My Old Flame Ch. 02

"I wish you had!" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. The floodgates opened then, and I buried my face in my hands as my shoulders heaved, and I released my pain and anguish in huge, gasping sobs. In a moment I felt Jack's arms circling me from behind my chair, holding me, her cheek pressed to mine as she shooshed me, and stroked my hair, and kissed the tears from my face.

It took me probably ten minutes to calm down; then I felt more embarrassed than anything else. I snatched a paper tissue from the box on my side table, starting to apologise, but Jack shooshed me again, then squatted by the side of my chair, holding my hands in hers. "It's not too late Suze. We've both made mistakes in our lives, done things we regret. But if I've learnt anything, it's that you can reinvent yourself. I've started over loads of times. It's never too late to start again. We've got a chance now to repair the biggest mistake either of us ever made."

I pulled one of my hands from hers and wiped at my eyes again. Then, with a deep, shuddering breath, I replied, "Your wrong Jack. It is too late. We split up back then because I was a bloody coward. And I'm still a bloody coward. I despise myself for it, but there it is. I've never had your strength. I know my life's shit, but I've got Hannah and I rejoice in her every day, even now she's away studying for months at a time. I can't just give up what I've built here over the last 23 years. I love you, I truly do, and I always did, but...I'm just not brave enough for what you're suggesting."

She turned, still in her squatting position, and stood with her back to me. Then she made her way to the door. When she turned back I saw that she was crying now. Her voice choked with emotion, she said, "Suze, I love you and I've always known you love me -- I was just too proud and stupid back then to ignore your lie. We belong together. You wouldn't lose Hannah, not necessarily, and you wouldn't be leaving anything else behind that really matters to you. I'll be leaving here in a couple of days, and I won't be coming back. I'm asking you to come with me. Please Susannah, don't do this to us -- not again." With that she fled, and I heard the front door bang shut. I slipped to the floor and lay on the carpet, in a foetal curl, sobbing into my hands.

I had barely pulled myself together when Hannah got home two hours later. My eyes were red-rimmed with crying, and she could see something was badly wrong, but I tried to dismiss her concern. Roger didn't notice a thing when he arrived home. He left again barely an hour later for a parish council meeting. The moment the front door closed behind him, Hannah stood up and switched off the TV. Then she pulled me gently to my feet and sat me beside her on the sofa. Holding both my hands, just as Jack had a few hours earlier, she said, "Mum, I know something's the matter, and I won't leave you in peace until you tell me what it is. It's something to do with that Jackie woman isn't it, the dykey one. Has she done something to upset you?"

I shook my head, my throat too clogged with emotion to speak. Hannah looked close to tears herself, and there was a note of despair in her voice as she said, "Mummy, please, you're worrying me. Please tell me what it is."

She hadn't called me 'mummy' in years. Even as my tears started again, I smiled at my daughter and stroked her hair. Croakily, I said, "It's all right darling, I'm fine, really I am." Then I started to tell her about Jack. I hadn't meant to, not really, but once I started it all came flooding out: how Jack had befriended then seduced me, how we'd made love, the way we split up, my thoughts about Jack over the years, and some of what we'd said to each other that afternoon. The only bit I left out was Jack asking me to leave Roger for her. I would have expected to shrivel with embarrassment at discussing such intimate things with Hannah, but somehow it felt cathartic discussing it with a third party, even one who was my own offspring.

I'm not sure how I expected Hannah to react. Maybe incredulity and revulsion at her mother's secret lesbian past. Perhaps derision at the idea of two sad middle-aged losers mooning about each other halfway across Europe for years. Possibly even outrage at the fact that I'd been thinking about Jack when I should have been giving Hannah's father my love and devotion. I certainly didn't expect what did happen. Hannah's cheeks were damp with tears, and, in a very small voice, she said, "Mum, that's such a sad, beautiful story. How does it end?"

I stared at her, slightly bewildered. "I told you Hannah, it has ended. Jack's leaving for home in a couple of days. We're never going to see each other again."

She shook her head vehemently, lips pursed like a little girl ordered to eat her greens. "No, it can't end there. There's another chapter to be written." I looked at her uncomprehendingly. What on earth could she mean? She spoke to me slowly and carefully, as if explaining to a small child why the injection it didn't want would be good for it. "Mum -- you and Jack obviously still love each other. I love you and I love dad, but it's equally obvious that you don't love each other. You're like two people who exist in different dimensions that just coincide occasionally. There's no emotion between you -- I mean, you don't even argue, at least that would be something! I sometimes wonder whether you even notice each other when I'm away at uni."

As Hannah's voice steadily rose I couldn't disagree with anything she was saying, but I couldn't see where she was going with it. She smiled and her voice softened as she said, "From a purely selfish point of view I'd hate it if you and dad split up, I want you both to be here for me when I come home. But you only have one life, and I'd hate it even more if I thought you were going to spend the rest of yours unhappy because you weren't with the person you really love, especially if it was for my sake. I'm still young and uncynical enough to believe in romantic love, and that's what you and Jack have. At the moment you're making two people in this story desperately unhappy -- three, if you count me. If you and Jack got together that number would be reduced to one -- dad, and my guess is he'd get over it, and I'd help him. Please Mum, don't do the sensible, responsible thing this time. Do the thing your heart tells you to, like you should have done before."

I couldn't believe it. My own daughter was sitting here, giving me permission -- in fact begging me -- to desert her father in favour of my lesbian lover! I didn't point out to her that if I had done that before we wouldn't be having that conversation, because she wouldn't exist. Instead, I hugged her and told her I loved her, and that I would think about what she'd said. That night, as Roger lay beside me in bed snoring, I felt very confused. I knew what my heart was telling me to do. Jack had said it was what she wanted. Even my own flesh and blood had told me to do it. To be honest, I thought, Roger would probably barely even notice my absence. So what the hell was stopping me? After all, all it meant was tearing up the last 20-odd years of my life, abandoning my marriage, and leaving my friends and the village I'd always lived in to move to a country I'd only ever once visited on a day trip, as the lover of a woman I had only spoken to twice since I was 18 years old!

I barely got a wink of sleep, but I finally reached a decision as the local birdlife greeted the dawn. I chose my prettiest dress, a cream cotton one with a button top and a pleated skirt. I avoided Hannah's questioning looks at breakfast. I was on tenterhooks in the charity shop all morning. At the Women's Institute lunch I attended I drank a rare second glass of wine to steady my nerves. Then I made my way up King's Passage and tapped lightly on Jack's door. There was no response, and I couldn't see her when I peered through the lounge window. I quickly looked behind the cottages, but she wasn't painting on the riverbank. There was a hire car parked outside, but no sign of Jack. I nearly backed out at that point, but I was determined. I was going to speak to Jack once more, and try to convince myself that going away with her was a stupid idea.

There was a recreation ground at the end of the street, with a set of kids' swings. Listlessly, I sat on one of the swings and gently propelled myself back and forth, attracting the odd curious glance from dog walkers and mothers with toddlers, while I kept watch on Jack's home, assuring myself that she couldn't be far away, not if she'd left her car. After perhaps ten minutes I saw her -- but she wasn't alone. Walking beside her, her arm linked with Jack's, was Alison, Hannah's closest friend in the village. Short, a bit chubby, and ruddy faced, Alison looked as if she might be slightly tipsy.

Before I thought it through I tried to attract my friend's attention, but she didn't see me. As they turned up the short path to the cottage I started to hurry towards them; then I stopped as if I'd run into a brick wall. Why was Jack taking Alison into her cottage in the middle of the day? With their arms intertwined. Oh my God, surely not! I walked slowly towards the cottage debating with myself. If the two of them wanted to fool around together it was none of my business. But Alison was Hannah's best friend, and her mother was a good friend of mine. She wasn't the brightest bulb in the room at the best of times, and she definitely looked as if she'd had a drink or three at lunchtime. Whatever else she was, I was quite certain from the string of boyfriends she'd had that she wasn't gay. If Jack was about to take advantage of her...so much for her tearful declaration of undying love for me, the conniving bitch!

With no idea what I intended to do, if anything, I found myself trying the knob of the cottage door. It swung open -- clearly Jack had had other things on her mind than locking it behind her. I could hear Alison snivelling from a room on my right. Even as I continued to tell myself it was nothing to do with me, I found myself tiptoeing down the hallway. The door to the room was ajar, and there was a mirror hanging on the wall, at a perfect angle for me to see Jack and Alison settled on a couch, Jack with an arm around the young girl's shoulder and stroking her hair as Alison wept quietly. Then she groaned, "Fucking bastard! How dare he call me that? How can it not be my business what he's doing with Julie Cowan at one in the morning?" I guessed that Alison has had yet another row with her latest bloke. He was a bit of a yob from the council estate, and I had little time for him.

Jack continued to stroke Alison's hair, and nuzzled the girl's cheek, glancing down her blouse at her substantial cleavage. Soothingly, she crooned, "I know love. I've been there, men are all the same. They're all shits. A beautiful, sexy girl like you shouldn't have to put up with that."

Alison turned her face to Jack's. Their noses were actually touching. Nervously, she said, "Do you really think I'm sexy? I think you're nice too. You've been very kind. Is it true what folk say about you, that you..."

The rest of Alison's question was cut off as Jack's lips adhered to hers. Alison's eyes widened and her jaw dropped, and for a moment her hands bunched as she tried to push Jack away. Then she began to moan as Jack, I thought, slipped her tongue into her conquest's mouth, and wrapped a hand around one of the big boobs. Alison's hands uncurled and her arms stole around Jack's back. I fell back against the wall of the hallway, squeezing my eyes closed against the tears which were forming. And I had actually thought of leaving my marriage for that cow! I heard Alison murmur, "Look, I dunno about this," but her voice faded as I heard another sloppy kiss.

I wanted to rush in there and stop Jack seducing Alison -- just as she had seduced me. I knew I should leave -- I had no business there. Instead I stood rooted to the spot, an uninvited voyeur, watching their reflection through my tears. Alison had clearly abandoned her token resistance, and was straining her body up into Jack's. As my former lover began to unbutton the girl's blouse, Alison's hand slipped under Jack's T-shirt, and edged up towards her bare unfettered breast. With her other hand, Alison wrenched down a cup of her bra, exposing herself to Jack.

Then Jack sat up and dropped her face in her hands. I was as stunned as Alison by the sudden turn of events. Jack mumbled, through her hands, "I'm sorry, this was a mistake. Can you go now please?"

Alison struggled half upright, staring at Jack. "But I was just starting to get into it. Come on, no-one knows." She tentatively cupped a hand around one of Jack's boobs, outside her shirt.

Jack sighed, detached Alison's hand and, turning to the girl, began to button up her blouse. "Look, Alison is it? You're a nice girl, but this isn't right for either of us. You need to sort things out with your bloke, one way or another, and having a quickie with a dyke old enough to be your mother isn't going to help you do that. Now go on, be a good girl and just piss off, okay?"

A curtained alcove containing coat-hooks was behind me, and I ducked into it as Alison rushed from the room, her face reddening in humiliation. As the cottage door slammed Jack sank back into the couch, her hands covering her face again. I jumped as she screamed, "Oh fuuuuck!" then burst into tears. I knew I should leave, but I couldn't. I still wasn't sure what had just happened, but my heart ached for the anguish my friend was so clearly feeling. I edged into the room, and said her name. It was her turn to jump then. Wiping angrily at her face, she said, "Oh Christ Suze, you nearly made me shit myself. What the fuck are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, I posed my own question. "What was all that about, with Alison?"

She stared at me, mouth agape. "Oh God, you saw that, did you? What that was about was a stupid old cow making a complete fool of herself. You haven't answered my question yet."

I placed my hands on my hips, angrily. "I came to talk to you, about what you said to me yesterday; but I can see now I shouldn't have bothered. Have you been thinking much about me, between seducing drunken kids? Kind of a habit of yours, isn't it."

A look of total misery formed on Jack's face. I turned to storm out, but the pain in her cry of 'Suze! Please don't go like this" stopped me cold. I turned and, glaring at her, sank slowly into an armchair across the room from her. I raised my eyebrows in silent enquiry. She was crying again, and gulped in an effort to be able to speak. "Suze, I am so, so very sorry you saw that. I have never felt so stupid in my entire life. What it was about was that I've been wallowing in misery since I left your place, and I felt old, and lonely, and unloved. I went to the pub today for lunch, and I wanted a drink, a real drink I mean, so bad it was like a kick in the guts. She" -- Jack jerked her thumb after the long departed Alison -- "was having a huge row with some shifty looking bloke, and I started listening in to take my mind off the idea of booze. He went off in a strop, she was in tears, and I genuinely thought she needed a shoulder to cry on. Well, one thing led to another, and...look Suze, I haven't been with another woman since I got ill, and if I couldn't get drunk I decided I might as well get laid."

She peered at me eagerly, as if she was trying to see whether I was buying the story. Coldly, I asked her, "Why didn't you go through with it then? You couldn't have known I was watching, and Alison seemed up for it."

Jack took three deep gulps of air, then cried, "Because I didn't want her! I only did it because I was so miserable because I thought you'd rejected me -- again. I don't want anyone anymore -- except you!" She fell sideways on the couch, her entire body racked with sobs. I didn't even think about it: I was beside her in an instant, cuddling her body to me, holding her, rocking her, making soothing noises, stroking her hair, as I used to do for Hannah when she was small. I knew then that I had made my decision. Gradually, Jack's crying eased to no more than a whimper. Her face pressed into my shoulder, she mumbled pitifully, "Suze, I can't bear the thought of going away from here and never seeing you again. I don't know what I'll do."

I kissed her hair, and whispered softly, "Oh my love, you don't have to. I'll come with you."

Jack froze for a moment, as if she'd been turned to stone. Then tearful grey eyes swivelled up to meet mine. Barely whispering, she said, "What? You mean it? You'll come back to Grasse with me?"

I nodded, tears forming in my own eyes again. "Yes Jack, I'm coming with you. Oh Christ, I've wanted you so much, so very often." Laughing and crying at the same time, Jack raised her face awkwardly to mine, and we kissed, hard, her tongue thrusting into my mouth. I responded eagerly, feeling as if I was finally being honest with myself, and the rest of the world, for the first time in my life.

We sat, both laughing, both crying, kissing and cuddling, for I don't know how long. Then Jack rubbed my nose with hers, and said softly, "I don't suppose you'd like to..." The words trailed off, but her eyes swivelled upwards, towards the ceiling and the bedroom above it. Wordlessly, I nodded and, hand in hand, we climbed the stairs of the cottage.

Sitting on the bed we undressed each other slowly, reluctant to break off for log from kissing each other. Jack's boobs were still small and pert, her nipples very erect. Mine are the same size as they were when I was 18, but they've surrendered to gravity a bit over the years. When Jack lifted each of them in her palms, and sucked and nibbled my nipples, my stomach began to flip-flop in aroused anticipation. She breathed, "Oh Christ, your body's even more beautiful than I remembered." Still kissing my breasts, she lifted her backside from the bed as I slipped her black thong panties down her legs. The tufty orange pubes I remembered were gone, and in their place on her pubic mound was a tattoo of an Egyptian symbol, an ankh. I winced inwardly at the thought of having that done to such a sensitive part of the anatomy. I saw I was right about her navel chain -- it was clipped to another silver ring piercing one of her labia. She carefully removed the chain, stood and placed it on a cabinet, while I studied her slim buttocks and that butterfly back tattoo.

Jack returned and pressed me back into the bed, then I rested my weight on my shoulders and heels as she pulled at my sensible Marks & Spencer briefs. Then she lay full length on top of me and we kissed again, her hand brushing across my pubes. She giggled, "Mmm, I'm glad you don't shave, I always loved your fur." I tensed in anticipation as she began to kiss her way down my body. My husband was a strict missionary position man who would never have dreamed of kissing my pussy. My most vivid memory of Jack had always been the ecstasy I felt as her tongue probed my insides, and I was desperate to feel it again. When I pressed my hand to the top of her head and pressed it downwards she chuckled, and squirmed into position.

I almost came just at the feel of her warm breath on my gash. Then she dabbed at my pussy with the tip of her tongue, teasingly. I squeaked and wriggled my hips, trying to push myself onto her. She whispered, "Okay, tiger", and a moment later I groaned loudly as her sweet tongue pressed into me and began swirling the length of my snatch. I stretched my legs as wide apart as I could on the bed, giving her maximum access, as her hands joined in. With one she stroked my insides around her busy tongue; with the fingers of the other she tweaked my clit and caressed my labia, driving me wild with lust. Within moments stars burst before my eyes and I felt my pussy flood as I experienced my first real orgasm in a quarter of a century.