A/N: I would be failing in my duty if I didn't warn all concerned, that this chapter is without doubt rated 18.
Part One Hundred And Seventeen
John's initial impression of Karen's flat seemed to gel completely with her personality. It spoke of confidence, subtlety and style. Karen moved in to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine, and John began looking round. He saw that apart from the computer in one corner, all reminders of work were removed from the immediate vicinity. Moving to stand in front of the sideboard, he picked up a picture of a nineteen or twenty year old man, clearly Karen's son. When she appeared and handed him a glass of wine, he gestured to the picture and said,
"He looks like you."
"He looks more like his father," Replied Karen, as John replaced the picture where he'd found it and they sat near each other on the sofa. "He's got that innocent look that totally belies the occasionally obnoxious adolescent you'd think he still was." John laughed, hearing the clear fondness in her tone.
"Charlie thinks she takes after me," He said, "But I watched her once when she was defending a sit in at college, and when it comes to arguing her point, she's her mother through and through."
"So, tell me about George," Said Karen, lighting a cigarette, and blowing the smoke away from him.
"She's the mother of my daughter, and she appears before me from time to time. Why do you ask?"
"Because you wouldn't worry about her as much as you do if you didn't still feel something for her," She replied, blowing a smoke ring at the ceiling. John's gaze sharpened on her.
"You're very perceptive," He said, a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
"It comes with the territory," Karen replied succinctly.
"George and I was, is, complicated. She wasn't really ready for the responsibility when Charlie arrived. She thinks that she totally failed at being a mother, when in fact she didn't really, she just found it a lot harder than most. Half the anger she directs at me, at Jo, at anyone is self-generated. I met her in her last year of university, and she was probably too young to think about settling down. There won't ever be a time when I don't worry about George, and a part of me will probably always love her."
"What happened with her cabinet minister? The last time I had a meeting with her about the case against area, he made an impromptu visit which she didn't seem too pleased about."
"I don't think I've ever met a more spineless cretin than Neil Haughton," John replied, with all the subdued venom of a patient adder. "He gave George a black eye because she failed to get Pilkinton and Atkins found not guilty."
"Charming," Replied Karen in disgust. "I've a feeling he was dispatched with a flea in his ear."
"More than likely," Said John. "When her father found out, he threatened to politically bury Neil, which is the one thing he fears above anything else. But I would have liked to see him answer an assault charge."
"But I guess justice doesn't usually apply to secretaries of state."
"So it would seem."
"And how does Jo fit in to your complicated lifestyle?"
"When Charlie was born, I started teaching law part time as well as practicing it, mainly because the more I practiced law, the more it took me away from home. I met Jo when Charlie was about six. Jo was one of my students. It's quite an on/off thing with Jo. Sometimes she's quite happy to bend the rules of professional propriety, and sometimes she can't stand to be in the same room as me. Jo, quite rightly, can't handle the fact that I'm what she calls a serial womaniser." He watched, as a look of dawning realisation crossed Karen's well-sculptured face.
"So," She said in slight wonderment, "That would explain George's slightly cryptic e-mail."
"Don't tell me," Said John, in half amusement, half disgust. "You weren't the only one who was unequivocally warned off this enchanting little assignation."
"You too?" Asked Karen, a twinkle appearing in those endless blue eyes that reminded him of George's.
"Oh, yes," replied John, "I was told in no uncertain terms that you didn't need my particular form of ensnarement." Karen laughed huskily.
"Well, that was very sweet of her, but I have to say, I'm glad you chose to ignore her advice. I was simply told that emotionally you would hurt me, and to be careful."
"That's to the point, I suppose. And is that piece of well-informed advice being ignored or acted upon?"
"Mostly ignored, though not entirely. What George didn't take in to consideration is that I haven't got room in my head or my life to get emotionally attached to anyone. So, no emotional attachment, no possibility of being hurt."
"Ah, that's good to know," He said, the twinkle in his eye matching Karen's.
She got up and retrieved the bottle of Chablis from the kitchen. As she moved to refill his glass, he halted her hand and said,
"Not if I'm driving." Karen looked him full in the face.
"Do you want to be driving?" She asked, her voice half-playful, half-serious, the flirtation dancing in her eyes.
"That's up to you," He said, both his gaze and his deepened tone leaving her in no doubt as to what he wanted. Karen stood for a moment, the bottle poised, clearly mulling over the choice she now had.
"I think I'd like you to stay," She said, tilting the bottle to fill his glass.
"Are you sure?" He asked gently.
"Yes," She said more certain this time as she refilled her glass. She put some soft music on, and they simply sat talking for what seemed ages. They'd both consumed a large amount of white wine, and were enjoying the feeling of being utterly relaxed after a hard week's work. Looking over at another picture of Ross on top of the television, John asked,
"What happened to Ross's father?"
"I met him soon after I started my nurse's training with the WRAF when I was seventeen. He married me when I discovered I was pregnant because he was quite a lot older than me and he wasn't going to have his child born without a father, but we weren't happy. You might say the morning sickness lasted longer than the happiness did," which made John smile. "He left just before Ross was born, a divorce following very soon after. It's odd to think of being divorced at eighteen. Then he was killed in action in the Falklands. But I see something of Ross's father every time I look at him." John had, a little while ago, rested an arm gently around her shoulders, and was playing with a lock of her hair.
"Apart from the money," He said, referring to the conversation they'd had the other day, "What made you move to the prison service?"
"I think I was sick of watching people needlessly dying. Just after Maxi Purvis killed herself, I remember thinking that I'd only exchanged one utterly failing system for another. When George came on her little visit to Larkhall, she was horrified to realise just how common it was for inmates to harm themselves."
"I think she got more than she bargained for that day," Replied John, remembering just how that day had ended.
"Oh, really," commented Karen, seeing in his face that there was more to this assertion than met the eye.
"I don't think she was disappointed," He said, leaning towards her.
"Lucky George," Said Karen dryly, just before he kissed her. When their lips met, the exploration was slow, languorous and incredibly erotic. The little sound she made in the back of her throat turned him on enormously. They could both taste the wine they'd been drinking since they'd returned from the restaurant. As they were both extremely skilled at this initial stage of conquest, it was almost a contest to see who could last the longest without coming up for air. But eventually, it was Karen, being the smoker, who was forced to take a breath. He was sincerely impressed at her durability when she immediately resumed with the clear intention of continuing for as long as necessary. He was constantly aware of the inviting swell of her magnificent breasts, and eventually he allowed his left hand to trace their curve. As he gently moved a thumb over her nipple, her eyes took on that momentarily glazed expression that told him he'd hit on one of her favourite pleasure points.
When, a while later, they moved as one towards the bedroom, clothes were rapidly discarded along the way. Neither of them could have explained how they progressed from sofa to bed, but when they found themselves touching skin to skin, it felt right. The duvet was half covering them, but John drew it back to look at her.
"You're beautiful," He said, his voice deep with arousal.
"You're not so bad yourself," She said, her eyes running over his well-muscled torso descending to a considerably large cock that certainly looked as though it was ready for action. He could feel her eyes, as though they were tiny needles forever marking him as having slept with her. He wasn't all that used to being as thoroughly scrutinized as he was being now. For Karen, this was simply because it had been a while since she'd slept with a man, her last being Ritchie Atkins to be specific, and she was determined to enjoy every moment of it. Pulling him back down towards her, she began reacquainting herself with the plains and textures of masculinity. Realising exactly what she was doing, he said,
"Is sleeping with a woman so different?" Knowing she'd been caught in the act, she laughed.
"Of course it's different," She said, moving her hand slowly downwards. He halted her hand in its progress, knowing that he wouldn't be able to last if she gave him any more attention, and wanting to maximise what was possibly her first encounter with a man since Ritchie Atkins. Moving his hand back to her right breast to distract her, he coaxed her nipple to a pebble-like hardness, eliciting a deep, throaty moan from her.
"You like that, do you?" He said mockingly, the smirk of triumph evident in his voice.
"I'd tell you if I didn't," She replied, her voice as rich and sultry as fresh honey. Inwardly cursing the fact that human beings weren't born with two mouths, he kissed his way down over her collarbones, until he was circling one of her nipples with warm, agile lips that induced in her a feeling of floating above the waves of total ecstasy.
"Tell me what you like," He said, mumbling around an exquisite mouthful of female flesh.
"There isn't much I don't," She replied, finding it almost impossible to form a coherent sentence now that his right hand was tenderly massaging her other breast so as not to make it feel left out.
"That's an evasive answer if ever I heard one," He said on a chuckle.
"Trust me," She said, "There isn't much I'm likely to say no to at this stage." It occurred to both of them, that she had once said no at and after this stage of play, but neither of them wanting to spoil the mood, they didn't mention it. But perhaps because of this, John's progress was far more tentative than it had been prior to Karen's badly chosen words. Moving back up to her lips, he simply lay kissing her and mapping gentle circles on her thigh with his left hand, almost wanting direct permission to go further.
"You don't have to be quite so cautious," She said between kisses, "Though the thought is appreciated." As if to qualify this assertion, she took his hand and gently inched it between her thighs. This confirmation that she was absolutely sure that she definitely wanted what he wanted to give her, made John feel a lot happier. As his thumb grazed over her clit and a finger dipped inside her, her legs widened in response. As he discovered just how wet and responsive she was to his ministrations, he was surer than ever that nothing but enjoyment could come out of this night. Having lubricated his finger, he moved it up and around her clit, yet not quite touching it until he knew she was inwardly screaming with frustration. Kissing his way down her body, he replaced his wandering finger with his tongue. She moaned with glorious abandon as he ran his tongue expertly over her clit and its surroundings. She tasted delightful, and he knew he could never get enough of doing this to most women. Her breathing increased as he inched two fingers inside her and kept flicking his tongue over and around her clit. She cried out when he located her G spot, and his relentlessly stabbing fingers served to push her nearer and nearer to the edge.
"Come for me," He murmured, and such unequivocal words of encouragement brought her finally to shuddering submission.
He lay watching her, as her breathing returned to normal. After having read all the horrific details of what had happened with Fenner, it gave him a feeling of immense satisfaction to know that he'd brought her to a wonderful orgasm, and hopefully not her last. When she began kissing him again, she could taste herself on his lips, which briefly made her think of Yvonne. To distract herself from treading the rocky road of guilt, she began kissing her way down his body, eventually taking his delightfully smooth, heavy cock between her lips. He sucked in a deep breath of sheer bliss when she put out a darting pink tongue to flicker over the head. Karen was certainly one of the best he'd ever had doing this to him. In fact, she was probably only superceded by George, who after years of just him, had naturally learnt exactly what made him tick. When he knew he was approaching the point of no return, he gently tugged on a lock of her hair to get her attention. They appeared to be of the same mind as she moved back to lie beside him and he hovered over her. When he entered her, she gasped.
"Did that hurt?" He asked in concern.
"It's just been a while," She said, "That's all." Now almost certain that her last male partner had been Ritchie Atkins, John was all the more determined to make her enjoy every minute of it. As he moved with deep, long strokes inside her, he inched a hand between them to give her clit some much-needed attention. He angled his hips slightly to graze her G spot with every thrust. She cried out as she came for a second time, her internal muscles squeezing him to completion. She could feel his boiling hot seed coating her insides, and he was thoroughly aware of her internal walls twitching and throbbing around him. He felt almost bereft as he gently withdrew from her, knowing just how incredible that had been for both of them.
"Do you have any idea how amazing you are?" She said after a while.
"I am told so very occasionally," He said, the post-coital grin evident in the slice of moonlight that was peeping through the chink in the bedroom curtains.
"Modesty really doesn't suit you," She said on a laugh.
"So, my being something of a serial womaniser didn't bother you then?"
"No. In fact, it probably made it easier. It meant I could do this without having to worry about either of us becoming too attached. Straight, utterly magnificent screwing is clearly what you were after, and it certainly hasn't done me any harm either." With this clear affirmation that he could feel totally relaxed with what they'd just done, he put his arms round her and began kissing her again.
"Do you know, I had therapy for it once," He said a while later.
"What, for picking up too many random women?"
"Yes, only I ended up sleeping with my therapist." Karen laughed.
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" He gave her the wide-eyed, innocent look of someone caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "And don't give me that lost little boy look," She said in mock disgust, "There's nothing wrong with being a complete and utter reprobate as long as you admit it."
"Ah, it doesn't always make me very popular with Jo, though," He said, turning serious.
"No, I bet it doesn't. But then, we do all have our flaws."
When they drifted to sleep, her soft, warm body nestling against his hard, muscular one, they both knew this would probably never happen again, but that in having done this together, they had sewn the seeds for a long and lasting friendship. For Karen, this was the first decent night's sleep she'd had in over a fortnight. She felt safe, relaxed and thoroughly content. John watched her sleep for a little while, thinking that where his philandering usually caused nothing but hassle and heartache for those concerned, this particular little escapade had almost certainly achieved some good.
When Karen woke on the Saturday morning, he was gone. What did she really expect, she thought as she turned over to reach the clock, which was when she caught sight of the note he'd left on the bedside table. Putting this down to a particularly John way of doing the difficult bit, she unfolded it.
"Karen,
Last night was enchanting. Please keep in touch as friends, whatever happens. I really mean that.
John."
Part One Hundred And Seventeen
John's initial impression of Karen's flat seemed to gel completely with her personality. It spoke of confidence, subtlety and style. Karen moved in to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine, and John began looking round. He saw that apart from the computer in one corner, all reminders of work were removed from the immediate vicinity. Moving to stand in front of the sideboard, he picked up a picture of a nineteen or twenty year old man, clearly Karen's son. When she appeared and handed him a glass of wine, he gestured to the picture and said,
"He looks like you."
"He looks more like his father," Replied Karen, as John replaced the picture where he'd found it and they sat near each other on the sofa. "He's got that innocent look that totally belies the occasionally obnoxious adolescent you'd think he still was." John laughed, hearing the clear fondness in her tone.
"Charlie thinks she takes after me," He said, "But I watched her once when she was defending a sit in at college, and when it comes to arguing her point, she's her mother through and through."
"So, tell me about George," Said Karen, lighting a cigarette, and blowing the smoke away from him.
"She's the mother of my daughter, and she appears before me from time to time. Why do you ask?"
"Because you wouldn't worry about her as much as you do if you didn't still feel something for her," She replied, blowing a smoke ring at the ceiling. John's gaze sharpened on her.
"You're very perceptive," He said, a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
"It comes with the territory," Karen replied succinctly.
"George and I was, is, complicated. She wasn't really ready for the responsibility when Charlie arrived. She thinks that she totally failed at being a mother, when in fact she didn't really, she just found it a lot harder than most. Half the anger she directs at me, at Jo, at anyone is self-generated. I met her in her last year of university, and she was probably too young to think about settling down. There won't ever be a time when I don't worry about George, and a part of me will probably always love her."
"What happened with her cabinet minister? The last time I had a meeting with her about the case against area, he made an impromptu visit which she didn't seem too pleased about."
"I don't think I've ever met a more spineless cretin than Neil Haughton," John replied, with all the subdued venom of a patient adder. "He gave George a black eye because she failed to get Pilkinton and Atkins found not guilty."
"Charming," Replied Karen in disgust. "I've a feeling he was dispatched with a flea in his ear."
"More than likely," Said John. "When her father found out, he threatened to politically bury Neil, which is the one thing he fears above anything else. But I would have liked to see him answer an assault charge."
"But I guess justice doesn't usually apply to secretaries of state."
"So it would seem."
"And how does Jo fit in to your complicated lifestyle?"
"When Charlie was born, I started teaching law part time as well as practicing it, mainly because the more I practiced law, the more it took me away from home. I met Jo when Charlie was about six. Jo was one of my students. It's quite an on/off thing with Jo. Sometimes she's quite happy to bend the rules of professional propriety, and sometimes she can't stand to be in the same room as me. Jo, quite rightly, can't handle the fact that I'm what she calls a serial womaniser." He watched, as a look of dawning realisation crossed Karen's well-sculptured face.
"So," She said in slight wonderment, "That would explain George's slightly cryptic e-mail."
"Don't tell me," Said John, in half amusement, half disgust. "You weren't the only one who was unequivocally warned off this enchanting little assignation."
"You too?" Asked Karen, a twinkle appearing in those endless blue eyes that reminded him of George's.
"Oh, yes," replied John, "I was told in no uncertain terms that you didn't need my particular form of ensnarement." Karen laughed huskily.
"Well, that was very sweet of her, but I have to say, I'm glad you chose to ignore her advice. I was simply told that emotionally you would hurt me, and to be careful."
"That's to the point, I suppose. And is that piece of well-informed advice being ignored or acted upon?"
"Mostly ignored, though not entirely. What George didn't take in to consideration is that I haven't got room in my head or my life to get emotionally attached to anyone. So, no emotional attachment, no possibility of being hurt."
"Ah, that's good to know," He said, the twinkle in his eye matching Karen's.
She got up and retrieved the bottle of Chablis from the kitchen. As she moved to refill his glass, he halted her hand and said,
"Not if I'm driving." Karen looked him full in the face.
"Do you want to be driving?" She asked, her voice half-playful, half-serious, the flirtation dancing in her eyes.
"That's up to you," He said, both his gaze and his deepened tone leaving her in no doubt as to what he wanted. Karen stood for a moment, the bottle poised, clearly mulling over the choice she now had.
"I think I'd like you to stay," She said, tilting the bottle to fill his glass.
"Are you sure?" He asked gently.
"Yes," She said more certain this time as she refilled her glass. She put some soft music on, and they simply sat talking for what seemed ages. They'd both consumed a large amount of white wine, and were enjoying the feeling of being utterly relaxed after a hard week's work. Looking over at another picture of Ross on top of the television, John asked,
"What happened to Ross's father?"
"I met him soon after I started my nurse's training with the WRAF when I was seventeen. He married me when I discovered I was pregnant because he was quite a lot older than me and he wasn't going to have his child born without a father, but we weren't happy. You might say the morning sickness lasted longer than the happiness did," which made John smile. "He left just before Ross was born, a divorce following very soon after. It's odd to think of being divorced at eighteen. Then he was killed in action in the Falklands. But I see something of Ross's father every time I look at him." John had, a little while ago, rested an arm gently around her shoulders, and was playing with a lock of her hair.
"Apart from the money," He said, referring to the conversation they'd had the other day, "What made you move to the prison service?"
"I think I was sick of watching people needlessly dying. Just after Maxi Purvis killed herself, I remember thinking that I'd only exchanged one utterly failing system for another. When George came on her little visit to Larkhall, she was horrified to realise just how common it was for inmates to harm themselves."
"I think she got more than she bargained for that day," Replied John, remembering just how that day had ended.
"Oh, really," commented Karen, seeing in his face that there was more to this assertion than met the eye.
"I don't think she was disappointed," He said, leaning towards her.
"Lucky George," Said Karen dryly, just before he kissed her. When their lips met, the exploration was slow, languorous and incredibly erotic. The little sound she made in the back of her throat turned him on enormously. They could both taste the wine they'd been drinking since they'd returned from the restaurant. As they were both extremely skilled at this initial stage of conquest, it was almost a contest to see who could last the longest without coming up for air. But eventually, it was Karen, being the smoker, who was forced to take a breath. He was sincerely impressed at her durability when she immediately resumed with the clear intention of continuing for as long as necessary. He was constantly aware of the inviting swell of her magnificent breasts, and eventually he allowed his left hand to trace their curve. As he gently moved a thumb over her nipple, her eyes took on that momentarily glazed expression that told him he'd hit on one of her favourite pleasure points.
When, a while later, they moved as one towards the bedroom, clothes were rapidly discarded along the way. Neither of them could have explained how they progressed from sofa to bed, but when they found themselves touching skin to skin, it felt right. The duvet was half covering them, but John drew it back to look at her.
"You're beautiful," He said, his voice deep with arousal.
"You're not so bad yourself," She said, her eyes running over his well-muscled torso descending to a considerably large cock that certainly looked as though it was ready for action. He could feel her eyes, as though they were tiny needles forever marking him as having slept with her. He wasn't all that used to being as thoroughly scrutinized as he was being now. For Karen, this was simply because it had been a while since she'd slept with a man, her last being Ritchie Atkins to be specific, and she was determined to enjoy every moment of it. Pulling him back down towards her, she began reacquainting herself with the plains and textures of masculinity. Realising exactly what she was doing, he said,
"Is sleeping with a woman so different?" Knowing she'd been caught in the act, she laughed.
"Of course it's different," She said, moving her hand slowly downwards. He halted her hand in its progress, knowing that he wouldn't be able to last if she gave him any more attention, and wanting to maximise what was possibly her first encounter with a man since Ritchie Atkins. Moving his hand back to her right breast to distract her, he coaxed her nipple to a pebble-like hardness, eliciting a deep, throaty moan from her.
"You like that, do you?" He said mockingly, the smirk of triumph evident in his voice.
"I'd tell you if I didn't," She replied, her voice as rich and sultry as fresh honey. Inwardly cursing the fact that human beings weren't born with two mouths, he kissed his way down over her collarbones, until he was circling one of her nipples with warm, agile lips that induced in her a feeling of floating above the waves of total ecstasy.
"Tell me what you like," He said, mumbling around an exquisite mouthful of female flesh.
"There isn't much I don't," She replied, finding it almost impossible to form a coherent sentence now that his right hand was tenderly massaging her other breast so as not to make it feel left out.
"That's an evasive answer if ever I heard one," He said on a chuckle.
"Trust me," She said, "There isn't much I'm likely to say no to at this stage." It occurred to both of them, that she had once said no at and after this stage of play, but neither of them wanting to spoil the mood, they didn't mention it. But perhaps because of this, John's progress was far more tentative than it had been prior to Karen's badly chosen words. Moving back up to her lips, he simply lay kissing her and mapping gentle circles on her thigh with his left hand, almost wanting direct permission to go further.
"You don't have to be quite so cautious," She said between kisses, "Though the thought is appreciated." As if to qualify this assertion, she took his hand and gently inched it between her thighs. This confirmation that she was absolutely sure that she definitely wanted what he wanted to give her, made John feel a lot happier. As his thumb grazed over her clit and a finger dipped inside her, her legs widened in response. As he discovered just how wet and responsive she was to his ministrations, he was surer than ever that nothing but enjoyment could come out of this night. Having lubricated his finger, he moved it up and around her clit, yet not quite touching it until he knew she was inwardly screaming with frustration. Kissing his way down her body, he replaced his wandering finger with his tongue. She moaned with glorious abandon as he ran his tongue expertly over her clit and its surroundings. She tasted delightful, and he knew he could never get enough of doing this to most women. Her breathing increased as he inched two fingers inside her and kept flicking his tongue over and around her clit. She cried out when he located her G spot, and his relentlessly stabbing fingers served to push her nearer and nearer to the edge.
"Come for me," He murmured, and such unequivocal words of encouragement brought her finally to shuddering submission.
He lay watching her, as her breathing returned to normal. After having read all the horrific details of what had happened with Fenner, it gave him a feeling of immense satisfaction to know that he'd brought her to a wonderful orgasm, and hopefully not her last. When she began kissing him again, she could taste herself on his lips, which briefly made her think of Yvonne. To distract herself from treading the rocky road of guilt, she began kissing her way down his body, eventually taking his delightfully smooth, heavy cock between her lips. He sucked in a deep breath of sheer bliss when she put out a darting pink tongue to flicker over the head. Karen was certainly one of the best he'd ever had doing this to him. In fact, she was probably only superceded by George, who after years of just him, had naturally learnt exactly what made him tick. When he knew he was approaching the point of no return, he gently tugged on a lock of her hair to get her attention. They appeared to be of the same mind as she moved back to lie beside him and he hovered over her. When he entered her, she gasped.
"Did that hurt?" He asked in concern.
"It's just been a while," She said, "That's all." Now almost certain that her last male partner had been Ritchie Atkins, John was all the more determined to make her enjoy every minute of it. As he moved with deep, long strokes inside her, he inched a hand between them to give her clit some much-needed attention. He angled his hips slightly to graze her G spot with every thrust. She cried out as she came for a second time, her internal muscles squeezing him to completion. She could feel his boiling hot seed coating her insides, and he was thoroughly aware of her internal walls twitching and throbbing around him. He felt almost bereft as he gently withdrew from her, knowing just how incredible that had been for both of them.
"Do you have any idea how amazing you are?" She said after a while.
"I am told so very occasionally," He said, the post-coital grin evident in the slice of moonlight that was peeping through the chink in the bedroom curtains.
"Modesty really doesn't suit you," She said on a laugh.
"So, my being something of a serial womaniser didn't bother you then?"
"No. In fact, it probably made it easier. It meant I could do this without having to worry about either of us becoming too attached. Straight, utterly magnificent screwing is clearly what you were after, and it certainly hasn't done me any harm either." With this clear affirmation that he could feel totally relaxed with what they'd just done, he put his arms round her and began kissing her again.
"Do you know, I had therapy for it once," He said a while later.
"What, for picking up too many random women?"
"Yes, only I ended up sleeping with my therapist." Karen laughed.
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" He gave her the wide-eyed, innocent look of someone caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "And don't give me that lost little boy look," She said in mock disgust, "There's nothing wrong with being a complete and utter reprobate as long as you admit it."
"Ah, it doesn't always make me very popular with Jo, though," He said, turning serious.
"No, I bet it doesn't. But then, we do all have our flaws."
When they drifted to sleep, her soft, warm body nestling against his hard, muscular one, they both knew this would probably never happen again, but that in having done this together, they had sewn the seeds for a long and lasting friendship. For Karen, this was the first decent night's sleep she'd had in over a fortnight. She felt safe, relaxed and thoroughly content. John watched her sleep for a little while, thinking that where his philandering usually caused nothing but hassle and heartache for those concerned, this particular little escapade had almost certainly achieved some good.
When Karen woke on the Saturday morning, he was gone. What did she really expect, she thought as she turned over to reach the clock, which was when she caught sight of the note he'd left on the bedside table. Putting this down to a particularly John way of doing the difficult bit, she unfolded it.
"Karen,
Last night was enchanting. Please keep in touch as friends, whatever happens. I really mean that.
John."