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The Touch Ch. 32

WARNING TO READERS - This is a long, rambling, multi-part story and VERY British. The individual chapters will make more sense if read in sequence.

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Chapter 32: The Only One

The next week seemed to fly past very quickly. The weather had changed again on Sunday and was cool and wet with strong winds and stayed like that for most of the week which made progressing the outside contract work difficult, although Colin and I went out to Craven Manor for a couple of hours both Monday and Tuesday in the late afternoon when the rain eased and planted out the rhododendron bushes and tea roses at the front of the house. I did not see Georgia, she was probably at her London office and we were gone before she got home.

Mostly we all spent time at the garden centre, there were plenty of jobs that each of us could find to do. Emma divided her time between training the new office girl Tayler and making sure that the rest of us completed the multitude of small tasks that she set us from helping Jack in the greenhouses to re-arranging the displays or making small local deliveries or pick-ups.

The general office was quite large and so Steve and I had put another desk and telephone in for Tayler. They seemed to get on well together and so I think that Emma was quite pleased to have the company; if there was a lot of outside work on she was often stuck with long hours on her own in the office. Having another person also relieved the pressure on Maggie and I over covering Emma's days off and holidays.

I was really pleased we had acquired somebody as experienced as Tayler because I had not been looking forward to having to spend nearly a fortnight doing the daily books, the payroll for the casual workers and cover the telephone whilst Maggie and Emma were away in France with the twins. Maggie and Emma had trained me in handling the admin work and I was comfortable in my ability to do all those tasks; but given an option I would probably choose to be working outside in the rain on a cold day in leaky boots, over sitting in a nice warm office doing the payroll.

Not being able to get out also gave Maggie and I the time to shut ourselves in our own office to discuss the progress of the work in hand and plan for the projects that were yet to be started.

There were usually about half a dozen smaller gardening jobs on the books any given week, but we also had the ongoing make-over and maintenance projects at The Cedars, Craven Manor and a newly acquired grounds maintenance contract at the Wilton Carpets factory just outside the city which was due to start in September.

There were also the three new major projects not yet in progress. Two were very similar, Shelby House and The Old Rectory Restaurant, a three month undertaking, due to start in July, which Maggie had quoted for earlier in the year and had now been accepted. It was a small hotel to the north west of Salisbury near Warminster that had changed hands several times and seriously needed the garden areas refurbished if the new owners were to make a success of the venture. The real pain in the arse job was going to be Caroline's roof garden project as it would involve one or more of us either commuting to London for several weeks or staying over but I had already told her that it was unlikely we would be able to start the job for at least a month.

The prospective addition of Basil Day to Jack's growing team would bring them up to strength in September and would give us an incredibly strong and skilled nursery team when it was needed in the autumn and spring.

There was now a whole clutch of students working part time and during 'tween-term holidays as general help and sales assistants. Kitty and Emma had ruthlessly assessed the current batch of students doing the horticulture course at the college, ambushed them in the college canteen, and had enlisted the cream of the crop, plus it was possible that Joanna and Debbie would be back during their University summer recess; but we were desperately short of one, perhaps two experienced gardeners to help with the outside contracts; we would be seriously shorthanded if any more work came in. We were all more than willing to take trainees out on landscaping job, it was valuable training for them and an investment in the future of British gardening, but we were short of knowledgeable supervisors.

At least we now had the key summer holidays settled. Maggie and Emma were having time off to go back to France with the twins in May; Colin had booked a fortnight off in June and Gwen and I had arranged to have a couple of weeks sailing in Cornwall in July. I had also promised Kitty six weeks leave to go to Australia at the end of September.

Emma had placed a couple of advertisements in the local press for experienced gardeners and we had received a multitude of replies already, it did look as though we were gaining the reputation of being a good employer to work for. She had been through all of the applications and CVs with Maggie and me and we had selected eight of the most promising candidates to interview later in the week.

The first floor of the old farmhouse which was now the garden centre admin building and gift shop, had been converted into two large offices and there was a smaller room at one end which had a new large picture window and had been fitted out as a design studio for Maggie and I with a couple of drawing boards and a plan table. There were three smaller attic rooms above which would have made a really nice little flat but were used at present for storage.

The office that Maggie and I shared was comfortable and roomy and Maggie had bought a multi-part sofa unit for one end which could be broken into individual chairs for client conferences or staff interviews, but we normally left the unit in a L-shape with the large occasional table in front. It was comfortable and convenient if we wanted to sit side by side and spread out documents or plans to work on together.

The added bonus was that I got to sit very close to Maggie, our thighs and knees constantly touching and my head filled with the faint herbal essence of her shampoo. The disadvantage was that whilst I could revel in her nearness without being unduly distracted from my work most of the time, it did sometimes have a physical effect and I often left the room seriously horny and searching for a novel way to conceal my uncontrollable erections. If Maggie noticed the effect she had on me she never showed any sign of embarrassment... although it was probably hard to miss, but neither did she try to avoid tactile contact with me. I guess that after our nude swim a few nights previous there really was no point in false coyness, there wasn't anything she hadn't seen already.

We did get a lot of work done but we always had fun, we laughed and teased each other and I think that sometimes Maggie enjoyed my company almost as much as I revelled in hers. They were happy hours for me; just being with Maggie was a real dividend.

Tuesday afternoon I received a telephone call from Caroline explaining that she might not be able to make our meeting on Wednesday in London to look at her proposed roof garden as it was possible that she would need to fly to New York on business earlier than she had expected.

"It's OK," I told her, "It can't be helped, and we can just do it some other time."

"Oh no, you are not wriggling off the hook that easily," she laughed. "There is no reason that you cannot go to the flat and take a look for yourself and then come up with some ideas to show me; I would like your friend Rebecca to do me some more watercolour impressions as well... I will arrange for my 'daily' to be there all morning to let you in and show you around."

"If you really are sure that you don't need to be there....?"

"It's you who needs to see the place and come up with some ideas. I really, really would like to have it presentable by the end of August..." she wheedled. "I want to use it for my birthday party and you will definitely NOT be invited if it is still a fucking mess!"

"OK," I laughed, "I will try not to spend all my time sitting on my arse smoking."

That call changed my original plans for the London trip the next day. My intention had been to drive up early morning, meet Caroline to view the roof-top site, buy her lunch and then drive back in the afternoon. I would now be under considerably less pressure and so I decided to go up by train rather than drive through the rain, fighting constantly with the heavy commuter traffic on the motorway. I would go to Caroline's flat and then spend a couple of hours doing some personal shopping in the West End or maybe even catch a film or the afternoon matinee of a show and get a late train home, treat it as my day off.

I would really have liked either Gwen or Maggie, or both, to have come up to town with me and make a day of it, but I knew that they had full diaries for the day.

The wet weather had also given Gwen and I some time together on Sunday, not totally alone as Emma was at home but the three of us managed to spend some quality time as a family just enjoying each others company for the whole day, something that happened all too infrequently. Gwen made a enormous game stew for lunch with boiled potatoes, carrots and mashed swede and a Dundee Pudding to follow, then afterwards we all spent the afternoon collapsed in the sitting room and watched a re-run of the John Wayne film, 'The Alamo', just like a normal family. Except that Gwen and I were not husband and wife, we were mother and son and our passion for each other had to be carefully concealed from Emma who thankfully seemed totally obvious that anything had changed in our relationship. Her own crush on me seemed to have subsided for the moment for which I was really grateful; her insistent flirting had become a problem as despite my good intentions I was starting to see her as a girl not just my sister.

Gwen and I managed to grab a few hours alone late on Sunday and Monday evenings after Emma had turned in for the night, just snugged up together on the couch reading, immersed in the warmth of being together and sharing some all too brief stolen minutes in each other's arms, grateful for any time alone that we could snatch. Gwen still made me seriously horny just being with her but constant sex was not just impossible, but strangely had become less important than just being together.

Our forbidden love came with a whole raft of difficulties which had the potential to destroy not just us but everybody around us that we cared for, but I would not have changed our decision for anything or anyone, not even Maggie.

Perhaps my personal slant on relationships was unusual... I really don't know.

My school friend Richard had met his future wife Katy when they were eleven, even then they were inseparable friends and by the time they were fourteen it was obvious to every body that there was a serious teenage romance blossoming. Naturally the grown-ups intervened and they were separated and banned from seeing each other, but would meet secretly after school and sometimes when there was no one at home I would let them come to our house to have some private time together.

By the time that they were sixteen and could no longer be forcibly kept apart their parents had tentatively accepted that they were going to be together in spite of anything they could do. The two star crossed lovers seemed joined at the hip and stayed together through sixth form and then went to the same university, shared digs and eventually married. For Richard and Katy each was 'the only one', the love of their life, the only person that either of them would ever love.

You often hear girls talking about the 'only one', that special person that they have yet to meet who will be their one and only love for the rest of their life who would feel the same way about them.

I guess that loving just one person to distraction was what happened to most people but it had never been that way for me. I whole heartedly believed that it was possible to genuinely love more than one woman at the same time, I do not believe that I could have felt a greater love than I did for Gwen, but I believe that I felt the same level of love and affection for Maggie as well. I loved them both, but those loves were different and unique just as they themselves were different and unique people despite being twins.

If I were to be asked about the other women who moved through my life, I would need to answer truthfully that yes, I loved each of them in their own way for what they were and what they meant to me when we were together and each of them were matchless and would always have their own special place in my affections, but those affections in no way diminished the love I had for the two most important people in my life or they for each other.

Wednesday morning was cloudy with the promise of showers all day and so I had dressed casually in biscuit coloured chinos, a dark brown cotton shirt beneath my waterproof Barbour jacket. I decided to catch the commuter train to London which left just after six-thirty and with the normal delays was disembarked at Waterloo station a bit before eight-thirty some thirty minutes late which was relatively good for British Rail. The train ride had brought back memories of meeting Gill for the first time and the incredible day in town with Gwen, our feelings for each other finally finding voice and culminating in that first fantastic night of forbidden love and passion.

As I had left before Gwen and Emma were awake I had only grabbed a quick cup of coffee on Salisbury station and so ate a full breakfast at the Waterloo buffet room and then got a cab to Caroline's flat. Road works meant that the driver needed to drop me off in Palace Street at the end of the road I was looking for and I walked down to the number Caroline had written on her business card. The building was an attractive 18th Century double fronted town house which had been converted into two split level flats, the basement and ground floor comprising one, and the first and second floors the other with the roof garden above although from the street the only evidence of a garden was a straggle of dead ivy clothing the front parapet.

I mounted the steps to the impressive freshly painted, gloss black Regency front door and pressed the call button for the upper flat. It was almost immediately answered by a woman's voice, it wasn't Caroline and so I announced myself to the voice box and was instructed to push the front door after the buzzer sounded. Inside the main door the original hallway was floored with a traditional chequer pattern of black and white tiles and there were signs on the walls either side; the first directed visitors to 'FLAT ONE -- Dr. J. BRYCE', with an arrow pointing down the corridor on the left and the other to 'FLAT TWO -- C. BROOKES' and had an arrow pointing up the wide carpeted stairs.

When I reached the upper landing the door to the flat was standing open and there was a good looking woman of about thirty standing waiting for me just inside.

"Mr. Riley?" she asked. I nodded and she stood aside to allow me to enter and then closed the door behind me. "Follow me... through here." She instructed and led me into a kitchen that appeared to be straight from the Ideal Home Exhibition.

It was completely fitted on three walls with top quality units with real oak doors and panels and graphite and steel work tops throughout. There were the most enormous stainless steel, floor to ceiling fitted freezer and fridge units that I had ever seen outside of a catering establishment, a matching steel six ring hob and cooker and the centre of the room was occupied by a six foot by four foot island unit with oak doored cupboards beneath and a graphite top with fitted butchers block and vegetable preparation sink with swan neck tap.

"Ms. Brookes told me to have black coffee waiting for you..." she said picking up a jug from a large Melitta filter coffee machine, "You would like, yes?"

She had a slight Central European accent that I pegged as possibly Polish or Czech, it was soft and rather sexy. When Caroline had said that she would arrange for her 'daily' to let me in I had envisaged the stereotype cleaner, a Mrs. Mopp sort of char, elderly, rotund and wearing a flowered pinafore and knotted head scarf who perpetually carried a feather duster like some sort of domestic fairy wand. This woman was all together something different, she was quite tall and slender with a nicely rounded arse, narrow waist and very pointed tits all of which filled her plain dark grey, straight dress to perfection. Her face was not what you would call pretty but was strikingly handsome, perhaps more so because she wore no make-up except for a pale red lipstick, her hair was very dark and tied back in a long neat pony tail.

"I would like coffee, yes." I answered, then as she handed me a steaming glass coffee mug in a stainless steel holder, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch you name...er?"

She arched one eyebrow as if to silently indicate that she had not offered it, and then relented, "It is Sofia.... I am... how do you say it? Ms. Brookes 'domestic help', yes?"

"Have you been with Caroline for very long?" I probed gently.

"Oh yes, for nearly two years... I was her helper at her other house before she moved here... this is much nicer, very smart, simple to clean, every thing modern, yes?" She smiled. "I come here, three times each week, but she works me not very hard, I clean, I wash and iron her clothes and sometimes I help with the food if she has guests for their dinner at night. Ms. Brookes likes very much to cook."

That was something else new that I had learned about Caroline and it explained the expensive professional quality kitchen. I was already aware that she was something of a 'foodie' and knowledgeable about wines but hadn't had her pegged for somebody who liked to cook.

I had finished my coffee and put the mug down on the work surface. "Caroline has told you that I need to see the roof garden?" I asked.

"Yes, if you follow me again, please.." she led the way to a narrow door in one corner of the kitchen which I had previously not noticed, opened it and disappeared from sight. I stepped into the narrow stairwell and watched her firm round buttocks ascending in front of me until she opened another door at the top of the flight letting in daylight and the sound of a flock of pigeons taking flight as the door swung open.

I was not sure what I had expected the roof area to be like but it certainly wasn't the 'fucking mess' that Caroline had suggested although there was a lot of work needed doing. It was on two levels, the larger area being above the main rooms of the flat and measured about 20' x 15' and fronted onto the street with two six foot red brick, chimney stacks, but there was a slightly smaller raised area at the rear which overlooked a narrow mews and what was evidently a resident's car park as I could see Caroline's black BMW parked in one of the spaces. There was no sign of the yellow Lotus Elan and I guessed that it had probably gone for repair.

The front area had been paved with plain grey, cheap slabs sometime in the last few years, not very well as many were loose and several had split, there were several plastic containers screwed to the inside of the front parapet containing strands of dead ivy and shrivelled up lobelia. There were a couple of old galvanised dustbins, a heap of rubbish by a broken yard broom and two cheap white plastic garden chairs each with a pile of bricks on the seat to stop them blowing about. Somebody in the past had used the area to dry washing as there were two washing lines loosely strung between three rusty poles.
The rear area had obviously not been in use for some time as a number of now very warped wooden boards had been carelessly laid as a rough floor over ancient screeding, and there were several old plant containers, an ancient galvanised water tank and what looked to be about a million old plastic plant pots scattered about the roof. My first thought was that this rubbish needed to be cleared before the wind scattered it across the city.

I pulled my camera and tape measure out of my shoulder bag and spent twenty minutes snapping every angle, and putting the measurements to a rough plan drawn on a graph paper pad. I would need to have a serious think about the best design for this project, there were several drainage points leading to the main guttering and an old fashioned brass service tap by the stair housing which was a good start but there was little shelter from the wind and the roof would be a real sun-trap on a hot day. Any plants would need to be fairly heat and drought resistant and wind hardy.

The real bonus was that the roof was a naked canvas and I could start the designs from scratch without having to tear down or rebuild any existing structures. The big issue was going to be how we got the materials and plants up to the roof; carrying everything through the flat was just not going to be possible. We would need to investigate the possibility of bringing the stuff up from the rear mews either with a large cherry picker or by rigging some sort of lift or derrick on the roof, which could prove difficult and would definitely be expensive if it was to be done safely and would probably require permission from Westminster Council Health and Safety officer.

Sofia was leaning against the door housing smoking and watching me, and so I lit a cigarette of my own and wandered over. She really was very attractive and I noticed that she was not wearing a wedding ring.

"Have you always done this sort of work?"

She laughed, a deep throaty chuckle, "Oh no, only since I come to England to live.... In Poland I am a pharmacist... you call it a chemist, yes? In England I need to qualify again to work here, and this is very expensive and so I need to work whilst I study. Ms. Brookes has been very kind...she helps me with the school fees."

Something else surprising I had learned about Caroline.

I took another quick tour of the roof, pulled the dead plants from the containers and then tidied up a lot of the loose flower pots dumping them with the rubbish into the old waste bins. By the time I had finished I was happy that I had gathered all the information that I initially needed to start drawing up plans and was ready to leave.

"I do not clean up here on the roof... "Sofia commented matter of factly, "The owners before Ms. Brookes were old... I think perhaps they never came up here either... it is good that you make it nice for her...she work too much!"

It was starting to spot with rain when Sophia let me out onto the street and so I turned up the collar of my Barbour waxed coat and walked around the corner into Victoria Street and hailed a cab to take me the short distance to Oxford Street where he dropped me outside Selfridge's department store.

I am not, at the best of times an enthusiastic or imaginative shopper and so a shopping mall or department store is my favourite solution, everything under one roof and I knew that I could probably acquire everything on my mental shopping list at Selfridges.

My first port of call was the jewellery department. It was Emma's eighteenth birthday in two weeks time and I had been puzzling over what to get her as a present. My first thought had been to give her cash towards her first car, but I knew that she had already been saving money from her wages and intended using some of her inheritance money from our grandfather to buy a vehicle for herself.

I had discussed my dilemma with Gwen and Maggie who both agreed that a girl's eighteenth birthday is something important and special, more so than for a man, and close family usually gave 'keepsake' gifts which the recipient could treasure always and remember their coming of age. I knew that they were both giving her presents of jewellery, and had half decided to follow suit when I suddenly realised that Emma had never had a decent wrist-watch. She had a small cheap cocktail watch that didn't keep very good time that she wore to go out, but most of the time made do with an old Casio digital watch that had been mine but had been discarded as it was no longer waterproof.

I spent the best part of an hour with a very helpful, but very camp, young man who guided me through a maze of counters and hundreds of watches of all shapes and sizes, colours and designs before finally settling on an attractive, modern, quartz movement Omega strap watch which was modern but could be worn at any time but was hardy enough for her to wear when riding. Having made the most important purchase of the day I made my way through to the sports department and treated myself to new brown leather golfing shoes and shoe bag, a couple of gloves and a pair of plain black Pringle trousers and two golf shirts to match.

Buying the golf gear had made me think about Georgia and I remembered that her London office was only five minutes walk away in Wigmore Street and before I realised what I was doing I was halfway up St. James Street with the intention of asking Georgia out to lunch however foolish the idea might be.

The London offices of Craven, Olson and Partners were on the second floor of a white stone faced building sandwiched between two rows of red brick with a brassierie restaurant on the ground floor. I paused at the doorway leading to the stairs for the upper floor chambers and lit a cigarette and casually pretended to scan the restaurant menu whilst deciding if asking Georgia to lunch would be pretentious, I knew we were starting to develop a loose sort of friendship but I did not want to offend her by appearing to be hitting on her, or make myself look a teenage pratt chasing after a much older woman. Finally I flicked the cigarette stub into the gutter and mounted the stairs.

I had been there once previously with my mother when she had a meeting with Marsha Olsen about her divorce from Dad, and the receptionist was the same attractive young woman but not surprisingly she did not recognise me from that single visit.

"Would it be possible to speak to Ms. Craven, please?" I asked confidently.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked formally, she looked a little vexed and was flicking through a business diary on the desk in front of her. She was a pretty girl, about twenty with short light brown hair and a largish engagement ring on her left hand.

"Er...no! This is just a spontaneous personal visit..." I ventured, "I was just passing and..."

"Oh, I am so glad," she said breathing a sigh of relief and smiled, closing the diary, "I thought perhaps you had been booked in by mistake.... Ms. Craven is out of the office all day today, I'm afraid."

I wasn't sure whether that information left me disappointed or relieved. "It is OK, it wasn't important... I will catch up with her some other time... " I started but was interrupted by a voice from behind me.

"Jamie...! What are you doing here, Jamie?" I recognised the voice and was starting to turn even as I felt a light touch on my sleeve.

"Hello, Kristen...what are YOU doing here?" It was a stupid question really I knew that she was staying in London with her mother. Both her parents were partners in the law practice and her mother, Marsha Olsen, worked out of the London office most weeks and was the divorce lawyer acting for both Gwen and Maggie.

"I'm working here.... I help out three mornings a week.... It's fun, I've never had a job before.... I just do filing and photocopying and such.... But Mummy actually pays me!" She was babbling and laughing, but that was Kristen, I thought she was a really nice girl but she was a bit of an air-head. She paused and then asked again, "I forgot, what ARE you doing here?"

"I just called in to see Georgia as I was passing, she is my solicitor now, you know."

"Oh, she's not here.... She and Mummy have gone to Birmingham for some big court case and won't be back until tomorrow." She turned to the receptionist, "It's OK, Selma, I will take care of this gentleman," she said haughtily and then took my hand and led me towards the open door from which she had obviously entered the reception. I looked back at Selma and mouthed a thank you and she smiled and winked as Kristen hauled me away.

The room was obviously a general office with a row of steel filing cabinets, three photo-copiers and a desk in one corner with an angle-poise lamp, a portable typewriter and a pink swivel make-up mirror, a make-up bag and assortment of brushes. It was noticeably Kristen's desk.

"This is my office," she said proudly. "Do you want to kiss me?" she added, cooing enthusiastically, "I have missed you Jamie.....please kiss me." She came up close and put her hands on my shoulders and offered her lips to me in a bright pink irresistible pout. The minute that our lips met she slid her arms tightly around my neck and leaned her whole body against me in a warm, soft caress that seemed to envelop me from neck to knees. The kiss lasted for several long seconds and left both of us lightly gasping, but she was smiling and her Scandinavian bright blue eyes were sparkling.

She looked really good... she still had the appearance of a come-alive Barbie doll, with her long shining silver blonde hair, large bright blue eyes and fabulous figure but had obviously toned down her normally flamboyant wardrobe for something a bit more suitable to work in a solicitor's office. She was wearing a mini-dress with short sleeves and a slash neck, of cream cotton with horizontal bold block stripes of red and black and a narrow black patent belt which emphasised her tiny waist. She looked really smart and sophisticated. What Kristen lacked in brains she certainly made up for by having a fabulous body and unlimited resources to buy clothes. The Olsens were not only top flight lawyers but came from old Swedish money and Kristen was the very over indulged only daughter.

"I am now finishing work for the day.... Have you time to have lunch with me... please say you have...?" she pleaded. She beamed up at me with a sort of cute puppy dog appeal that I guess nobody had ever been able to resist and I was no exception.

"I would love to," I replied, "I am not in any hurry at all... I hadn't planned on going back to Salisbury until this evening."

"Then we can spend the afternoon together," she gushed. She led me back into reception, "I'll just get my coat.." she told me and disappeared through another door.

Selma, the receptionist smiled at me sweetly, "I guess that you must be the secret, dark, handsome, man that she refuses to talk about..." she chuckled. I really did not want to imagine about what Kristen had been telling people about me. "I suppose you ARE quite good looking," she teased, "but none of the girls here believed that you really existed."

"I don't." I whispered confidentially zipping my lips with my finger and thumb as a gesture of secrecy. She nodded and smiled in acknowledgement. She probably thought I was a married man or something.

Kristen came back wearing a very fashionable rain coat of white with black polka dots and without a further word hooked my arm and guided me out of the office and down the stairs.

"We can have lunch here," she suggested, indicating the restaurant on the ground floor of the building, "It will be my treat.... I will charge it to Mummy's account; I often do when my friends come to see me..." I knew some of Kristen's friends, they were just the sort to bum a free lunch on her mother's expense account; I only hoped that Marsha Olsen didn't ask who the friend was on that occasion, although I suspected that loyal little Kristen would be unlikely to tell.

Lunch from the grill was excellent, we both ordered fillet steaks, mine with huge flat mushrooms, fried peppers and French fries, and Kristen had hers with salad and we shared a small carafe of the house red. I sat and listened to Kristen chattering away happily about everything and nothing but she was cute and amusing and I was contented to be there, her obvious happiness was infectious. We finished of with plain old fashioned vanilla ice cream and coffees.

"What would you like to do this afternoon?" I asked her eventually when she paused for breath.

She thought for a minute and then laid her hand over mine affectionately. "You could take me to Kew Gardens and tell me all about the plants and flowers and trees and things..." she suggested.

I surmised that she had come up with that idea because she thought that it would be something that would please me.... in normal circumstances, with somebody else it would; Kew is always a wonderland for gardeners, but I suspected that she would in reality be bored shitless very quickly and the rain showers would not help.

"No, you treated me to lunch and so you should choose what YOU would like to do this afternoon.... Anything you like!" I crossed my fingers and made a silent prayer that she would not choose an extended shopping trip to Harrods or a tour of the Oxford Street boutiques.

"Anything that I like... no matter how silly?"

"Yes," I laughed, "As long as it isn't life threatening or publicly indecent."

"OK... I would like you to take me to.... " she paused for dramatic effect, "Madam Tussaud's Waxworks! I haven't been there since I was a little girl... I've been meaning to go ever since I came up to London, but it's no fun on your own." The idea seemed to excite her and she exuded all the bubbly enthusiasm of a small child.

"Right! Madam Tussaud's it is." In fact I was quite enthused with the idea myself, it was years since I had been to the famous exhibition, it is one of the tourist things that everybody threatens to do when they are up in town but never get around to.

Madam Tussaud's is located on Marylebone Road, next door to The Planetarium and from Wigmore Street was less than a fifteen minute brisk walk along the length of Baker Street.

"Mummy's flat is only a couple of streets away in George Street, it's on the way and we can drop off your parcels rather than carry them around all afternoon," Kristen suggested. I welcomed the idea as I not only had my shoulder bag containing the camera and my notes and sketches, but the shopping from Selfridges in two large paper carrier bags.

The apartment was on the seventh floor of Bryanston Court a very exclusive early twentieth century apartment block. The marble reception hall resembled that of a hotel complete with a uniformed commissionaire who recognised Kristen immediately and took my bags to lock in the porter's locker for collection later.

The stop had hardly taken us out of our way and we were crossing Marylebone Road to the waxworks in about fifteen minutes; Kristen happily clinging to my arm and still chattering away.

I bought our tickets at the foyer and then both of us fell for the oldest ploy of waxworks exhibitions worldwide; we spoke to the uniformed attendant standing just inside the door only to discover that he was a lifelike wax dummy and then jumped out of our skins when the real attendant standing next in line moved and spoke, but it set the tone for a fun afternoon.

The waxworks was much as I remembered it although there were, of course a lot of new exhibits of politicians and popular entertainers, but it was the historical displays that we both enjoyed the most along with the famous Madame Tussaud's Chamber of Horrors which was always great fun. Kristen was thrilled with the entire experience and clung to my arm laughing and pointing at details of the exhibits that caught her imagination. I genuinely liked Kristen and to see her happy and having fun made it a worthwhile afternoon.

To my surprise it was gone four o'clock when we left the building. It had stopped raining again and we were both ready for a drink, so walked down Baker Street to The Globe pub, one of the few City pubs to serve afternoon teas, and sat outside for a coffee and tea and cakes; and then strolled back to Bryanston Court hand in hand.

Kristen collected my shopping from the porter and then took my hand and tugged me towards the lifts. "You won't go yet, will you?" she pleaded, "Come upstairs... I may not see you again for months... please, Jamie." The lift doors opened and she pulled me in and pushed the button for the top floor then took advantage of both my hands being occupied with shopping bags and threw her arms around my neck and thrust her body hard against mine, grinding her groin into me with such lustful vigour that by the time the lift doors pinged open at the seventh floor she had rubbed up a serious erection.

We managed to scramble out of the lift just as the doors closed again. "Bloody Hell Kris, I hope there aren't security cameras in those lifts," I chuckled.

"Don't know...don't care!" she giggled and led me to a door and pushed her key into the lock.

The entrance hall led straight head into an open plan kitchen and I could see the large sitting room off to the left through open double doors, it was decorated with modern teak and glass furniture all very modern and expensive. The kitchen was enormous all fully fitted with pine units, the Bosch service machines, refrigerator, freezer, washing machine were all custom units with in matching beige enamel.

"Just drop your bags and coat anywhere..." Kristen told me, tossed her coat on a stool and then went to a set of double swing doors at the far end of the kitchen, turned back and beckoned me through into a short L shaped hall. "That's Daddy's room..." she told me indicating the open door of a smallish bedroom on the right, "Mummy has the big room at the front.... And this is mine..."

Her bedroom was pretty well what you would expect, very girly and decorated with pale pinks and mauves with a huge pure white, hairy sheepskin rug in the centre of the room. The bedroom units, fitted wardrobes, vanity unit and drawers were all plain white but the room had obviously been put together by a professional home designer. The curtains were pink with pretty mauve and white flowers and matched the duvet cover on the three quarter sized bed. There was a small arm chair in matching fabric and a long shelf over the fitted draws on which were a handful of books, some records and a row of soft toys and china figures all of elephants.

She noticed me looking, "I collect jumbos," she laughed, "I always have. I have dozens at home in my room at Salisbury."

"Why elephants?"

"I don't know, I have always loved them, they just seem cute and friendly and ...... well just so big and strong and dependable." She moved up close to me and placed her palms against my chest, I could feel the burning heat through my shirt, "Just like you..." she added.

She kicked off her high heeled shoes and immediately became several inches shorter, her forehead level with my lips and I gave it a light kiss as she nuzzled her face into my throat sending a tingle rippling through my body with the sensation of her warm lips on my skin and her long soft silver-blonde hair against my face. I put my hands on her hips and gently pulled her in closer so that we were melded together, her breasts warm and soft against my chest and her pelvis and thighs rubbing gently against mine as she rotated her hips in small swirly motions, instantly rubbing up another erection for me.

I felt her move her head to look up into my face, "Oh Jamie, you ARE going to make love to me, aren't you?" she murmured, almost pleading. Oh, yes; I was, I certainly was, at that moment in time there was nothing I would rather do. I moved my face so that our lips came together in a soft roiling kiss our tongues flicking and touching and twisting in a abandoned dance of lust causing both of us to pant and gasp as we sucked the breath from each other.
My hands slid from her hips and drew the hem of her dress up so that I could caress the smoothness of her long thighs, the tips of my fingers probing and slipping inside the sides of her panties to squeeze and massage her soft buttocks. I felt her hand move down and release the narrow belt holding the dress tight into her waist; it fell away and I was able to push my hands upwards until I had tussled the dress over her head and down onto the floor and she was standing against me wearing only her lingerie, an expensive matching set of cream and black lace low cut bra and knickers.

We revived our kiss now gasping into each others mouths as the urgency increased and I swept my hands up and down her silk skinned back from shoulders to neat soft buttocks and back up again. My fingers found the strap of her bra and it fell away as I unhooked it, dropping to the floor and releasing her round white breasts. She giggled and came in close her hands rubbing over my chest and plucking at the buttons on my shirt pulling the front open so that I could shrug out of it. Her breasts were soft against my chest the small nipples little hard points of heat on my skin.

She was kissing my throat and then down across my chest and suddenly she was sliding down me as though I were the trunk of a tree. Her knees came to rest on the thick sheepskin rug and she was releasing my belt and tugging at my trousers until I could kick them away behind me to stand before her my prick rigid and quivering between us level with her face.

I felt her small hand grasp my erection, and gasped out loud in anticipation, and then her lips touched the glans, just once very lightly before she looked up at me.

"I have never done this before...." She said very softly, and then her mouth slipped tentatively over the cap of my prick, and I felt the tip of her tongue probe ever so gently around the glans and touch the so sensitive eye of the snake.

The very tenderness of her gift made me tingle from head to foot and my prick was throbbing as she slowly moved up and down my shaft taking almost half my length into her mouth, her teeth lightly grazing the highly sensitive vein on the underside the hot moistness of her mouth a softly sucking centre of sensation. Her long silver hair flowed across my belly and thighs in a cascade of soft silkiness, caressing my skin until I could stand it no longer, I needed to feel her whole body against me, beneath me. I gently took her shoulders and raised her up to stand against me.

"Was it wrong....did I not do it right?" She asked a worried expression clouding her face and her eyes starting to moisten. "I so wanted to make it good for you...." Her lips were slightly parted and I kissed them gently, I could taste my maleness on her mouth.

"No.. it wasn't wrong...it was fantastic... " I assured her smiling and then took her hand an led her the two steps to the bed and threw back the cover.

"Oh God, YES!" she giggled and pushed her panties down over her feet and wriggled across the bed half burying herself beneath the duvet and lay with her face on the lace edged pillow framed by a cloud of silver-blonde hair, watching me as I flicked my socks over to join my shirt on the floor and slid naked onto the bed beside her.

"I have dreamed of having you here in my bed, but I didn't think it would ever happen," she murmured happily, then reached out to gently take hold of my still erect prick. "And I have dreamed of having this inside me again.... Make it happen, Jamie... please, do it to me now... I want it soooooo much!"

I pressed my lips to hers; her mouth responded instantly, her lips, soft and moist, opened and her tongue pushed into my mouth seeking mine, her hands grasping at my hair to hold my face to hers. I thrust my tongue at hers and our mouths joined to became a cavern of hot moistness in which our tongues performed a sinuous dance of lust and desire, until we broke away panting and gasping for air.

My hand moved to cup her breast and my fingers rolled and gently squeezed the small nipple into a firm bud. I moved my lips down to run my tongue around the standing nub and the swollen aureola moistening it so that my fingers could caress it without friction. Her breasts were perfect white globes with delicate pink aureolas and dark hard nipples and I nibbled and sucked at each until each sensitive point stood erect and Kristen was making little panting noises and arching her back to press her breasts harder against my lips.

"Ooooh! That feels so good, Jamie," she moaned. Her hand had found my prick again and was gently squeezing and moving up and down the swollen length in concert with my attention to her breasts.

Still sucking gently at her breasts I skimmed my fingers down and over her small round tummy and rested my hand between her legs. Kristen was a genuine natural blonde; she had virtually no body hair and the sparse fluff around her pussy was almost white and looked and felt like the soft head of a dandelion above and around her peach like pussy lips.

She gave a deep urgent moan and pushed her legs open wide so that her soft slit was fully exposed to my questing fingers; it already felt very moist and warm. I slid one finger up between those lips until I found the tiny concealed clit ball and began to roll it gently with the tip of my forefinger.

"Oh yes, Oh yes, Jamie... that is so lovely... don't stop!" she panted against my ear, and began to lightly rotate her hips so that her own motions were adding to my finger movements to massage that tiny ball of erotic sensation. Her whole body was starting to tense and I could feel her soft round tummy beginning to tremble. "I think that I am going to cum...." She gasped, "Oh God, yes... I am.... I am.... Aaaaaaah!" And she did, her whole body jerking as she moaned and laughed her way through a rippling orgasm, one arm tightly wrapped around my neck holding my face to her throat, my face buried in her silky tresses, and the other hand jerking and squeezing at my erection until I thought that it would be impossible to hold back my own release.

"Oh Jamie, that was so good," she whispered, her voice throaty with lust, "but do it to me now.... Please do it.... Put it inside me.... I want to cum again with you inside me!"

I was far past ready, my balls ached for release and my prick was throbbing in the grip of her tiny hand. I lowered my self over her and felt her hand steer my prick carefully towards her already engorged vaginal opening. I could feel the warmth and moisture from her pussy coating my shaft and then I was pressing between her pussy lips and felt my glans pushing at the entrance to her vagina. Her vagina felt really tiny and tight but suddenly her hands were both grasping the cheeks of my arse and pulling me into her and I thrust forward sliding deep into her waiting love pocket.

Kristen left out a deep, satisfied, throaty moan as I ploughed deep into her already hot, wet love tunnel, flooded with the juices from her orgasm. She locked her long smooth legs around mine and we just lay there entwined and gently rocking back and forth each savouring the sweet sensation of really deep penetration, sharing long soft kisses, my fingers entwined in her long hair and her finger nails gently running up and down my naked back leaving little tracks of tingling sensation.

We lay like that for a long time, slowly and gently fucking, my whole world was centred on the warmth and moistness of her pussy, encasing my prick in a velvet sheath of sensual ecstasy which built until I could hold back no longer and began to slowly fuck her for real, drawing back almost to the point of withdrawal and then thrusting back in a long hard stroke, each thrust lifting her from the mattress until my weight slammed her back down. Her long slim legs were clamped around mine and she surged forward to meet me as each hammering thrust got faster and harder, every penetration wringing a sharp gasp from her and a deep moan from me. I felt her vagina start to contract as she moved towards her orgasm, the rippling of her vagina walls pumping me to my own release and I felt my prick jerk and the glans swell and pulse as I erupted, furiously releasing a volcano of hot jiz deep inside her, mingling with her own juices as she shuddered through a second orgasm, gasping and laughing.

We lay for ages wrapped around each other, Kristen with her head on my shoulder gently making little butterfly kisses against my throat and chin, and I stroking her flowing cascade of soft silver hair.

"Jamie.... I really do love you," she murmured. "You are the only one for me and probably always will be." She snuggled closer against me her face nuzzled tight into my throat, "It's OK, I don't expect anything in return... I just wanted you to know."

I started to move and her hand came down to clasp my buttocks again.

"NO!" she whispered insistently in my ear, "Leave it there.... Inside me... I want it to stay in there forever..." She started to giggle and the rippling movement caused her pussy to squeeze gently on my semi-soft dick, causing it to twitch in response. "Oh, it's come alive again..." she laughed and began to gently gyrate her hips and tightened her legs around mine.

Inevitably we made love again, slowly at first and then with gusto, until our passions were seriously enflamed and we were humping and clawing at each other, rolling back and forth across the bed as I thrust violently into her and then she straddled me and finally we exploded in a mutually shared and timed orgasm of tremendous proportions which left us both exhausted, panting and laughing, laid side by side unable to do anything more energetic than hold hands.

I called a cab and left her about eight o'clock after we had showered, dressed and shared a glass of cold white wine sitting on stools in the kitchen. Kristen had not been clingy or overly sentimental; she still had quite a severe romantic attachment to me but we both knew that there would never be anything serious or permanent between us.

She was a nice girl, fun to be with and a really, seriously good shag, but she was also very vulnerable and I knew that I needed to be careful; she was so desperate for my affection that it would be easy for me to just use her... and that would be cruel and unforgivable.

On a practical level, I was never-the-less glad that she now spent most of her time in London with her mother and very much less time with her father in Salisbury. I surmised that there was probably a story behind Carl and Marsha Olsen living apart, I would ask Maggie, I would not want to put my foot in my mouth with either Carl or Georgia both of whom I met up with regularly.

The train got me back to Salisbury just after 11pm. And by the time I had found a station porter collected the VW Polo from the locked car park I was home about half an hour later.

I dropped my shopping in the hall and then noticed a light on in the kitchen. To my surprise, Emma was still up and sitting with a mug of cocoa and the remnants of a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits and her copy of the Highway Code, she had obviously been swatting for her driving test the next week.

"Hi, Jay... you're late back...." She smiled. "Mum has gone to bed already, she needs to be up early tomorrow, she is going to Bournemouth for the day."

I suppose I was a bit wary that she may have been waiting up for me to come home; even though there was no way that she could have known I had been screwing Kristen Olsen, which she would probably regard as the most heinous sin that I could commit. I don't really know why but she had hated poor Kris since junior school.

"I measured up for the Caroline Brookes job and then did some shopping, and just mooched about town for a bit...." I offered. I got a cold can of Fanta from the 'fridge "I think that I will turn in as well," I leaned over and snatched the three quarters empty packet of biscuits from the table, "I'll take these for my supper... don't want you getting fat now, do we?"

She jumped up and took a friendly swat at me. There was never going to be any chance that Emma would get fat, she was just not built that way. She was not the skinny bag of bones that she had been a year back she had filled out with regular good food and exercise and now had a very nice shapely figure.

"I thought you liked fat birds?" she teased, "Debbie Fowler is quite plump, and that Caroline has fat thighs... even Maggie says so."

"Fatter the better," I quipped, "Might even set my cap at Tayler when you are away on holiday, she might not really be gay after all?"

"Jay?" she said seriously, "You won't take up with anybody whilst we are away in France next month, will you? It's alright if you date Janice sometimes, as long as it doesn't get serious, OK?"

I put on a solemn face. "I promise," I said holding up my hand, "When you are away, I promise to spend every evening I can at home here with Mum." It was an easy promise to make because I really meant it.
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