Part Nine
On the Saturday evening, John thought it was about time he went over to see George. He had positively avoided both George and Jo all week, ever since he had returned from the conference, and he knew that he had to see at least one of them. He had been persistently swamped with feelings of guilt and confusion all week, feelings that kept him from sleep, and which intruded in on him during the daylight hours. It was very late on the Saturday night when he finally decided to drive over to see George, but he just couldn't go another night without a soft, warm, beautiful woman in his arms. He needed to feel her silky soft skin, to smell the oh so familiar fragrance of her hair, and to take comfort in simply having her with him. He wasn't sure why he'd picked on George rather than Jo, except that he knew that being with Jo would make him feel even more guilty than he already did.
George was already in bed when he arrived, it being just after eleven, but she wasn't asleep. She recognised the sound of his approaching car through the slightly open window, and smiled when he let himself quietly in through the front door. She was nice and warm under the duvet, and found it a distinct advantage that she didn't have to get out of bed to let him in. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of John all week, and as far as she knew, neither had Jo. George wasn't stupid, however, because she thought that she just might know why. George had all but resigned herself to John's infidelities years ago, seeing it as something she simply had to put up with, if she wanted him to stay with her. That had obviously changed with the appearance of Jo, but it didn't make George any less realistic about how he might have behaved at the conference. There would have been far too many temptations, far too many opportunities to allow his ever roving eye to wander.
When John appeared in the bedroom, George smiled up at him. "I wondered when I might be seeing you," She said, as he leant down to kiss her. "You weren't asleep?" He asked, delighting in the familiarity of her. "No," She replied with a contented yawn. "Not yet, and I could easily be persuaded to fully wake up again," she added, smirking at him lasciviously, as he began removing his clothes. "I don't doubt," He said, laying his clothes on a chair and turning back the duvet. When they met under the goose-feather quilt, he wrapped himself round her, holding her soft, warm body to him, and burying his face in her hair. "You're nice and warm," he said, gently kissing her. "And you're freezing," she almost complained. "It's supposed to be the other way round. It's men who are there to provide warmth, not usually women." "Too true," he agreed with her, remembering the numerous occasions on which her cold feet would, as if of their own accord, find any vaguely warm part of his legs to which to attach themselves. "You've been hiding this week," she told him gently, immediately feeling the slight stiffening in his muscles. "I've just been very busy," he said evasively. "How was the conference?" She asked, wondering just how far he would go to avoid telling her the truth. "Good," he said without hesitation. "Nikki will go far if she keeps making speeches like she did last weekend." As though to prevent her from asking any more questions, he began kissing her again, their mouths deeply entwining and exploring, exchanging their old familiar tastes as they did their love. "I've missed you," she said between kisses, not having been this close to him for well over a week. "Are you sure you haven't just missed a good orgasm?" He asked her with a fond smile. "Oh, no," She said confidently. "I had one of those on Wednesday." John laughed softly. "I can't wait until Jo is ready for us all to be together." "It'll happen," George promised him. "Just give her time." "Can I help it if I want to overdose on pleasure?" He asked, his left hand softly stroking her breast, teasing at the steadily rising nipple. "Which reminds me, I think it's about time I went flat hunting. We've taken far too many risks with my being at the digs, and if I have my own place, we'll all be on something of an equal footing." "Well, as long as it's got room for a truly enormous bed," George said matter-of-factly. "That would of course be my primary consideration," John said silkily, his hand creeping between her legs, making her groan with pleasure as he sought out her hidden depths.
But as her arousal grew, she wanted to have him join her, not to take what he was giving her alone. She wanted them to reach their orgasm together, to achieve their peak in the age old way. But as her hand reached for him, wanting to guide his corresponding arousal towards her, she received the surprise of her life. John wasn't remotely erect, as soft and unresponsive as the day he was born. As soon as she touched him, John went perfectly still, every hint of a smile completely draining from his face. Swiftly detaching himself from her, he turned away and lay on his back, refusing to meet her eyes. He couldn't believe this had happened to him. After all these years, of being so confident, so sure of himself when it came to women, he had now reached that age of being unable to satisfy one. George wasn't entirely sure what to say. This was the first time this had happened to John with her, and she could feel his utter self-loathing raising higher and higher walls between them. Gently turning John's face towards her, she said, "It really doesn't matter, you know." "And that has to be the most fatuous thing I've ever heard you say," John replied bitterly, still refusing to look at her. "John, I've lost count of the times I haven't felt like it." "That's different," he muttered disgustedly. "Don't be ridiculous," she told him fondly. "I... I... I'm sorry," he said, his voice extremely unsteady, and when she again turned his face towards her, she could see the tears shining in his eyes. "Darling, you don't need to be sorry," she told him, feeling an enormous wave of sympathy for his plight. "Promise me you won't tell Jo about this," he begged her, feeling more pathetic than he ever had done in his life. "No, of course I won't," she said, for now content to reassure him if that was what he wanted. "I really don't know what's brought this on," he said, trying to regain his composure. "You're probably just tired," she said, looking for the most obvious of reasons. "That's supposed to be your excuse," he replied almost petulantly. "You could of course," George said carefully. "Tell me what happened at that conference last weekend." "How do you know anything did?" He asked, seeing nothing in her eyes to reassure him. "John, I always know," George told him not unkindly. "Or at least, I always know when you feel guilty about it. I didn't know, the time you caught the Chlamydia, because you didn't feel guilty, but I think you do this time, and I think that might be your problem."
Realising that he was well and truly caught, he took her hand in his, gently chafing it as he tried to formulate some kind of an answer. "I slept with someone," he said eventually, wincing at the sheer uselessness of his reply. "Yes, darling, that much is obvious." "I slept with Karen," he clarified, George's eyes widening at his words. "Ah," She said in understanding. "The puzzle begins to unravel. I should have known that sending you two off to a conference without a chaperone was a bad idea. So, was there a reason for it, or did the forbidden lust simply overwhelm the pair of you." "To give Karen her due, I did all the running." "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" George asked disgustedly. "You wanted answers," John insisted. "So I'm giving them to you. She was on the hunt for someone to sleep with all weekend. She didn't go out of her way to advertise it, but it was pretty obvious to anyone who knew her. I think she wanted the release, far more than the company itself." "That's hardly a surprise," George put in, seeing partly where this was going, though wishing John could have left well alone. "When I finally cornered her on the Sunday night, she pointed out that I had far more to lose than she did." Here John stopped, not knowing if George would really want to hear the next bit. "And what was your response?" She asked, sensing his hesitation. "I told her, that you, and Jo, and her self-respect would all be there tomorrow." "Well, that is nice," George said a little acidly. "Go on, I'm truly fascinated now." "Do you remember what she did, the first time she slept with Ritchie Atkins?" "As if I'll ever forget," George said dryly. "That was what she wanted from me." "Again, that's not exactly surprising," George amazed him by saying. "If the release was really what she wanted, then asking you to be rough with her would probably be her chosen course of action." "She said that what I did with her last time just wouldn't work. She didn't want any time to think, because if she were allowed to think, she wouldn't enjoy it whatsoever. George, she gave me every possible opportunity to say no, but I, somewhat arrogantly, thought I knew what I was doing." "And did you find to your cost, that you didn't have a clue?" George asked, now seeing precisely what must have happened. "That's never happened to me before," he said quietly, as if not quite able to believe it. "Not with a woman. Even up to the last possible minute, she asked if I was sure this was what I wanted, because she knew exactly what I was about to do to her. The feeling of doing that, actually holding her down, was incredible, but it frightened the living daylights out of me. George, I couldn't have stopped if I'd tried, not even if she'd begged me to stop. It was as though my body completely took over, which I suppose in a way it did. Afterwards, I couldn't believe what I'd done. Her arms and shoulders were covered in bruises, and I had given them to her. She felt so guilty, and probably still does, because she could see what it had done to me. I got my punishment for that night, by feeling more like Fenner than I ever thought possible. That feeling goes far and above anything either you or Jo could say to me. I really did feel as though I'd raped her. She kept assuring me that what I'd done wasn't remotely similar, and having had the last few days to think about it, I know she's right, but that doesn't make me feel any better. I'm sorry I slept with her, and I know I shouldn't have done it, but this was about far more than just picking someone up. This was about giving a friend what she needed, because achieving the kind of emotional release it gave her, could so easily have been catastrophic with a perfect stranger. I'm not trying to excuse it, but I am trying to explain it, there is a difference." "In your world of reality, darling, I've no doubt," George said dryly, though she could see that he was giving her the absolute truth.
"You mustn't be cross with her for this, George, please. Karen gave me plenty of time to say no, and she feels even more guilty about it than I do." "What I ought to do," George said a little exasperatedly, "is to shake some sense into the pair of you. What you did was incredibly stupid. For you, because you assumed you knew what you were doing and blatantly didn't, and for Karen, because that really isn't the way to start living again. She's beginning to use sex in almost the same way as you do, to regain just a little hint of normality. I ought to be furious with both of you, but I'm not, because in an odd kind of way I understand it. When I saw Karen yesterday, she kept opening her mouth to tell me something, and changing her mind at the last minute. I'm guessing that this was it. Yes, John, part of me is bitterly hurt that you could put your promise on hold so easily, but then sometimes I wonder why I expect you to be any different. The rest of me thoroughly understands why you did that for her, because you hold friendship in far higher esteem than you do anything else, you always have done. Karen is still grieving, still hurting, and desperately trying to find anything to stop her dwelling on all the unanswered questions. Yesterday was the first time I'd seen her or spoken to her, since we returned from Spain, but I could see it immediately. I know that you did that for her, because she is a friend, nothing more. I also think, though I'm willing to bet I could be wrong, that you couldn't get in the mood tonight, because you are subconsciously afraid of doing to me what you did to Karen." John flinched when she referred to his inability to perform, the muscles of his hand tensing in protest. "And don't flinch like that," she added a lot more gently. "It is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of." "That's all you know," He told her bitterly. "Oh, and what has always been your response on the numerous occasions I have failed to become remotely aroused? You've always said that it doesn't matter. So, start taking a leaf out of your own book for a change. It happens, John, and I'm not even slightly insulted, or hurt, or bewildered that it has." "If you're about to put me into the same category as Haughton, stop right there," John said firmly. "Well, no, I wasn't," she replied, resisting the urge to shake him. "Because it used to happen to him on a fairly regular basis." "Really?" John asked, a slight smirk playing over his face. "Yes, I thought that might cheer you up," she said wryly. "John, just like the rest of us mere mortals, you are not infallible, and your body will not always do precisely what you tell it to do. I realise that this may come as a shock, but I can promise you that it is a plain and simple fact of life."
Putting his arms round her, John held her to him, gently kissing her. "I'm sorry for sleeping with Karen," he said, truly meaning it. "I know," George replied quietly. "Anyone else, and I'd have been tempted to wring your neck, but I can at least understand why with Karen." "And I'm sorry I couldn't..." he stopped, not entirely sure how to phrase it. "Don't be," She told him firmly. "And John, I don't want you to feel any pressure to make love to me. You obviously need some time to come to terms with what happened with Karen, so take it." "I really don't want Jo to know about any of this," he said earnestly. "And I'm not about to tell her, I promise." "I don't just mean about Karen." "I know," she said, softly touching his cheek. "It wouldn't put her off, you know." "I don't care," John insisted vehemently. "I'd die of humiliation if Jo knew about this." "Why?" George asked with a slight laugh. "It's different with you," John tried to explain. "You're used to my imperfections." "Oh, and you think Jo isn't? John, Jo loves you, just as I love you, and we are both entirely aware of each and every one of your imperfections, and, amazing as it might be, we are both still here." "You've always been far more realistic about my playing away," John said quietly. "Something I often regret, because I wish you didn't have to be like that." "Yes, well, I've had to put up with it in a very different way to Jo, haven't I. When we were married, I got used to it, because I realised that it was the only way to keep you with me. I could ignore it most of the time, well, until Jo, but Jo has never had to even attempt to do that. Even when she wouldn't sleep with you for all those years, part of Jo still expected you to be faithful to her, and she couldn't deal with it when you weren't. That's the only reason I take a slightly different stance with regard to your flings, which I am well aware are very few and far between these days. There is absolutely no reason for Jo to know about this, because she wouldn't understand it. So no, I'm not going to tell her."
As they slowly drifted off to sleep, John sent up a brief prayer of thanks for this beautiful woman he had cradled against him, for the love she unerringly bestowed on him, and for the forgiveness and understanding she was continuously prepared to accord him. He would try and do something normal with her tomorrow, perhaps they might go looking for the flat he intended to acquire. She'd told him that he needed time, before even thinking of making love to her again, and much as he was loathed to admit it, she was right. He inwardly cursed his body for betraying him, for deserting him when he needed it most, but she hadn't scorned him, and she hadn't even been all that angry with him for sleeping with Karen. What had he ever done to deserve someone so beautiful, so understanding and with such a generous heart? These were questions that he simply couldn't answer. All that seemed to matter right now was that he was here, with George, and that out there somewhere was Jo. But just as his eyes began to close, an idea popped into his head, an almost frightening possibility that he knew on the morrow he must consider. Was it time, could it actually be time, to put his pride to one side, and try again to understand himself, to seek another's help in untangling the patterns and pathways that made up his mind? Therapy with Rachel Crawchek had been a disaster, because he had been determined to go into it with the provision of a get-out clause. But what if he didn't, what if this time, he went into it blind, with no possible way out, and with a promise at least to himself that he would see it through?