Trying To Do The Decent Thing

Adele went to the phone but said, "I doubt if she still lives at the flat, her fiancé was due back for good just before last Xmas and they were going to get married. Perhaps the new people will have a forwarding address."

I was wandering towards the kitchen intending to put the kettle on but when Adele cried excitedly, "Carla, this is marvellous - I thought you would have moved," I detoured to my study and quietly picked up the extension. I was in time to her say, "....be married by now".

Carla laughed. "That romance finished in a big way - and how. Clyde was due back from Saudi on the Saturday by scheduled flight with £80,000 in his pocket but unfortunately for me, he hitched a lift in a private jet with some big-wig. He got to the flat just after midnight on the Friday, let himself in and crept quietly into the bedroom hoping to surprise me. He surprised me all right. I was having a goodbye party for my five favourite studs and had just achieved an ambition. I had managed to get one stuck into each of my orifices and had taken the other two in hand when the door opened and in walked my beloved. He threw a load of packages at me and left without giving me a chance to say a thing - mind you, if he had stayed it would have been a mite difficult to explain away. Still, I was not too disappointed because I had already been wondering if I could turn my back on all my ethnic friends - I do turn my back on them all the time but you know what I mean." There was a pause while both women laughed and then Carla asked, "And what about you. What big events have been happening in your life?"

"I've had a baby - a little boy,"

"Oh that's great," Carla began to enthuse but then she stopped and said with puzzlement in her voice, "But I thought you told me that Simon had a vasectomy."

"Simon is not the father - it's Errol's."

"So that's why you stopped coming to stay. Are you still married?"

"Yes - Simon forgave me."

"Lucky you. I suppose that you had the baby adopted."

"No - Simon let me keep it. We are bringing Paul up as part of the family."

Carla let out a long breath of amazement. "That man is either a saint or the biggest fool on God's earth. If Clyde had been a bit like that he could have taken a photo of the little tableau that he walked in on - you know, record it for posterity."

This last was followed by more laughter. Up until that moment I had felt rather saintly about the way that I had handled the whole business but now I wondered if I really was a tremendous fool. "Do you miss your nights in my spare bed with our ethnic friends," Carla asked in a different voice.

"You can't guess how much," Adele whispered. "Remember me to them - that's if you think they will remember me."

"Remember you? I'll say they remember you - they talk about you constantly and it gets quite boring. If you must know, they voted you 'Snatch of the Year'; I was bloody miffed because I thought that title was mine."

"Do you ever see Errol?" Adele asked suddenly.

"Not since you did. I heard that things got a bit dodgy and he is keeping a low profile. He's probably staying out in the sun until the trouble blows away."

"I just wondered. Anyway that's all in the past. I have got to be the model loving wife from now on - it's the least that I can do to make it up to Simon for being so good about everything."

"Not even a tiny dalliance at the end of the year. Surely things will have eased off by then."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to and remember that I have a small child now." (I felt that there was an edge of regret when Adele said that.)

"He doesn't put you in a ball and chain or a chastity belt does he."

"Maybe not physically but he has got moral constraints on me - be fair, he is entitled.

Carla laughed. "I suppose so. Anyway, I've got to go - I think that is my entertainment for the night knocking at the door. Keep in touch - I don't want to lose you again."

My wife was saying something else but I quietly replaced the handset and ran lightly up to the bathroom. Once there, I flushed the toilet and then returned downstairs, belatedly going into the kitchen to make the coffee. On balance I was happy with what I had overheard.

About a fortnight later, I returned home from work to find Adele acting in a slightly too loving way and this alerted me. Usually I had to fight my way through baby things and clear a place to sit but that night the place was tidy and my wife had handed me a drink the moment that I stepped in the door. After the meal I was told the price tag. "Carla rang this afternoon. She has told Errol about Paul and now he wants to see his son."

"Because you told Carla when you spoke to her before."

Adele looked suspiciously at me. "How do you know that?"

I had slipped up. "It makes sense that you did and why not, I hadn't told you not to. I wish now though that we had kept the knowledge strictly to ourselves."

"I've said that I will take Paul along to the park in Fricton tomorrow afternoon. Errol can see him there," she said looking at me with uncertainty in her eyes.

"No you won't," I told her.

"Yes I will," she snapped back defiantly. "Simon - he is entitled."

"I know that he is entitled and you know I would not argue against that. He can come here. Look at the weather - it's been pouring down for the last two days and the forecast is the same for tomorrow. If Errol is going to meet his son he can do it in civilised surroundings and not in some grotty park." My motive for making this concession was a feeling that to survive the whole business with Paul, I had to continue behaving decently - but I have to admit that a whole batch of ulterior motives were following closely behind. First I had a wish to restrict the ability of Adele and her ex lover to converse freely - though they did not seem to have done much talking the last time that they met. The second was a reasonable wish to get an idea of what Paul was likely to become but the last reason was less admirable and I do not feel inclined to specify.

My wife's face lit up with gratitude but she said, "Perhaps he won't want to come here."

"If he wants to see his son he'll come. You get on the phone to Carla - tell her twelve o'clock. That gives three hours before the kids are due back from school."

His timing was so exact that he must have been waiting outside. I let Adele answer the door and then stood up as she led him in. My heart sank because he was my worst fears personified. At least six inches taller than me, he was long and lean with a hard looking very black face. He had a mass of long dreadlocks sticking out in all directions, topped by one of those large bulbous woollen hats, which seem to belong on black men but would look comical on any other race. He seemed about seven feet tall and was of the type that I instinctively tried to avoid. Controlling my prejudice, I put out my hand to shake hands. Possibly equally nervous, Errol had started to give me some kind of slapped hand greeting. Both of realised the others intent and tried to correct with the result that we again finished up with opposite gestures. A slight smile broke out on his face removing the menace from it and I found that I was smiling too. "We can't keep on like this all day," I said. "Why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable."

He thanked me in a surprisingly cultured voice but with a heavy lilt and chose a position on the settee. I then said, "Can I get you a drink Errol while my wife fetches your son." Despite my effort to sound casual, the words came out in a very stilted manner. He would only accept a fruit juice, which I served while Adele went upstairs for Paul. She seemed to be a long time - possibly changing a nappy. The silence seemed to hang between forcing me to the inane remark, "Nasty weather we hare having."

Errol nodded but understandably did not feel a need to reply. I could see that he was studying me. His eyes contained neither respect nor contempt but more a kind of puzzlement - perhaps a great many men would be equally baffled by my acceptance of this man in my home. Adele came in carrying Paul and Errol stood up holding out his arms to take him. From the look on his face at that moment, I knew that I had done the right thing. No matter what harm this man had done me by impregnating my wife; it would have been indecent to deny him that moment.

With Errol bouncing his son on his knee, we chatted fairly normally. I told him something about my work as an estate agent and he talked about life in Jamaica without ever mentioning what he did for a living. I described our three other children and Errol talked happily about his own offspring in the West Indies but made no reference to a wife. After a time Paul started to get bored with this new entertainment and began to grizzle.

With our first three children the midwives advice had been to get the baby on the bottle early and in consequence we had weaned all three off the breast in under three months. In the intervening period it seemed that the prevailing wisdom had changed because Adele claims that she was told to continue breast-feeding as long as possible. My wife had also sat on the settee, not close to the tall black man but near enough to reassure the baby. I should have been prepared but it came as a complete shock when Adele unbuttoned her blouse, calmly took out a breast and then reaching Paul from his father's knee, put the baby to the teat. I don't why I my emotions should have reacted so violently. Errol had seen it before, and more - so why was I so offended? At the same time I had ambivalent feelings because on another level it seemed so right, natural - mother, father and child in a group together. Unable to stand the mental dichotomy I stood up. "The rain seems to have eased off," I said. "I am popping out in the garden for a cigarette and to check what damage the weather has done to the plants." Let them talk I thought - after overhearing the telephone conversation, I felt that I could trust her.

I stayed outside for quite a while and when I returned, Adele was respectable again and the baby winded and asleep on the seat between them. Errol left soon afterwards but before leaving he grasped by hand in a firm grip and thanked me sincerely. I falsely told him that it had been a pleasure but this rather contrived remark seemed to give him the courage to ask, "Could I perhaps see Paul again in the future from time to time?" I had more regarded this as a one-off event but at that moment it seemed churlish to refuse his request.

I did not ask Adele what they had talked about but the main content soon became apparent when she said, "Errol would like to have his name put on Paul's birth certificate if you don't object."

The father name had been left blank and I felt it only proper that Errol's name should be upon it but I used this opportunity to put into motion a plan which had been in my mind for several months. "I will agree but only if Errol undertakes not to raise any objection to me formally adopting our son," I stipulated.

My wife passed on these conditions to Errol via Carla and two weeks later we got a solicitors letter giving the required undertaking upon which I arranged a legal change to the birth document and set adoption procedures in motion. Trustingly I believed that these events resultant from the visit by Paul's father had healed the cracks in my marriage and set a seal on the past.

Just less than a month later I woke just about dawn. I had made love to my wife earlier in the night and usually slept exceptionally soundly following these occasions but movement in the bed had woken me. Adele had thrown her covers off and lay with splayed thighs and her hand working frantically at her crotch. As I watched, her upper body heaved and her breath came in gusts from her nose as she climaxed with lips clenched to prevent herself from uttering noise. My assumption was that she had simply masturbated with her hand as I often did when unable to sleep - but when she extracted the vibrator from some place deep within her it put a different complexion upon her activity. With the love toy tucked under her pillow, she pulled the duvet back into place and went immediately to sleep with a beatific expression on her face.

This turned out not to be an isolated occurrence because I often began to be rudely awakened in similar manner, invariably on the nights when I had claimed my conjugal rights. On every occasion I simulated sleep, watching through lidded eyes but the time came when compassion made me break my cover. Adele could not make herself cum but she would not give up. With brow beaded with sweat and growing desperation on her face, she kept having to pause when cramp seized the muscles of her arm. I leaned towards her and putting my hand between her legs, I said softly, "Let me do that."

The eyes in her perspiration covered face flicked open registering both surprise and gratitude. Adele moved her hand allowing mine to replace it and lay back, surrendering to my ministrations. I quickly picked up a rhythm - though possibly not a fast or as deep as she would have liked because she remained quite agitated. I was already affected by her heady vaginal odour and the action of my hand when I saw her erect clitoris begging for attention and with my own passion surging, I clamped my lips around it. The effect was almost immediate. My wife's legs clamped tight around my neck, she let out a long piercing cry sufficient to wake the dead and her body bucked as if riding a horse as wave after wave of orgasm flooded through her. As her sensations subsided, with a voice choked with passion she gasped, "Oh God, This is what I need."

I was on the pint of blacking out before her thighs finally released my head. I felt wonderful, I felt triumphant because that had been by far the biggest climax that I had ever given her. Affectionately I sought her face with my eyes, expecting to see love, passion or satisfaction returned but all that I saw was acute embarrassment. She said, "Thank you," tersely and then abruptly turned her back on me and curled herself into a ball. My initial pleasure of achievement quickly evaporated as I realised the meaning of this implied rejection of me. Adele had been trying to recreate the pleasures given by her black lovers including Errol - possibly exclusively him and the knowledge that I had been complicit in this act disgusted me.

These middle on the night self fucking sessions grew more frequent and she had increasing trouble achieving satisfaction. Foolishly I took a sadistic pleasure in her plight and lay simulating sleep, stoically refusing my help. On two occasions I fell asleep leaving her quietly sobbing to herself.

Although I could easily get home for lunch every day I usually continued working, finding that there tended to be a lot of queries during that period. In compensation, I sometimes allowed myself an afternoon of golf, feeling that my diligence left me morally free to do so. Going home at midday to get some documents I had perused the previous evening and then forgotten, I found Adele pushing the pram out of the village. It was not worth stopping so I drove ahead and put the kettle on ready. When she got home, I quite naturally enquired where she had been. "To see the doctor," she said, giving me the impression that she would rather that I had not known."

"Is it Paul?" I asked, immediately concerned and when she shook her head I said, "I knew that you weren't right - you've been so edgy lately."

"There is nothing wrong with my health," Adele told me in a flat voice. "I got him to put me on the pill - that's all."

"The pill," I repeated incredulously. "But I thought..."

"They are a lot safer than they used to be. It's not like when I gave up before," she interrupted as if that was my objection. "Nowadays they check your heart, blood pressure and haemoglobin, and prescribe a pill that is tailored for you. The doctor says that they are perfectly safe now."

"But why?"

Adele shook her head helplessly but did not answer my question directly. "I thought that I might occasionally stop overnight with Carla again."

"But you promised."

"I know I promised Simon and I honestly meant it but I am slowly going crazy," she said looking me in the eye for the first time. I am perfectly happy except one thing - I remember how they made me feel and the thought of never feeling that way again for the rest of my life, fills me with absolute panic. I love you but it makes me want to get into the car and just drive away. You know how much I love the kids - so if I can consider doing that to them must show you how I feel."

"What exactly are you asking me?"

"I want to spend nights with Carla's friends again. Just occasionally - not like before, not even once a month a month, just occasionally. It is being able to do it not the frequency that is important. I love you - even more since you have been so understanding but this has got nothing to do with love. It's a need that I seem to have and I can't adjust my mind to the thought of never being able to do anything about it."

"It's Errol isn't it - you want to go with him again."

"No it isn't Errol although I can't deny that I would like to go with him again. I have no idea where he is and I'm certainly not going to the West Indies looking for him. I don't want to hurt you Simon but I want to be happy and I can't be contented with you while I have an unsatisfied ache inside me."

I loved her too much - that was my trouble and it seemed preferable to give way in a small way than run the risk of losing her altogether. But taking one step down a slippery path makes it easy to take another. It becomes progressively harder to make a stand because each new point of issue seems relatively trivial compared to what has already been conceded. "How often," I asked her.

"Every three months. I don't know what I need; every six months might be enough or even once a year. As I said, the most important thing is knowing that I can."

"I will agree to three months," I said.

Adele's face suffused with relief and happiness. She rushed forward to kiss me and when we finally broke the clinch she whispered coyly, "Paul will be asleep soon - do you have to go back to work this afternoon?"

My wife had the grace to wait until after she had shown her gratitude to me before ringing Carla. In a way it was a relief when they fixed up for only two nights later because that waiting time was bad enough with Adele's morose tenseness having transferred itself to me. I know now that it is infinitely easier to give permission than live through the consequences of the license that you have granted.

I won't dwell on how I got through that Friday night. Adele tried to give me an extra loving kiss before she left to catch her bus but I was too tense to respond properly and then almost immediately started pouring whiskey down my throat. Despite being many times over the limit, I found sleep impossible and got up again to watch erotic movies. In my befuddled the knowledge of what my wife was doing seemed as unreal as the images on the box and I times I almost convinced myself that this was all imagination and that she was really only visiting her parents.

Next morning she returned relaxed and happy, and this joyous mood continued day after day. It was more than three weeks before signs of irritability returned and soon after she was back to ramming the vibrator up herself in the small wee hours. Now I joined in to help and thoroughly enjoyed doing so, greatly extending my oral participation. When she had finished, my reward was to lick her internal secretions always thickly coated on the plastic prick while she used her hand to bring me to climax. Had I started these activities before I might have prevented Adele returning to her old ways but now it only delayed the inevitable. My life compared with before her 'release' was so far improved that when, only two months later, she begged for another night out I readily agreed. Forgetting my misery on the night, it seemed a small price to pay.