The TGI Chronicles: Part 1 - Too LateChapter 10 free porn video

The next week at work was just simple hard work. I was beginning to realise that I was still trying to do my old job, plus project managing the ITP project, and that was hard work. The ITP team had been demoralised, they needed time and loving care. But loving care cost time, and time was something that neither the project nor I had. On top of that, I had to build a new relationship with Neil as my new line manager, and play my role as a senior member of the company management team. My hours began to stretch.

In some ways I didn't mind that. Less time to pick at my emotional wounds, and maybe, as my Mother would say 'it'll only get better if you don't pick it' But work was hard work, and totally exhausting, and I still missed Beth to go home to with her understanding, help and support on tough days.

One bit of good news was that ITP had decided to pay half their instalment payment as a matter of good will. That cheered Neil up, and it helps to have a happy boss.

On Thursday I spent half the day interviewing new secretaries. This was new to me, interviewing programmers and other technical staff I could manage, I'd been interviewing them for years. But not secretaries. Luckily, Personnel were there to support. We did all the interviewing in their offices, and they did everything but the personal bit. I told them about the department and a little about me. We interviewed five, and by number four I was getting the hang of it. Unfortunately, it was number three who seemed the best, and she hadn't seen me at my best.

Anyway, myself and Personnel agreed, number three it would be, assuming she accepted. She was an attractive woman of twenty-four, called Davinia. And she liked amateur dramatics and crosswords, so she would fit in all right.

After work I went over to the pub with Dave.

"I saw you had a pleasant afternoon." was his opening gambit.

"What, interviewing secretaries? And how did you know?"

"Ah! Well... you see, I quite fancy Deana Treifuss in Accounts. And what floor is Accounts on?"

"The same one as Personnel. OK." I realised.

"Well choosing a secretary is easy. Big boobs and says yes to whatever is asked." he said with a leer.

"Do you really believe that?" I thought that he was being a bit too sexist, even for the pub and between mates, well before the third pint anyway, and even then only in the presence of some girls who you really want to annoy.

"No. You know I don't. But I've got an image to keep up. Did you find one?"

"Yes. I nice girl called Davinia. And keep your grubby little hands off. I could do without lover's tiffs in the office, especially if they involve my secretary."

"So you fancy her then." Was his only comment. And the trouble was, he could be right.

On Friday, Phil and Denny came round to Blindside for supper. Phil had made no secret of it when he had phoned me on Wednesday, Denny needed to look round. What I didn't know was that Denny had seen Beth on Tuesday. Obviously their Tuesday nights at Not Steinbeck's were becoming routine.

I asked how Beth had been. Denny looked nervously at Phil before she answered, "She told me about your Meissen plate story. I think, somehow it's changed her. She now really understands that you've gone and probably for good. It's taken this long for that to get through to her. I don't think she's got that much further in her thinking though. I asked her why she did it, and she couldn't answer. I asked: was Ken really attractive to her, there must have been something there between them. But she said he had a sort of mature glamour, that was her phrase, but not much else. I tried asking her: hadn't she realised that she was risking losing her whole marriage, didn't she realise why the wedding service had made her promise to be faithful, the forsaking all others bit? But she would only say that was a matter for the theologians, and they hadn't faced a randy Ken in full seduction mode on a boring afternoon? I think she was just trying to laugh it off."

Phil obviously hadn't heard this bit, because he asked "Is she saying Ken seduced her? That all of this is down to Ken? Is that her excuse?"

Denny looked at him, before she defended her friend. "No. I do think Ken did work hard to make it happen, but she wasn't really trying to absolve herself of having given in. In fact, half her problem is that everything is totally her fault, without any excuse whatsoever. She doesn't even try to work out what made her do it. But she will. She's got to. Or she will if I have anything to do with it." she turned to look at me "That's nothing to do with you, Tim. She needs to do that for her own sake."

"Let me know when she has. I'd like to know the reason for this whole damn mess, even if it doesn't put it right." Was my only reply, and then I took a large gulp of wine. "It can't put it right."

Two more weeks went by, mainly more hard work, long hours of travelling to keep clients happy, and some long heart to hearts with a couple of key guys on the ITP team, just to keep them on track.

August started on the first, but then again it usually does, only this one was a Monday, and Davinia's first day. I introduced her to some of the department, and some key players in the Company, like Neil's secretary. I didn't want to feed her to too many lions on one day. She really was a nice person. Nice enough that I found an excuse to invite her to lunch on Wednesday.

"Oh, that's very nice of you Tim, but really you don't have to." I think she was genuinely surprised.

"Sorry, it's part of your duties. Helping the boss fill in some important gaps in his life."

"Such as?" she asked dubiously.

"Like accompanying me to Not Steinbeck's. Don't tell me it's one of your favourite haunts. Everyone I know is in and out of there all the time, and I've not been since they opened."

"Actually they do quite a good chilli there." she looked quite happy.

"I knew it! I bloody knew it! Now your committed, you've got to come with me."

We had quite a good lunch. She had a good sense of humour, and easy to talk to. Unfortunately, I learnt that she was two years into a pretty firm affair, with a live in boyfriend, a school teacher. OK, he was going through a bit of a funny stage, having given up teaching at the end of the last term, and seemed to be showing no signs of taking up any other career, in fact currently he was a kept man. I could always introduce her to Jean.

We went back to the office, walking together easily, laughing and joking. We bumped into Dave as we came into Reception. I stopped for a business word with him, she went on to the department. We watched her leave. Dave told me not to bother, she had a live in boyfriend. He doesn't waste time, it was only her third day. But who was I to talk?

The next day, Dave and Alice came round for an impromptu barbeque on my roof terrace. There is definitely something between those two, they really ought to get their act together. If they don't I can imagine myself making a play for Alice sometime in the future, when I get round to risking my first foray into that dangerous world of relationships. But not yet, I was beginning to like my single life. I was beginning to notice that I was fancying women again, and even more important, I was feeling good, I even thought that one of them might fancy me.

Then we got to my wedding anniversary on 11th August. It fell on a Thursday, and it sort of glowed as a date on my calendar at work and in my diary.

On the Wednesday, Denny phoned me. Apparently she had seen Beth the night before, as usual. And Beth was very uptight about what to do. Should she send me a card? Should she send me a present? Should she try to meet me? So, Denny wanted to know what I was going to do. Nothing was my simple answer. I was going to work hard and late and hope that it would pass without me having to think. What else could I do?

That Wednesday was a lovely warm summer's evening. I sat on my terrace and thought of Beth. I thought of our previous anniversaries. In the last couple of years we had taken to just having a special meal at home, to save money as the house demanded every penny we had. But we would dress up, eat well, dance together by candlelight and make love. We didn't need expensive restaurants, we had each other. It all made me very sad, and I cried. I had thought I was over the crying bit, but I still wanted her so much it hurt. Oh! Why had she destroyed it all?

On the Thursday I got home at about nine o'clock after another late night at my desk. There, on the iron staircase to my front door sat Beth. She stood as I approached. "Hello. You promised me that you would show me round. I thought tonight might be a good time."

I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say. I led the way up the stairs and opened the front door. She went in. I showed her around, it didn't take long, with a formal commentary from me. Eventually we were back in the living room, facing each other. She looked good, so very good.

"It's lovely Tim. I can see why you wanted it. And you've made it look good with the things you brought. Those cushions look good on that sofa."

"Would you like a drink? I don't keep any champagne anymore, there's not a lot to celebrate these days." The hurt was bubbling up again.

She ignored my barb. "Some white wine, if you have it. Please."

I opened a bottle from the fridge and poured two glasses. I passed her a glass "You're looking good Beth. I could almost fancy you." I tried joking, but it didn't work. Dammit! I did fancy her.

"Thank you." she looked at me, but I don't know what she read in my eyes. "How are you, Tim? Are you happy?"

"No, of course I'm not happy. But it's getting better. This place helps, and I'm working hard, doing long hours. Did you wait for me for a long time?"

"It didn't matter. I am sorry Tim. I know I've hurt you a lot. I've hurt myself a lot as well. I was a fool."

"Don't let's go over it again. There's no point, Beth. You broke the rules and this is the result. I wish it wasn't, but you never gave me reason to think anything different."

"And now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I answered her question with a question.

"Would you let me talk to you now? Now that we've both tasted the future, would you talk to me now?"

"No. Not about what maybe. There is no maybe for us until we talk about the whats and whys of the past. You know that Beth. And even then..."

"I know, no promises. What do you want me to say Tim? What can I say to put it right?"

"Nothing but the truth." I paused and looked at her. "Oh Beth, I wish you hadn't come here tonight. You're only hurting both of us. I had created the vague possibility of being able to build a new life, hard work - a new home - a bachelor's life..."

"Like Dave's you mean? An endless circle of one night stands, the occasional affair that lasts a month or two. God, Tim. I know you, you don't want that. Is that how you see this flat? As a bachelor's lair for seducing silly young girl's you can pick up in some seedy nightclub? Good God, Tim, you'll be getting a sports car next and trying to impress them with old wines and Barry White on the hi-fi."

I laughed to myself. Now didn't seem the moment to tell her that my new car was being delivered tomorrow. I turned to her, "Dave's life isn't that shallow. And anyway, I've tried faithfulness and domesticity - it doesn't work, or not for me anyway." There I go again, still trying to hurt.

I looked at her "I'm sorry, Beth. I shouldn't have said that. Maybe you should go."

She burst into tears with a loud sob. "Don't send me away again. You did that once before. Not tonight, please."

I sat down and drained my wine glass, and then poured myself another glassful. I looked at her, she sat crumpled on the sofa, wiping her eyes with a pretty lace handkerchief. She looked so vulnerable, I wanted to hold her, comfort her, but I didn't trust myself.

"Look, Beth. Why don't you talk to Rose Bullard. You need to understand everything that's happened, to understand yourself and to understand me." I got my wallet out of my jacket pocket and found Rose's card, the one Charlie had given to me all those weeks ago on Fateful Friday. I gave it to her, she held it in her hand and looked at it suspiciously. "She's a nice lady, you'll like her. I'll phone her in the morning and tell her you'll be calling her. And anyway, if you like her, then she can sell the house for us."

That produced another round of tears. I went and sat next to her and patted her back. She tried to cuddle in, but I moved away. That produced more tears. Eventually she was composed, and I made a mug of coffee, but we didn't talk much. We just sat in silence until she had drunk her coffee, when she left. She kissed me on the cheek as she went out of the front door "Happy Anniversary. My darling Tim." Some Anniversary!

I phoned Rose in the morning and told her that she may get a call from Beth. On the other hand, maybe she wouldn't.

It was the 11th September that I found out whether she ever went to see Rose. I'd asked Denny, but she didn't know or wasn't telling me. Anyway, I had an invite for Sunday lunch at the Bullard's. Charlie and Rose were there, but there was no sign of Simon and Maddy. Their daughter Camilla was there, back from doing a year's aid work in Africa, and with plenty of good stories to keep the conversation flowing.

After lunch, Rose asked me if I'd like to see their plum tree in the garden, of which she was particularly proud. I wondered why I would want to, but became more interested when Camilla threatened to join us with "I haven't really looked around the garden since I got back." but her father put his hand on her shoulder and held her back. Then I knew Rose really wanted to talk to me.

"I've been seeing Beth for about three weeks now. She is a lovely girl, I can see why you fell in love with her, Tim." was her opener.

"How is she?"

"Oh. She's well. I think she's ready to talk now. It's taken her a long time, she's so riddled with guilt; it took a lot of time to get through her layers of guilt and self loathing. But she's better now. I think she has an honest understanding of what happened."

I stopped and looked at Rose. "Well?"

"Oh, I'm not going to tell you. That's up to you and her. But, I think you have to make up your mind as to what you really want, Tim."

"I'd like to hear what she has to say. It won't make any difference, but it may lay some ghosts to rest. I might find closure. Isn't that what you people say?"

"Yes. But that's unfair on her. It's a horrid thing for her to have to do. To come here and relive it all just for some commission of enquiry for your better understanding. Do you really think that whatever she said, nothing could let you forgive her and try again?"

"I don't know Rose. One half of me desperately wants to believe that. That there is a way back. But, I'm sorry. I don't think I'll change my mind."

"Why not? Because you're scared? Scared to go back and get hurt again? I don't blame you. I'd be scared if I were you. I saw that look in Charlie's eyes over thirty years ago. Scared to love again, it only leads to hurt. Well you're not Charlie, and Beth isn't like Charlie's first wife. Your individuals, and life is what you make it, but it's never without risks."

I walked on, to the end of their manicured lawn. "Who does the gardening here, Rose? You or Charlie? It's always so damned immaculate."

"Neither of us. One of the advantages of success is that we can afford a gardener. And I hear that, because of you, we can go on affording him. I guess I owe you thanks for that. Let me repay you, let me help you hear what Beth has got to say with an open mind, Tim. You owe it to yourself. It may be that it's not enough for you. But please don't make up your mind until you've heard her. Give the poor girl a fair trial, Tim."

"How long have I got?"

"To decide whether to see her or not? As long as you want. And I promise you Tim, I'll hold your hand the whole time. It might hurt. It might not be good enough. But you've got to do it."

"I'll think about it. Say goodbye to Charlie for me. I'll walk round the house and just go home. I think I need to sit and think."

I phoned Phil as I sat in my car outside Trafalgar House on my return. We met at the King's Head on the Monday evening.

As soon as we had our drinks in our hands I opened, "Did you know that Beth was seeing Rose Bullard?"

"Yes, but I was sworn to secrecy. She told Denny. But I don't think even Denny knows how it's going. How did you find out?"

"Rose told me. Apparently she's ready to talk. But I have to be prepared to take her back if she has an adequate excuse. How can she have? How can I make open promises? But I would like to know what really happened. It's my life too that she played with."

Phil too a long draught. Then carefully put his beer down on the table in front of him. Holding it with two hands, staring at it. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. That's why we're having this drink. Tell me Phil, what would you do?"

"That's unfair and it has nothing to do with it. It's about what you want to do, Tim. Not me."

"Oh I know that. But if you won't tell me, then you might as well sit there while I bore you to tears whilst trying to make up my own mind." I smiled at him.

He winced, and we both drank our beers. Eventually, Phil broke into my thoughts with a question, "Do you still love Beth?"

I looked up at him. That was a question that I wish he hadn't asked. "Yes. I still miss her like hell. But I'm just beginning to get used to living without her, and I know I will eventually get over her. But I know I wouldn't be able to go and hear her out without fervently praying that she could talk me round. But I don't believe she can. I don't believe she should. So, I'll just be going along just to get hurt some more. I'm scared Phil. Rose spotted that."

"Shrewd woman, that Rose. She's got Beth to talk, which is more than the combined forces of Denny and Mary ever managed, and they're quite formidable when working as a team. And she has some idea of the petard that you've hoisted yourself on." He smiled. "I'd trust her, I think."

We both drank our beer and sat in silence. We finished our beers. I went and got two more. When I got back, Phil had another question, "Tell me. Are you sure you're not enjoying this a little bit. You sit there in judgement. You'll decide whether you'll give Beth a hearing. You'll decide whether she has made an adequate excuse. You'll decide whether you'll divorce her. I thought a marriage was a sharing of two people, with compromises and give and take. If you really approach it like this, I wouldn't blame Beth if she didn't want to take you back. Think about it."

"But she is the one that broke the marriage. I'm entitled to make my decisions about my life." I said, and even I knew I sounded pompous.

"Yes and no. Yes she broke the marriage. But No, this isn't about the old marriage. This is about the future marriage. When you've heard her, if you hear her, then both of you, not just you, have to decide whether you want to go forward. You're entitled to your say Tim, but it takes two."

I sat in silence. I didn't like being browbeaten by my best friend. But if he couldn't do it, then who could?

I looked up at him, "I guess I'm going to a marriage counsellor."

"Good. Can I go home now?"

"When you've finished your beer, yes. Oh... and thank you."

"What for?"

"For listening. For arguing. I need you to argue back, even if you make lousy points. And for being here."

"All part of the service." he smiled

We met at Charlie and Rose's house in the evening of the Wednesday in the next week. Beth was already there when I arrived, sitting in a chair in the sitting room, looking nervous and pale. There was a bottle of mineral water and glasses laid out on the coffee table in the centre of the room. I sat in another armchair. Rose sat on the sofa, with a file of papers on the seat next to her. She kept notes, my marriage was a set of notes in some filing cabinet.

Rose looked at us both. "There are some things I should say before we start. First, this meeting and any others we have are totally confidential. If you're worried about Charlie and work, Tim, don't. Charlie knows this is nothing to do with him. As a counsellor I will tell you that it's best if there are no secrets in a marriage, but there are between Charlie and myself, the things that go on when I'm counselling. Second, and this is really aimed at you Tim for this evening, but applies to you both really, there will be no interruptions when Beth is telling her story. If you've got things to say then keep them to the end." Rose looked at me and then Beth to make sure we had taken her warnings on board.

Then she turned to Beth "Well I think the starting point has to be if Beth can tell us about her life and what happened that led up to her affair with Ken."

Beth looked up at Rose, then at me, "Rose says I don't have to say this, Tim, but I want to. I'll tell you what happened between myself and Ken, but I want you to know that these aren't excuses. There is no excuse for what I did, but maybe they do explain something of why I made such a dreadful mistake."

I didn't answer. So she continued "I think early this year I was tired. Not needing more sleep tired, I was tired of the draining effect that doing the house had cost us. I was fed up that we never had any money or time. I was probably the one that wanted it that way, but I was tired that we had so often had to choose between a good holiday or dining room carpet, a night out at a nice restaurant or new bedroom curtains. Everything we did, every penny we spent was about the house. Now I was the one that wanted us to have a nice home, it was always my idea that we go camping in Scotland rather than flying to the sun, it's not your fault, Tim, and I'm not complaining, but I think it took its toll on me."

Beth stopped and looked at me. Rose seemed to make a short note on her pad. I sat in silence. Beth then went on "There were days when I didn't speak to anyone all day except you Tim. Some days my work might only consist of reading notes and papers, watching some marketing video's and reading and writing some emails. I was grateful if Ken suggested a pub lunch. I never hid that from you Tim. I think I always told you if I had a break with Ken in the pub or a cup of tea at ours or their house in the afternoon, and there was nothing in those early lunches, I promise you."

Again, Rose seemed to make a note. I opened my mouth to say something about how I was pleased if she had gone to lunch with Ken, but Rose held up her hand at me and gave me a look that silenced me. Beth resumed her tale, "I think one of the things that influenced me was whenever I talked to Frances or Bev. They seemed to have such exciting lives. I know they weren't really worthwhile role models, but they did do more than I did. Their lives were pure drama."

At that I did explode. "They're not to be admired. Their lives are a mess." I turned to Rose "Do you know about those two, has she told you? They were Beth's friends at school. Bev is an unmarried mother of two from two different fathers, and she has no man in her life. Frances has ploughed through men and affairs, married men seem to be her speciality, and she's never found true love."

Rose turned to me "Of course I know who they are. But, for all that is wrong with their lives, they had something that Beth didn't, and some influence on Beth's thinking. Now, be quiet and listen. Go on Beth."

Beth looked at me "You're right, Tim. But Frances would be off on some new affair for a weekend in Paris, or Bev was juggling paternal visiting so that the two father's don't meet. And what was my planned weekend - to grout the tiles in the bathroom. Their lives may not be better than mine, but they were a hell of a lot more exciting. And there was another thing. They were always so jealous of me. 'It's alright for you, Beth, you've got Tim' or 'I wish I had a perfect life like you Beth' and my life wasn't perfect because nothing ever happened except choosing new curtaining or flushing out the drains. Do you know I remember some of the girls at work planning a Saturday of clothes shopping. One of them asked me if I'd like to go along, but another replied that I wouldn't be interested unless it was shopping for wallpaper. I made light of it and laughed, but it was true, and it hurt."

She stopped and poured herself a glass of water. "And then there was Ken. He had money, he was successful and assured. He could take me out to lunch and pay more for a single lunch than we would spend on curtains for our bedroom. I knew that what we were doing was for our own future, we were a young couple fighting our way up in life, but it was still lovely to have this man spend all that money on me. And he knew it was a weakness, and he used it."

She took a sip of water before she continued "Ken always flirted, he'd do it right in front of you Tim. It didn't matter, girls get used to dealing with men like Ken, but he could do it with intent. There is a difference between flirting which is just a clever word play game between friends, both of you knowing that it's totally meaningless. But with Ken it was flirting with intent. You knew that he was throwing down a challenge, putting a stake in the ground to show he was interested. It didn't matter, but again it was flattering."

I poured myself a glass of water. Rose made some notes. I looked at Rose to see if she would give me some indication that I could say something, but she just said, "You're doing well, Beth. Keep going."

So Beth took a sip of water and kept going, "Well, on top of the flirting, Ken would often just drop a little hint that adultery was OK. That a little affair could be fun, no one need find out, no one would get hurt. All the usual bullshit. He even went as far as saying it could strengthen a marriage, because you come to realise how important your partner was to you. And this had gone on slowly and carefully over two to three years, him carefully dropping the seeds of an idea. I could happily ignore it, or so I thought. And then, one Friday in early April Ken invited me to lunch, there was nothing special about it. But he made his intentions very obvious. It really worried me, partly because we might have an awkward problem with a neighbour, but also I have to admit I was tempted. I had to talk to you about it, because that's what we always did, we talked about these sort of things, a problem shared and all that. But you came in late that Friday, Perry had been on your back about something, and you were trying to clear your desk to go away on a course for the next week. You came in tired, and upset, and with a DVD of a film you wanted to watch. So we had something to eat and watched the film, then you went to bed, and we didn't talk. Then over the weekend you were a bit depressed because it should have been Paul's birthday weekend, and anyway we were working hard in the garden for most of it. And on Sunday night you left to go to your course, and we never talked. It wasn't your fault, Tim, I'm not blaming you, you'd done nothing wrong. It just happened that way."

She looked at me. I guess I looked rather pale and withdrawn. I remember that weekend. Her description was fairly accurate.

Beth took a deep breath. Rose said "In your own time Beth. Your doing fine."

"Well, on the Monday, Ken called me and asked me to lunch again. I didn't want to go, but he said he knew of a wood near a wonderful restaurant, and the wild daffodils would be out. I knew I had to face him sometime, and seeing wild daffodils did sound lovely, so I went. He gave me a wonderful lunch, he was debonair and attentive and quite witty in his way. And he gave me too much wine to drink, and it was good wine and slipped down easily. He was driving, so it was down to me not to waste it. Well, to cut a long story short, when we got home he came on heavy again, and I gave him a blow job. I'm sorry Tim, but that's what happened. Later on I learnt that a blow job was the height of sexual ecstasy as far as Ken was concerned, and he didn't want a particularly good one at that. He was always easily bought off with a simple blow job."

She wasn't looking at me now, I guess she was scared to. Rose made notes, and poured herself a glass of water. I sat quiet. I don't think it was as bad as I expected, maybe because I knew that this was what I was here to hear.

"I felt dirty after that. I came home and had a bath, but it didn't help much. I cried myself to sleep that night. I swore to myself, never again. The next morning, before I could do anything, a package came through the door. It was from Ken, and was the most beautiful set of lingerie. Bra, panties and garter belt, all in wonderful deep maroon silk with black lace. You didn't have to look at the label to know that this had cost a fortune. I took it and went round there. I told him to take it back, that yesterday was all a mistake, that I loved you. All the things you would expect me to say. He was a perfect gentleman. He accepted all I had to say, he understood. And then he gave me the undies back, I might as well have them anyway. I got home and found them in my hand. I should have thrown them away, but they were so beautiful, so expensive, by far the most expensive clothes I had. So I didn't throw them away, I hid them."