5 comments/ 23987 views/ 1 favorites Did the Moon Smile? By: Moondrift "Troubles when they come, come not single spies, but in battalions." Chapter 1. Storm. Margot sat staring sightlessly before the large picture window in the lounge. Big black clouds were rolling in from the sea. The atmosphere was oppressive and the town waited for the storm to break to bring relief to the sweltering populace. Lightening ripped the air with increasing frequency and as the storm grew closer so the accompanying thunder increased in volume and immediacy. As the clouds came over the town it began; first the violent wind, then a torrential downpour. It was mid afternoon, but across the town it was as if night had descended. The lightning sizzled and crackled and the thunder roared right overhead, but Margot sat as if she was a statue, making no move to turn on a light and seemingly unaware of nature's violence just beyond the window. As the rain lashed against the window, sending cascades of water coursing down the glass, the tears began to stream down Margot's face; silently at first, then with increasingly heartrending sobs, Margot wept. After a few minutes she seemed to slide from the chair she was sitting on, and fall to her knees. Then through the choking sobs came the words – words that seem to be torn from the depths of her being. "God what did I do?" she moaned. "Why, why, why? Where did I fail? What did I not give that I should have given? If you are punishing me then tell me what for. What wickedness have I done, or are you just a scourging God, striking out at us for the fun of it? You're an evil God...oh God help me...help me." Margot collapsed in a crumpled heap and the storm that raged outside matched the storm that seethed within her. Just three hours before Mark had come home unexpectedly from work. Without preamble he said, "I'm leaving you Margot. You can cry and scream as much as you like, but I'm leaving." At first Margot had thought he was joking; not a very tasteful joke, but still a joke. Then she realised and began to question Mark ever more frantically. What had she done? Why was he leaving? Where was he going? She became ever more hysterical, begging and pleading, but Mark was adamant. He was leaving her for another woman. They had been having a sexual relationship for some months and now he was going to live with her. Mark had put together a few of his things saying he would send for the rest of them. As he made for the door Margot had still been pleading, clinging to him, telling him she loved him, wanting to know where she had fallen short. Mark had shrugged her off, refusing to discuss anything. She could have the house and the second car, he didn't care, and he would make her an allowance. Then he strode out. For a long time Margot sat before the picture window staring out unseeing at the storm. Her thoughts were a crazy jumble as she tried to understand what had happened and in the midst of this and under the influence of years of routine, she began to wonder what she would give Mark for his dinner that evening. But Mark wasn't coming home that evening or any other evening. She wouldn't hear his car pull into the drive and then his footsteps and the door opening and his cry, "Home darling." She didn't even know where he had gone or the woman he had gone to be with. Sixteen years of marriage seemed to have all gone for nothing. All the love and caring had been wasted. In bed she had never refused Mark; not that she had ever wanted to refuse being a very libidinous woman. True he had in recent months rung her to say he was "working late" but...of course...why had she never suspected? The apparent fall off in Mark's sex drive she had put down to the "working late," and yes, it was that, except it wasn't the sort of work she was supposed to have thought it to be. Margot dragged herself up from the floor. The storm outside was passing, but the storm within her still went on. She suddenly felt sick and raced to the toilet and vomited. When she finished she washed her face then without thinking dragged herself into the bedroom and dropped down on the bed. The tears came again; the bed where they had made such love and so often until recently she would now occupy alone in the long nights. Even now she felt his kiss, the touch of his hand on her breast and then his gentle stimulation of her clitoris. "Made love! Yes, perhaps that is what it was. The child I have never been able to conceive; the child Mark and I had wanted so badly and tried so hard to...the new woman! Would she give Mark a child?" Exhausted by her vomiting and emotionally drained, Margot breathed out, "Mark...oh Mark..." Then she slept to dream of standing frightened and alone on a column with a storm raging round her. Chapter 2. Awakening. She slept on through the afternoon, the evening then into the night. She did not wake until nearly ten o'clock the next day. It was as if her psyche had been defending her from the pain she would have to face when she awoke. Still fully dressed and lying on top of the bed covers she at first did not know why she was there and how she got there. Then with Mark's place in the bed unslept in, she came to full consciousness and the realisation of what had happened. She lay very still, not sobbing, but with tears streaming down her face. She didn't want to get up, eat or wash, but bowels and bladder made their needs known, so she was forced to rise in the end. She made the effort to shower but did not eat. At first she wandered aimlessly round the house, so much of its contents reminding her of Mark. His golf clubs, fishing gear, and the room he used as a study, his computer and most agonising of all, the clothes he had not taken with him still hanging in the wardrobe; so much of Mark still there. She felt a terrible weariness so she took to the bed once more. She still struggled to come to terms with the fact that Mark would no longer be there with her, but while rationally accepting this, emotionally it was still not real for her. She began harrowing her self again with the question, "Why?" Where had she failed? She thought she had given herself completely to the marriage; was there something she had missed, something she had done or not done? Then as hope seems to rise up in people even when there is in fact no hope, she began to tell herself that Mark would come back to her. One day soon he would come in through the door and beg her to forgive him. It had all been a terrible mistake and it was her he really wanted. This other had been a mere passing fancy that he had foolishly succumbed to. She would forgive him and take him back. She would understand, telling him that such mistakes happened in life. Of course she would forgive him; didn't she love him and isn't forgiveness one of love's great gifts? Deep down she knew this was a futile delusion but in the torment she was suffering she had to cling to it. Her body and mind were merciful to her, giving her snatches of oblivion as she slept again, dozing on and off for some hours. She rose in the late afternoon. Her body was demanding sustenance and she made an effort to prepare and eat a simple sandwich. She ate it sitting where she had sat the previous afternoon and beyond the picture window the glorious day - a day of light and silver glistening sea, the gulls swooping, their screams faintly heard through the glass. She saw but did not see. The day might just as well have been as black as the previous afternoon. For a moment she thought of the tablets in the bathroom medicine cabinet, then the cliff top where the incoming waves boiled below. The thought passed, but it was to return again. Chapter 3. Defiant Spirit. It returned when a few days later the telephone rang and she heard Mark's voice on the other end of the line. He was sending someone to collect his things, would she mind packing up his clothing and pointing out to them where his other things were? Almost by reflex action she began the packing; folding his clothes with loving care as she had done so often before when he went away on business. The van came with two men. They left with Mark's things. Empty space in the wardrobe; empty draws; a study without desk, computer or book cases. The house, empty of all that had been Mark except for her memories; then the thought of suicide again. There is in human beings a spirit of defiance that given the right thrust can rise up and make us strong in the face of adversity. It was in that moment this spirit rose up in Margot. She suddenly had a blinding vision of the fool she had been. "Damn him," she thought, "he walked out on me without even giving me a reason. He hadn't even got the guts to come and collect his own things and face me, and I was stupid enough to get them together for him. He tells me he's leaving me, walks out, and he wants me to be his servant doing his bidding; never again." That began the first tiny step in Margot's recovery. There was still more grieving and weeping to come, but never again the thoughts of suicide. The one person Margot told of Mark's leaving her was her friend Celia. For a while Celia was helpful and sympathetic, listening to Margot say the same things repeatedly, but then she began to withdraw. As the story got around the town about Mark leaving the women seemed to steer clear of Margot. She began to feel that people were secretly mocking her. Some of them knew that Mark had gone up north with a girl nearly half his age. It was Celia who told Margot this detail. Celia, who was Margot's closest friend, who had comforted her, even she seemed almost pleased to bring the news. It is a sad reflection on us that we so often rejoice in the misfortunes of others even as we seek to console them. It is as if we feel superior to them because the misfortune has not fallen upon us. The truth was that Margot was an exceptionally attractive woman, and there was a streak of jealousy in the other women because they could not match her good looks. At social gatherings they had not failed to see their husbands glancing frequently and surreptitiously at Margot, and now being an unattached woman, she presented a danger to her friends and acquaintances. Margot might have got a clue to the problem when a couple of her female acquaintance's husbands came knocking at the door, offering to be helpful with any little jobs she needed to have done. These offers were accompanied with the suggestion that they might have "a meaningful relationship." Margot was in no mood to have a meaningful relationship or any other sort of relationship. Her sensual self seemed to have gone into deep freeze, but the other women did not understand this and kept her at a distance as a potential husband stealer. So Margot found herself increasingly isolated from old friends and acquaintances, her social life fallen to zero. Chapter 4. The Road to Life. Mark's promise to send her money was kept. In fact he was more generous than she had expected him to be. "But he can bloody well afford it," she said to herself, "and I bet it's really conscience money." The money came to her direct through the bank so she got no clue as to where Mark was. Having discovered that any help given to her by the philandering husbands would be at the cost of opening her legs for them, over the next weeks and months Margot started slowly to become her own woman. She learnt the simple arts of mending a fuse and unblocking a sink waste pipe. The garden that had always been Mark's province became hers. With each new victory she came to think a little better of herself. She ceased trying to find the faults in herself that might have led to Mark's departure. If it was her inability to get pregnant, then there was nothing she could have done about it. Tests on her had of course been done and revealed nothing was amiss. Mark too had been tested and he had told Margot that there was nothing wrong with him and his ability to impregnate. A year after Mark's departure Margot was, as they say, "Getting on top of things." She had seen and heard nothing of Mark except that she had to sign some papers transferring the house fully to her. This had been carried out in a solicitor's office in the town. She now began to think beyond her immediate environment. She had been part way through a university course when she had thought she was pregnant. Mark had said, "Chuck the course in, it's only Classical Studies and there's no money in that. I can make all the money we'll need, I'll look after you." They had married. So Margot had dropped out of university to become what used to be called "a housewife." Her pregnancy had proved to be a false pregnancy. Now she began to wonder if she could pick up where she had left off all those years ago. The university was on the side of the city nearest to the beachside town she lived in. It would be no more than half an hour's drive each way. She made enquiries and ended up getting some credits for her previous studies; not as many as she'd hoped for, but enough to encourage her to go ahead with the course. She did in fact make some changes in the subjects she had originally taken since she had some thoughts fermenting in her head about what she might like to do in the future. With some solid goals in mind Margot flung herself into her studies. At first she had pictured herself among a lot of teenagers and early twenty years olds. She was relieved to see that she was not the only "mature aged student" around the university. As well as embedding herself in the studies Margot did a little socialising as well. It was not a great deal, just chatting with other students in the university café or between lectures. The younger students had more time for socialising and going out together, Margot still had her home and garden to care for. One particular student she came to know quite well. He was a cheerful young man who had come into the city from some remote township and he was staying in a student hostel. The hostel happened to be a place Margot passed on her drive home. When their lecture times coincided Margot gave the student, Alex, a lift to the hostel and when feasible picked him up on her drive in. During the ten minutes they were together in the car Alex would chatter about his home town, his parents and his brother and two sisters. Margot did not say a great deal and certainly did not mention her broken marriage. Since there had been no divorce she still, more out of habit than anything else, wore her wedding ring. Alex had noted this and at first called her "Mrs. Parker." He was quickly told to call her Margot. The hostel, Margot noted, was a great barracks of a place. It had been a psychiatric hospital and being abandoned was now used by a number of students during the university year that came in from distant places. She asked Alex what it was like living there, and he had shrugged and said, "Oh, its okay, I suppose. Would you like to come in and have a look?" The barrack like exterior clearly indicated what one would find behind it. There was a typical institutional air about it, impersonal and lacking many of the facilities that most of us look for these days. It smelt of carbolic and washing seemed strung on lines all over the place. Chapter 5. Margot Suggests. After this visit a little scheme began to germinate in Margot's head. She went about it slowly. On their drives home and talks in the café Margot began to search out Alex a little more, and getting the sort of responses she hoped for, put a proposition to Alex. "Alex, I've got a house that's about three times bigger than I need. I've been wondering, how would you like to come and live there?" They were sitting outside the hostel in her car, and for a moment Alex said nothing. He simply sat there staring at her. "Alex," Margot went on, "it's only a suggestion. It seems a pity for me to have so much space and you living in that little room. I mean, it might be a lot pleasanter for you." "Ah, yes," Alex said doubtfully. "The thing is, could I afford it? I don't have much money, you know, only..." "Well, that's the next point, Alex. How would you feel about paying for your board by doing some gardening and odd jobs around the place?" "I...er...but it'd be farther for me to get to the university and..." "Look Alex, we both have to go into the university every day. If our times don't coincide, there's always the library we can use if we have to wait for each other." "Yes...I suppose...Do you think we would get on all right with each other? There's...well there's a bit of a...we are slightly different..." "Generations?" "Yes." "The point is, Alex, do you want to give it a try? It won't be set in concrete and if it doesn't work, all right, you can go back into the hostel. You would be better off this way financially because you won't have to pay anything for board and now you do have to pay a hostel fee." "Yes. What does Mr. Parker think about the idea?" That question rather rattled Margot for a moment; she hadn't given that aspect any thought. She did not go around parading the fact that her husband had left her, but now she would have to tell Alex. "I live alone, Alex." "Ah." "Does that worry you, Alex?" "I...er...no...do you mind if I think about it – just overnight." "Of course not; I'd rather you be as sure as you can be about it." "Well thanks for the offer, Margot. See you in the morning." He got out of the car and disappeared into the barracks. Margot drove the rest of the way home wondering if she had done the right thing. "Suppose he thinks I'm trying to...no, he wouldn't think that...it'd be too ridiculous. Well, we'll see in the morning." That night Margot was restless. She couldn't help wondering if she'd made a fool of herself making the offer to Alex. As so many of us do when we make an offer to someone and it is not immediately accepted, she felt she had made herself vulnerable. It is like when we say to someone, "I love you," and that, after all, is one of the most courageous things we can say to another, and then that love is rejected or not reciprocated. Then there is pain and humiliation because we have opened ourselves so fully to another. She began to get visions of Alex telling the other students; "Do you know what the she said to me?" And when he told them they would laugh and make crude remarks. "She's feeling horny and looking for a bit of young cock in her." "She's just looking for a good screw." Margot felt herself flush at the thought of it. They would whisper behind her back, and knowing something of young men she thought they might start making suggestions to her; trying to see what they could get out of her. She finally managed to go to sleep, but was dreading the morning and picking up Alex. Chapter 6. Margot has Company. Alex was waiting for her at the curb side. Margot tried to read his face before he even got into the car. It seemed to betray nothing. Once in the car Alex, in the manner so typical of him said simply, "Thanks Margot, I'd like to accept your offer." Margot felt a wave of relief pass through her. Her fears dissipated, and even if remarks were made behind their backs, it would now matter little. "Wouldn't you like to see the place before finally deciding?" asked Margot. "No, that's all right," replied Alex with a grin, "If it's anything like you it'll be fine." It was Wednesday and it was arranged that Alex would move in on Saturday. Margot was to pick Alex and his things up at the hostel and take him home. For the remainder of the week there was an atmosphere of excitement between them. Margot tried to describe the house and what would be Alex's share of it. She had still not been able to bring herself to use Mark's study, and instead had set up her study in a spare bedroom. Alex was to have what had been Mark's study. Did the Moon Smile? Since Mark's desk, bookcases and computer had been removed soon after he had left the room was more or less bare. Margot was excited at the thought of someone else being in the house with her; someone she liked and with whom, at least studywise, she shared a common interest. Perhaps over generously she went out and bought a second-hand desk, large book case, a few other bits and pieces, and, the crowning and expensive glory, a computer. She did wonder to herself what the hell she thought she was doing, but she was enjoying doing it so much she still went ahead. When Alex saw the study and his bedroom he was dumbfounded. "My God, Margot, I didn't expect anything like this. Are you sure you don't want me to pay you something?" "Just wait until you see the garden, my boy," laughed Margot, "you might think I should be paying you something." Certainly the garden was large, and since Margot had begun her studies she had not been able to give it as much attention as it needed. Alex, however, didn't seem daunted, and said, "I can handle that. Don't forget, I'm a boy from the country." The question as to how they would get on together soon sorted itself out. Alex was not averse to doing his share of work around the house, and even occasionally cooked. "My mother taught me to cook he said, because she thought one day I'd be on my own and need to." They did not interfere in each other's comings and goings, not that either of them had a great deal of time to come and go, except to the university. After Alex had been with her a couple of months Alex did disappear from the house a couple of evenings a week, and she noticed that he was socialising with a few of the boys and girls around the town. She did not enquire what he got up to, but realising that Alex was of an age when the testosterone was somewhat on the boil, she thought she knew what he did. She grew very fond of Alex and thought to herself, "If I had got pregnant when Mark and I wanted to have a baby, he wouldn't be all that much younger than Alex is now." Not being one to blind herself to what was going on inside, she saw quite clearly that Alex was becoming a substitute son. She knew that this might prove dangerous, especially if Alex were to detect these maternal feelings and reject them, so she tried to keep these feelings under control. The other aspect to Alex's living with her was that she felt she got some strange looks around the town, and suspected there were some snide remarks being made, but she didn't seem to care. She had pleasant company in her home, and that was more than she had before Alex's coming. As the end of the academic year drew near Alex said one evening, "I shall be going home for the long vacation." It was no surprise to Margot that she felt a pang of disappointment at this. She knew that it was likely to happen, but as with so many things that we know will happen, we can still be put out when they do. She smiled and said, "Oh well, I'll have to do the gardening, won't I?" Then Alex said something she did not expect. "Will you miss me, Margot?" Margot was for a while stumped for an answer. She had once been open to another man and had at first felt as if her life had been torn apart when he left. Even though her relationship with Alex was very different, she did not want to feel she was dependent on his being there. Yet in a sense she was. It was good having someone there, especially a cheerful, considerate and good looking young man like Alex. She did not answer the question directly, but asked, "Do you think you'll be wanting to come back here next year?" "Well, I was going to ask you if it'd be all right," said Alex rather cautiously. Margot decided to play it cool and simply said, "Yes, I think that will be all right, Alex." "Phew, I thought you might have had enough of me." Less cautiously Margot said something that she almost immediately wished she hadn't. "It's a pity you can't be here during the vacation, the weather's usually lovely, and you could have gone swimming with your friends and...and perhaps we might have swum together." "I...er..." began Alex, and as if making up his mind to say what he wanted to said, "I had thought about that Margot, and...er...and I did wonder if...er..." "For goodness sake spit it out, Alex." "Well, if I was to spend Christmas and a couple of weeks into the New Year with my family, and then come back here, there'd be several weeks before university began...and er..." "That would be lovely," said Margot before she could stop herself. "We might do a few things together, you know, picnics...things like that." "That'd be great, Margot," Alex responded enthusiastically. Apart from fixing the dates on which Alex would leave and return nothing further was said. The end of the academic year arrived and with it the agonising waiting for results. Margot had done well, but Alex had done brilliantly in a couple of subjects. Had it been anyone other than Alex, Margot might have felt envious, but somehow she enjoyed his success. "Just as if he was my own son having the success, "she thought. Alex departed for Christmas with his family, leaving a slightly tearful Margot behind. Chapter 7. The Party. Margot's friend Celia, having by now decided that perhaps Margot was not a danger to her marriage, invited Margot to spend Christmas Eve with them. Margot accepted, and a couple of hours before the party she set about preparing herself. Since Mark's departure she had not paid the same attention to her appearance as she once had, but now she decided to smarten up. She showered and then went to her bedroom. There she stood looking at herself in the long mirror, trying to assess the changes that might have taken place in her appearance over the past two years. Thirty seven years of age, and it was small wonder the women had been fearful of her. She was not the more generally accepted type of beauty – the blonde blue eyed sex pot. Margot stood around five feet six. Her hair was long and jet black, and normally tied back loosely with a ribbon. Now it hung free framing her face and cascading to her spread over her shoulders. Her eyes were almost as black as her hair, and her nose was what Mark had called, "pert." He had been wont to kiss it when they made love. Her mouth was not especially large and its lower lip was inclined to protrude very slightly beyond the upper lip. Her face was almost heart shaped, except the point of her chin was rounded with a little dimple in the middle. Her shoulders were smooth and tended to be square rather than sloping and she had high breasts that were not overly large, perhaps 36 C, but stood out firmly with neat pink little nipples that once Mark had not been backward in sucking. Her hips swelled out smoothly to flow down into legs that were firm at the thigh and with nicely shaped calves and ankles. Her feet, she felt, spoilt the overall effect by being a bit too large, but Mark hadn't seemed to mind. There was a thatch of black pubic hair that started on her mons but petered out when it reached her vulva. She remembered Mark, his head between her legs, avidly kissing and licking her sex organ. She sighed and felt tearful as she recalled those days of their love. There had been no one since and she had not even touched herself. But now she reached with her hand and began to stroke her vulva. She let a finger start to explore her inner lips, and feeling for the first time in nearly two years the beginning of sexual arousal she lay on the bed. Her finger found her clitoris and began to gently circle it. After a few minutes she felt the first little electric tingles of an approaching orgasm. She began to move her finger faster and more intensely. It came, not exactly an overwhelming orgasm, but gentle, causing her to moan, "Mark...oh Mark..." It passed and she lay for some time on the bed. Images came of how she and Mark had lain embracing after they had made love, speaking so lovingly to each other. She sighed again and said in a whisper, "And I thought it was all over." She rose and slowly got ready for the party. On arrival at the party it was quickly obvious what Celia had in mind when she invited Margot. "This is Bronte Bunny," said Celia, introducing Margot to him. He was only a fraction taller than Margot and probably ten to fifteen years her senior. His hair was receding and his eyes were small and pale blue. He had a pouting little mouth rather like a baby's, the lips of which seemed perpetually moist. Margot noted an incipient belly that in a few years would probably protrude well out in front of him. As they shook hands Margot felt their cold dampness and shivered slightly. That Bronte was instantly smitten was signalled when his pink tongue protruded to moisten his lips still further, rather like a cat that has just spotted the cream. The handshake went on just a little longer than necessary. "So this is the man they've chosen to partner me for the evening," she thought. "They must think I'm gasping for man if they think I'd be attracted to him." Not being an uncharitable person, and understanding that Bronte had probably been told that he was to partner her, she did her best to entertain him. She learned that he was a buyer for a large retail firm and, "Anything you want at discount rates, my dear, just give old Bronte a call." With Bronte in tow the evening seemed to drag. His interests, that didn't seem to extend beyond "The Firm", were as dull as his appearance. Margot tried to tell him about her studies, but was constantly interrupted by Bronte who, in his somewhat squeaky voice told her things like, "Now in ladies lingerie we have some of the finest..." and so on. Margot, who was normally a very moderate drinker, began to take more and more of the rather potent punch that Celia had made. Matters were made worse by Celia who kept popping her head between them, giggling, and saying, "Oh, I can see you two are getting on famously." Then with another giggle depart saying "Do I smell romance in the air?" "No you bloody well don't," Margot thought, as she tried to smile as Bronte related the wonders of their ladies nightwear department. As the evening wore on Margot got increasingly inebriated and consequently disoriented. She was vaguely aware that she was sitting on a sofa with Bronte's arm round her, his hand dangerously near her breast, but she no longer had the will to do anything about it. The room began to swim and as Celia came to them to make yet another fatuous remark Margot moaned, "I don't feel very well." Celia said something to Bronte and the next thing Margot knew he was escorting, or rather, half carrying her, into the back garden. No doubt the idea was that the night air would help revive her, but it had the opposite effect. In the Garden was a tennis court with a storage shed beyond it. At the time Margot had no idea how she got there, but became vaguely aware that she was inside the shed. Next she was lowered onto a pile of tennis netting and Bronte was exposing her breasts. She tried to make a protest but it was ignored. "Come on babe," Bronte gasped, "you've been panting for it all evening." Bronte was removing her panties and Margot managed a brief protest, "No...no...I don't want...leave me..." She heard Bronte laugh and say, "Don't give me that. You've been wet for me all evening, I've had the little operation so there's nothing to worry about, and here it comes." Margot felt her legs pulled apart and she made an effort to break free, but it was no good. Bronte was between her legs and inserting himself into her. She was so drunk she hardly felt what was happening. The world seemed to be spinning and she almost passed out. She was dimly aware of Bronte's grunts and moans, then his howl as he ejaculated into her. She felt his weight come off her and then she was alone. Struggling to get up, she went outside the hut and vomited as if she would never stop. When she finished she felt a trifle better and weaved her way towards the house. As she went over the lawn she heard the satisfied grunts as someone urinated in the nearby shrubbery. Celia was talking to someone on the Patio and in the dim light she could not see the state Margot was in. With the now familiar giggle she said as Margot passed her, "I think someone's been a naughty girl...and where is the lucky..." Margot heard no more. She went into the house, passing through the guests who stared at her curiously on seeing her state. In a world still blurred and rocking she somehow found her bag with the car keys in it. She made for the front door only to be blocked by Bronte. "Hey, babe, you're not leaving? I thought we'd make a night of it, just you and me back at my motel." Margot stood swaying for a moment looking at the grinning Bronte, then swung a wild drunken punch that more by luck than judgement hit Bronte in the eye. He staggered back from the door and she passed through it, Bronte yelling after her, all his previous smoothness gone, "Yer fuckin' slut, yer bleedin' whore, yerve blinded me." How Margot managed to drive the kilometre to her house she never knew, and with the police out looking for drunken party revellers it was a wonder she did not get caught. She felt polluted – defiled – but hadn't the energy to shower. Fully clothed she fell onto the bed and slept, or perhaps it was more like passing out. Chapter 8. The Morning After. She woke about nine the next morning. She had a splitting headache, her stomach was churning and her mouth felt as if it was made of sandpaper. She lay for some time, unable or unwilling to move. She tried to recall what had happened the previous evening and slowly the pieces came together. If she wanted confirmation she got it when in the shower she had to remove the residue of Bronte's sperm in and around her vagina. Finishing her shower she still felt ill, and having no taste for food she went back to the bed, and this time she got under the covers. She lay there hunched up in a foetal position loathing Bronte and herself, and angry at Celia who had brought them together. Waves of self-disgust swept over her – disgust at her drunkenness, disgust because she was so far gone that virtually unresisting she had been raped by a revolting little man. Everybody at the party would be sure to know what had happened, and probably would think she had consented to sex with Bronte, and if everybody at the party knew then the rest of the town would know soon after; it was that sort of town. Although she had only just showered she felt dirty, as if she had been wallowing in a slime pit. She left the bed and showered again desperately trying to wash away what was not there. She went back to the bed and lay there, eyes closed but not sleeping. She was now berating herself just as she had done when Mark left her. Somehow the blame was all hers. "If I hadn't got drunk...if I'd been sober it wouldn't have happened...perhaps secretly I wanted to happen and the drink was...no, not with that horrible man. Then from somewhere deep inside her there arose a terrible cry of anguish. It might not seem to an outsider that the cry was connected with the events that had overtaken her, but in Margot's mind it was connected." "Oh God, I want to be loved and to love. Why does nobody love me...why? She heard no answer from God. She lay weeping. Thoughts came to her of Alex. "Thank God he's not here to see me like this, to know what I've done and what I am. He surely wouldn't stay here a single moment if he knew." The telephone rang and she dragged herself to it. "Hello?" "Is that you, darling?" "Who is this?" "Celia, darling, don't you recognise my voice?" "Oh, what do you want?" "Well, darling, some of the guests told me you left looking pretty terrible, so I just thought I'd ring to see if you're all right." "I'm okay." "Oh, good...darling, you should have seen poor Bronte after you left. The poor dear walked into something and he's got a most terrible eye. Still, you had a little naughty with him in the garden didn't you? I knew you two would get on like a house on fire. Isn't he just a little sweetie? I shall be expecting to hear wedding b..." "Bugger off, Celia." Margot slammed the phone down. "How the hell did I ever have her for a friend," Margot muttered. By now her stomach had stopped its gyrations and she was feeling surprisingly hungry. She went to the fridge and got out cheese and some cold meat and ate. After she felt somewhat better. Then it occurred to her, "It's Christmas Day." Somehow being alone on Christmas Day is lonelier than most other times. When nearly everybody is rejoicing – even though most of them no longer know what they are rejoicing for – to find your self alone can be very depressing. Alex would be with his family. Where would Mark be – who would he be rejoicing with? At one time she and Mark would have gone to be with his parents, hers being both dead, but now? Celia and her family would be clearing up the ruins of last night's revelry and getting the Christmas dinner ready. In her utterly negative state Margot gave a sneering sort of laugh and muttered, "Saviour of the world be buggered, he can't even save me." Chapter 9. From out of the Past. The telephone rang again. "Hello?" "Margot? She felt her blood run cold. She knew that voice. "Yes." "Mark here." "Oh?" Margot felt as if she was choking. "Margot, can I come and see you?" "W...what...for?" "Just a talk." "What about?" "Oh, nothing special, just a talk...it...it...is Christmas Day and..." "Where are you speaking from?" "I'm in town...stopping in the motel." "I'm not having that women come here..." "No...no...Margot, I'm on my own." "Just a talk?" "Yes, that's all." "If you're wanting a meal I've got nothing to offer." "No, that's all right." "When do you want to come?" "Now?' "Now! But...oh all right." "See you shortly, then?" "Yes." She put the phone down. Her stomach was churning again. What the hell was he doing here and why did he want to see her, and where was the dolly bird? She was dressed, but only in old slop-around-the-house clothes. She thought she ought to change, then decided, "Bugger him he can see me as I am." Fifteen stomach agitating minutes later and Mark was ringing at the front door. Margot opened it and they stood looking at each other in silence for a few moments. "Hello, darling," Mark said, an imbecilic grin on his face. "Hello, you'd better come in unless you intend to stand there all day." Mark, bearing a number of plastic bags, entered and said, "By the way, the delicatessen has opened for a couple of hours, you know, in case people need to get a few things they've forgotten. I got some cold chicken and a few other bits and pieces...you did say you hadn't got anything?" "Well, I didn't exactly mean I've got nothing at all. I just haven't prepared anything." They went into the kitchen to unload the plastic bags and Mark went on, "Now this will make you laugh, Margot. There's some funny little chap stopping at the motel and last night he went to a party somewhere, and this morning he's sporting the most luscious black eye you ever saw. He says he walked into something, but I reckon he tried to get his hand up some bird's skirt." "Very possibly," responded Margot, wryly. "I just rang on the off-chance you might be here. I thought you might have gone out to one of the old friend's places." "Obviously not." Margot's stomach had stopped its antics and now she felt somehow distanced from Mark. She looked him over, trying to assess how the past couple of years had treated him. He looked a little worn, but she didn't know if this was just wishful thinking on her part. Did the Moon Smile? Then as if Mark had been doing his own share of viewing he said in a rather artificially cheerful voice, "Well, darling, you look as lovely as ever." Margot was all too aware that the ravages of the previous evening were still with her, so she said, "Don't be bloody stupid Mark, and you didn't seem to think that when you left me." "Oh, come on sweetheart, its water under the bridge now. Look, I got a couple of bottles of wine, let's have a drink." At the word drink Margot felt her stomach make a threatening lurch. "I won't, but you can if you like." "Oh, well, okay. Just thought it'd be nice for us to have a drink together for old time's sake." By now they were seated in the lounge, Mark on the settee with his arm stretched along it rather as if he expected Margot to drop into it. Instead she seated herself in an armchair. She decided to let things ride for a while to see where Mark was heading. She was almost certain he hadn't come down all the way from up north just for a chat. Mark began a fairly inconsequential conversation, enquiring what she'd been "up to," for the last couple of years. Margot told him nothing about the university and Alex, and answered vaguely, Oh, just this and that." Mark went on to ask about old friends and acquaintances, and how the town was going along. Margot kept the conversational pot boiling as best she could. After a while they sat down to eat the cold chicken and some sort of mushy salad that Mark had brought. He had drunk his way through the first bottle of wine, and was now starting on the second. They didn't bother to clear up after they'd eaten, but went back to the lounge. Mark had reached the alcoholic sentimental stage by now. "You know, darling, I do miss the old days. You know, you and I together going out to friends, and they coming here." "Well, I suppose you can't have everything Mark. You've got your new woman and..." Mark suddenly snapped out, "Margot, I want to come back." Margot had already worked out that something like this was on the way, but effected some surprise. "You what?" "I want to come home darling; I want to be with you again." "Do you really?" Mark, getting increasingly inebriated, did not catch the fine nuance of Margot's acid tone of voice. I've always loved you, you know that. It was all a terrible mistake...I was just flattered that a young...I just lost my head...can you forgive me?" In those first few hours after Mark had left her it was something like this situation she had visualized. He would come back to her and beg forgiveness. He went on, "It would be just like it was before, we..." "What's happened to the other love of your life, Mark?" "Oh, bloody hopeless, we argued and fought all the time...she spent...she was so unreasonable...'I want this, I want that...' and..." "Drop it Mark; what's really happened?" Mark suddenly became very crestfallen. "She's gone off with some other guy." "Gone off the soak him for all she can get and then go on to another one?" "I suppose so...something like that...I've been a bloody..." "Fool? Yes you have, Mark." "I didn't know when I was well off." "No." "You'll let me come back...to you...?" Margot was sorely tempted to say yes, but knew if she did she would regret it. The hurt had gone too deep, her pride savagely wounded. Mark might make all sort of promises now, but what of the future. He may have learned his lesson...but if some other dolly bird came along? "No Mark, you've come too late. Eighteen months ago...even twelve months ago, and I might have said 'yes', but not now. "But I..." "There's no but about it Mark. I've begun to shape up my life without you, and eventually I think it will be a life I shall enjoy. If that's all you've come for, then you might as well go now." "My God, Margot, you've become hard. Once you would have..." "Yes Mark. Once I would have...would have packed for you, scrubbed for you, cooked for you and made love with you because I thought I had your fidelity and love, but not now. I learned how to be hard from a good teacher, you." "But you can't just let all the things we had together go like this, you..." "You could, Mark, so why not me?" "We all make mistakes." "Yes, we do, and you made a bloody big one Mark when you thought you could just come crawling back because your money grubbing female tossed you over for another wallet. You don't want to come back for me, not as I am now. I'm not the jolly old loving wife longing to do your bidding anymore. You want to come crawling back because your feeling lonely and horny, but I'm not just a cunt, Mark, and I'm not simply a loving little housewife any more. You asked your question, I've given you my answer, so now you'd better go." Mark was now down to the bottom of the second bottle of wine, and Margot saw his face redden with anger. "You bloody bitch," he snarled. After all I did for you...married you when you fooled me into thinking you were pregnant...gave you a good home...provided for you...and..." "That's enough, Mark," said Margot quietly. "I gave one man a black eye last night and I was drunk at the time. I'm sober now, and I could probably do a lot better." "It was you...the motel...that man..." "Yes, it was me, Mark, and after your insulting remarks I'm ripe to hand out another black eye or two, so piss off." She knew very well that Mark was no Bronte, and that he could flatten her with no trouble, but he backed off and contented himself with spitting venom as he left." "You cow, you bloody bitch. You'll live to regret this, you'll see...I'll...stop sending you money...I'll make sure you..." "You do that Mark; just you do that, and then see what you get. I'm not the naïve little fool you left, I've learned a lot, I've had to, so just you go ahead and we'll see who's the loser." Mark said no more. Margot slammed the door behind him and in a few seconds heard his car start and roar tyre squealing out of the drive. "Hurrah for Christmas Day," she murmured weakly. Chapter 10. Music of Love. She did not want to go back to bed; she was sick of the bed. It was there she had loved and there she had wept for a lost love. It had seen too much of her pain and at that moment she thought she would never be able to sleep in it again. She stretched out on the settee and gazed up at the ceiling. She began to feel that her pride had betrayed her. She could have had Mark back. They might have picked up something of their old life. Even if it was not exactly what had been, she...they would have had something. The years ahead seemed to stare her in the face. The long...probably lonely years...Alex...my s...no, he too would be gone some day. Off he would go to whatever career called him. He would go and she would be alone again. What had happened at the party seemed as nothing to what might lie ahead for her. The hangover was now no more than a lingering memory. That horrible man's sperm was washed from her vagina. He had said he had had the little operation and as long as he wasn't lying ...dear God, suppose he was diseased? Suppose he went around doing what he did to her to lots of women, he could be carrying something. Suppose he was lying about his vasectomy? Even now it could be starting in her womb...but no...in all those years she had not been able to get pregnant with Mark, so why now? She felt a shiver run through her. In typical Margot fashion she began to doubt herself. Suppose...was she still being punished for some unknown sin? Was some malicious deity still playing with her...her life? She snapped out of her depressing revere. "I do have a life before me. When the university studies are over I can sell up here and move elsewhere. I could get work, make new friends, and above all never let a man get through to me again, whether I'm drunk or sober." She rose and went into the kitchen and cleared up the mess of the meal she had had with Mark. She gathered the two empty wine bottles and stood weighing them in her hands. "A little alcohol can elicit a lot of truth," she thought; then heard her own thoughts. "I was drunk last night; was what happened to me really what I wanted deep down? No...not with that man, never." She could vaguely remember trying to resist. No, it had not been what she wanted and if ever she did want sex again it would be with someone...who? Margot shrugged and took the two bottles out to the bottle collection container. She couldn't think any more. The television did not appeal to her and she felt too weary read. She turned on the radio and music throbbed from it. It was not exactly jolly Christmas music. She felt she knew the piece by couldn't place it. She lay down, listening. Violins wept as bass strings groaned deep as if the whole world was one great heart break. French horns added their plaintive note. It was as if the composer had stood at the door of the world and looked across a scene of desolation. Yet for all its melancholy the music comforted Margot in a way that more lively and riotous music would not. It was as if she stood holding the composers hand and he was saying, "Yes, it is sad, but beyond is hope. Wait until the next movement." Margot did not hear the next movement. Feeling that she was no longer alone in her desolate world, she let the music carry her away into bottomless sleep. Long after Margot remembered that music and knew that it was yet another turning point in her life. Asked to define how it had changed her, she could probably not have said, but she new it had been a moment of transformation. When she woke the music that had lulled her was long over. A piano was playing a slow slumberous yet pulsating melody. She looked out of the picture window and the moon was hanging low in the sky. In its light she could see the little wavelets ripple towards the shore. She could not hear them but could see the glints of silver as they broke. The music seemed to meld with moon and sea and all became one. "They shall become one flesh," she thought, then flung the thought away as too beautiful and painful to be borne. Tears came, but they were not the tears of sorrow, but the tears drawn from her by a beauty too breathtaking to be endured. She no longer felt alone. She felt herself to be surrounded by a reconciling love that said, "All things pass with time, I have ordained it to be so." She sat long into the night watching the sea as the moon rose high and then out of her line of vision, yet its radiance still flecked the little silver waves. The peace of the scene found an echo in Margot. She sat on long into the night, bathed in a love so profound, so all embracing, she felt herself to be safe. At last in the early hours she went to the bed she earlier had told herself she could not sleep in again. She undressed and went naked to bed, folding the covers round her and slept. Chapter 11. A Baptism of Love. When she awoke it was to a day with the sun already well above the horizon. The outside world seemed to be calling to her, "Come and see, come and hear." She dressed and hurried through breakfast and the little cleaning and tidying she had to do. Then she went out onto the patio that overlooked the sea. From where she stood she could not see the beach since it was screened by a line of low scrub that skirted it, but she could hear the voices of children on the beach, and mothers calling them, and the screams of teenagers now released at last from the purgatory of school. The temperature was climbing towards 35 degrees and looking farther out she could see people swimming and even farther out little yachts tacking back and forth. Small launches lay still in the water as men and a few women, ever hopeful, dropped their lines to lure the weaving and allusive whiting and snapper. One launch cruised slowly up and down in hope of snook. A lobster fishing boat was returning to the town harbour having gone out to the pots at dawn. A ski boat flashed across the water, the heroic figure on precarious skis creaming behind it. Margot stood watching and listening for a while, and then abruptly rushed back into the house, undressing as she went. She would join the laughing gabbling sun worshippers on the beach. Stripped she put on the white bikini that Mark had loved to see her in and that had always turned him on. Often they had gone to the beach and swum together. Some times Mark's need of her had been so urgent that they had to make love before they left for the beach and their swim. Briefly that memory touched Margot's mind, but she chased it away. She was truly her own woman now and, if as some said, she was beautiful, then the beauty was hers, and she would give it, if ever, only as an act of love and to one she could trust. Mark had never had to prevail upon her for the act of love and Margot had always been ready for him, but despite the love she had had for him, there had been just the little worm of duty. Now, whoever she gave herself to, she would give as a gift, a total gift with no touch of duty to even distantly mar what at its finest must be the act of two people giving themselves to each other. But now, on this sun filled day, there was no thought of future sexual unions. Margot flung a towel across her shoulder and made for the beach. From her house a narrow path ran down through the scrub to the beach. She ran along it to burst out on to the beach. It was not jammed with people, but they were sprinkled here and there. Mothers drying children with towels or feeding them sandwiches and cakes. Young men whistled as Margot passed and young women silently sneered, envious that one so much older than they should look so lovely and draw the attention of their swains. Margot smiled at the young male attention she attracted, but she felt no reciprocal attraction. She dropped her towel and ran on into the sea, embracing its coolness as it welcomed her. Margot let the sea support her for a while, and then with powerful overarm strokes she swam out a hundred metres or thereabouts. She trod water, looking about her at the scene. Other swimmers swam and frolicked near her. She saw children on the beach running towards the water, daring the wavelets to touch them as they ran up the beach again, laughing and screaming. She felt as if she wanted to embrace the whole world. I'm alive," she thought, "really alive." Margot dived under the water and hung there for a moment, then burst to the surface again. It was almost an act of ritual cleansing. She felt as if she was renewed, her past miseries and desolation washed away. She was free, finally free. She swam to the shore to be greeted once more with whistles by the young men and the salacious but covert stares of older men accompanied by their watchful and jealous wives. Finding her towel she dried herself still watched by longing eyes, then made her way back to the house. Chapter 12. Light into Dark. She had only just finished dressing when there was a ring at the front door. She wasn't expecting anyone so she wondered who it could be. Opening the door she as confronted by middle aged man and a young woman. "Mrs. Parker...Mrs. Margot Parker?" the man asked. "Yes...what..." "I'm D.S. Holden and this is D.C. Latimer. He held out his warrant card. "Can we talk inside?" Hesitantly she indicated for them to come in. Apprehensive she took them to the lounge and invited them to sit. For the moment they didn't sit but the man said, "Perhaps you'd like to sit down Mrs. Parker. I'm afraid we have some bad news for you." Margot sank down into an armchair her uneasiness growing. "What...what is it?" she whispered. The man glanced at the girl and she spoke. "Mrs. Parker, two hours ago your husband's car was found at the foot of the cliffs at Rogues Point. I'm afraid your husband was still in it and he..." "Was dead," gasped Margot. "Yes, I'm sorry to have to tell you this but..." The girl spoke on but Margot caught only snatches of her words. "Identified him...your name and address...make a cup of tea?" Margot felt as if her head was a hollow chamber in which words and images echoed – old images that for so long had not been brought to consciousness. She sat blindly only dimly aware of the two police officers. Only thirty minutes ago, even less, she had been filled with the joy of being alive, and now death had come stalking and found her. She felt a touch on her arm and she found herself dragged back into the present to become aware once more of her surroundings. The girl said, "Tea, Mrs. Parker." "Th...thank you." "We don't like to trouble you at a time like this," the sergeant said, "but if you could just answer a couple of questions?" "Yes, I'll try." "Do you know where Mr. Parker might have been going?" "I'm sorry, I don't have...I think I'd better explain. My husband and I were separated...have been for two years." "I see, so you hadn't seen him to speak to?" "Well, yes, he came here yesterday." "Did he seem all right? I mean, not upset or anything?" "No...well, yes...we had a row before he left." Her last words to Mark as he made for his car came back to her, "We'll see who's the loser." Her last words to the man she had once loved with so much passion. "So he could have been upset...angry?" "Yes...yes he was angry. He'd also drunk a lot of wine." "I see. Can you tell us where he was living?" "No, I'm afraid I can't, he never told me." The two officers glanced at each other and the girl said, "We'd like to find out if there's other's that need informing." "There was a girl...woman he lived with but she left him." "Can you tell us who she was?" Margot gave a bitter little smile, "No, that's something else he never told me, but his parents might know. I'll give you their address and telephone number." Margot rose and went to the telephone and opening a pad wrote down the details. Handing the paper to the sergeant she asked, "Can you tell me how it happened?" "Well, we can't be sure. It's a bit odd really because the road is straight just there and as far as we can tell no other vehicle was involved and there are no skid marks." "You think he went over the cliff deliberately, don't you?" "I'm afraid that will be for the coroner to decide, Mrs. Parker." "Will you be all right?" asked the girl, "Is there anyone you'd like us to contact...a friend or relative to come and be with you?" "No...no...your very kind, but no, I'll be all right." "Then if there's nothing more you can tell us..." the sergeant said heavily, "we'll be on our way. Sorry to be the bearers of bad news." Margot shook hands with them and thanked them for coming to tell her. Why she should thank them for ruining what had been a happy day she wasn't sure, but it seemed the right thing to do. Alone Margot sat contemplating. There was one person she wanted to have with her, Alex, quite why she wanted him she could not define, and in any case she could hardly contact him and say, "My husbands dead, I want you here." Margot could not really understand her own feelings. She wondered why she wasn't crying. Despite the hurts Mark had given her, she had never really hated him. The one thing that troubled her were her last words to him...perhaps the last words he heard in this life and they had been words of anger. Then came the thoughts of what might have been; those thoughts that come to us unbidden and useless, yet irresistible in their force. "If only." "If only things had been different." "If only we could have had a child." "If only there had been no money grubbing girl." Yes, if Margot could hate anyone it was her, the one who had stolen her Mark. But then, Mark was no child to be kidnapped. He had gone of his own volition to be with a fantasy that had gone sour and then tried to come back to the reality that was she, Margot. Did the Moon Smile? "All too late," she murmured, "everything is too late...even Alex..." She stopped there too fearful to finish giving substance to the thought by speaking it. It was then that Margot wept a little. She wept for the "Might have beens," that now would never be. The coroner's finding was accidental death since nothing else could be proven. If suicide was in Margot's mind and the minds of the police officers, it remained unspoken. Margot attended the funeral and was surprised at how few people were there. If Mark had made new friends and acquaintances in his new life, there little evidence of it. Some old friends and acquaintances attended, but found it difficult to know what to say to Margot. There was no sign of anyone who might have been Mark's late lover. Mark's parent attended and spent a few days with Margot. When they had first learned of Mark leaving her they had spoken to her of their distress. "How could he do that after all the love you've given him," they had lamented. There had been a rift between them and Mark as a result of his action, and now they expressed their regret again, implying that Mark would still be alive if he had stayed with her. Margot was too embarrassed to tell them that Mark had come to her on Christmas Day, wanting to come back to her. Death and all the fuss and activity that go with it often give even people who would grieve little chance to do so. It is when the dust has settled that the reality strikes home. But one more piece of business awaited Margot. Chapter 13. Aftermath. Mid morning a few days after the funeral Margot answered the telephone. It was Mr. Arnold Phipps, the solicitor who had handled their business affairs. "I should like to come and see you, Margot, if it's convenient." "When?" "Well, today if possible, say around one o'clock?" "Yes, that'll be fine, what's it about?" "Mark's will; I'll give you details when we meet." Margot had not given any thought to Mark's will and how she might be involved in it, thinking he would have changed it in favour of his new woman. She had in fact been giving some thought to her financial position since Mark's "conscience money" might now cease. Her thought had been that she would have to drop university and find some paid work. Arnold Phipps, not the crusty old solicitor dear to novel writers, was a hearty and rather handsome man in his mid-forties. "Margot, my dear, he began, "you are of course still Mark's legal wife, there having been no divorce. In the will Mark made a few years ago, apart from a few bequests, he left everything to you. I've been having a look over his financial affairs and I'm afraid he made a number of large withdrawals over the past two years, so I'm sorry to tell you that you haven't got as much coming to you as we might have expected." "Frankly, I'm surprised to be getting anything. I thought he might have changed his will in favour of that new woman." "Hmm, well, you might have been able to challenge that but there's no need. The point is, what you will be getting amounts to (here he quoted a figure that caused Margot to turn pale). "But, that not possible, it couldn't be that much." "In terms of immediately available money, no, but if you were to dispose of his various business interests, yes. I'm surprised you think it so large a sum. If Mark had not disposed of so many of his assets these last two years it might have been twice the amount." "His little puss cat certainly got her share," thought Margot. "The thing is," went on Mr. Phipps, "do you want to maintain his business interests? I mean, do you wish to be involved?" Margot was stumped for an answer. She had just before been contemplating having to give up her university studies and try to get a job, and now she was confronted with the liberation and freedom of choice having money would give her. Did she want to be concerned with Mark's business ventures about which she now realised how little she had known? She had little knowledge of business and had her own plans for the future, but rather than make an immediate decision she said, "Can I have time to think this over?" "Of course, of course my dear, we can let the situation run on for a while and I can attend to matters as they come up but there will have to be a cut-off point, at which time you will need to decide. Are you in need of funds at the moment?" "Well yes, I might be. Mark made me an allowance which of course might stop being paid now." "Ah, in that case I'll make arrangements with the bank to have money put into your account from the estate. How much would you like?" "Perhaps for the time being you'd just continue what Mark used to allow, it's more than adequate for my present needs." "Very well, my dear; there will be some signing for you to do, and perhaps you'd come to my office when that's necessary?" "Yes, of course." He rose and they shook hands at the door. Margot wandered back into the lounge and plonked down on the settee trying to work out how she was feeling. Over the course of two years she seemed to have gone from one emotional crisis to another. There had been times of light and happiness and then times of dark and misery..."My God," she thought, suddenly remembering, "Alex is due back any day now." Chapter 14. The Return. It was not that she hadn't thought about Alex, but that time had slipped by her. She realised that on his return she would have to say something about the events that had occurred and that would almost inevitably lead to her telling him about Mark and her marriage. Even if Alex had been curious, he had never questioned her. Margot had said nothing about it, although having mixed with some of the young people around the town there was a chance he had heard something. "What does it matter if he does know?" thought Margot. "I don't know why I've even bothered to hide it from him, so there's no reason why I shouldn't tell him now. It won't change anything." Margot had arranged with Alex that she would pick him up at the airport when he came in on one of the aircraft that serviced the smaller provincial centres. As the day approached Margot found her self to be getting -as she tried to tell herself – "Unaccountably excited." What was it she was feeling? Was it the return of a young man who seemed to fulfil in her the maternal experiences she had missed? Yet she had no right. Alex had a mother and family, so why should he want her maternal feelings? "A friend," she told herself; "a good friend who had brought into her life a little brightness and joy. "That's it, a friend." Alex came into the arrival lounge looking brimming with health. He had a tan and if anything looked bigger than she had remembered him to be. In the past she had sometimes seen him as a boy, but in a short space of time he was suddenly and unmistakably a man. Alex came to her grinning and they hugged each other; the first time they had engaged in such contact. "Alex said, "I've missed you Margot." "And I've missed you, Alex." On the drive home there was much chatter about what Alex had been doing, how his parents and brothers and sisters were. Margot held back from telling Alex what had been happening to her. She wanted to tell him in a quiet time when the first pleasure of being together had calmed a little. It was that evening after dinner she opened up to Alex. Alex, always a good listener sat quiet, letting Margot tell her story without interruption. When she had finished he did not ply her with questions but said, "I'm so sorry you've had such a rough time, Margot, I should have been here for you." Margot had to fight back tears. Did he really care for her enough to want to be with her in a wretched situation? There was something else she wanted to tell him; something she felt she could never tell anyone else. Perhaps she just wanted to, as people say, "Get it off her chest." Perhaps it was the response Alex had made to what she had told him so far that gave her the courage. Or again maybe she wanted to test his caring for her, to find out how far it would go. She told him of Christmas Eve and Bronte Bunny. Alex sat once more just listening, but this time with a grim expression. "He's going to hate me. He's going to think I'm a filthy slut," she thought as she finished. Alex remained silent for a while, the said, "You were set up, weren't you?" "I don't think...Celia wouldn't have deliberately....No Alex I'm sure she wouldn't have set me up for that." "No, not necessarily for that, but as you have said, she thought it quite amusing when it happened, didn't she?" "Yes, but she didn't know how it happened that he...you know...forced me when I couldn't fight back." "Perhaps not, but she didn't do anything to help you when you needed it. She didn't take over like any decent woman would in those circumstances." "No, I suppose she didn't." "Can you put it behind you, Margot?" "I think so. It's been a relief telling you. It sort of got it out in the open where I can take a look at it. You don't think I'm...I'm...." "I know what you're going to say, Margot, and no, I don't, but I'm glad it matters to you what I think. Mind you, I do think you were pretty silly getting drunk with a predatory bugger like him around. Still, perhaps you weren't to know." "I just thought he was a pedantic little bore. I'm not making an excuse, but that's how I came to get so drunk, trying to relieve the boredom." Alex grinned; "Then if you get drunk while I'm around I'll know I'm boring you." Margot gave a little laugh; "I don't think I'll ever be drunk again, it's too horrible, and if you are boring me I shall just tell you so." Alex rose and stretched. "It's been a long day, Margot, and I'm for bed." Margot rose and said, "Yes, me too, goodnight Alex, and thank you for listening and being so...so...caring." Alex winked at her and said, "What are friends for?" and headed for his bedroom. "Yes," though Margot, "what are friends for? The people I thought were my friends didn't serve me too well. It's taken a man almost seventeen years my junior to act like a friend." She smiled and went to bed. Chapter 15. Confusion. That night she masturbated; it was not in any desperate or urgent manner, but relaxed, enjoying her body and the sensations she could bring about in it. She deliberately took a long time to bring on her orgasm and when it did come she allowed it to flow over and through her as she made little gasps of agony and pleasure. The she went to sleep with a smile upon her lips. Next morning Alex was up before her. She lay awake in bed for a while listening to him whistling in the shower. When she heard him leave the shower she rose and took her own shower and for the first time in ages she felt the pleasure of caressing her own body as she washed. When she had finished dressing she went down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for them. She spotted Alex out on the patio and joined him for a moment. It was a typically beautiful day for that time of year, and although it was still early, there could already be heard the voices of children on the beach. Fishing enthusiasts were out in the little boats dangling their lines in the water. "Hey, Margot," said Alex, "what about that promised swim together?" "Alex, some of your friends will probably be down on the beach, why don't you join them after breakfast?" "You're not crying off, are you?" Alex teased. "No, but you should be with people your own age." "Well you are my age; you're not any age, and I can be with the others later if I want to, so what about it?" "All right, but after breakfast...and after a bit of cleaning and clearing up." "Ma'am," said Alex springing to attention and saluting, "you may inspect my bedroom and you'll find it impeccable." "Yes, I'm sure I will, let's eat." After the meal and the clearing up Margot went to her room and put on her bikini. She went down to the lounge where Alex was waiting for her. As she walked in she heard him suddenly draw in a loud breath. She looked at him to find he was staring at her. "Margot...you look...look..." He stopped, unable to finish. He had a towel over his shoulder but now he removed it and held it so that it hid his rising embarrassment. Margot felt terrible that she had inspired this erection. She remembered how Mark, seeing her in this bikini, and even after years of marriage, would get an erection and they had to make love before they went to the beach. She felt she wanted to apologise; to say that it was the only swimming things she had and she wasn't deliberately parading herself before him. She knew this would be foolish and would only make matters worse, so she said as brightly as she could, "Come on, let's go." She ran out of the house and down to track to the beach, then dropping her towel she continued on into the water, not looking to see if Alex was following. Margot was not the type of woman who enjoyed deliberately arousing men for the cruel pleasure of seeing their hunger. "I should have realised," she castigated herself. "He's a young man and at the peak of his sexual potency, but I never thought...a woman of my age and he so...surely he would want someone his own age and not...Oh God, what have I done? We're living in the same house and..." Margot swam out to sea, and she remembered the last time she had swum and the sense of being cleansed she had experienced. She had had her period not long before Alex had come back, and there had been no signs of anything unpleasant by way of disease, so she felt that sex with Bronte had not left her pregnant or diseased. Not concentrating on what she was doing Margot almost swam out too far and turning back she glimpsed Alex swimming towards her. She swam shorewards wanting to avoid him. Her mind still churned; "God, why is it that every time I seem to see a bit of light, the darkness comes again? If I've messed up this relationship, if it turns into something more than simple friendship for Alex, what can I do?" There seemed to be no divine answer. Getting out of the water Margot ran up the beach and grabbing her towel as she passed made for the house. She flung off her bikini and sorting through her wardrobe chose a dress that she thought was the least alluring. Alex didn't follow her and it was not until lunch time he appeared. "Hey, what happened to you, Margot," he asked breezily. "I thought we were going to swim together and have a bit of fun." "Oh, I thought...I didn't really feel like it, and there was a group your friends there and...well...I thought you'd like to be with them," she ended lamely. Alex was still wearing his swimming shorts and despite her attempt to look drab she could see he still had an erection. This time he made no attempt to hide it. His breezy manner had gone and he had taken on a serious soulful look. Margot knew what that look meant. She knew what he wanted and the slightest encouragement from her, even if unintended, could bring about a state of affairs that both of them might end up regretting. She sought to divert the situation and said, "I'll get lunch ready." "I'll go and get changed," Alex said rather disconsolately, and made to leave the room. "Are you going back to the beach this afternoon?" Margot called after him. "Are you?" "No, I thought I'd go into town and do a bit of shopping." "Can I come with you?" "If you want anything I could get it for you." "No, I don't want anything really, I just thought I'd like...just fancied going with you. I could carry things for you. You did say we could do things together when I came back." "Oh, all right then, if you really want to come." Chapter 16. Confusion Twice Confounded. There were weeks to go before the university began again, and Margot could see that she and Alex would be living at very close quarters, without the need to spend time studying. Her hope was that Alex would spend time with his friends, and possibly meet his sexual needs with one or more of the girls, but if he was going to tag around after her with his soulful looks like a hungry puppy dog, life could become difficult for both of them, and it did indeed become difficult. As she feared Alex spent a lot of time hanging around her. It was not that he said or did anything that could be interpreted as a sexual approach, but Margot could see the many occasions when Alex clearly had an erection despite his attempts to hide it. Margot made endless excuses not to go to the beach and swim with him since her bikini seemed to have been the source of their problem. What she did not take account of was that Alex, having once seen her in the bikini, knew now what lay beneath any clothing she wore. The knowledge that Alex wanted her and they being so much in each other's presence, began to have its effects on Margot. The sight of Alex's erect manhood began to stimulate her. She now had to frequently masturbate to maintain some control over her emotions. She tried to tell herself that her feelings for Alex were still of a maternal nature, but in the end she did not believe it. Her growing agitation caused her to start snapping at Alex and the climax came when one day she turned on him and said, "For God's sake Alex, stop following me around, you're like a bloody irritating mosquito buzzing around all the time." Alex looked utterly crestfallen and mumbling an apology left the room. Quickly Margot felt ashamed of herself. After all, what had Alex really done? He was paying her the compliment of finding her sexually desirable, and that from a young man years younger than she should have been flattering. Next morning at breakfast Alex was looking very morose. As he finished his glass of orange juice he said, "Margot, I seem to have become nothing but a damned nuisance to you; would you prefer it if I moved out?" Pride is listed as one of the deadly sins. Sin or not it is certainly something that can easily divide people. Yet pride is so often fear in disguise; fear that we might reveal too much of our feelings and therefore be vulnerable. Thus there were two people, Margot and Alex, each standing on opposite sides of the divide that was pride. Margot, the woman who had been hurt and was fearful of giving herself to one who might hurt her again, and in addition with the knowledge of the further divide of her age. Alex, in love with Margot and with powerful sexual feelings for her and also his knowledge of the age gap, and the additional fear that he might make a wrong move and lose the relationship they had. His suggestion that he might move out was, more than anything, a test or challenge to Margot. If she said "Yes, you'd better leave," he would know that he had no future hope with her. To Margot his question was agony. She knew full well that if she asked him to stay it would be to heap fuel on the fires of their sexual desires. They would be together and Margot was no longer hiding behind the fiction of "maternal love." She admitted to herself that she wanted Alex – wanted him with all the passion of a woman, a woman in love. Had they been able to talk openly to each other about their feelings – their desires and fears, they might have saved themselves much anguish, but they couldn't. Margot did not answer Alex's question directly, instead she said, "It's up to you Alex, you must do what you think is best for you." Given his state of mind it is hardly surprising that Alex read this as a suggestion that he should leave. He rose and said, "Okay, Margot, I'll see what the accommodation situation is at the hostel. It'll probably take a few days to get it sorted out, so I'll stay here until something is fixed, if that's okay." Did the Moon Smile? Margot felt as if something was strangling her. She felt that Alex had been too quick, too eager to pass through the gap her answer had left. To her mind it showed that Alex really did want to leave her, and she felt as if something was choking her. She struggled to speak her reply. "If that's your decision, Alex, and of course stop until you've got things sorted out, I'm not throwing you out." Alex looked at her for a moment then mumbling, "Thanks, Margot," he left and went to his study. It was a couple of days later when he came to Margot and said, "I can get a room at the hostel, but they're not opening for another week. That's when some of the students from the country will start dribbling into town, but at the moment they're doing some decorating and don't want anyone around. "That's all right," was Margot's answer. Chapter 17. The Unwelcome Visitor. The two of them seemed to try and avoid each other as much as possible and each of them was living in their own little hell. Alex could have gone off and got himself a local girl to relieve his sexual frustrations, but he didn't. Only Margot would do, and he was thus reduced to frequent masturbation and fantasies of Margot. Margot was also masturbating frequently and no longer in the joyful way she had previously, but in a desperate almost angry way as she tried to shake off her now overpowering longing for Alex. It was three days before Alex was due to leave for the hostel when there came a ring on the front door. It was the rather long peremptory ring of someone whom felt they had a right to be there and let in. Margot opened the door to be confronted with a wetly grinning Bronte Bunny. "Hi babe, just passing through town and thought I'd drop in." "How did you did find out where I live?" "Easy, I asked Celia. Hey, she tells me you're really gone on me. We did have a great time at the party, didn't we?" "What do you want?" "Want...want? Come on babe you don't have to be coy with me; we can pick up where we left off." Bronte had pushed his way in through the door and had pinned Margot against the wall with his incipient belly. "I know you've got the hots for me, so..." Margot struggled to push him away and readied herself to administer another black eye, but Bronte was ready for her. He had her pinned so she couldn't move, and an attempt to knee him in the groin only connected with thin air. His wet lips managed to slosh over hers and she began to scream. Above the noise she made Bronte continued his monologue; "Come on babe, you know you want me. I can stay the night and I promise you'll never regret it. I'll give you..." A hand grasped the back of Bronte's neck and he felt himself jerked away from Margot. "I think the only regrets will be yours, mister," Alex said. "Leggo of me," gasped Bronte, trying to struggle out of Alex's grip. "By all means," said Alex, who threw Bronte out of the front door to land on his knees on the garden path. Alex gave him a sweet smile and said, "Don't come back again will you? I don't want to hurt you." Bronte struggled to his feet and squealed, "I'll sue you for assault...just a social visit and..." Alex shut the door and Bronte was heard no more. Margot was still leaning against the wall and Alex went to her saying, "I gather that was Bronte Bunny?" "Yes," said Margot, trying to catch her breath. She laid a hand gently on Alex's chest and leaned against him. "Thank God you were here." Alex carefully drew her close; "Yes, you're not fit to be left on your own, you know." "No, probably not, I think you'd better stay." "Do you really mean that?" "Yes." Alex began to stroke her hair and said, "You do know how I feel about you don't you?" Margot touched his face with her hand, letting it linger. "Yes I know." She put her hand behind his head and drew it down as she stretched up to kiss him softly on his lips, letting her tongue flicker over them. She pressed her hips close to him and began a slow sensuous rotating movement. "I think we'd better do something about those feelings of yours, don't you?" Alex's protectiveness of her had conquered her reticence. Age no longer seemed to matter; what the future might bring – the possible losses and hurts – faded from her thoughts. They were two people in love and hungry for each other. She would give herself freely without demanding guarantees for the future. Her own body was crying out for him, and if there was any reserve it came from Alex. "Are you sure...you're very beautiful and lots of men..." "I don't want lots of men, I want you, darling. Now stop talking and take me to bed." Chapter 18. End Play. She took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom. Margot began to undress herself, but once standing in her panties and bras Alex came to remove them. As her bras came off, revealed were her firm breasts and he could see the pink little nipples standing our firmly. He reached up to take a nipple between thumb and forefinger, and at his touch Margot a soft squeal and said, "Don't wait, darling, I want you in me very badly." Alex removed her panties and then stripped himself. Margot saw his manhood standing up hard and already dripping clear droplets of sticky fluid. She thought of his sperm entering her. She had been revolted at the presence of Bronte's semen in her, but with Alex it was a longed for outcome. As she looked at his firm young body, glowing with health, she thought, "If only I could have a baby with him." The thought remained unspoken and she had little hope of the wish being fulfilled. "All those years with Mark and...no, it can't be." Alex moved her to the bed and lay her down. She parted her legs and extended her arms to receive him. Beyond a long deep kiss there was no foreplay; they were both too needy to wait for penetration. Their mouths still locked together Alex sought for her opening with his penis. Her hand guided him in and she felt the long shaft slide in urgently, probing for her depths. Alex began to murmur, "Margot...oh Margot...I love you, I really do love you." Margot flexed her vaginal muscle round his shaft and he groaned, "Beautiful Margot...beautiful," and he began to move in her with ever quickening and urgent thrusts. "For so long, darling...for so long," Margot whispered. Tears came, and they were tears of joy. She loved him; she knew that for certain now. If this never again happened between them, this moment would always be with her. She was thoroughly aroused, yet she sought no orgasm for her self. In a strangely unexpected way she wanted simply to give without reward for herself. She was like a mother wanting to gratify her child not expecting any return. She heard Alex groan as the first ejection of his sperm pumped up his shaft and spurted out through his urethra to burst into her. His hands were under her buttocks, striving to drag him self ever deeper into her. Margot wound her legs round his murmuring, "Yes, my love yes, into me, deep...deep..." She wanted to cry out, "Make me pregnant," but she dared not. Why would a young man want that responsibility? The thought...the desire was stifled, yet it cried out within her. She wanted to begin the great creative act, the making of new life, and she wanted it with Alex. Alex gasped as the last thrust of his semen entered her, and she felt him begin to relax. She laid silent, her legs still wound round him, and her hands stroking his face and hair, looking into his eyes. What she saw there startled her...almost frightened her. What she saw was what she could only think of as adoration. However much she and Mark had once been in love, Margot had never seen such a look in his eyes. Alex, still trying to catch his breath after his massive discharge, gasped, "Margot that was so exquisite." Margot thought that this might be what many men would say after a gratifying sexual union, but the manner in which Alex spoke seemed to come from some profound act of worship. Margot had held back from Alex because she feared their age difference. He might find coitus with a woman her age undesirable after, as it were, trying the goods. Now she realised the matter was almost the reverse. This young man adored her and how could she be worthy of such adoration? In her vaginal tunnel was the mélange of their mixed fluids. She wanted to hold it there, this metaphor of their love. Alex's penis had begun to soften after his ejaculation but now she felt it begin to harden again. He started to move with a slow rhythm up and down in her, each downward push producing a soft squelching sound as the fluids of their previous coupling squeezed out of her between the walls of her vagina and his penis. Little electric shocks seemed to vibrate in Margot. The old familiar alarm at this foreshadowing of her coming orgasm; the dread of its keen yet delicious agony, now dragged cries of whimpering rejection from her. "No darling...no...don't make me...I'm coming...please don't make me." The onset of her orgasm was relentless. She fought to hold it off, delaying the moment when it would engulf her in a shuddering, screaming farrago of pain, delight and love. The delay of her orgasm only made it the more intense when it did strike. Her cries changed; "Yes...yes...yes darling...don't stop...make me...make me...." Then came a long howling scream as her climax came – "Oha...oooowaaaa." She clung frantically to Alex as one might to a life raft in a raging sea. Her nails raked his back and her legs, still wound round him, became clamps holding him in a savage embrace. As if at some great distance she heard Alex groan and felt his sperm thud into her. They became a twisting, raging tangle as they each cried out in nigh incomprehensible words their love and raging lust for each other. Alex finished ejaculating but Margot continued to pulsate in the grip of her slowly diminishing orgasm. Their words became increasingly lucid as they struggled to express what they felt for each other, each feeling that no matter what the words, they were totally inadequate for that which they wanted to express. Alex waited until Margot had calmed completely, then he withdrew from her and lay beside her. She turned to face him, looking deep into his eyes. It was still there, that look of adulation. With one hand he gently fondled her breast. Unthinking, with one of her own hands she held together the outer lips of her vagina as if to keep their fluids inside her. She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. He responded by beginning to kiss and lick her face. "He still wants me," Margot thought, "But how can he, he's ejaculated twice?" Mark at the peak of his sexual prowess had never exceeded two ejaculations. "And yet Alex...?" She became aware of her hand holding back the fluids in her vaginal tunnel. It they were going to unite again she wanted it to be free of their past deposits. "Darling, I'm going to have a shower, I'm such a mess. Are you going to come with me?" Alex smiled and said, "That's an invitation I can't resist." As soon as Margot was standing, and having let go of her vaginal lips, she felt the combined sperm and lubricant start to run down her inner thighs. "I wonder if he'll want to taste me," she thought, "I shall certainly taste him." They showered together and Alex would have taken her against the shower wall, but she eluded him saying, "Not now, darling, wait until we're back in bed." Returning to the bedroom Margot waited until Alex was lying on his back, and then she began kissing him. Starting with his lips she kissed her way over his face, then down his neck and chest until finally she reached his penis. She held in her hand for a while, gently stroking it and watching the glistening pre-cum ooze from his urethra. Then she took the crown into her mouth and as she did so she heard Alex moan, "Oh Margot." Unhurriedly she licked and sucked him, gradually working her way along his shaft. She felt its warmth and firmness, and then his hands were behind her head, holding her gently to him. He had ejaculated twice and now, with no urgent need, he took a long time to come. Margot felt the first tremors of his orgasm as his sperm was pumped up his shaft and then his warm young semen was filling her mouth. His moans were now constant as he cried out with each new ejection. Margot struggled to swallow the salt sticky fluid but it quickly overwhelmed her and began to run out of her mouth and down the length of Alex's shaft and then onto the bed. He finished and Margot, her mouth coated with sperm, sat across Alex's face and lowered her sex organ to his mouth. There was no hesitation; Alex took hold of her thighs and pulled her to him, probing with his tongue through her outer lips and on into her vaginal tunnel. Feeling the soft penetration of his tongue as he tasted her lubricant, Margot began to make little squealing sounds. She made small jerking movements with her vagina and gradually moved Alex's stimulation to her clitoris. It came, a distant vibration at first, and then as it burst upon her the squeals became a loud cry of anguish mingled with joy. Her convulsions became so violent that Alex had to cling to her tightly to maintain contact. Past the pinnacle of her orgasm her cries diminished once more, to become little grunting sounds –"Oh ha...oh ha...oh ha..." When the last tremor had passed she hung over Alex for a while, exhausted by the power of her orgasm. Then removing her self from him she lay beside him. Alex kissed her and she smelt and tasted herself, and since the residue of his semen was still round her mouth, she knew he must be smelling and tasting himself also. They remained unstirring for a long time, and then she felt Alex's hand on her breast. At first he gently stroked and squeezed it, all the time looking at it as if it were some sacred icon. Then he brought his mouth to her nipple and began sucking it as his hand caressed her other breast. Margot lay back almost in a world of enchantment, ravished by waves of love that seemed to thrill through her. He was her lover and her child; the dearly beloved to whom she would give herself totally. She held his head to her breast as if he was the child she had never had, feeding him with her love. For a long time they held together until Alex released her nipple and moved her legs apart. He came over and entered her. Margot lay back, lost in the beauty of their coupling, relaxed and yielding to him. "Yes," she whispered, "put it into me darling, put it into me." Alex began to quiver and as the first ejection of his sperm went into her Margot used her vaginal muscle, trying to drag him deeper into her. She wanted that sperm deep in her; wanted it to fertilise her as she succumbed to the ancient law, "Be fruitful and multiply." In that moment there was nothing else; no Mark, no Bronte; no grief and loneliness; the future meant nothing; there was only this moment of self-giving. Long after the last spurt of his semen into her they lay united. No word passed between them for what words were there? None that could surpass what they had experienced in their acts of love. When finally they separated they slept, not to awaken until the sun had set and the evening darkness had begun to cover them and the town. That other hunger now took over and they rose and prepared food. Each wanted to speak, to tell the other of the overwhelming love they felt, yet still words would not come until Alex haltingly tried to express what he felt. "I love you, Margot...I...I love you very....very...much." He knew it sounded lame, but it was the best he could do. Margot smiled and said, "Yes, I know you do, and for as long as you want me, I shall be here for you." They showered and then sat together naked in front of the picture window watching the moon rise over the sea. Margot remembered the other times she had sat before that window, then as Alex's hand touched her breast the memories fled away and she began to slowly stroke his penis. Did the moon smile down upon them, or was it her imagination?