty keeping the silly grin of utter satisfaction off my face, as Anne continued to give me further details. It was not easy pretending that I didn't already know them in detail, having spent several hours the day before and that morning convincing my agent that I really did want to add another house to my portfolio, and that 'no' I didn't want him to try to negotiate the price down. ------------- That evening we were all invited next door to celebrate, and I really discovered what a superb cook Tracy was. "Angela and Tracy always left me in the shade with their cooking," Anne told me, though she was actually no slouch herself. We wore the kids out, all three of them, so the women put them all to bed upstairs while us four grown ups stayed up till late drinking and talking about everything. Yes, old classic cars did feature quite a bit, but we did our best not to bore the womenfolk too much. It came time, and Tracy suggested we left Mary and Carrie there for the night, so as not to disturb them in their sleep. We went back next-door, and by then I was sure of my feelings for Anne, and fully intended to progress beyond just a kiss. "No kids in the house tonight Jim," Anne pointed out. "Yes it was good of Tracy to think of that," I added. "It was my idea Jim," she then told me. "Actually, to be honest, I asked her if she'd keep them tonight, when I saw her earlier in the day." Ah! ----- that sounded promising. "Angela always said that you were great in bed Jim," Anne whispered into my ear, as I took her in my arms. "And it's about time that I found out for myself, don't you?" I did! ....... The next morning ---- not very early I have to confess, found me going back over to Bedford to collect my things from the hotel. I booked out. I guess I must have passed the test. ------------- Another week of days and nights passed in paradise, and we got more and more like a real little family. I decided not to mess about --- it was time. "Where are the kids?" I asked Anne "Next door with Garry," she told me. "Fine," I said decisively. "Would this be a good time to ask you to marry me then?" She looked shocked. Not surprising, but as you must know by now, I've never been a chap to not speak up when I think the moment is ripe. "But we've only just met Jim." "No we haven't," I pointed out. "We've known one another for more than twelve years." "Yes but for the first few you didn't like me, and the last eight you never saw me." "Just answer the question," I pushed her gently. Anne stood there, gaping at me, her brain working overtime. "OK," the lovely woman in front of me replied, her eyes sparkling brightly. "Is that OK, it's a good time, or OK you accept?" "Both," she told me. I'd never known a woman to be so brief with her words. Taking her in my arms, we kissed passionately, but as I tried to maneuver her towards the sofa, she held back. "Just one question Jim," Anne insisted. "Just one thing worries me." I asked her what the problem was, and she confessed that she was concerned about where had I got all my money from. Money that I certainly hadn't had before I'd gone into prison. I regarded her somberly. I knew this would come up sooner or later. "Crime, sex, violence and corruption," I told her, and her face fell, and her eyes started to mist up. "That's what worried me," she admitted. "It's pretty obvious that you're quite well off, and I couldn't imagine how else you could have done that from inside the nick." "But do you love me Anne?" "Yes Jim I do. I just can't believe how quickly and how strongly my feelings for you have grown ----- but ..... " I decided to interrupt her, and I knew I was on safe ground. "What's my name Anne?" "Jim," she replied, looking puzzled. "No, my full name." "Jim ... that is .... Well I suppose it's James Merchant." "Doesn't that ring any bells?" I teased her. "Should it? I don't understand." I said nothing, just led her over to the corner, took her sweet face in my hands, and pointed her towards her bookcase. "James Merchant ----- you're not THAT James Merchant. You couldn't possibly be that James Merchant." Anne broke from my hold and stared up at me with a look of complete wonder. That really had surprised her. "But you're famous ---- famous and rich," she burst out at last. "A bit," I confessed. "A bit ----- a bit ----- you've had five best sellers, and one just been made into a film." "Six actually, and they start shooting the second film in the spring." Oh the downfalls of being too proud. "Sex, crime, violence and what was the other one? Yes I've read all your books. I've got them on the shelf there." I nodded. I'd seen them. I must confess to having been rather pleased when I first spotted them. We stared at one another, me desperately trying not to break out into a grin, but then Anne's face fell. "But I can't marry you Jim, I can't." she cried out. "Why ever not?" "Well you're a rich and famous author and I'm just an unmarried mother who lives in a terraced house." "A rich and famous author who happens to love you," I pointed out. "Yes but ...." "And you love me." I continued. "Yes I do with all my heart, but ....." "But what?" I interrupted her again. Anne stared up in wonder at me, and a smile, then a huge grin spread over her beautiful features. "Oh nothing my darling," she admitted. "Absolutely nothing. Of course I'll marry you." ---------- Upon reflection, we should have made straight for the bedroom. But we didn't, and a few moments later we were both in one another's arms on the sofa, our lips and tongues fighting for supremacy, while I tugged at her sweater to get it off. I'm not sure if her bra snapped or the catch sprung open, but that soon joined her top on the floor. Anne was gasping with pleasure as I sucked hard on her erect nipples, opening her legs wide as my hand slid purposefully up her thigh. We were about to celebrate our engagement in the time honored way. "Oh dear! They're at it again Sis. Can't keep their hands off one another." That bought us up with a start. "Yes Mary, but they seem to be having a good time." That really bought us to a stop. We both looked up in shock, and there standing with their hands on their hips, were our two daughters, who must have come in unheard, such had been our frenzy. Anne made a grab for her sweater, hurriedly pulling it back on, while she made a rather pointless attempt to kick her bra under the sofa. Little Mary stood there, trying to maintain a disapproving look, though it obviously wouldn't be long till the grin broke through. Carrie bless her, didn't even try, her love for us beaming clearly, all over her face. Anne cleared her throat, brushed down her skirt, and observed the girls. "We've got some good news for you two," she informed them. "Oooh," screamed Carrie, at her usual volume. "Are we going to the zoo?" "Shut up Sis," Mary calmed her down. "Maybe our very best wish is about to come true." "Not the zoo?" Queried Carrie, screwing up her face, just a trace of disappointment evident. "No the other one Sis," she was told. "Wow! Really!" This was accompanied by much clapping of her hands. You know ---- the way little girls do. The pair of them fell silent, staring at us wide eyed. Damn it, they couldn't have guessed could they? ------ Could they? ---- Could they really. Anne continued. "Your Mummy," she said, pointing at Carrie. "And your Daddy," looking over at Mary. "Are going to get married. We're going to be a family." "Told you Sis," shouted Mary, almost as loud as her sister normally conversed, and the pair of them leapt at us, wrapping themselves round us, till we all fell in a tangled heap on the floor. Heaps like ours on a floor inevitably deteriorate, and soon enough it turned into a tickling match. Everyone was laughing and giggling, as we all attacked one another, and once the two girls were in no state to notice, I found my hand slipping up inside my future wife's sweater, where I found her beautiful, still naked breasts free and available. "I love it when you tickle me like that Jim," she whispered huskily. "Let's make this a family tradition," I suggested. "YES!" screamed our daughters, hopefully unaware that their Mummy and Daddy were actually doing Mummy and Daddy things. -------------- FAST FORWARD One marriage. One son, now nearly two years old. Two more best sellers. One blockbuster film. One new house. Lots of loving. "Careful with Tommy," warned my wife Anne. "He's not a doll you know Carrie." "OK Mum," came back the reply at full volume. Not much had changed there. We were strolling arm in arm through the beautiful, well-tended gardens of our Jacobean manor house in Kent, which had been our home for the last three years. They had been good years. "Angela would have loved this," she said to me, reflecting on how all our lives had changed since we had first met. "Maybe she's up there looking down on us," was my suggestion, which was received with a nod of approval by my other half. "I'd like to think so Jim. I'm sure she'd approve." Our gardener cum handyman cum best friend saw us, and wandered over to chat. "The roses are looking wonderful aren't they?" He asked, with the customary smile on his face. "Yes they are Alf," agreed Anne, looking over at them. Where are Mary and Garry?" I asked, to be informed that they were in the kitchen helping Tracy with tonight's dinner. It was a Friday, so we were all eating at the Gatehouse cottage that night, and really looking forward as usual to one of Tracy's delicious meals. We'll have to watch them two in a few years time," added in Tracy as she came out of her cottage front door and joined us. "We'll have a romance on our hands if we're not careful." "Would that be a bad thing," I asked, knowing the answer, and the other three all shook their heads agreeing that it wouldn't be at all bad as far as they were all concerned. "Has that new crankshaft for the XK140 turned up yet?" I asked Alf, knowing that he was as keen as I was to get the green beauty back on the road. "Came yesterday morning," he happily informed me. " I've got the engine all ready to fit it if you fancy giving me a hand." "You bet," was my enthusiastic comment. "Let's go sort it out." "Tell Garry where we are when he finishes with his girl friend," Alf shouted over his shoulder to our wives, as the two of us made haste to the garage block. "Men!" commented Tracy. "Little boys with their big toys," replied Anne. They both looked at one another and smiled happily. The end. +++++++++ Well, there you are. Hope you all enjoyed it.