Indiscretion

Carol’s eyes burrowed into Jason’s back.  The tatty, off-white T-shirt was irrelevant; it was his tautness that interested her.  Her stare wandered down his tall, well-built frame and lingered on the outline of his butt, before idly taking in those powerful thighs.  His frayed shorts didn’t cover much. She sat on a stool behind the bar, an elbow leaning on the polished oak, her chin nestling in one palm. This was her pub, or almost hers.  Half belonged to Alan – her old man.  At fifty-two, she’d been with him a lifetime.

She watched Adonis as he lobbed a dart.  Bullseye!  His mates roared their approval.  For some reason, he turned his head in her direction and caught her eye, caught her intentness.  She coloured and turned away.  I mean, she was old enough to be his mother – he wasn’t even thirty, though the thought of him fancying her was wickedly appealing.

Jason checked her out.  He’d seen her before, he was a regular customer – but today, he was horny as hell – and Carol pushed all his buttons.  She was petite and china doll perfect – slim, but curved in all the right places.  A silky shirt revealed a glimpse of cleavage.  He stole a glance at her diamond rings – but the long scarlet nails were the main attraction; they made him shudder.

When Carol looked in his direction again, he was still staring and she saw a grin spread across his face.  Behind the bar, her dark grey pencil skirt rode up just above one shapely knee, and a shiny black stiletto balanced on the end of one slowly circling foot.  She was glad she’d never let her appearance slide.  The stylish blonde hair framing her face was deceptively casual.  Really, that tousled look cost a packet.  Her make-up was elegant and underplayed.  Nature had been kind to her face, thank God – she’d only needed one brief stay at the clinic. Subtle shading emphasised almond eyes and her lips were glossed with soft crimson. A finger unconsciously twisted one of her delicate gold chains, chosen to match diamond earrings.  A pricey aroma added a final touch.

Such perfection required work – Carol wouldn’t vanish gracefully into old age.  She was battling it tooth and nail – and appeared to have the upper hand.  Annoyingly then, for no reason she could say, her reverie was interrupted by thoughts of Alan; he was always at the back of her mind lately. He’d roll his eyes at her bills – gym, hairdresser, manicure, pedicure – the list was endless.  Not that he complained; Carol earned her keep.  She was a tough businesswoman – and he’d learned to tiptoe around her acid tongue and temper, though he wasn’t a wimp.  Establishing a pub in London’s East End wasn’t easy, and he’d toughed it out.  He was well known and well respected, a local hard man - but upset his wife?  He’d rather walk over hot coals. But in the trade he’d honed the instincts of a cobra; or more specifically, he’d honed swift, silent vengeance.  Raging was beneath him; it wasn’t necessary.

“Good shot eh?” Jason boasted in Carol’s direction.

“Yeah, good shot” she smiled, regaining her composure.

“Time for drink?” He asked.

Carol glanced at the clock.  It was almost 3.30pm and the pub was emptying.  The lunchtime, strip show crowd had dissolved, leaving an emptying, smoky space.

“Yeah – why not? What’ll you have?”

He took a few steps closer, ordering a light and bitter, his hands resting on the counter – his eyes followed her every move. Sliding off the stool, Carol drew the beer, acutely aware of his body, just inches away.  She caught the smell of fresh sweat mingled with after-shave and paint.  Jason was a tradesman.  Lately, he’d been working in the office block at the end of the street.  Lunchtime breaks stretched longer every day, not that it mattered.  Jason worked for his brother.  Together, they were a pair of fun-lovers, full of cheek.

“Where’s your old man to-day then luv?” He asked.

Still concentrating on filling his glass, she didn’t look up.  “Oh, he’ll be gone until tomorrow, some business deal up North, you know how it is,” she replied, affecting indifference.

“No luv, I don’t know how it is – why don’t you tell me?”

This time she looked up, gulping – trapped like a fly in honey.  His eyes caught hers. “Oh, um, well,” this was ridiculous, she felt like a teenager, “What’s it to you?” She’d meant the words as a warning, she’d meant to be off-putting – but her customary control had fled – and Jason scented her disquiet.

“Come on Carol,” he purred, “you can tell me – a beautiful lady like you, you shouldn’t be alone, why didn’t he take you with him?  You’re not short of a bob or two, you could have got someone else to look after the pub.”

This was getting too close, too hard to answer.  She didn’t reply, only flashed him a pointed look.

Jason smiled.  He was getting warm.  “Has he got another bird? Is he playing you around?”  He was sympathetic.

“Oh!” Carol suddenly looked down at the beer glass; it was overflowing.  She quickly turned off the tap and cleared up the mess.  This wasn’t like her. “Bugger off Jason!” She spat; “it’s none of your business, my marriage is fine,” but her trembling fingers gave it away.

“Anything you say darlin’, anything you say – sorry to intrude.”  His tone was smooth. He took the beer, but his eyes searched hers for several seconds more before he retreated to his mates.

Carol sat on the stool again and watched Jason as he walked away. She noticed she was breathing hard and her palms were clammy.  He had that look, that aura - that dangerous something that reached in and grabbed her insides, turning them to jelly.  He was good looking, but there was something else.  She wasn’t attracted to pretty boys.  His rough edge was disturbing.

Mingling with his friends and sipping on his drink, Jason turned in her direction again and sent a slow, intimate wink. Carol raised her eyebrows slightly as she swallowed the vodka she was cradling.  She lingered again on his afternoon stubble, the way his dark hair feathered around his neck, and the gold stud in one ear.  “Get a grip girl!” She thought.  She hadn’t smoked for twenty years, but right now, she’d kill for one.  She hated the way Jason targeted her weakness. Let’s face it, what was Alan up to?  His business trips were more frequent and he hadn’t fucked her for over a month.  “I’m just tired” was his lame excuse.  She still loved him, and if he was having an affair, she knew he wasn’t stupid enough to flaunt it – she’d kill him.  Without realising it, her fingers drummed in a tense rhythm.

“Carol!”

She turned in the direction of the loud female voice, “Yes, what is it Di? What’s the matter?”  Her new barmaid wasn’t too bright, but the bouncing cleavage and willingness to please seemed to compensate as far as the customers were concerned.

“The tap’s not working, I think the barrel’s run out.”

“Oh shit! That stupid bastard said everything was fixed up before he left.  He said I didn’t need to touch anything; it was all sorted.  I hate messing about in that damp hole.”  Carol was doubly pissed off because Ken, the cellar man, was away.

Jason kept half an ear on Carol’s dilemma, now he slowly wandered back to the bar and offered his assistance, “What’s up luv? Need a hand?”

She looked at him with hope, “Do you know how to change a barrel over?  I mean, I can do it, it’s just a shitty job.”

“No problem sweetheart, lead the way.”

Carol led him behind the bar, through the kitchen and out the back.  She unlocked the heavy wooden door in the yard and it swung open, revealing a black chasm. She flicked a switch, flooding the planks of the stairway with light.  The timbers creaked as they crept down.  She led him to the offending barrel and then showed where the fresh ones were stored.

“Yeah, no problem” he said, surveying the crisis.

Carol rested expectantly against the basement wall, waiting while he sorted things out.  He was efficient and soon a new container was fixed up.
“Thanks Jason, you’re brilliant.”  She wanted to leave that drab place as soon as possible.  She didn’t get very far.  He leaned over her, his hand flat against the bricks.

“Don’t go yet,” he murmured.

The move was fateful.  She smelt his muskiness – it curled inside her like opium. When he leant down and covered her mouth, she melted – turned to putty.  Their tongues played a duet.  The shadow on his chin prickled a little and she could taste his beer, but it didn’t matter.  He was pushing into her.  She couldn’t get away even if she wanted to, and she wasn’t trying. Suddenly, he fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, undoing a few before pulling the material free of her skirt.  He slid a rough hand under her bra and appreciatively fondled a breast, feeling its weight - his thumb brushing a nipple.

“You’ve go lovely tits,” he whispered, before pushing the lacy cup aside and suckling hard.

“Oh dear God Jason,” she thought, “just fuck me!”

He felt her squirm; she was ready.  A hand slid up her thigh, over her stocking tops.  His fingers pulled aside the thin elastic of her G-string, and then slipped inside her.

“You’re very wet Carol, you know that don’t you?” 

She answered in a soft moan. Now her skirt was above her waist. Jason was silent as he undid the zip on his shorts and pulled out his erection.  Concentrating, he pushed the bulging head past her lacy undies and wormed it inside her warmth. Carol gasped and instinctively pushed towards him.  Her fingers dug into his ass.

“Yeah babe, yeah,” he whispered, “you like that don’t you?”  He pushed into her again.  Now his whole length was wrapped in her stickiness and he began to move in an increasing rhythm.

“Oh God,” she whimpered, “oh God.”  By now, he was fucking her hard and fast against the cold brick wall, and she clung on tightly.  He was big, bigger than Alan and it hurt a bit, but if she was honest, it added to the excitement.

“Oh fuck it babe! Fuck it! – I’m coming! I can’t help it!”  In a few more thrusts, he relieved himself.

She could hardly breathe, and she felt her knees trembling. Jason stayed inside for a while as his gasping slowed, and then gradually pulled out.
She winced; he’d made her sore.  Reality hit hard when a warm tackiness started dribbling down her leg.

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang down the stairs, “Are you OK down there Carol?”

“Shit!” She thought. It was Alan, he must have got back early, though – thank God - she knew he couldn’t see them from his angle. “Yeah,” she shouted back, struggling to sound normal, “we’ve just finished, Jason helped me change a barrel, you know I hate that job.”  She’d summoned all her strength to come across blasé, though she was shaking.  How long had he been there? Had he heard anything?  She panicked.

Jason suppressed a smile as he did up his zip, “Yeah,” he mouthed, catching her eye, “we’ve just finished.”

She scrambled to compose herself, doing up her shirt and pulling down her skirt.

Alan shouted down again, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that babe, I must have missed that one.  Come up, I’ll pour you and Jason a drink.”

Her husband surveyed the pair complacently as he pulled Jason’s pint, “Your make-up’s smudged dol” he offered, “that’s not like you.”

“Yeah, I tripped on a step – Jason saved me.” At least her wits were quick.

“Thanks Jason” smiled Alan.

Carol shifted nervously, perhaps she’d gotten away with it – but then, Alan could be aloof when it suited him.  Perhaps he knew; she shivered at the possibility.

“Cold dol?” Alan asked over the rim of his glass.

“Yeah, it’s freezing down there.”

“Don’t worry dol,” he drawled, “I’ll make you warm.”

She smiled weakly, “Good to see you back so early babe, how come?”

He looked at her intently, “Maybe I missed you darlin’; maybe I thought I’d better keep an eye on you – I mean, I shouldn’t neglect such a beautiful lady, should I Jason?” pointedly switching his gaze to Adonis.

Jason grinned, nothing fazed him, “No mate, no – you know women, they need a bloke around, they need to see whose boss.”  His eyes were playful.

Some equilibrium was creeping back, Carol spun in Jason’s direction, “In your dreams sunshine, in your dreams.  Let’s face it, most blokes keep their brains in their crotch – at least a woman can think without needing a cold shower first.”

“Oh yeah,” Jason continued grinning, “and you’re an expert on that, aren’t you Carol?”

She could feel heat rising up her neck.  She gave him a venomous look. Fuck! Why had she been so stupid?  The thought sickened her.  This Lothario had screwed her, he’d got past her defences, and now he was gloating.  She had to get away.  She quickly gulped the remnants of her vodka.  “Alan, I’ve got headache coming on, I’m going to lie down – see you later.”

“OK babe” he replied with concern, and then looked in Jason’s direction again, “Another pint mate?”

“Nah” replied Jason as he drained the dregs from the last one, “I’ve got to get going.”

“Yeah” replied Alan with studied irony, “there’s no rest for the wicked.”

“Too right mate, too right.”  Jason grinned again and turned to leave.  Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.  He looked round, and caught Alan’s gaze.

“You know son, it pays not to be too cocky – take some advice from a pro.”  That was all Alan said, it was all he needed to say.

“Yeah, mate, yeah – I’ll take your advice,” he wouldn’t though, Jason liked living on the edge.  He didn’t have to listen to the old bastard – and right now, he wanted out.

Alan could almost read Jason’s thoughts, as he contemplated the pub door slamming shut.  Jason reminded him of himself at that age – brash and randy, always chasing a new bit of skirt.  If he was honest though, he hadn’t changed that much.  He thought about Di, the new barmaid – she’d been willing.  He’d been fucking her the past couple of weeks.  It wasn’t really a love affair, more an affirmation he still had it in him – but the thought of Carol and Jason, it twisted his guts.  Stupid really, he should have seen it coming – what did he expect?  A few years ago, he would have exploded first, asked questions later – but age had mellowed him, made him reflective.  He hadn’t touched Carol in a while, he hadn’t paid attention – and when you take your eye off the ball, these things happen.  Alan’s hard-won capacity for philosophical reasoning was Jason’s good fortune; many blokes hadn’t been that lucky.

Carol had forgotten the glazed window frame, the one she’d nagged Alan to buy.  The pub was old, atmospheric, but needed renovation.  She’d seen this delicate design in an antique yard and fallen in love with it.  Transporting her buy from Bath to London had been expensive, but Carol insisted.  The pricey item was now safely stored in the pub cellar until the carpenter could fix it up.  It leant against the brick wall, directly opposite the foot of the staircase.  Alan had silently watched its mesmerising reflection.  It hadn’t revealed the whole picture, only two pairs of legs – but it was enough.

Upstairs, Carol’s temples were throbbing.  She knew she shouldn’t drink so much.  Usually, it wasn’t a problem – one or two and that was it, but lately things had got on top of her, and she was indulging more.  Of course, Alan’s indifference didn’t help.  If she was honest, her failing marriage was her biggest headache.  It would be easier if she despised him – and easier still if he bored her, but Alan was in her blood.  Tall and good-looking, he had a slight paunch – but nothing a well-cut suit didn’t hide. He was always a perfect gentleman too.  Alan hated abusive blokes. He said they needed to go a few rounds with someone who could punch back; but there was a cloud, the ladies loved him – and he loved them back.  Of course, he denied it – said he couldn’t help his appeal, couldn’t help listening to damsels in distress – it didn’t mean he was fucking them.

She raked around in her dresser draw, eventually scoring a small brown container, “Codeine 30mg,” she read the label with relief.  She’d suffered piercing toothache a couple of months before, these small white pills kept her sane until her dentist ended the torture.  She remembered their soothing, floaty effect.  She quickly swallowed one, and then retreated to the bathroom.  She took a couple of mouthfuls of cold water, before turning on the bath taps and adding a few drops of “Flower Essence.”  In the briskly rising steam, her clothes glided with unusual carelessness to floor.  Peering into the mirror, she took a close, critical look at her body until the mistiness made it impossible.  Not bad – not bad at all for fifty-two.  What did Alan expect?  She wasn’t twenty-one anymore, but then, neither was he.

Noticing the tub was full, she smartly turned off the flow – and then appreciatively slid into the warmth, luxuriating in the heat.  Ye Gods, it felt good.  Her senses relaxed and began to wander.  She was back in the cellar again; Jason was fucking her again. She replayed each scene; she couldn’t stop the reel, she didn’t want to.  One hand wandered between her thighs; a finger slowly circling her pleasure spot and then increasing its rhythm.  Carol closed her eyes – but her minds-eye was wide open.  She could feel Jason’s hunger; it wasn’t difficult, her insides were still stinging.  She throbbed with the memory, letting out a large sigh as the excitement flooded back.  Over and over, she slid against his hardness. The tempo was primal; she wanted it to last forever, but her orgasm soon exploded in great washes of warm bath water.  She shuddered heavily with each wave.  It took a few seconds for her body to be still, and then she simply floated in exhaustion.

She would have drifted there much longer, but she needed a siesta.  Codeine, alcohol and masturbation are a potent combination.  Her limbs felt heavy when she lifted them from the liquid heaven, but with a little effort, she managed it and hastily wrapped herself in a towelling robe.  The thick material soaked up the dampness, and in a few short moments, she’d clicked the bedroom door behind her.  Gratefully, she climbed on to the king-size divan, and snuggled between the sheets.  Sleep came at once.

Downstairs, the pub was closed for the afternoon.  All of the staff had gone home, except one, Di was lingering.  She casually mopped some tabletops, though really, they didn’t need it.  Alan was sitting meditatively at the bar, nursing his drink and inhaling a cigarette.  He didn’t smoke much, just the odd one here and there – Carol’s nagging had seen to that, but right now, he needed one.

“Hi lover” Di’s voice was cheerful, but laced with expectation.  She’d seen his wife flee upstairs and heard the bathwater, “where’s Carol, is she coming back?” Subtlety had never been Di’s strong point.

Alan looked up from his glass. Two beguiling eyes met his, but then, sex was his Achilles' heel  “No Di, Carol’s got a headache.  She’ll probably have a sleep.”

“Oh, I see . . . . . . .” Di’s voice just hung there.

Alan’s stare drifted to the barmaid’s generous cleavage, he’d always been a tits man.  Images of her naked breasts flashed through his head, and he felt some stirring in his groin.  “Down boy” he thought, but it was futile.  His interest was piqued and he studied Di with rising appetite.  She was young - he was old enough to be her dad, but oh that body!  Curvy and soft; she’d never make a fashion model, but Penthouse Pet?  It was possible.  Fine blonde hair feathered round her pretty face, increasing her child like vulnerability.  That helpless quality of hers got him into trouble in the first place, or rather, into bed.

He couldn’t help it, could he?  That bastard boyfriend of hers had knocked her around again; she needed help.  His shoulders were broad, she cried on them – and then he listened with the gentle attentiveness of a father.  She’d rewarded his efforts. It was the best blowjob he’d ever had.
Di began softly circling an index finger on the back of Alan’s hand, and bit her bottom lip.  This powerless kid wasn’t stupid; she gauged the effect she had on Alan exactly, not that he was aware of her calculation. Prey or predator?  The lines were blurry.

“Alan, I missed you,” she whispered.

“Now babe” he replied earnestly, “this can’t go on, I’m married – I can’t give you what you want.”

Di bit her bottom lip again and looked at him wide-eyed, “Yes you can Alan – you give me everything I want.”  Her words were pleading.  Alan found them absurdly seductive, though her tone and body language probably added to the effect.

He sighed in defeat.  He knew this was only sex, at least, for him.  He hated to take advantage, but biology trumped his nobler instincts – as always.  “Come with me then Di” he said, “I’ve got something for you.”  He led her to his study, pausing only to unlock the door.  Pushing it open, he quickly clicked it behind them.

Di shivered in anticipation.

Alan pulled open a draw in the heavy antique desk and lifted out a small box.  It was exquisitely wrapped, obviously an in-store effort.  He handed it to her with satisfaction.  Actually, it was meant for Carol – but what the hell, he could replace it.

“Wow, thanks Alan,” she squealed in delight, “you thought of me!”

“Yeah well,” he began, having the grace to look humble, “it’s only something small.”

Di was fascinated with the elaborate packaging and took her time looking at it – as if contemplating success.

“Open it then” he said at last, a little fidgety.

“OK” she replied, and quickly discarded the elegant wrapping. “Oh Alan” she squealed again, “it’s beautiful, it must have cost a fortune!”  She unscrewed the fancy top and inhaled.  “My God Alan, this isn’t cheap!”

He cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed, “Well no, I know that – but it’s nothing really, just a token.”

She flung her arms round his neck, taking him by surprise.

Alan soon regained his poise though and began returning her passion.  After all, this was the point, wasn’t it?

“Come here, Di – come with me” he managed to whisper.  He led her towards his leather chair.  It was well cushioned - his special purchase.  He sat down and relaxed, “Kneel here Di, between my legs – do what you did to me before, please babe.”  His voice was slightly edgy, slightly hoarse.

Di obliged, slowly undoing his zip and pulling out a firm erection.  Her warm mouth landed on exactly the right spot. Alan squirmed with the intensity, and his fingers soon curled tightly over the padded armrests, before coming to rest on her bobbing head.

“Oh babe,” he moaned, “you do that good, you do that soooo well . . . . .. ” His voice drifted off.  Soon the only sound was gentle lapping, as Di wrapped a hand around his manhood – and her skilled tongue worked its magic.

“Jesus Christ Di!” he almost shouted.  He grasped her head, making sure she couldn’t pull back at the vital moment – though she hadn’t before.  He shot his load with desperate pleasure - and Di swallowed it all, every drop.

The next day at the pub started before it was light, at least, for Carol.  She woke slowly, her eyes straining to make out the glowing green numerals beside the bed – “04:45.”  A little confused at first, she realised she’d slept right through from her afternoon the siesta the day before.  She must have needed it, she thought.  Her sleep pattern had been erratic lately – early waking and late nights.  It couldn’t go on, something had to give.  She lifted a hand to her forehead and pushed back her hair.  At least her headache had disappeared.  She shouldn’t drink so much, but then, she shouldn’t screw young blokes up against the cellar wall either.  The memory came back at once.  She sighed in resignation at her stupidity, and then turned towards Alan’s space.  He was there, his broad shoulders gently moving up and down in sleep.  She trailed an index finger down his spine and then gently kissed his temple.  He stirred slightly, but didn’t rouse.

Eyes wide open now; she knew there was no point staying in bed.  Quickly, she got up, put on her silky robe and padded to the loo. Shortly after, in the kitchen, she gulped two glasses of cold water before slowly sipping on a coffee.  It was dark and strong; the way she liked it.  Some welcome alertness crept back.  She was sitting alone in the half-light; it was an oasis of stillness.  She thought about Alan, as always – though this morning, Jason’s animality interrupted her reflection; last night’s incident kept intruding like a repetitive ad.  Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his mouth, his butt, his shoulders, but most disturbingly, she felt his cock.  Suddenly, her attention shifted.  This wouldn’t do – she couldn’t spend the whole day lost in fantasy, she needed to focus.  Draining her cup, she headed to the bathroom.  Within an hour, she was perfect again, ready to face whatever the day had to give – at least, she thought she was.

The hands on the kitchen clock almost pointed to seven before Alan appeared.  Carol looked up from the sink when she heard his footsteps; she’d been rinsing a cereal bowl, she didn’t like to use the dishwasher for everything.  “Hi babe” she smiled.  He didn’t smile back; he was oddly cold – not like him. Her belly registered unease.

“Hi babe,” he replied, pulling out a chair and sitting at the table, “making coffee?”  Distracted, he picked up the paper, not even looking at her.
She took a deep breath and turned to face him; she noticed his face was tight and though he was attempting to read the news, his finger drummed on the wood - and he seemed to be having trouble concentrating.

He lit a cigarette.

“Alan, you’re not supposed to be smoking – you know what the doctor said.”

“Yeah well,” he replied slowly, “we all do what we’re not supposed to sometimes, don’t we?”  He put down the morning rag, crossed his arms and leant back.  He was regarding her intently.  He hadn’t planned a confrontation, but somehow he couldn’t help it.  It was like some devil had slipped inside his brain.

Carol’s stomach lurched again, “What do you mean Alan?”

His expression hardened more. “Why don’t you tell me what I mean Carol? You’re good at that kind of thing.”  The sarcasm was biting.

She saw him take a long, reflective drag on his cigarette while he waited for a reply.  She gulped, then met his eyes – and saw they were glowing.  The look that passed between them didn’t need any words.

“You know, don’t you” she whispered, almost imperceptibly.  It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah – I know,” he shouted and then jumped from his seat.

In a second, she registered his broad frame above her.  Almost like she was in a dream, she felt him grab a handful of hair and yank it.  Her chin tipped back - and all at once, she was staring into a raised fist.  It hung in mid air, shaking with rage.  Carol almost wet herself.  She was too stunned to say anything, though the scream was probably hers.

It was a moment of decision for Alan; he was standing on the edge of a cliff.  Breathing hard, he glared into Carol’s frightened face.  He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t hit his wife – it went against every principle, and besides, he was a bloody hypocrite.  Making an incoherent grunt, he threw her to one side and stormed out the door. It slammed behind him, shaking the wall.

Carol just sat on the kitchen floor, weeping.

 

14.12.07

story continues in Indiscretion 2

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