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The Runner Tumbles

By: Moondrift



"Do not walk in the way with them, hold back your foot from their paths; for their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed blood."

Chapter 1. Wilimbra, July 1991.

Caught up in the national drive for fitness, every evening after school I went for a run. I often took the track along the cliff top. Normally it had a pleasant view with the sea on one side and a clear view of the wooded hills about four kilometres inland as they rose up behind the town.

On this winter evening I had chosen wrongly. A thick mist was drifting in from the sea, and the Wilimbra Point lighthouse fog horn had begun its deep bass note, booming at regular intervals. Out to sea I heard, as if in response, the falsetto howls from the fog horn of a passing ship. In the distance I could hear the bell buoy at the entrance to the harbour; clang clang, clang clang "Stand clear, stand clear," it seemed to say.

To add to the murk, the winter darkness was closing in. I stopped running, and catching my breath for a few moments, I decided to give up and return home. "No point going on in this," I told myself.

The muffled silence that such weather brings, broken only by the fog horns and bell, had a sinister quality about it. A cold shiver ran up my spine despite the warmth my running had generated.

I had just turned to start the homeward run when a noise caught my attention. I stood, turning slowly to try and locate the sound. Nothing; "I'm imaging things," I told myself, "It's this fog getting to me."

Then it came again, a faint whisper but in the murk I couldn't locate it or judge how far away it was. I shivered again, and deciding that it was time to make a move I began to run. 

I got no further than a few of metres when suddenly I was grasped from behind. I screamed but it was cut short by a hand clamped over my mouth. I was fairly fit and started to try and fight off the unseen assailant, but I quickly discovered there was more than one. 

Hands grasped me and bore me down onto the wet grass. How many hands I couldn't tell; I felt the bottom of my track suit being torn off, followed by my panties. For a moment the hand that covered my mouth was removed and I screamed out, "Mummy, mummy," only to have the hand clamped over my mouth again.

Vague figures in the dark; my arms pinioned; legs dragged apart and a body over me. 

"Keep still bitch and you might not get hurt," a voice said close to my ear.

There was some laughter and then something was pushing against me. He ripped my hymen apart with a lunge that sent a searing pain through me that seemed to engulf my whole body. Then he was fiercely thrusting into me.

How many I've never known; five, six? I was hysterical, barely feeling the sperm they pumped into me. After the second one I stopped struggling. I was close to passing out, so they could do what they wanted with me.

How long it went on I don't know, but it seemed like for ever, but finally it did stop, and I was alone. Bewildered, and I suppose half out of my mind, I struggled to my feet whimpering, "Mummy...mummy..." as I began to totter in what I thought was the direction of home.

Suddenly there was nothing; no ground under my feet. I was falling; darkness.

Chapter 2. Wilimbra, August 1991. 

In hospital they told me that after searching all night in the fog the State Emergency people had found me lodged on a ledge part way down the cliff. All that had stopped me from falling the rest of the way had been a fragile bush clinging to the ledge against which I had rolled.

I had a broken leg, three broken ribs, and I had been badly damaged during the course of what the doctor believed had been a brutal, multiple rape. This had been realised at first because of the bruises on my arms and body; and was then was confirmed by the presence of semen in my vagina.

They told me that I was lucky to be alive, but I didn't want to be alive. Someone they called "The trauma counsellor" came to see me several times, but she was no help. It was mummy and daddy who really made me want to live again. They didn't say much, but they were there, and I was safe again.

The doctor told me I was pregnant and he performed an operation to get rid of the foetus. Soon after that they let me go home. 

My body healed in time, but my mind was not so easily fixed. I wished fervently that they had caught those who raped me – let me see and confront them; but perhaps not. Seeing them might have made worse the nightmares I was enduring.

I gave up running and didn't want to return to school, but mummy and daddy eventually persuaded me to.

"Darling, what happened to you was appalling, but you mustn't let it ruin your whole life."

That was easy to say, but it was not so easy to slough off the memory of what had happened to me, like a snake shedding its skin.

I did return to school and of course the story of what had happened to me had got around. Everyone was very sympathetic – on the surface – but although I wasn't exactly treated as a pariah, people seemed to keep their distance.

"She shouldn't have been out there running on her own, and she probably led them on," were the sort of things whispered around. 

All this had two main effects on me. The negative one was that I became deeply suspicious of people, especially men, whom I came to see as animals; brutes that would rape again if they had the chance. 

The positive effect was that I buried myself in study. Knowledge would give me power, and one day I would be in a position to dictate the terms, and avenge the injury that had been done to me.

Chapter 3. Adelaide, 2004. 

Spring, and from my office high up in the building I can see over the city to the gardens that surround it. Along King William Street I can see the people scuttling like busy ants, and the vehicles crawling like beetles, to be held up at red lights until the green light releases them from their accelerator pumping frustration.

In the gardens the spring flowers are opening. I like to enjoy them and at times I walk though the gardens, but only when there are plenty of people around. 

It is spring, but ever since that evening of fog and darkness in 1991 it has been winter in my heart.

On yes, I have been very successful, remarkably so given that I am only twenty nine. That is what hard work, total commitment and application can do, plus I suppose intelligence; I'm one of the top financial advisors in Greenbaum and Norris Investment Advisory Services. 

I've got what a lot of girls dream of. Recently I moved into one of the new luxury flats they are building inside the CBD. The furniture is not particularly modern; I've always liked the Scandinavian white wood furniture that was in fashion a while back.  

White that is my colour, although I'm told white means the absence of colour. White furniture, white walls, white covers on my bed; the clean, pure colour of white that helps banish the darkness and defilement I feel within. The walls of my office are white, but I must endure the walnut desk with its dark leather chair since I inherited them from the previous occupant. 

I am within walking distance from my flat, but in the underground car park of the flats is my Porsche. Money, clothes, expensive holidays and work that I can handle with ease, what more could a girl ask for, so why am in not content, why is there this continual dissatisfaction?

If only I had a few more friends; not men of course; we all know what they are like. That's one of the troubles with having women friends. If they haven't already got one then eventually they get a boy friend, partner or husband, and the very thought of that sickens me because I know what the men make them do. How the women tolerate this, even claiming to enjoy it, I don't know, and some of them even end up getting pregnant; it's disgusting.

When I was twenty five I met a very attractive girl who was about twenty one. She was clearly drawn to me and we became great friends until...I won't go into detail, but one night after we'd been drinking together I somehow ended up in her bed.

What she did to me, or tried to do to me, was as bad if not worse than the things men wanted to do. It was revolting; you see, I can't bear being touched. I almost had to beat her off before I could get free of her. I never saw her again after that.

When clients enter my office I never shake hands with them and I always keep the desk between me and them. I give them sound financial advice, and that's all I give them.

Sometimes a male client gets a bit too personal in his comments. I've got a short way of dealing with them and I get pleasure from seeing them red faced and wilting in the chair opposite me. 

Shortly after I started with the company there was a suggestion from one of the partners that I might speed my climb up the promotional ladder if I would, as he put it, "Come across." He got the same treatment as the male clients. 

I think he would have liked to get rid of me, but right from the start I'd shown them what I could do and he was prepared to put profit before his injured pride. So I've made my way up the ladder on merit and not by "Coming across."

Some people, including my parents say things like, "You've got the lot, Jackie." If I have, why do I feel this dark emptiness inside me?

A new man started with the firm. He started with the firm just over a week ago. Roger Wyatt he's called. A university graduate with God knows how many degrees in economics, business management and finance and would you believe, a major in philosophy.

Philosophy, with all it's talk about love, beauty, justice; what a lot of nonsense!

Mr. Greenbaum introduced us and he extended his hand, which I ignored.

"Doctor Wyatt has been brought in," Mr. Greenbaum said with a wide smirk on his face, "to help us expand the scope of the business."

"Doctor?" He can't be more than twenty nine or thirty, and as for expanding the business, wasn't I doing that already?"

I'll give him this, for a man he's quite good looking, but his looks don't fool me; I know what's lurking under that exterior. I've seen him looking at me like a lot of men do, and just as with the other men I'll ignore his gaze unless he starts making suggestive remarks; then I'll give him the treatment.

"Doctor Wyatt will want to be familiarised with our present system," Mr. Greenbaum said, "so perhaps you'd start by filling him in about your work, Jackie; perhaps this afternoon?"

"I've got appointments with three new clients this afternoon Mr. Greenbaum."

"Yes, I know, but I've had them transferred to Mr. James, he can deal with them."

I suppose that's what they mean by "Cutting the Indians off at the pass." I'd have to put up with Doctor Superman, the bright new star in the Greenbaum/Norris firmament.

When my secretary, Tessa, saw him she went into her simpering idiot mode like a bitch on heat, but any half decent looking man had that effect on her. I would have got rid of her long ago, but she had been more compliant than me with the eye and hand wandering partner; that meant she was secure in the job until the partner went off her and found someone else. 

Doctor Superman was pleasant, I'll admit that. He invited me to call him Roger; I didn't care much for that – a bit too intimate – but I suffered it nevertheless. He had the impertinence to call me "Jackie" uninvited and I put up with that as well. 

He was bright, I'll give him that, and grasped the details of quite complex financial dealings almost before I'd started to talk about them. He was with me for over two hours and when we'd finished he said, "There are probably a few other things I'll need to get back to you about, but I suppose we'll see quite a lot of each other since we are to be colleagues."

I supposed we would, and indeed we have seen a lot of each other, and that's how I started noticing the way he looks at me. I guessed that he could be fairly tough in business, but at the personal level he has quite a gentle manner. Then again, that might just be a front to trap the unwary. 

I can see the danger inherent in the situation. I might not be right at the top of the heap, but I was close to it. This bright boy might endanger my position in the hierarchy; might displace me as the company's number one financial advisor, the profit making darling of Greenbaum/Norris. I'll have to watch my back.

It's just as I thought. Doctor Roger Bright Boy has hardly been with us five minutes and is already making his mark, and at my expense. Until he came along I was often consulted by the partners; now I get consulted less frequently and he's for ever ensconced with them.

My work, it's what I am; it's the way I can relate to people without them getting too close. If I ever lose...no, that's unthinkable...but just suppose I lost my job what would I have, who would I be? There are other jobs, but after I'd put so much into this one, so much of myself?

No one has suggested that I will be disposed of, but the partners are men and everyone knows that men can string a woman along until they get what they want, and then dump her. They may not have raped me physically, but there are other ways of raping. They've raped me for my intelligence...my ability, and now I am in danger of being displaced by that Doctor Wonder Boy. 

I'm not blind and deaf; I know that if ever I do get the shove I won't get too much sympathy from the rest of the staff. They don't like me but I've relied on the fact that the firm needs me. 

The thought of being displaced by Bright Boy started to haunt me; I even dreamt about him just like I used to dream about that night in the fog. I knew I must do something about it, but what?

Women have their own way of getting what they want out of men. They can tease them, arouse them, and when they've got what they want, drop them. 

I'd been amused once by a story told by one of the men at work. He'd come across a guy who was hunting for a female backpacker. He'd met her, shivering and apparently broke and hungry in the street. He'd bought her warm clothes and taken her to a restaurant for a meal. She'd been all over him with gratitude and promises of delights to come. 

Telling him she'd left a few things at the backpackers hostel they went there together. "Just wait here," she said, "I'll only be a few minutes."

He waited for an hour and she didn't return. She'd gone in through the front door of the hostel and straight out the back door. That was the last he ever saw or heard of her, despite his furious hunt.

I wondered if I could somehow lead Wonder Boy into a trap – a trap that would bring to an end his growing influence with the partners.

Once I had been helpless in the hands of men; could I reverse that situation and have a man helpless in my hands? Could I lead him, as it were, to the front door, and then leave him stranded while I slipped out the back?

It could be done; it could be easily done so long as he was attracted to me. It would take a little time and of course I knew I might have to submit to some things I'd find repugnant, but if I achieved my end...?

The season of office Christmas parties and lunches was approaching. I had my plan well thought out, but it wasn't going quite as easily as I'd hoped.

I adopted a very friendly attitude towards Roger. He is interested – attracted – I know that, but he just won't make a move. I became the compliant little helper, and I even tried to emulate some of Tessa's seductively teasing ways, but without much success because I've not had enough practice.

Several times when we were alone in my office I'd been tempted to give him the full works, but if I made a move he'd just focus on whatever work we were doing, and not being very adept at this sort of thing I'd give up.

We have a staff luncheon in the week before Christmas. The food and drink are brought in by caterers and there's lots of boozing and couples trying to slip out secretly to vacant offices. I decided to wait until then; try and get him when he's had a few and is off guard. 

At the office Christmas Luncheon there was as I expected plenty of boozing and then off to the offices for a quick one. 

Things didn't go quite as I planned. I hung around Roger and he was very chatty but not drunk or anywhere near it. Somehow he avoided talking about work, and this didn't suit me. He talked about art and music, his likes and dislikes, and asked what I like and dislike. 

I played along as best I could and if anything it was me who was getting drunk. In the end I lost patience and interrupting him in full flow about some concert he'd been to I said, "Roger, would you come up to my office I've got some paper's I want to discuss with you."

Nobody did any work during the afternoon of the office Christmas lunch, and I was a bit concerned that he would refuse. He did look at me a little strangely but agreed.

We made out way to my office, passing a few other offices from which muffled groans and yelps could be heard, but by common consent no one interrupted on this day. I'd always found it disgusting, but as long as no one tried to inveigle me I went along with the tradition.

We passed through Tessa's office into mine. I sat on the edge of the desk and tried to look seductive. 

"What are the papers," he asked.

That was my cue to turn up the heat, and a bloody awful mess I made of it. Like some third rate actress in a bedroom farce I said, "Roger darling, I thought we might do something more interesting than looking at papers."

"What...?" he gasped.

"You like me, don't you Roger?"

"Yes but..."

"Then come here and find out what I've got for you." God I felt sick.

I grabbed his hand and tried to put it over one of my breasts but he tugged it away.

"What the hell are you doing Jackie? You said..."

Lacking the finesse and experience of some practitioners of this art I lost patience and went into the final scene.

Tearing my blouse open to expose my breasts I started to scream at the top of my lungs, "Help...oh please help...I'm being raped...help me..." God it was like a bloody melodrama.

I saw Roger recoil from me but I followed up, grabbing him, pretending to try and fight him off.

I'd sprung the trap. Whatever was allowed in the offices after the lunch, rape was one thing that would not be accepted. Roger would be out on his ear. My only hope was that no one would suggest I pressed charges against him; I didn't want any questioning by the police. 

It didn't come to that. If there were any charges to be laid it might well have been the other way round. 

Tessa appeared in the door and I yelled, "Tessa, he tried to rape me."

Roger stood aghast, his face ashen.

"I didn't...I didn't..." he gasped.

"No he didn't," Tessa said with a satisfied smirk on her face, "I saw everything that happened. You shouldn't have left the door open."

"You liar," I screamed at her, "he was trying to..."

"No he wasn't, you were trying to make it look as if he was, and that's exactly what I'll tell the partners." 

I was speechless. What I'd thought was my nice neat plan had turned round to bite me simply because that cow Tessa had sneaked up to find out what we were doing.

"It's time you got your comeuppance you cold bitch," she went on. "Nobody here likes you; you strut around as if you own the place giving your orders. You never show any appreciation of anything that's done for you; you look down your nose at the rest of us, and crawl to the partners. I'll be very please to tell them what I seen this afternoon."

Roger seemed to have recovered and took command of the situation. He led Tessa gently by the arm out of my office into hers, closing the door behind them. I staggered to my chair and dropped down into it, weeping. I was horrified at what I had done – or attempted to do. I had wanted to destroy Roger, and all I succeeded in doing was to destroy myself. 


The Runner Tumbles



I wanted oblivion, the day to be wiped from the calendar. I longed to faint just so that I could shut out the reality of my situation, but I wasn't even allowed that solace.

After what seemed like a long time Roger came back into the office. I waited for the explosion, but it didn't come. Instead, speaking very quietly he said, "It's all right Jackie, she won't say anything."

"How...how do you..."

"I promise you Jackie, every thing will be all right. Now, you look terrible, so I think I should take you home."

I had been so distraught that I hadn't even bothered to cover my breasts. He came to me and gently drew the remains of my torn blouse over them.

I couldn't believe it; no anger, no yelling abuse. Foolishly I began. "Don't you want me to tell you...?"

"No, not now, you're too distressed, just let me get you home."

Struggling to pull myself together I said, "I don't live far I can walk." I tried to stand with some rags of dignity only to have my legs fold up under me.

Roger stepped forward to grab me and for a moment I clung to him as the room seemed to spin. 

"Come on Jackie," he said, "let me help you. I've got my car down below and we can take the back way out."

I was in no condition to argue and I even went so far as to let him touch me.

We made our way down in the back lift and out to his car. As we approached one of the staff was also heading for his car. He looked at us curiously, his eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.

"A bit too much to drink," Roger said.

The man laughed and called out, "Happy Christmas."

We drove off and within minutes were at my block of flats. He helped me as far as the lift and asked, "Will you be all right now?"

"Yes," I said, hoping he would not suggest that he come up to the flat with me; he might have decided to take advantage of what must have seemed to be my willing offer.

He didn't suggest coming up, but said, "I don't understand why you did what you did, but if you want to talk about it, then let it wait until after Christmas."

Why the hell didn't he berate me...hit me...anything but this...this acceptance...patience or whatever it was?

Chapter 4. Christmas Eve 2004. 

Now I know.

I left him and entering my flat I burst into tears. Humiliated, filled with self disgust, and fearing that he, Tessa or both of them would after all report to the partners, I hardly slept all night.

That morning, about ten o'clock, a bunch of roses arrived with a note.

"I hope you are feeling better. I'll see you when we get back to work, and don't worry."

That's it, the old trick, he's going to be kind and understanding, heaping coals of fire on me. 

I flung the roses across the room and broke down in tears again. Later I picked the roses up one by one and put them in a vase. 

He had won. 

I was due to drive to my parents to join them for Christmas Day. I telephoned them to say I was suffering from the flue. I can't face anyone, not even myself. 

I don't know how I can go back to the office and face him...or Tessa, the bitch. I thought I would be the powerful one, but instead I had put myself in their power.

Chapter 5. 29th December 2004. 

I'm back at the office today after spending the Christmas break on my own.

I thought Tessa would be all triumphant smirks, but she wasn't there. 

Almost as soon as I got in Mr. Greenbaum called me to his office. I thought this was it. They'd given me away after all; but it wasn't so.

"Jackie," he said, "Tessa has asked for a transfer. It seems she doesn't feel comfortable working for you, so I've put her with Mr. James and you'll have Patricia instead. Is that suitable?"

"Yes, I suppose so, if that's what Tessa wants."

Thank God, I wouldn't have to endure her sneering look of triumph.

"And Jackie," Mr. Greenbaum went on, "try to be...to be...a little less remote with Patricia; do you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I'll try."

So that was it. For whatever reason Tessa couldn't or wouldn't do what I knew she longed to do. Of course Greenbaum would fix things for Tessa the way she wanted, just so long as she "came across." I suppose that comes under the heading of "Office politics."

There weren't many clients; that's usually the case between Christmas and New Year. I expect they're all very busy spending the money I've helped them make. 

I thought Roger would come to my office and at last demand an explanation, but he didn't. 

By early afternoon with no sight of him I couldn't stand it any longer. I would go and face him and try and brazen things out.

I sailed past his secretary and straight into his office. He didn't look surprised.

"Well?" I said in a voice that was a bit more strident than I'd intended.

"Ah, I wondered if you'd want to have a chat, Jackie."

"You've got something you want to say to me?"

"There's something I want to ask you."

"Well ask then."

I sat very upright on the chair, forcing myself to look straight at him. 

"Why are you so unhappy, Jackie?"

"I...I...what...what makes you think I'm unhappy?" (What the hell do I have to do to provoke this guy?).

He sat back looking relaxed.

"An intelligent and attractive woman like you doesn't behave as you did unless she's unhappy about something."

He reminded me of that trauma counsellor in the hospital.

"It must be something about me, Jackie. I must have hurt you in some way, but I don't know how."

He wanted to know so I told him.

"You're trying to manoeuvre me out of this place."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ever since you got here you've been taking over."

"Taking over what?"

"My place, my relationship with the partners."

Even as I said it I could hear how utterly pathetic it sounded.

"I don't understand, Jackie, what I'm doing has very little bearing on your work and relationship with the partners. I'm here to try and expand the base of the business, not to try and take over your place...or your relationship with the partners."

Feeling utterly foolish I tried another tack. 

"Why didn't you report me to the partners, and how did you stop Tessa doing what she was longing to do?"

He laughed gently and said, "Tessa has got too many little secrets of her own she doesn't want brought out. I just reminded her of that.

"You know about her and Mr. Greenbaum?"

He laughed again and said, "Come on Jackie, everyone knows about her and Greenbaum, but what they don't know, and what Mr. Greenbaum doesn't know, is about Tessa and Mr. Norris. I wonder how long Tessa would last if Greenbaum and Norris knew they were sharing her?

"How do you know...how did you find out about...?" 

"When I first came here, as you know, I had to collect a lot of data and information. I was coming to see you in your office one morning. Tessa wasn't in her office so I knocked on your door. I didn't get an answer so I just looked in. You must have been out. Tessa and Norris were using your office, and it doesn't take much to work out what's going on when you see two people, one trying to pull his trousers up and the other her knickers."

"She was what," I gasped, "in my office...?" I knew exactly the day he meant. Greenbaum had sent me to see a crippled client who couldn't make it to the office.

"Afraid so, Jackie. Look, what Norris and Tessa do is up to them. Greenbaum and Norris employ her and if they think its worth paying her while she's not actually working – well I suppose in a way she was working - and she's happy to secure her job that way, who am I to complain?"

"So you blackmailed her to stay silent."

"Not really, I simply told her that we all have times when we do odd...irrational things, and she got the message."

"But why did you stop her, I was doing the best I could to compromise you...would have got you chucked out, and you've done nothing...you...you even sent me flowers."

If you're unhappy...hurting over something, why should I go out of my way to make it worse?

"But you heard what Tessa said about me. Nobody here likes me, I'm just a good profit maker, and the rest of the staff would be only too pleased to see the back of me."

"Yes, and leave you feeling more bitter and hurt than ever."

"Why should you care?"

Strangely that seemed to have him puzzled.

"Do you know, Jackie, I don't really understand why. I've never stopped to ask myself that question. Perhaps I just don't like to see a bad situation made worse; especially if I can do something to help make it better."

Out it came unbidden; "You can't make me better."

He looked at me thoughtfully for a few moments then said, "No, I don't suppose I can, especially as I don't know where your hurt is coming from, but in the end we all have to heal ourselves. Others might be there to help, to listen, but healing comes from within us."

I knew he was right. Mummy and daddy had been there for me; they had helped me part of the way, but obviously not all the way.

"What are you doing on New Year's Eve?" he asked.

"Nothing, I never do anything; I don't like crowds and don't much care for parties."

"No, crowds and parties are pretty mindless, so why don't you let me take you out for dinner; we don't have to stay out until all the noise and nonsense starts."

Ah, so that was it. This was his way of trying to get into my knickers. I played it very carefully in case he changed his mind and reported me.

"That's very nice of you Roger, but you see, I prefer to be on my own New Year's Eve."

He smiled and said, "All right Jackie, I just thought you might like an evening out."

Chapter 5. 30th December 2004. 

After I left Roger I couldn't get his invitation out of my mind. A woman who had tried so hard to bring him into disrepute, and he sent me roses and invited me out to dinner!

"There has to be a trick in this somewhere, something devious, but what?" I thought.

I heard the office people talking about their plans for New Year's Eve. Patricia my new secretary, who is quite sweet and nothing like that sex hungry bitch Tessa, asked me what I was doing.

Normally I would have told her what I had told Roger, "Nothing," and said it in such a way as to close the subject. Instead I replied, "I've not really made up my mind yet." I even went on the ask her, "And what will you be doing?"

"My boy friend and I are going to his married sister's place for the evening," she replied.

Her words, simple and unaffected as they were, had a profound effect on me. I suddenly felt the yawning emptiness inside me. So many people would be with someone on New Years Eve, but I would be alone. I knew that there would be many people who would be alone and I wondered if they feel the same emptiness.

Suddenly I didn't want to be on my own and I had been given the opportunity not to be. I realised that nobody had ever asked me to be with them before, except mummy and daddy, and now an invitation had been made, and that from a man I had tried to destroy.

The thought of being on my own gnawed away at me; for once I didn't want to be on my own. I thought about going to be with mummy and daddy, but it was too long a drive for such a short time. By mid afternoon I could stand it no longer. I'd had an invitation, and despite the fact that it might mean he would try something on with me, I rang Roger on the in-house telephone.

"Roger, is that invitation for dinner still open?"

"Yes, of course; you've changed your mind?"

"Yes, if that's all right."

"Where would you like to go?"

There followed arrangements – time and place, and just as we were about to ring off he said, "Thank you Jackie."

I wanted to ask him what the hell he was thanking me for, but he had rung off.

Once I'd made the arrangement I started to regret it. If it had been with a woman – just so long as I was sure she didn't want me in her bed – it would have made sense; but to be going out with a man? God help me, I hope he keeps his hands to himself.

Chapter 6. 31st December 2004 to 1st January 2005. 

I went to dinner with Roger. I could hardly believe that I'd agreed to go with him. It was amazing, my first date ever with a man and I was twenty nine – nearly thirty. Other women I knew had started dating when they were sixteen!

All day I was in a highly nervous state. He had to want something, but what? I had let him touch me on that terrible day of the Christmas lunch, but then I was feeling too ill to protest. I determined that if he tried to touch me during the evening I would walk out on him.

I couldn't understand why he wanted me to have dinner with him after what I tried to do. I started to wonder if he was some sort of religious nutter who was playing Jesus Christ to my fallen woman; showing how forgiving he could be. 

I even caught myself making a special effort, trying on various items of clothing. I settled for a pant suit because this offered a bit more protection than a dress or skirt; besides, it was dark green and I always think that colour goes well with my auburn hair.

I made sure I wore bras that gave the least emphasis to my breasts because I know that breasts can turn a man into a ravening sexual beast. I never wear much makeup and for the dinner I made sure I wore none at all, or any perfume; there was no point in courting trouble. 

He was due to pick me up at seven and he was there at the door of my flat at five minutes to seven. I was ready so I didn't need to ask him in.

We walked to the lift and went down and to the car, I making sure I kept some space between us. 

He had chosen a small restaurant up in the hills. It occurred to me that on the way back he might be planning to detour on to one of the lonely hill roads and try to get me into the back seat. "What the hell have I got myself into," I thought.

It was fortunate that Roger had made a booking because all the tables in the restaurant were taken. It was a small place and there weren't many tables and so not many people. The waiter showed us to our table and presented us with a wine list. I felt a bit doubtful about this because I knew what alcohol can do to men. Nevertheless when Roger suggested Shiraz I agreed. I decided that I would drink very little so that I could keep my head. 

I have to admit it was a pleasant evening. Roger brought the conversation round to his parents and mine, and we talked about out childhoods, but of course, I said nothing about the horrific fog episode, and nothing further was said about that ghastly incident in my office.

I had grown used to deterring people who showed an interest in me and my life, but somehow Roger drew me out. He was gentle and managed to inspire confidence, even in me. Once he got me talking about myself, my family and life, I didn't want to stop. It was strange for even as I prattled on I wondered why. 

At one point I happened to mention how I liked to walk in the city gardens and he said, "New years Day tomorrow, could we walk together," and damn it I agreed.

We stayed longer at the restaurant than I had intended, but the time seemed to pass unnoticed. When we left the restaurant he didn't head for one of the back roads but as we approached the point where the road dropped down into the city he pulled the car over and stopped.

I was immediately on my guard. Was he going to attempt something even here with passing traffic?

"If we wait for a while we shall see the fireworks display over the city," he said; and that's exactly what we did. 

When the display was over we drove down into the city where revellers were still thronging in the streets, noisy, many of them drunk, and all no doubt hoping for a better year than the one they had just experienced, and probably full of good resolutions that would last for a few days. 

He again came as far as the lift with me and said, "Thank you for spending the evening with me, Jackie, if I call for you tomorrow we can walk to the gardens from here, is that all right."

"Yes," I said, "and thank you Roger."

Now I'm confused. I enjoyed yesterday evening so much, and when I got back here to my flat I suddenly realised how alone I had been all these years. I felt as if I didn't want to be alone again. I had a bit of a cry; I don't know why.

As the time came for him to arrive I was feeling nervous and uncertain again. It was a warm day and not one for wearing pant suits. He didn't touch me last night so I decided to risk a skirt and shirt; I thought should be safe because on New Year's Day there would be lots of people walking around or picnicking in the gardens.

I liked him; I knew I shouldn't, but he was so warm. As nervous and uncertain as I was, I wanted to see him, to be with him. 

Why was I breaking all my rules about relationships with men?

Suppose he did touch me, would I mind? If he held my hand would I repel him? I don't know. God I was behaving like a moonstruck teenager. 

He's arrived and I was trembling. What was the matter with me?

Chapter 7. 2nd January 2005. 

When I answered the door he looked at me and said, "That looks very attractive, Jackie."

I felt my face starting to flush and I wanted to make some barbed response as I usually do when men pay me a compliment. The words almost came out, but before they were spoken I looked at him; he was smiling, there was almost something boyish about him and he was happy. He was happy and it must have been because he was to be with me, and I couldn't take that smile away from him.

We walked through the city. It was Sunday and it was quiet. Only when we got to the gardens did we see the people starting to arrive to enjoy the day. Families; young couples walking with their arms round each other; people walking their dogs; elderly people sitting on the seats charring or gazing out over Torrens Lake; people in little paddle boats, and for once I really felt part of it.

A young couple standing by the equestrian statue of George the 5th were in each other's arms kissing. 

Roger glanced at them and said, "Those two look as if they're in love."

Until a couple of days before I would have found the sight of the couple kissing and embracing – and in public – nauseating. Why did I now feel tenderness for them, those two lost in each other, their bodies pressed close together as if they were one?

That had never – could never – happen to me. I was apart from that world where people loved like that; but then, it couldn't be love, it was lust. 

I glanced again at them. The girl was whispering something to the boy. I wondered what it was. What did couples say to each other in those circumstances?

I looked quickly at Roger. What would it be like, how would I feel if he took me in his arms and kissed me, held me close, what would I whisper?

He broke into my reverie.

"Shall we go as far as the Botanic Gardens; they should look beautiful just now?"

"Yes...yes, that would be good."

We wandered among the shrubs, flower beds and giant trees. Everywhere there seemed to be families, and as if to mock me, more young couples, hand in hand, arms round each other. The world suddenly seemed to have become lovesick. 

We lunched at the Botanic Restaurant. We had spoken little during our wandering but now Roger began as he had during the evening we spent together at Christmas. His subject was music.

"Do you like music?" he asked.

"I...I...don't have much time for music," I replied.

It was true. My life had been almost totally focused on my work, getting on and upward. That was me; that was my life. I had no time for such superficial things as music, the arts or even sport. 

"Would you make time and come with me to a concert?" he asked.

"I don't...I don't think...I..."

"I really would enjoy your company, Jackie."

Why, why would he enjoy my company? What could he possibly be getting out of being with me, a near silent companion; someone who would never let him get near her – not like those couples wandering around embracing?




The Runner Tumbles



A suspicion flashed across my mind. "He's gay and pretending not to be. He thinks I might be a safe companion, one who would not challenge his sexuality."

In that case I was safe too, so why not go with him to the concert, it might prove entertaining, and wasn't it time I did something more with my life other than work, go back to the flat, and visit my parents occasionally?

A friendly but harmless escort; one who would not seek anything more than a sexually neutral companionship; yes, that could prove to be pleasant.

"When is the concert, Roger?"

"Friday the twenty first of January. You will come with me?"

I glanced at him, and there was that look of boyish eagerness again.

"Yes, thank you Roger, I'd like to."

"Wonderful, shall we wander back to your flat now?"

What did he mean, "Wander back to my flat"? Did he think I would let him in? Gay or not I had always vowed that no man would ever step inside.

I needn't have worried. Again he made no attempt to get beyond the lift. 

"I'll let you know the details when I've booked the seats," he said.

He stood there as the lift door closed and I felt a tug of regret that I was parting from him. I might ask myself what was happening to me, but even then I knew but wouldn't admit it. Roger had touched something deep within me, something hidden and denied. A man of such immense ability in the complex world of business, but of such simplicity in his relationship with me.

I think that day must have been the happiest I'd known since the night of the fog. Even my triumphs in business didn't seem to match the pleasures of that day.

So little said; such companionable silences; I had even enjoyed the people around us – yes, even the embracing, hand holding couples. It was as if a ray of light had entered into my dark world.

Chapter 8. 22nd January 2005. 

We went to the concert last night. It was in the town hall which is only a few minutes walk from my flat. 

The music was vaguely familiar; perhaps I'd heard it in odd snatches over the years, but it was somehow different with the conductor waving his little stick and watching the instrumentalists seeming to concentrate so fiercely on what they were doing.

Then there was the audience, so enthusiastic, and Roger sitting beside me.

It had been strange in the time after our walk in the gardens. It was as if Roger had lost interest in me. Apart from telling me of the arrangements for the concert our contact had been only on the business plane. He was not unfriendly, but whenever we were together he seemed absorbed in our discussions about the firm.

I had thought after the night of the fog that no man could ever hurt me again, but I felt some resentment that Roger seemed to have become remote. There were no more suggestions of walks or dinners together, and I began to wonder if he had changed his mind about our going to the concert together. 

A number of times I was close to asking him if something was the matter, but I still had that pride that would not let me, as I saw it, demean myself in that way.

The suspicion arose that because I hadn't, to quote Mr. Greenbaum, "Come cross," Roger had decided I wasn't worth pursuing. But again, he had made no approach that indicated that he wanted me to.

I was struck by another thought; did he think because of my blatant and appalling behaviour in my office that I would repeat the offer I made then – or the one he thought I had made? God, was that insane afternoon going to haunt me as well as the night of the fog?

But it wasn't that horrible night that haunted my dreams; it was another afternoon, the afternoon when we walked so at peace in the gardens; the afternoon when people were no longer passing shadows, but had taken on a new dimension; a human dimension.

After the concert we stopped off at a small café for a cup of coffee; there and during the brief walk to my flat we talked of the music and the standard of performance.

Roger's remoteness had gone and we seemed to be back to where we were during our other outings. I wanted us to talk about us, about our relationship, but didn't know how to start. It was only as we arrived at the block of flats that I did something I thought I would never do.

"Roger, would you come for a walk with me tomorrow?"

The words were out; how I had managed to speak them I'll never know; me asking a man for a date. 

With a smile and what sounded like enthusiasm he said, "I'd love to, where shall we go?"

"If we drive further down river towards the coast we can go and look at the wetlands they've been developing."

"Great, what time?"

"Say, about nine o'clock."

"I'll pick you up."

"No, I'll drive," I said. "I know where we need to park." That was really a flimsy excuse to show off my Porsche which hadn't been doing much work lately. Of course I should have suggested a run out to the hills and beyond, then I could really have shown him what the Porsche could do. "That could come later," I thought.

"Perhaps we could have dinner together tomorrow?" he said.

I felt a lovely tingled run up my spine. He did want to be my friend; he wasn't rejecting me.

For a moment at the lift he looked as if he wanted to shake hands with me, but then seemed to change his mind and said, "Goodnight Jackie, it's been a lovely evening."

"Goodnight Roger; and thank you."

The lift doors closed.

Chapter 8. Wetlands and Dinner, 23rd January 2005. 

We went to the wetlands yesterday. I parked the car in a street near the river and we walked. Since they established the wetlands the native ducks, wood ducks, coots, moorhens and even the Lesser Grebe have returned to this part of the river. The place seemed alive with then. 

I had to admit to myself that I was revelling in Roger's company. He was so easy to be with; when I wanted to be silent he seemed to know it, and didn't chatter on. When I wanted to talk he listened to me carefully – at times I thought too carefully.

Have you ever noticed how everybody seems to want to get their word in, and never listen to what you have to say? Then one day you notice that someone is actually listening to you and that can be a trifle alarming because you suddenly become aware of what you are saying.

That's how it was with Roger, but after the first feeling of discomfort at his undivided attention to me, I actually got to like it. Someone apart from my parents actually wanted to know about me; how I thought, what I liked and disliked. 

It seemed that was how he wanted it to be. There were moments when I wanted him to talk about him self, but if I started to question him the talk always seemed to come back to me.

We got to the bridge where we were to turn round and go back down the other side of the river. For a while we sat on a bench, just looking. There were not many people around and it was very peaceful. 

Despite my doubts about Roger when he had seemed remote, whenever we had gone out together he had shown his pleasure at being with me. I wanted to express my appreciation of this and give him some idea of how I was feeling. I knew that even a short while ago it was unimaginable that I would say what I now said, but somehow Roger had freed me to say it.

"Roger, I do like being with you." 

"And I with you, Jackie," he replied.

It was said, but I couldn't leave it at that. There was something I had to know; something I had to say, if I could, to finally clear the air.

"Roger, I don't understand why you like being with me after the terrible thing I tried to do to you."

"I thought we'd left that behind," he said, smiling at me.

The way he said it made me want to cry, and something seemed to be welling up inside me; all the poison that was inside me seemed to be struggling to get out.

"Roger, I gave you reasons why I did what I did..."

"Yes?"

"But there were...are other things."

"That's what I thought."

"I can't talk about it...perhaps I'll never be able to talk about it; but if sometimes I seem...oh I don't know...if I hurt you in some way...if you could understand...if you would still be my friend."

He took my hand and I didn't withdraw it. I wanted to him to touch me, to let me feel his warmth and the strength that lay behind his gentleness. 

"You need never doubt I'm your friend, Jackie."

I had let my hand lie placidly in his, but when after a few minutes of silence he said, "Shall we go back now," I closed my fingers over his hand, signalling that I wanted him to go on holding it.

As we walked along hand in hand I knew I was behaving like a silly teenager, but I wanted to behave like one. I wanted to feel what I had never experienced as a teenager. I couldn't give it a name, but I didn't want to give it one. What I wanted was to know that someone liked me – was my friend – had...what...affection for me?

More people were using the path now, some of them looking at this hand holding couple who should probably be past all that, and grinning knowingly. I didn't want their knowing looks; I wanted Roger to myself, so when he said, "Shall we find somewhere to have lunch, " I replied, "Would you like to come back to my flat and I'll make lunch for us?"

I knew I was breaking my long held rule about no men; I knew I was taking a risk; but I wanted so badly to have Roger to myself, even for a little while.

We drove back to the flats, and this time there was no parting at the lift. Once inside the flat doubts arose. I was trembling slightly, wondering if he would take this invitation to be opening for something more than friendship.

I waited anxiously for any sign that he was about to make a move. He made none. 

Perversely I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me or if my conjecture about him being gay was correct. I now knew clearly that he liked me...was attracted to me, so why did he not show that interest in me that can be politely called, "physical?"

"For God's sake, Jackie," I told myself, "you don't want him to get physical with you and he isn't, so be content."

After we had eaten we sat in the lounge talking about our walk along the wetlands and what we might do on other occasions. There was something I was curious about, and since I'd opened up to him and we'd talked about friendship, I thought it safe to ask the question.

"Roger, for a couple of weeks after the time we went for a walk in the garden, you seemed to become withdrawn, as if you didn't want to talk to me beyond business matters. Where you regretting our time together...wondering if you still wanted me to go to the concert with you?" 

He laughed lightly and said, "Jackie, the reverse was true. I'd enjoyed your company a couple of times, and wanted to give you time to think about whether you'd enjoyed mine; whether you really wanted to be with me again."

"Oh."

"And it worked, didn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"After the concert you asked me to walk with you today; that was a good indication that you'd made up your mind about me."

"You brute," I said laughing, "You had me worried sick that you didn't like me any more."

"Well now we both know, don't we?"

"What?"

"We like each other. Look I really must be going, I'll have to shower and change for this evening."

I didn't want him to go, and even thought of saying, "Don't let's go to the restaurant, I'll make dinner here, but since he'd booked the table I thought better of it."

It was my turn to see him into the lift, and just as the doors were closing I spoke from my heart.

"You're a lovely man, Roger."

Then the doors closed and the lift descended.

I went back into the flat with some silly tuneless song ringing in my head; "I have a friend...I have a friend...he likes me...he wants to be with me...a lovely friend..."

All through my shower and dressing the words rang in my head. In my man repelling days I thought I was being strong; now in my happiness at having a man...having Roger as my friend, I felt truly strong. If he was gay it didn't matter; all that mattered was that he was my friend.

He arrived once more five minute before time; I would have had no hesitation about asking him in, but since I was ready we set off straightaway. 

This time he had chosen a restaurant in the city. It was as if any restraints between us had finally vanished; we spoke freely about the things we would do together, the concerts, theatres, films walks and drives. 

Towards the end of the evening a more solemn note entered our conversation. It was Roger who introduced it.

"Jackie, about the office."

"Don't let's talk about that, Roger."

"I think we must, Jackie. I mean...you know what office gossip is like. If they see us being too friendly you know what will happen."

"Yes...yes I know."

"So while we're around the office I think we should play it low key; you know just business and all that."

He laughed and said, "And don't start thinking I've gone off you."

I sighed and said, "I suppose you're right, we don't want them to think there's anything going on between us." I almost added, "I don't want to compromise you." But decided that was best left unsaid. 

Chapter 9. The Year 2005. 

Looking back at the year I think it might be called, "My Golden Year." 

It was the year when Roger and I spent increasing amounts of time together, the year in which I was transformed. 

Of course we couldn't keep our friendship hidden from the office people for ever, especially after we met up the Patricia and her by then fiancée in a restaurant. Thank God it wasn't Tessa. The next morning when I got into the office it was to be greeted by Patricia with the words, "Isn't he lovely Jackie, you are lucky; I only had to look at him to see what he feels about you. Do you love him as well?"

That shook me up a bit. The word "love" hadn't come into our conversations. "Friendship," "Liking," "Companionship," yes, but love?

"Patricia dear," I said, "we're just good friends, we like each other's company."

"If you say so, Jackie, but from the way he looked at you...well." 

The matter wasn't mentioned again between us, but it didn't stop me thinking about it. 

Did Roger love me? I still didn't know if he was gay or not, but there was also the question of whether I loved him. Had love crept up insidiously without my knowing what it was?

It was after Patricia had talked of love that something disquieting began to take effect in me.

To put it as plainly as I can; after that night in the fog I had come to see sexual contact as revolting; as I have said elsewhere, I knew that others did not view it like that, but that's how it was for me. 

After the first time Roger and I held hands I came to accept that this was okay - this is terrible, I'm making myself sound like some nineteenth century parson's daughter; but that was how it was. 

Seeing Roger frequently, being alone with him in my flat, and on occasion in his, then the mention of love, another new experience came into my life.

I'm prevaricating, I know I am, but understand how difficult it is for me. What seemed to take place as a matter of course with other girls and women had never happened to me, not until that night in my flat. 

I became aware of increasingly strong feelings in Roger's presence that disquieted me, and they came even when he was not present. An ache in the pit of my stomach; a ticking sensation in my sex organ; a growing wetness at the top of my thighs and my nipples hardening; I had not known these sensations before.

Even I could not hide from myself what was happening; I was getting sexually aroused and both loving it and hating it. Loving it because I knew that this was the preparation for something wonderful to happen; hating it because I knew no way of dispersing the frustration I felt.

I know this sounds pathetic, but I was so sexually naïve that I didn't even know about masturbation then.

To make matters worse I wasn't sure how Roger felt. Had I known more I might have been able to read the signs, but I didn't know.

I think it was in July of that year that things came to a head. Roger and I had come back from the theatre after seeing a somewhat salacious play. By then it was common practice for Roger to come up to my flat for half an hour for a drink before we parted. 

This night I was in a hell of a state. I found it hard to keep still and stop myself from trembling. My inner thighs were soaked and uncomfortable.

I tried hard to sound calm as I asked Roger, "Do you like me?"

He looked at me curiously before replying, "You know I do, I've told you so often enough."

"Yes...yes...but do you find me...find me physically attractive?"

I knew I was humiliating myself but I was past caring.

"Yes, I've always found you physically attractive, Jackie." 

He spoke quietly as he often did, but for once his calmness infuriated me. Letting go of the last shreds of my dignity I screamed at him, "Then why the bloody hell have you never touched me, what's wrong with me? You say you find me physically attractive, so what is it?"

He didn't lose that monumental calm as he said, "It's you, Jackie."

"Yes, I damned well know it me, but what about me? I can't go on like this, it...it hurts too much."

I had been standing while I yelled at him. He rose and came to me and for the first time put his arms round me. That did it; I broke down completely and just sagged against him.

"What is it...what is it...?" I wailed, "I don't understand what's happening to me and I don't understand you; you tell me there's something wrong with me but you don't say what it is and that's cruel...why are you being cruel to me?"

For a few moments he continued to hold me, saying nothing, then very softly he said, "It had to be like this, Jackie."

"Like what...you're not making sense...tell me..."

"You had to come to me."

"What...why...we've often been together, so why...?"

He led me to the divan and together we sat his arm still round me.

"I love you very much Jackie," he said, "and I've been hoping and waiting for this moment. I couldn't do anything until I was sure."

"Sure of what?"

"That you were ready; that whatever it was that's made you so wary of men, of me..."

"But I've not been wary of you, I..."

"Oh yes you have Jackie. Right from the start I could see it...see it in your eyes, in your body language, how you related to the people around you as well as me, and as I got to know you, the lonely life you've led. You've been successful in so much, my love, except in one truly important thing."

"And what's that?" I sobbed.

"Your relationships with people, men especially; everything about you told me that you have been deeply hurt."

He gave a laugh that sounded a little sad. "Do you know, that afternoon of the Christmas lunch I..."

"Don't...don't...please don't talk about that, I..."

He kissed my forehead and went on, "It's all right my love, and I was only going to say that if I hadn't understood...if I hadn't known how you were about men, I might have taken up your offer."

"You would have?"

"Yes, so that doesn't make me very nice, does it? But I knew there had to be something more to that offer than a desire for me. You were playing some game that I didn't understand until it all fell apart."

"And you still liked me?"

"Enough to know you better...enough to be prepared to wait for this moment. So you see you had to come to me; I had to be sure or I might have ruined our relationship, and it has become too precious for me to do anything that might wreck it."

"You know what I'm feeling...you understand...I'm not cheap am I, feeling like this?"

"If I did think you cheap, then I'd have to think the same about myself."

He laughed again and continued, "No my, love, if you really want to know, you've been very hard to win."





The Runner Tumbles



I lay in his arms for what seemed a long time, waiting for him to go on speaking, but he remained silent, occasionally kissing my hair and eyes. Did he know what he was doing to me, how he was making me feel worse than ever?

I couldn't stand it and I cried out, "Roger, I don't know what to do; if you love me then help me."

"Here or in the bedroom," he asked.

"Here...here," I moaned, "I need you so badly."

I felt his hand reach up behind me and start to pull down the zip of my dress. I think it was then that I realised the full implication of what was about to happen. A vision of that night in the fog arose, the fear, the violence and the pain. 

"You will be gentle with me, won't you? They hurt me so badly."

"I'll be very gentle, my love, and if I do anything that hurts, tell me and I'll stop."

He rose to his feet and drew me up with him. My dress slithered down my body to spread round my feet.

I felt so shy I couldn't look at him. As he removed my bras he said, "You have lovely breasts, darling, I knew you would."

He pulled down my panties, and then stood back from a little. "You really are beautiful, Jackie," he said, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment."

He undressed himself and for the first time I saw a naked man. 

I wondered why he was taking so long. Those men in the fog had taken no time at all to rape me. It was only afterwards that I understood that Roger loved me and wanted to enjoy just looking at me...touching me. 

His hands reached up to cover my breasts, touching them as if they were something precious. He bent to kiss my nipples, and then drawing me close kissed my mouth. It was a kiss like I had never experienced before and I didn't know how to respond.

His tongue ran over my lips as if moistening them and I pulled myself closer to him as if by some inherent instinct. Then he started to use his tongue to part my lips. I opened my mouth for him and his tongue entered, pressing, searching.

I hadn't been able to bring myself to look at his penis, but I could feel it, pressed hard against my lower abdomen. 

He stopped kissing me and gently drew me down onto the divan, laying me on my back, and parting my legs. For a few moments I felt his fingers exploring my genitals, and then he came between my legs. There were a few moments of hesitation as he seemed to be trying to find the opening to my vagina, and then he was penetrating me.

Any remaining doubts I might have had, fled. I now knew the difference between sex taken in violence and sex taken in love. It was the difference between ugliness and beauty; between being violated and being loved; between hell and heaven.

He didn't move like those fog men had, quickly and fiercely, He was slow at first, moving back and forth in me. What until so recently I had thought disgusting, now became a wonder to me. 

The physical union gave me a feeling of belonging. It was right that we should be together like this, and I whispered, "I love you Roger...I love you...it's so beautiful." 

His lips were close to my ear and he whispered back, "It is love and you that makes it beautiful."

I thought I had been translated to heaven as he started to move more quickly and strongly in me. His hands came under my buttocks, raising me so I could feel him penetrating more deeply.

Then it began; bewildering, frightening; at first only a little shock like a mild electric jolt. But it increased, the jolts becoming ever more frequent and violent. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I feared it and the pain it would bring.

I began t struggle in Roger's embrace, crying out, "No...no darling...stop...it's going to hurt me...please stop...I don't want...oh my God..."

It was too late. Roger didn't stop as he said he would. The agony overwhelmed me and I wanted it. It was pain and pleasure drawing me upwards through a welter of flashing coloured lights into another realm, possessing me, controlling me. 

A voice was screaming, "Yes...oh my darling yes...don't stop...don't stop..." 

Someone was weeping and I felt as if from a long way off something thumping into me...something I wanted so dearly.

A voice was saying, "I love you...I love you..."

Slowly the wonder passed. There were more little jolts but of ever diminishing power, until I came out to a calm and lovely world. 

Roger was still with me, seemingly unwilling to withdraw from me.

"What did you do to me, my darling, what have you done?" I asked, as a sobbed in his embrace. 

"I've shown you how much I love you, my darling, and you've had an orgasm."

I twined my arms round his neck and said, "You're a brute, a callous brute. You said you'd stop if you were hurting me, and you didn't, thank God."

He laughed, but then became serious.

"Can you tell me who it was who hurt you so badly?"

I hesitated, but I knew that nothing less than the truth between us would serve. This wasn't the night of the fog; this was something that had a future, and there could be no secrets between us. If in telling him he found me undesirable; a raped, a despoiled woman, then so it must be, but there must be nothing hidden to always stand between us.

"I can tell you if you just sit beside me and hold my hand," I said. 

He withdrew from me, and sitting beside me took my hand.

"If, after what I'm going to tell you, you find you don't love me then I shall understand," I said.

"There's nothing you can tell me that will stop me loving you," he replied.

So I told him of that night on the cliffs in the fog.

I waited to see how he would respond. He did not let go of my hand and I thought I saw the shimmer of tears in his eyes as he said, "You've been very brave."

"Brave?"

"Yes, brave. You've let me be with you like this tonight after all that was done to you, that is brave."

"But I love you, Roger."

I didn't need to ask if he still loved me, I could see it in his eyes and the way he touched me.

Then he took me completely by surprise.

"Next weekend, will you come and meet my parents?"

"Yes, but...but why?"

"I want them to see what a lovely bride I've won."

"Bride, but..."

"Jackie my love, I've had affairs; they've been light and without much meaning, but with you it's different."

"How different?"

"From the time I set out to conquer you I had only one thought in mind. I would never have made love with you if I hadn't intended it to be more than a one night stand."

"You've taken a lot for granted," I admonished him, "but yes, I'll meet your parents, but on one condition."

"What's that?" 

"You meet mine the following weekend."

I was still trying to wrestle with my sobs and I think Roger was near to tears, but we both managed a shaky laugh.

"Do you think," he asked, "that I should ask you to marry me now?"

Thoughtfully I said, "I don't think that either of us were protected against me getting pregnant, so yes, you'd better ask me. Then on second thoughts don't bother because the answer will be yes, anyway."

"Does that mean I'm invited to stay the night with you?"

"Yes, just so long as you don't stop when I tell you to."

Chapter 10. The Year 2006. 

I'm expecting our first child in February. The experts tell us it's a boy. We're still arguing about names.

After our first night together I woke up to a new world. It was work the next day, and I discovered I liked, even loved people – even the lascivious Misters Greenbaum and Norris. 

Roger's love had given me new hope for the world, but I suppose that loving and being loved has that effect.

We got married in September 2005 – not a fashionable month for weddings in Australia, but who cares. I know I love and am loved and in the end, and despite all the cynicism about love, that's what really matters.

At the beginning of January I put in my resignation from the firm. Until I can be sure I can safely go back to work, Greenbaum and Norris, or whoever I work for, can do without my profit making abilities. There are more important things, you know.

Roger had suggested that we might produce more children, and with our combined ardour, who knows when I shall be getting back to work?

I think I shall start running again after I've recovered from the birth, but not when there is any fog around.