Chapter 5 #2
Simon had always believed he was so much more important than her.
Ultimately, that was why their marriage had fallen on its knees.
It had been fine years ago when she was a nurse, when she’d supposedly known her place.
It was still OK when she became a local newspaper reporter and the mother of his children.
He’d still been able to categorise this and work with it.
But when they’d moved to London for his glorious career and she’d achieved the national newspaper job, the glorious career of her own – that’s when his world view had fallen apart.
He’d been threatened… jealous… or maybe just confused.
He’d belittled her, put her down in front of their families and friends.
‘Jo’s one of those bloody journalists,’ was how he used to introduce her at parties with a roll of his eyes.
He’d not been able to let go of the idea that he was so much cleverer, smarter, better educated than her. And wasn’t that really what they were arguing about now? Who knew better, who had the most information about this?
‘No one in my family has thrombophilia,’ he answered briskly. ‘It’s extremely rare. So are bad reactions to both Quintet and any other vaccine.’
‘I will book them both in, OK?’ Jo told him firmly.
He gave an exasperated sigh, but didn’t start up again with objections.
‘All right, but as soon as you can. ASAP,’ he added for emphasis. ‘And I’m going to book us in for a tour of the school. You need to at least see what else is on offer.’
‘Simon! I’ve already told you… Oh, never mind!’
Once she’d hung up on the man-formerly-known-as-her-husband, she knew just what would be more comforting than another glass of wine, or even a bar of chocolate. She dialled Marcus’s mobile number.
‘Hello there,’ he answered and she could hear the grin on his face.
‘Hello. You busy?’
‘I’m very busy. I’m the busiest person in the entire kitchen, but I deserve a cigarette break right now.’
‘It’s OK, I can phone you back,’ she insisted.
‘No. No, keep talking, I’m walking to the back door. How are you?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Fine?’ he asked and she could hear the click of his cigarette lighter and the deep first breath of smoke. ‘Fine sounds a bit boring. Are you up? Are you down? Are you missing me? Are you wanting a late-night visit?’
Little surge of desire as she heard those words.
‘No, not tonight. It’s been a long day.’
‘I could make it an even longer day. Very long.’ He paused to suck up another lungful of smoke.
‘You’re very tempting.’
Their second ‘date’, the first time they’d gone to bed, came into her mind in little flashes.
It had begun with a cheeky, if slightly hesitant, call on her mobile.
‘Jo, hello there, Marcus here… you know, the chef… er… I’m going for a drink after work, I just wondered…
if you’d like to come along. To make up for the other night. ’
At the sound of his voice, Jo had felt an outrageous tug in her stomach… and lower. ‘I’m still at work,’ she’d told him. It was 9 p.m. on a Friday night and she’d be at least another hour or so finishing things off.
‘Me too. Us late-shift workers.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ she’d answered. ‘I’ve been here since 9 a.m.’
‘You’ll really need a drink when you finish, then.’
‘Either that or straight to bed,’ she’d said, only conscious of the other meaning once she’d said it and it was too late.
‘Aha,’ he’d said after the kind of pause that meant he was thinking of that other meaning too.
They’d met at the cramped and hot bar from their last night out, but this time, Marcus was there on his own.
He was drinking a bottle of beer, with his hair dishevelled, tucked behind his ears.
In a plain grey T-shirt, he looked grimy but incredibly sexy.
He’d bought her a beer, then they’d squeezed into a corner table together and had one of those conversations she hadn’t had for years, where she’d barely taken in anything that was said, barely even listened, she’d just watched him, using his turn to speak as her excuse to stare.
She’d liked everything she’d seen, particularly the chunky wrists, the broad, tanned forearms, the expressive mouth drinking from the rim of the bottle, the surprisingly white base of his neck that she glimpsed now and then.
He’d quickly breached the physical barrier between them, putting an arm round her, saying things into her ear, kissing her neck.
He was a touchy-feely outrageous flirt. If she’d been much younger, she’d have worried about him, been nervous that he wasn’t going to be reliable or particularly trustworthy, but now, he was the serious fun she wanted. Oh. Yes. Please.
‘So where are you?’ he’d asked. ‘Are you moving on from your husband? Are you going to start seeing other people?’
‘Other people?’ she’d smiled at him. ‘I don’t think so.’
He’d nodded solemnly as if he understood, was trying to sympathise. ‘Not other people,’ she’d added, taking a swig from the bottle of beer, putting her hand on his arm, feeling the soft hair beneath her fingers. ‘I’m going to start seeing you.’
She didn’t need to be subtle, she’d decided, she didn’t need to wait to read the signals, she was a grown-up, so she could make the offer. If he wasn’t interested, why was he here? If he didn’t want to play, then he could say so… no hard feelings.
And then they’d kissed properly: tongues tasting of beer, cigarettes and filthy promise.
There was only one thing to say after a kiss like that.
‘Let’s go,’ she’d told him.
They’d left the bar, Jo savouring the feel of a new hand in hers. Kissing again outside, she realised how close in height they were, whereas Simon had always towered above her.
‘I’ve got my car, you’re not far from here, are you?’ she’d asked.
The journey was only minutes, but it was still too long. They’d run up the stairs to his flat and when he closed the door and they were together in the tiny hallway, facing each other, she’d felt her heart shake, the blood rush.
In the busy tangle of kissing, he’d tried to slide her jacket off but she’d caught it in her hands as it headed for the floor. ‘Sorry, but can I hang this up?’ she’d asked.
Not exactly mad, passionate abandon but she was damned if she was going to let lightweight woven wool and silk workwear end up in a heap on this none too clean floor.
When Marcus swung open his bedroom door, she’d seen a clean bed, freshly made as if he’d thought this through, expected to get lucky.
He’d pulled off his shoes, socks, trousers, then his T-shirt, until he stood before her naked. Very erect. An erection pressed so tightly against his stomach it was almost difficult to slide her hand between the two.
For a moment, Jo had felt awkward, too old, too unused to this, too formal, too dressed: a shirt, trousers, tights, not to mention areas of dubious shaving. She hadn’t thought this through at all, she’d been caught out.
‘Come here,’ he’d encouraged her, bare arms folding over her shoulders.
‘Get under the covers,’ she’d told him. ‘And turn out the light.’
‘Why?’ There was a smile with this.
‘Because I say so.’
‘Are you shy?’
‘I don’t think so.’
When the room was dark orange, lit only by a streetlamp outside the window, Marcus had slid his naked body into bed and watched as best he could in the half-light as she’d taken off her clothes.
His hand was on his cock, that much she could tell. ‘Come here,’ he’d said again with something close to a groan.
And she did. Under the cool covers, with his solid warmth, his bare skin pressed up against hers, she’d felt like she was going to come three times just at the touch of his hand on her thigh.
‘Here?’ and ‘OK?’ he’d asked in breathy whispers.
Her skin all over had tingled for him, needed him to rub against her, with his fingers, with his cock, with his lips and tongue.
The fumble of the bedside condom. How could she have forgotten about the excitement, the awkwardness, the pain almost, of wanting someone so badly? The ache from the very centre of her pelvis.
But when he was inside, she’d felt him pulse through her, a different shape, the unexpected chill of the condom, the new rhythm and suddenly she’d been struck by a piercing sense of loneliness that had brought tears to her eyes.
She’d heard the long, sustained gasp and felt him shudder and fall back with some disappointment because he hadn’t made her come.
He’d wanted to keep trying, but she’d moved his hand away.
Didn’t want him to. She’d carefully moved off and laid down beside him on the bed, the throb of blood receding.
Lying quietly, chests rising and falling almost together, she’d felt a wave of disbelief wash over her.
She’d lost her marital virginity and it was just as overwhelming as losing her virginity the first time round.
For over a decade, she’d only been with Simon until tonight.
The emotions were all jangled and conflicting.
She wanted to be with someone new… it was exciting, adventurous, daring even.
It was making her feel alive and excited about the possibility of new relationships.
But also, she could feel that she wasn’t quite sure.
She was holding a big part of herself in reserve. This was still too new.
‘I am very tempting, Jo,’ he was saying right now into the receiver against her ear.
‘You are. But no,’ she replied.
‘Are you sure? Sure?’ he repeated, warm and intimate.
‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. Might not be interested tomorrow… maybe you should say yes to tonight. Tonight, I’m very interested. Tonight, I’m getting hard just talking to you.’
‘Uh oh,’ was her response to this.
‘Tonight, I’m so interested that you might just want to put your hands inside your pants right now and see what I’m talking about.’
She swallowed involuntarily.
‘It’s very nice in there,’ he added.
‘Uh oh,’ she repeated, not sure if this was the way she wanted this phone call to go.
‘Ohhhh,’ he gave a little groan, ‘I want you.’
‘You are a lovely boy. I’d really like to see you soon. But I have to go now. Is that OK?’
‘No! You’re not going to leave me like this, are you?’ She could hear the giggle in his voice.
‘Night-night,’ she said, then hung up.
The phone rang back almost immediately. ‘Baby, you have to leave me alone now,’ she purred into the receiver.
‘Jo? Is that you?’
This time it was Declan and no doubt he did want to discuss every item on the 10 p.m. news.