Love Never Dies Pt. 06

"Okay, I understand," I said. "But just let me thank you for treating me so kindly. I'm amazed that you can forgive me so easily."

"Oh Richard, Richard." Gaynor's eyes opened wide and her hoops swung merrily as she chuckled deep in her throat. "You still don't get it, do you? I loved you. My thoughts over all these years have been loving ones. Yes, some sad thoughts, too. That's obvious. But I always loved you, the memories I had were of good times."

She leaned back into her seat, leaving just the one hand in my clutches. "So, here I am now, looking at you, a much older man. Tanned, hair thinning, a furrowed brow, hair in your ears." She smiled. "But, for all that, you still look very much like My Richard, the young go-getting man I fell in love with."

I gave her hand a squeeze and reached for my drink. I took a good swallow to lubricate my arid mouth. "You are one remarkable lady," I said, replacing my glass on the table. "I really do wish that things had been different. . ." It was my turn to raise a hand, palm towards Gaynor to stop her interrupting. "But they weren't. Now, looking at you, I can hardly see any difference. The years have been kind to your beauty, as the man sang, and I know it's not just skin deep. I appreciate your concerns about Veronica, about my marriage and what this reunion might bring up. You have a warm, generous, big heart."

"That's why I have these huge lumps of fat to keep it in," she laughed looking down at her quivering chest.

"Ah, Nurse Reid is in the house," I smiled. "Yes, I remember the time when I was telling you how wonderful your breasts were and you said: 'These? They're only lumps of fat.' Well, they're still looking swell, literally, if you don't mind me saying."

Gaynor smiled and lifted her glass, swilling the liquid round and round, the remnants of the ice cubes clinking. "I think we've broken the ice, Richard, don't you?"

I nodded. "Yes, I do, thank you."

"So, what do you want to do? How long have you got?"

"I need to be home about seven or eight at the latest."

Gaynor smiled. "Long game of golf." Before I could say anything she added: "Shall we have a bite to eat here and then perhaps go back to my place for an hour or two? I mean, at our ages, we don't want to be wandering around the streets like lost sheep, or lovelorn teenagers, do we?"

"Lovelorn teenagers? Good God, no," I said, laughing and concealing my surprise and delight at her suggestion. "Yes, I think that's an ideal plan. Thank you."

I looked at my wristwatch. "It's coming up for 12-30," I said. "What would you like to eat?"

"To be honest, Richard, not a lot. My stomach's been churning for a couple of days. I'd settle for a sandwich if that's alright?"

"That's fine by me," I said. "I'll get a menu, see what's on offer."

~~~~~~~~

Gaynor told me where she lived but I followed her black saloon through country lanes ("The back way is nice," she'd said with a saucy wink). It took about 15 minutes before she indicated a right turn at a pair of open wrought-iron gates and we drove up a gravel driveway to an impressive large house. The drive was an in-and-out horseshoe around a manicured lawn. A concrete statute of a peeing boy stood in the middle. Thankfully, there was no water.

"Some place for a nurse," I said as we both exited our vehicles.

"It's not all mine," she said, lugging her bag onto a shoulder and rattling a large bunch of keys. "Long story. C'mon, this way."

I walked with her to a side of the house and she put a key into a maroon-painted wood door. It opened onto a short passage and stairway. Gaynor squatted to pick up mail before climbing the stairs. I closed the door and followed, looking up at her swaying rear.

"Shame I'm wearing leggings, isn't it," she said without even turning or breaking her step.

"The view's just fine," I said.

At the top of the stairway, she said: "Bet you didn't notice the pictures on the walls."

"Got me there," I said. "I'll look on the way out."

We were clearly on the top floor of the house. Doors were on either side of a long corridor. "Quick tour," said Gaynor and set off. She pointed to each closed door, right and left, saying: "Bedroom . . . bathroom . . . utility cupboard . . . lounge . . . toilet . ." until we reached the end where a door was open. "And this is the kitchen."

It was superbly fitted with labour-saving white machines, electric equipment, work surfaces and cupboards. The sink was to the left, beneath a large window which afforded a view over fields.

Gaynor made two mugs of coffee and we carried them into the lounge. It was a large airy room with minimal furnishing: a four-seater leather couch behind the door, a glass-topped coffee table in the centre, two armchairs in a bay window either side of a small wood table, a flat screen TV and entertainment centre. The carpet was a warm beige and various pictures adorned the white walls. My eye was drawn to a water colour of a robin, a proud red breast expanded, sitting on snow-covered tree branch.

Gaynor kicked off her shoes, put her mug on the wood table and settled into an armchair with one leg bent under her. I sat in the other chair and said: "I see you're still supple."

At The Toad's Hollow, Gaynor had asked most of the questions, inquiring about my daughters, the passing of my parents, why I'd taken early retirement, why I'd left the north and exactly where did I now live. It left me little time to discover anything about Gaynor's life these past 32 years and, relaxing back into the chair, I thought it was now my turn. Before I could frame a question, she said: "I'll put some music on."

Magically, from somewhere, a remote control appeared in her hands and she clicked it in the direction of the entertainment centre. "I found a radio station that plays all the old stuff," she said, smiling at me. "I know it's like living in a time warp but I like it. And they don't waste time chatting, just play the music. Course, there is the advertising but you get used to that."

As if on cue, we were told about the best deal for new cars in the whole of the universe, or something like that. Gaynor smiled and put the remote on the table.

"Well. . ." she said and stopped as the advertisement segued to the introductory notes of a familiar song. She shook her head, looked at me, amazement projected from her brown eyes. "I can't believe this, what's the chances?"

I listened, equally astounded, as Gladys Knight started: 'I've had my share of life's ups and downs . . .'

We listened in silence, eyes locked on each other, as 'You're the best thing that ever happened to me' filled the room. Gaynor swallowed at 'between each line of pain and glory' and I reached for her hand. We linked fingers and squeezed. I fought my emotions and teardrops leaked from the corners of Gaynor's eyes.

I rose from my chair, dropped to one knee in front of her and kissed the backs of her hands. Her crimson nails dug into my palms and I looked up. She had slumped back, eyes closed, silently sobbing, tears rolling down her cheeks . . .

±±±±±±±±

THEN

GAYNOR'S arms wound around me and she nestled her head into the crook of my shoulder and neck. My arms hugged her close as we smooched to Gladys Knight and the Pips. The record, on a repeat loop, was on its fourth spin.

In this tiny room of Gaynor's apartment, on a drink-fueled late night, our hips swayed and groins thrust together, my cock hard against her tummy. It wasn't dancing, just primitive gyrating. And so sensual.

With eyes closed, my other senses were heightened. I felt her breasts squashed against me, her warm breath filtering through the open neck of my shirt and her firm buttocks yielding beneath my grasping fingers.

"Tell you something, Richard," she slurred into my chest. "This record lasts just over three and a half minutes."

"Does it?" I said, kissing the top of her head.

"Hmm, it does. And I'll tell you something else."

"What's that?"

She lifted her head off its resting place and big, brown eyes looked up at me. "I'll bet I can get you to cum before it ends."

"It's nearly finished," I said.

"Mmm, I know. I mean when it starts again."

I thought about it, not for long. I was already aroused. "Okay, you're on," I said. "Let's do it."

"Attaboy," said Gaynor, a hoarse chuckle rising from her throat as she detached herself from our smooch.

Gladys reached the final 'yoooou' and Gaynor reached under her flouncy mini-skirt and pulled down her panties. She stepped out of them, a little unsteadily, and reached for my belt buckle. I heard the arm of the record player click and a hiss as the needle landed on the edge of the disc. At the opening notes, my trousers and briefs were at my ankles and my cock pointed straight out from my pubis. Gaynor dropped to her knees and eagerly sucked my dome while her hands roamed over my buttocks and thighs and tickled my balls. Gladys was hardly into her stride when Gaynor stood up, turned her back on me, bent over and flipped up the back of her tiny skirt. Her pussy awaited. She opened her legs, rested her forearms on the back of a chair and said: "C'mon, lover, put that big thing in me."

I ran a finger along her open, wet slit and parted the soft folds to permit my engorged helmet to burrow home. With my hands on Gaynor's hips, I thrust and entered deeply.

She stifled a yelp and wiggled, pushing back into my groin.

"Give it to me, Richard . . . pound my pussy . . .do it now . . . yes, that's it . . . oooh, yes, Richard."

Gaynor was right. I looked down at my thick penis sliding smoothly and rapidly up and down her soaking tunnel, her lovely petals clinging to my girth. It was all too much, too good, too arousing. I couldn't last. I surrendered to my carnal instincts and discharged my semen in thunderous streams, still pumping as the fluid squelched out and ran down Gaynor's inner thighs. After one last fierce thrust, I sagged forward and rested my head on her back, panting and quivering.

And I heard . . . 'should ever write my life's story' . . .and knew Gaynor had won the bet. "You win," I gasped and straightened up, my cock slipping from her sopping hole.

Gaynor turned and put her hands either side of my face and kissed me fiercely, her tongue exploring and wriggling. I joined in eagerly, bringing my hands up beneath her top to fondle her naked tits. She broke away from the kiss, looked into my eyes, and said: "That, my sexy, randy man, makes the song even more special for me."

"And me," I said as Gladys finished with a 'whooa. . .wu. . .hu.'

±±±±±±±±

NOW

I stood, still holding Gaynor's hands and her eyes opened. She pulled her right hand free and, with the pad of her thumb, wiped her eyes. Smeared mascara gave her a Panda look. She sniffled, put a forefinger under her nose and asked me for a tissue from the box on the coffee table.

She blotted her tears, looked at the black stains, and then blew her nose. She screwed the tissue into a ball and edged forward on the chair. "Sorry about that, honey," she breathed. "Gosh, I must look a sight," she added, stood up and walked out of the room.

Another door opened and closed, the bathroom I assumed, and I sat and waited. I drank cool coffee, discarded it, and thought: Just how delicate is this situation? How vulnerable is Gaynor? My heart pounded and I linked my fingers, arms resting on my thighs. The song, our song, had upset her mightily. I took a deep breath, aware that I, too, was close to tears.

I heard a cistern flush, running water, and seconds later Gaynor was back. "Well, what can I say, Richard?" She sat again in her chair, this time with both feet on the carpet. "I'm sorry. . . don't know what came over me."

"Don't you? I think you do. That was our song . . . no, still is our song."

Gaynor's mouth opened into a huge grin. Her whole demeanour changed and she wagged a finger at me. "You naughty, naughty boy," she said. "I know what you're thinking about."

"What?" I said, feigning innocence.

"You don't fool me. I can see you haven't changed."

I said nothing but looked into her beautiful brown eyes, no signs now of tears. Just a familiar pale blue shade of eyelid make-up.

"Admit it, you've been thinking about that drunken night when you took me from behind."

"I took you! No, you seduced me. You were the temptress."

She chortled, husky and oh so sexy. "See, told you, I knew what you'd been thinking. You haven't changed. . . except you're older and, perhaps, wiser. Are you wiser, Richard?"

I pondered the question. Does sitting here with an old flame make me wiser? "I like to think I am," I said. "But I'm not the best judge, am I? I'm biased."

"Hmm," she said as if reading my mind. "Would you be here if you're a wise man?"

We stared at each other for a while, both minds active. I eventually shrugged my shoulders, raised my hands palm upwards and broke the silence. "I don't think anybody can answer that one, Petal. I wanted to see you again, even if it was for one last time. You seemed willing to meet - until this morning's panic, that is - and I'm glad it's happened."

Gaynor wasn't smiling now. "You just called me Petal," she said slowly and quietly.

"Did I? Well, that's how I think of you: Petal, Gaynor, My Love . . .that's what I always called you."

"I know," she said, even quieter, almost reflective. "And I brought it up in our e-mails. But it's just odd to hear it spoken again after all these years." She paused and a buzz, buzz came from across the room. "My phone, a text message," she said, nodding at the tote bag in the corner of the couch.

"Are you going to see who it is?"

"No, not yet," she said. "I think it'll be my friend, Charlie."

"Charlie?"

Gaynor laughed. "Yes, Charlie. Don't tell me there's a jealous green giant in the room, Richard."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I never thought about another man, that's all."

Gaynor reached across. "Give me your hand," she ordered and grasped it firmly. "There isn't another man in my life. Charlie lives downstairs, the other half of the house. And she's Charlotte, a friend who goes way, way back. In fact, when I first met you that night in the bar, she was with me then."

"Oh," was all I could manage.

"At the time we were student nurses together. We went out occasionally for a drink after work but we didn't become real friends until much later. Long after you and I split up, in fact."

"Right. Don't you want to see what she wants?"

Gaynor shook her head, hoops oscillating. "Not necessary. She'll only want to know what happened between us." She reacted to my raised eyebrows. " Don't be surprised. Course I told her. She's my best friend and knows all about our past. She's even seen our photos."

"Photos? Didn't know you had any photos."

"Kept them all, Richard. I don't expect you have any, after all you moved on and got married, didn't you?"

"Well, yes . . ."

"No bother, I'm not attacking you. Maybe one day we'll look at them together."

"Hmm, I'd like that. I'd like to see how we really looked back then. Or perhaps not, eh?"


"Might be a shock for you. My hair was more Three Degrees or a young Michael Jackson then," she said, patting her tight girls. "Not cropped like this."

I smiled. "You're still gorgeous."

I still held one her hands and Gaynor gave me a squeeze. "You're not so bad yourself," she said and quickly added: "Whoops, hear that? It's the news at six on the radio. Hadn't you better be thinking about going?"

"Suppose so. Guess it's about 50 minutes or so from here." I sighed and stood up, releasing Gaynor's hand.

"I'll see you out," she said, bending to put on her shoes, "and then I'll see if Charlie's home."

We stood in the centre of the room, face to face. "Well, thanks for seeing me, Gaynor. I never thought it would happen."

"No? Funnily enough, I always dreamed, maybe simply hoped, that we would. After all, we are soulmates, you know."

I nodded and she opened her arms and said: "Come here, give me a hug."

And we hugged, arms wrapped tight and then tighter. Cheek to cheek, a gold hoop pressed between us. Eventually, Gaynor tapped my back with her fingers and said: "Time to go Richard, we don't want Veronica getting suspicious."

I reluctantly stepped back, leaving the warmth of her soft body. With arms outstretched, I put my hands on her bare arms. "It's been good," I said.

"Yes, it has . . . would you like to do it again?"

"Of course I would. Daft question."

"I wasn't sure. Thought maybe one time would satisfy your curiosity or something."

"Curiosity has been satisfied in that I've seen you and had a hug. But I don't want it to end there. Not just a one-off. What about you? Still scared?"

Gaynor gazed into my face. "Hmm," she murmured and reached to pat my face. "You know it's the 11th on Tuesday, the anniversary of our parting?"

"Guess it is," I said.

"Shall we make that a date? Can you get free, like you have today?"

I didn't need to think. Tuesday was a golf day. Ideal alibi. "No problem," I said, joy beating in my heart at the prospect. "Tuesday is perfect."

"Good. Send me a text or e-mail when you get home, just to let me know you've arrived safely and there's no problem. Okay?"

I nodded. "Sure. And we can fix up a time and place for Tuesday."

Gaynor nodded this time. "C'mon, time to go," she said and turned me towards the passage and the stairway exit. Going down I glanced at the small framed pictures, mostly black-and-white photographs of birds or sea views.

"Saw the pictures," I said as I went out the door.

"Yes, I noticed," she said, taking my hand and leading the way to my car. "They're my photographs."

"Yours?"


"Uh, uh," she nodded. "Hobbies of mine, photography, birds and the sea."

"I never knew," I said, surprised.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Richard," she said as we stood by my car. "I'm full of surprises."

And she kissed me. It was only a brief meeting of lips and she stood back, her eyes penetrating my eyes, seeking my soul.

"Byee, Richard, careful how you drive," she said and made her hip-swinging way to the front of the house.

She stood at the door as I drove away and we exchanged waves. My final glimpse of her was through the rearview mirror before I turned left onto the road and headed for home.

Tom T Hall started to sing 'I took a memory to lunch' and I smiled. In fact, I smiled most of the way home, thinking warm thoughts.