One Rainy Afternoon

Average guys - unless I'm very much mistaken - don't end up, one rainy afternoon, in bed with their teenage daughter's gorgeous best friend, fucking like the world was about to end.

There, it's said. Did you guess right? I bet you did. Which means all that's left are the sordid, messy details. But hey, that's why you're here anyway, right?

Don't worry. We're nearly there. You're about to read a true and accurate account of the events which took place on Thursday 12th April, 2013. Well, accurate inasmuch as any account could be accurate when it originally started as a set of sprawling, hastily-written, barely-sensible notes typed in desperation in the hours and days after the event by a half-crazed man struggling to comprehend the magnitude of how far he's fucked up his life and those of everyone around him, yet still burning; aching with the desire not to forget a single delicious moment.

So yeah, maybe there's a few bits missing. Maybe some of the dialogue isn't word-perfect - at least the parts which weren't completely un-fucking-forgettable, that is. That bothers me, with my OCD. But for you it'll be like, whatever. You'll get the picture, don't worry. I'll make sure of that.

And I doubt you'll believe a word of it. To be honest, a small part of me actually hopes you don't.

At least then the worst you can think of me is that I'm a charlatan; a liar; a pathetic fantasist with nothing better to do than waste your time with a story which stretches the boundaries of feasibility so far that it could, surely, only be the imaginary product of a dirty old man's dirty old mind.

And you know what? Maybe I'd rather you thought that than what you might actually think of me if you do believe what you're going to read. Which will not be good. Not good at all.

Still, whatever you might think; however bad it might be, I can guarantee one thing. It won't be as bad as what I think of myself, right now. Which rather begs the question of why - even in the face of such shame and guilt - I simply cannot bring myself to regret what I've done.

The answer, as it happens, is simple. It's because Jadie really was - no, is - that special. As you're about to find out...

1. Sweet Temptation

Thursday. I was already well over half way through my week off work. Time I'd given to myself for once; notionally to sit back and take stock of my life. To appreciate everything that I'd got. To perhaps begin, finally, to put to rest everything that had happened nearly ten years ago.

And of course, being a man, sorting through that emotional baggage took me all of half an hour on Monday morning. Which meant, with typically miserable April weather outside, I'd spent the rest of the week slumped in front of the telly whilst occasionally dipping into a bit of mindless escapism courtesy of Tom Clancy, waiting for my daughter to come home from school so I could gently try to persuade her to actually converse with me for a while and tell me about her day, like she used to do when she was younger. Some nights I managed it. Others, not so much. She was growing up, for sure.

So, there I was. Thursday afternoon. The weather was worse than miserable; it sounded like there was a proper storm outside with wind and rain battering the house. So much for spring time. Which meant I'd had a spot of lunch and was preparing to settle in for the rest of the day. No inkling at all that, once again, my life was about to be turned inside-out.

For some inexplicable teachery reason, Kiera's school was finishing early that day. I had been looking forward to her coming home early but she'd texted me to say she was off into town, shopping with the rest of the girls and would be back for tea.

I was okay with that, although I did wonder how they'd get on now in the weather. I knew she was a good girl, though. I knew she often pretended to be on Instagram or Facebook or whatever the latest fad was just to wind me up, when in fact she was actually doing her homework. She'd aced her GCSEs two years ago. And her teachers had no worries predicting the highest grades for her exams this year. So, fine. Let her go spend some of my hard-earned in town. No harm done.

Resigned to another afternoon on my own and having just sat down to begin enjoying it, I was taken aback by the sound of the doorbell. Unbelievable as it may seem to me now, I very nearly chose to ignore it, assuming it was just another poor bastard trying to scrape a living canvassing.

Perhaps unconsciously acknowledging some grudging respect for a salesman who braved such awful weather or, perhaps, simply dragged by the hand of fate; I guess I'll never know. But somehow I ended up in the hall, ready to open the door.

And so it began...

As I unlatched the door, it nearly blew off its hinges as the wind took hold of it. And I was more than a little surprised to find, not a double-glazing commission slave before me, but my daughter's best friend from next-door. Jadie. Completely soaked through; sheltering under the frankly inadequate porch awning and trying to avoid the pouring rain.

She looked like she'd been out in the storm for some time. Her hair - dyed blonde and usually impeccably styled in whatever this week's fashion happened to be - was half whipped in the air by the wind and half plastered by the rain over her face.

"Jadie!" I exclaimed, clearly showing my surprise at both her bedraggled appearance and presence at my door. She smiled weakly at me.

I wondered why she wasn't in town with Kiera. They were usually inseparable and when they weren't together physically they maintained a seemingly near-constant electronic connection using texts or tweets or status updates or whatever this week's current mode of youth conversation happened to be. So even if she wasn't with Kiera, she must know that she was in town...

"Uh, sorry Jadie, Kiera's not in right now," I said, starting to worry that something might be wrong.

Trying to push her wet hair away from her face and not really succeeding, she said, "Oh Mr Baines, I know she's in town and I'm really sorry to disturb you like this... but I've lost my keys and can't get in our house."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I still wasn't sure why Jadie wasn't in town with everyone else but, well, at least she wasn't here to tell me something bad had happened to Kiera.

"Ah, I see, right," I said, before it dawned on me that the poor girl was stood there shivering in the wind and rain whilst I was just gawping at her like a retard.

"Er, come in, come in..." I said, hurriedly and she wasted no time in getting out of the wind and rain.

"I'm such an idiot," she complained as I shut the door behind her, catching a hint of flowery fragrance as she brushed past. I idly wondered how boys and dogs could smell so bad when they got wet but girls could still smell sweet. I shook my head to myself, as she continued.

"I can't find my keys in my bag or anywhere. I've texted Mum but she can't get away from work until later. And Dad's away again so..."

She obviously felt awkward about asking outright if she could wait in my house, which was clearly what she was trying to ask. It seemed a little unusual to see her look so... nervous, I guess. She was usually so confident and it wasn't like she hadn't spent half her life in this house anyway. So I helped her out.

"Oh dear," I said, smiling. "Well, you know you're always welcome here, Jadie. You can hardly stay out there until your Mum comes back. It's fine. You can watch TV, or I can entertain you with my usual witty repartee..."

She laughed, and some of the nervousness seemed to disappear.

I continued, "And, in the unlikely event that you tire of that, well, I'm sure you've got plenty of homework to be getting on with."

She faked a sad face. "Oh great," she said, sarcastic but smiling. "What a fun afternoon this is going to be. Listening to your attempts to be humorous and having to write a whole History assignment on Napoleon."

That seemed more like the Jadie I knew. She'd taken History, bizarrely, alongside all three Sciences for A-Level. As far as I could tell, she didn't even enjoy History but had done it simply as an intellectual challenge and to 'keep her options open.'

"Hey, don't let anyone say I don't know how to treat a girl," I said, realising as the words left my mouth that they sounded a bit... well, inappropriate.

She looked at me curiously; she was still smiling but a look had flashed across her face which I couldn't really make out. Excitement? I don't know. It passed as soon as it appeared.

"Why aren't you in town with the rest of the gang?" I queried.

"That essay, is why. My first draft only got a B. I need to completely re-do it and the deadline is, like, tomorrow."

It struck me as slightly unusual that Jadie would have left something until the last minute. She, and Kiera for that matter, were frighteningly well-organised when it came to schoolwork. Still, they did have a lot on at the moment. I decided not to say anything.

"Hey, at least you'll be dry," I said, recovering from the slightly awkward feeling I'd hit upon with my previous comment.

I looked at her, dripping wet onto the wooden hall floor. She brushed her wet hair away from her face again, but it flopped back down almost straight away. She sighed in frustration and made another sad face at me.

"You do know," I said with a smile, "That a device known as an..." I pretended to think for a moment "...umbrella, I believe it's called, has been available for the purposes of protecting young ladies from the ravages of wet weather since approximately..." I made a show of trying to recall the year.

Before I could continue, Jadie butted in.

"1852," she said, "Assuming you mean the metal-framed invention we would recognise today. Put together by..." she mimicked my exaggerated thought process, pretending to scratch her chin.

"Mr Samuel Fox, I believe..." she continued. "Although umbrellas in various forms have, of course, been in use for most of human history."

I laughed. Her knack for remembering vast amounts of trivia had only seemed to get greater as she got older. She was a regular walking talking Google. She genuinely scared me at times; it was an ability more often associated with autistic savants than seemingly well-balanced teenage girls.

"Yep," Jadie continued brightly. "Had one of them. Broke completely in two on the way home and can currently be found stuffed in a bin outside St Andrew's park. Got any more helpful advice?" she said, smiling sarcastically.

I shook my head, admitting defeat. She laughed and - slipping her school bag off her shoulder and onto the floor - unzipped the saturated blue jacket she'd been wearing. This looked far too lightweight for the time of year, I thought, before remembering that Kiera had one that was very similar. Jadie took the flimsy item off, dropping it absent-mindedly behind her.

She bent to her bag and rummaged inside, finding a hairband which she used to tie back most of her dripping hair, leaving a few strands still framing her face. After some more searching in her bag, she finally pulled out a somewhat battered iPhone.

Still crouched over her bag, she said, "I'll just call Mum and let her know I'm here," whilst prodding the screen. I leaned down and picked up her discarded coat and draped it over the rack in the hall, where it could dry out.

Holding the phone, Jadie put her hand over her mouth in an 'Oops' gesture and smiled prettily by means of an apology for leaving the coat on the floor. She stood up as Sarah answered. I only got her half of the conversation.

"Mum, Hi."

"Yeah, it's fine, Mr Baines was in next door."

"Yes, Mum, I know"

"No, he doesn't mind." She looked over to me and I nodded my assent.

"Yes, Mum"

"Yes," she sighed.

"Well no, obviously not..."

"No!" she said, sounding increasingly exasperated.

"No, Mum."

"Well I don't know, do I? If I knew, I wouldn't be here with Mr Baines. They must still be in school somewhere."

Looking over to me, she rolled her eyes. Sarah was obviously giving her a hard time about the missing keys. I offered a sympathetic look in return, although I knew I'd be annoyed if Kiera had done the same.

"Okay, yes Mum, I'll put him on."

Handing me the phone, Jadie moved across the wall and perched on the radiator, holding her arms around herself and shivering. Her blue jumper was nearly as wet as her black trousers; as I suspected, her 'coat' had been made for fashion rather than practicality. There was no sign of the 'smart jacket' that the girls were supposed to wear in the Sixth Form; presumably it was in a school locker somewhere.

"Hi Sarah," I said. "I found a strange, bedraggled, lost-looking creature on my doorstep a few minutes ago who claims to be your daughter," I said, looking at Jadie.

She made a face and stuck her tongue out.

"I'm so sorry Jim, are you sure you don't mind her being there? Keith's away all this week and I can't get back from work right now."

"Sarah, it's fine. There's a proper storm blowing outside; she can hardly sit and wait for you out there."

"Well, I'll try and get back as soon as I can. It probably won't be until gone five though." She still sounded apologetic.

"Sarah, really, it's not a problem. You'd do the same for Kiera. Just give us a ring to let me know when you're back."

"Thanks, Jim. You're a lifesaver."

"Do you want to talk to Jadie again?"

"No, but you tell her if she doesn't find those keys then she'll be paying for new locks out of her allowance."

I laughed. "Ok, Sarah. Will do. Speak to you later."

Handing Jadie her phone back, I said, "I don't think your mum's too happy about the idea of you losing those keys, Jadie."

"Oh, it'll be fine. I'm pretty sure they're with my jacket in my locker." She paused, thinking. "Or maybe in my other bag which I lent to Madison. Or... maybe I left them in class. Oh well, someone will have handed them in, I expect."

Ah, the misplaced confidence of youth, I thought with a chuckle.

I realised that she was still shivering away, trying to warm up on the radiator. Her trousers clung to her legs, absolutely drenched from the rain outside. Her jumper looked like it was wet through as well.

"Jadie, you're completely soaked through. You can't sit here like that - why don't you go up and dry your hair in the bathroom? And while you're at it, take that jumper off and hang it to dry. Then if you want to have a look in Kiera's room you can find something of hers to put on. I'm sure she won't mind. You can hang your wet things on the radiator in her room."

"Aww, thanks Mr Baines," she said, genuinely, shifting off the radiator and turning to climb the stairs.

As she went up, I caught myself looking at her. Her trousers seemed to be cut rather tighter than the official school guidelines recommended and as a result I got an unrestricted view of her rear as she ascended.

I shook my head to myself, ashamed as usual at the way my mind worked. I'd known this girl since she was eight years old. She'd been like a second daughter to me; in and out of my house. And I'd always be eternally grateful for the way she'd helped Kiera come to terms with Katie's death.

The thing is though, in recent times I had to admit that everything had become a little more complicated in the way I saw Jadie. She'd really done the whole late-teen blossoming thing in a big way. Retaining her big green eyes and a cute little button nose, the slightly chubby, happy-go-lucky, ever-inquisitive little girl had morphed into a fabulously curvaceous young woman who would surely make some lucky boy very happy one day. Actually, scratch that, was probably already making some lucky boy very happy.

And now, having put the hormonal ravages of puberty well behind her, she was back to being bubbly and vivacious; that endless curiosity which had made her so adorable as a little girl was also still very much in evidence.

The stirrings of attraction which I'd begun to feel towards her were not welcome. She was my daughter's best friend; it was just not... right. Especially knowing how I'd feel if someone my age was looking at Kiera in such a way.

But, recently, I just couldn't seem to help it. Maybe it was knowing that she'd turned eighteen, which meant she was technically an adult. Whatever. I was still disgusted with myself. The thing was, unlike Kiera, who looked like she was going to be as slight and skinny as her mother, Jadie had seemed to develop all the right curves in all the right places, which meant I found it increasingly difficult to avoid an occasional glance at a tight T-shirt or clingy leggings.

Well aware that it was desperately wrong, I'd even found myself having unbidden night-time fantasies about her; waking in the dark having dreamed things that my conscious brain wouldn't allow.

Too ashamed to tell anyone else, it was only when some of the chaps at work started making occasional lewd comments about their own daughters' friends - many of whom were now of a similar age - that I realised maybe I wasn't a complete pervert. Or, more accurately, that at least I wasn't the only pervert around.

Whatever. I just hoped Jadie never caught me looking at her in that way.

And now, she was in my house. Alone. With me. I chuckled, remembering an old comedy skit off the TV from my youth. "...with my reputation."

I wandered back into the living room and sat back down on the sofa. News 24 chuntered away on the TV, and I picked up my book again. The rain lashed against the window - it was really quite a storm outside. I put the book down again, feeling fidgety now that there was someone else in the house.

I could hear Jadie moving around in Kiera's room and - before I could stop myself - began imagining what was happening upstairs. Right this minute, she was almost certainly in a partial state of undress. I wondered if she'd got the wet trousers off yet. Would she be standing there, just in her knickers? What kind of underwear did she have on? I recalled the time a few weeks back when I'd caught a glimpse of some black lace sticking up over the top of her jeans... would she wear those to school, though?

I caught myself and shook my head again. For as long as I could remember I had been blessed - or cursed - with a vivid imagination. And once my brain set a train of thought in motion, I found it very hard to jump off.

Suddenly aware that there was now some unwanted movement in my trousers, I forced myself to stop daydreaming and tried to focus on the TV. The economy was still doomed, apparently. We were technically going to be back in recession again.

I pondered my luck here, as my own business was booming and had been throughout the 'downturn'. Specialist engineering, made to order; niche products and components built to the tightest tolerances and highest specifications. Perfect for constructing crazy parts for crazy projects for crazy nouveau-riche Chinese and Arab magnates... who seemed to have an insatiable appetite for anything that bypassed the mass market.

Having managed to focus my attention on something other than imagining Jadie's underwear, my partial erection subsided again. I picked up my book once more.

A few minutes passed and Jadie still hadn't returned. I could still hear her thumping around and shuffling about in Kiera's room upstairs. I knew she was a teenage girl and could therefore expand the process of 'getting ready' into literally any and all available time... but still. I went out into the hall and called up to her.

"Everything OK, Jadie?"

There was a pause and I heard Kiera's door open.