When morning came on the Sunday after I made love to Reverend Oliver, I awoke to find Claire and I were still in each other’s arms in much the same position as we were when we went to sleep.
It was a unique experience for us to occupy the same bed and not to have made love but so it was.
We didn’t make love that Sunday morning either, but only because it was late and Claire had to get Katy back to the village there was certainly no lack of will or urge.
After we had gotten Katy settled in the car Claire and I went back to check out and the unhelpful manager announced loudly
“The comings and goings between your rooms didn’t go unnoticed; we don’t allow any shenanigans at the Kings Arms Hotel you know”
I could see Claire was close to tears as she turned to walk out but I wasn’t having any of that so in similar level to him I said angrily.
“The lady in the car is a Church of England minister, who is terminally ill and this lady is her Doctor, and the “comings and goings” between the rooms was necessary as the Reverend needs constant nursing”
And to finish I added “you pompous arse”
This was greeted by a ripple of applause from those in earshot.
Then I took Claire’s arm and walked her to the door, on the way I spotted Lisa the friendly waitress who smiled and I paused and tipped her generously.
“Thank you for your kindness Lisa” I said and escorted Claire to her car and there we said our goodbyes in the car park as for the sake of discretion I travelled back to Bushy Down on the train.
On my return to the house I was greeted by a very eager and affectionate Georgia who was true to her word when she gave me a lot more of what she had given me before I went to Godalming.
I was thankful for the raw unrestrained sex as it took my mind off the events of the weekend.
In one of the respites between her assaults Georgia told me that when she went back to work on Saturday that everyone was given the third degree by Miss Snipe in an effort to discover which member or members of staff were responsible for soiling the furnishings in the presidents club and leaving an unsightly stain on the billiard table.
She laughed hysterically after she had told me and I thought
“You wouldn’t be laughing if you knew it was me”
No one owned up obviously and no action was taken other than to change the alarm code.
The next few days were spent in much the same way with Georgia assaulting me at every opportunity until I took horny Miss Georgie back to Roehampton in her dad’s car where once we reached her room she jumped me twice more before I left.
I had clearly created a monster, a cute nubile monster, but a monster nonetheless who for the next few weeks would have to satisfy herself.
But at least in the course of our lust-fuelled week she had added considerably to her wank bank.
When I returned home I was left alone with my own thoughts for the remainder of the week and I found them uncomfortable companions.
So on Saturday morning it was with a feeling of relief and not trepidation that I took a phone call from my agent Lionel Blum.
After the usual seasonal preamble regarding who did what over Christmas and New Year he proceeded to say that he, in turn, had received a call from the French editor I met in Paris, Henri Montpelier, who had shown my work to an editor friend of his who ran a sister publication in Tunisia.
Under normal circumstances I would have left it in Lionel’s hands but as I had never been to Tunisia before and more importantly as I was in need of a change of scene and something to distract me I agreed to accompany him to Tunis on Sunday evening.
We stayed in a very luxurious hotel which was clearly a remnant of French colonial days and once we had finished our business each day with the Tunisian publisher, Afchine Tabritzian, I found plenty to occupy my mind in both the city and colonial splendour of the Hotel thanks to a particularly friendly local by the name of Felicite Clerembeaux, a petite well tanned girl with hair the colour of ripened corn.
She acted as my tour guide showing me amongst other sights the St. Louis Cathedral, the Porte de France and the Souks Market.
While back at the Hotel she gave me French lessons, and she was a very ardent yet flexible teacher.
The temperature was in the high teens to low twenties which considering the temperature in London when we left, as my veins were full of thick brutish winter blood 20 degrees felt almost tropical so I had to go out and buy short sleeved shirts and lightweight trousers for our short stay in north Africa.
The Souks Market proved to be every bit as accommodating as my guide Felicite.
It was with some regret that with our business concluded I had to say goodbye to mademoiselle Clerembeaux and her accommodating nature.
I also said farewell to Lionel who had another appointment in Algeria regarding another client
I was still wearing my Tunisian attire when I landed back at Heathrow on Thursday night in the teeth of a blizzard and found them somewhat inadequate.
We were lucky to land when we did as a lot of flights were turned away and once on the ground I found the transport infrastructure was suffering also.
Trains were cancelled, buses were running a skeleton service and even taxis were conspicuous by there absence
So I ended up queuing for an hour to get a hire car and I finally left the airport just after 10 o’clock.
Even in the couple of hours I had been on the ground the Weather had deteriorated and temperatures had plummeted.
The roads around the airport were barely affected and the motorway was fine.
“I don’t know what all the fuss is about” I thought to myself smugly
Then I got off the motorway and onto the untreated roads and I knew exactly what all the fuss was about.
The roads were barely visible and I drove very gingerly along the first stretch, which ended, at a roundabout, which is where I got lucky.
A Range Rover entered the roundabout ahead of me and turned off onto the Bushy Down road so I got in its tracks and followed it for about four miles.
Then just as I was beginning to feel smug again my luck ran out as he turned left at the T-junction and I was going right.
As luck would have it the road was not as bad as the previous one and showed distinct signs of have had more traffic using it and there were even visible signs of Tarmac.
So I pressed on with caution and I was less than two miles from the village when disaster struck.
I took a right hand bend slightly too vigorously and lost the back end and went off the road arse first into a ditch.
I tried to drive out of it but to no avail and resigned myself to the fact I would have to walk the last mile and a half.
I got out of the car and the wind cut through my thin clothing like it wasn’t there.
“No matter” I thought, “I’ll get my bag out of the boot and put some more layers on”
But when I got to the back of the car I found the boot stoved in and I was unable to open it.
“Bollocks” I said
So there was nothing for it than to get home as quickly as possible.
The problem is that as quickly as possible isn’t vey quick at all when you are improperly dressed and walking in thick snow while being battered by a howling wind.
I made really slow progress and by the time I got home my teeth were chattering uncontrollably, I had no feeling in my extremities and my genitalia had retracted into my abdomen.
But at least I was home.
I knew my house keys were in my bag, which was in the boot of the car so I got on my hands and knees to retrieve the spare key I kept under a garden ornament in the form of a Pixie.
But the little Concrete bastard was frozen to the ground and I couldn’t move it with my frozen hands.
So I stood up and kicked it repeatedly over and over again until it finally moved.
I bent down again only to find the key wasn’t there.
Puzzled I picked up the ornament and found the key was frozen to the underside.
All I could do was to smash it as hard as I could on the path in an effort to dislodge the key, it took three attempts until it smashed and when it did bits of concrete went everywhere and one of them took the key with it into the deep snow.
“Oh fuck,” I Shouted
I stood up and paced up and down the path.
“After walking a mile and a half through this shit I’m going to die on my own doorstep” I thought darkly
Then it suddenly occurred to me that I could I could go and knock Judith up, in a manner of speaking, so I climbed the little wall that separated the front gardens and banged on her front door.
For some reason that made me laugh because I thought to myself that the alternative was to bang on her back door.
I didn’t laugh for long as no one answered the door.
“Bugger” I said, “she must be out with the new man”
So I tried Victoria’s and she didn’t respond
“She must have taken a pill,” I thought, “because she never goes anywhere”
I assumed Maisie must be staying at Chez Carrington and munching some Indian carpet.
Normally that thought would have given me a trouser tickle but the contents of my trousers were devoid of life.
I decided to head into the village and look for some signs of life in an effort to preserve mine.
I was just about to pound on Mahajak’s shop door when I noticed a light on at the surgery.
“Thank god” I said and crossed myself and like a moth I headed towards the light.
As I banged on the door I hoped and prayed that the light hadn’t just been left on to deter burglars.
I began to think the worst and was just about to bang again when I saw movement beyond the glass.
As the door opened I was surprised to see it was Claire.
“Simon?” she said as surprised as I was “what the hell are you doing outside dressed like that?”
“Caa Caa Car crcrcrashed” I stuttered “Lllllocked out”
“Come in, come in” she said urgently “Are you hurt?”
“Ccccold” I chattered
“Come with me” she ordered “we need to warm you up”
She took me from reception towards her Consulting rooms but turned down another corridor before we got there.
When we reached the end she opened the door and flicked a switch and the ceiling light flickered into life.
When the room was fully lit I could see it was the staff room equipped with easy chairs.
There were lockers running along one wall and a sink and draining board on the one opposite.
On the other wall was obviously the toilet and there was a second door next to it.
Claire didn’t dwell in the staff room however and opened the other door and flicked another switch and again a light flickered into life.
This time it was a bathroom with a large bath and shower combined and a small hand basin.
I vaguely recalled Claire mentioning they had one in one of our post coital conversations.
Claire quickly turned on the shower before turning to me.
“Right” she said, “Get those wet clothes off”
I tried to comply but I couldn’t feel my fingers as I struggled with the buttons.
So Claire had to undress me, normally a rather enjoyable activity, this time it was rather less so.
“What on earth were you thinking?” she barked as she undid my shirt “you stupid man”
I didn’t respond, as the chattering of my teeth appeared to be worsening.
“You could have died out there,” she continued pulling down my trousers and pants
“You could have died” she repeated and smacked my bare bum cheek
She placed a stool in the cubicle.
“Sit down there babe” she instructed as she helped me in to the cubicle before adjusting the shower head so I got a good dousing of the tepid water.
“StStStill cold” I stuttered after about five minutes
“I know babe” she said “but we need to warm you up slowly”
She bent down and picked up all my wet things and holding them at arms length she said
“I’ll be back in a minute”
She was good to her word and when she returned she brought a chair with her, she adjusted the temperature of the water a few degrees and then she sat down and watched me.
She repeated the procedure every ten minutes or so and after about forty minutes I was starting to get feeling back in my fingers and toes and my teeth had stopped chattering.
“Why are you here” I asked out of the blue
“I’m on call” she answered “I’d been out to a patient and I was just replenishing my bag when you knocked”
“Lucky for me” I said
“Very lucky” Claire said, “Another five minutes and I would have gone home”
It suddenly dawned on me just how lucky I had been.
Claire was chatting to me all the time but I don’t really remember much of the conversation I’m not sure but I may have been drifting in and out of consciousness.
“How are you feeling now?” she asked
“I’m warming up a bit I think” I replied
“Ok” she said and opened the cubicle door “let’s get you on your feet”
Claire helped me to stand up and took the stool away and said
“Let’s start getting that warmth circulating round your body”
“It’s hard,” I said pathetically
“Just walk round and round and if you keep moving I’ll turn the temperature up every five minutes” she said “but if you stop moving I’ll turn it down”
“What kind of a doctor are you?” I asked
“One with your best interests at heart” she said “now move”
It was quite a big bath and I just had to walk up and down.
After about an hour of this the water started to feel hot on my skin for the first time and I thought
“I’m thawed”
Five minutes later Claire said
“Ok time to get out, you’re starting to look like a lobster”
I did as I was told and got out and Claire was waiting with towels for me. And it was while she was wrapping me in them that I caught sight of my own reflection in the steamy mirror.
I wiped a patch of the glass with the corner of the towel
“Argh” I exclaimed
“What’s the matter?” Claire asked concerned “is it your chest? Are you getting pains?”
“Look! Look!” I said pointing,
“What?” she said confused
That was when I realised I was pointing at my reflection which she couldn’t see from her perspective so I looked down
“Argh” I screamed “it’s dropped off” my penis and its associated components was missing.
I was filled with remorse and then like in the last moments of a drowning man every piece of pussy I had ever had passed before my eyes in every lurid detail.
With grave concern on her face Claire stared at me before looking down at the sight of my affliction and then the heartless bitch laughed.
”Aww it looks like a button mushroom” she said unhelpfully and laughed again
“How can you be so callous” I said dramatically “show some respect for the dead”
“Don’t be so dramatic” she scolded, “give it a while and it will pop out like a jack in the box”
“No” I said solemnly “the beast is dead”
Then I turned and wrapped the towels around me to preserve my dignity before walking forlornly into the staff room and plopping down into an easy chair.
Claire followed me into the room speaking words of encouragement to me but I was not convinced,
“Don’t despair Simon,” she urged as she placed a thermometer in my mouth
“It’s only temporary”
Claire then proceeded to put a cuff around my arm to check my blood pressure.
While she pumped the bulb I was consumed by dark thoughts of the demise of my dick.
“Good” she announced loosening the cuff
Then she took the thermometer from my mouth looked at it and nodded approvingly
“I can confirm you are definitely alive,” Claire said as she sat in the Chair opposite me
“Cheer up, it won’t take much to get the old boy going again,” she said encouragingly
I was far from sure and when I looked at her I thought
“It will take a miracle with you dressed like that”
I had never seen her dressed in a more unattractive way all the time I had known her.
She was wearing a shapeless thigh length turtleneck sweater over thick black leggings, which were tucked into equally thick socks and ankle boots.
She was dressed for practicality, I knew that, it was a very sensible outfit for the conditions, but it was not sexy, and she very definitely was.
Her reassuring words regardless of what she was wearing were not bringing me out of my torpor of melancholy.
“He just needs some encouragement” she said, “just try to think of some of his past triumphs”
I was unmoved and more to the point so was he.
“Just think of all the times we’ve done it, all the places and all the positions” Claire suggested but I didn’t respond
“I can still remember vividly that first time in London at the St Gregory’s Hotel” she continued
“Yes so could I” I thought
“And when you fingered me through my tights until I screamed, God that was so dirty.. And so good” Claire paused and looked away reflectively as if she was rerunning the whole night through her head.
”Then you had me on the sofa”
I recalled her words to me as she lay panting beneath me
“It’s been so long since I had a man inside me, leave it in me a while longer Simon”
That was incredibly sexy at the time yet left me unmoved at that moment
“Then you had me on the chair” I contributed
“Yes and you wanted me completely naked but my tights were tangled around my ankle so you settled for that” she remembered
“Then you wanted to go again” I said “and produced your Lazarus pill”
“And you nearly shagged me unconscious” she paused again “and the Receptionist, Summer, thought murder was being done because you made me come so loudly”
Then she recounted every coupling we had ever engaged in, every location, every position, every orgasm and all the time my genitalia remained conspicuous by its absence.
But she carried on regardless and although her intention was to arouse my frozen soldier she only served to arouse herself instead.
As I looked at her across from me I saw she had both hands in her lap pressing her sweater between her legs and she squirmed perceptibly in her seat as she recounted the history of our love making.
“And then there was Paris” she exclaimed, “God Paris was …. Tres magnifique”
“Yes Paris was special,” I agreed as I watched her hands moving on her lap.
“It started before we got to Paris when you ripped the crotch out of my tights and fingered me on the Eurostar” she said and glanced at me and realising where my gaze was, she blushed and looked quickly away but continued with her recollections.
“We could hardly wait to reach the hotel and had barely entered the room before we were on each other and you were entering me”
She glanced in my direction and clearly thought by my expression that she was getting through to me so in the best interests of her patient she yanked up her sweater with one hand and slid the other one under her waistband and down the front of her leggings and inside her knickers.
I could see the contours of her hand in its animated probing of her own pussy
“Tell me more,” I suggested as I felt sensation down below
“Out romantic dinner in the Hotel restaurant when I went commando”
She said with her eyes closed and her lips pursed as her fingering became more frenetic.
“And you kissing my nonny while I was on the phone was very…” she paused briefly as she came “sexy”
I unwrapped the towels from around myself and found my little purple-headed friend had finally answered the call, he wasn’t in full attendance but at least he had turned up.
“Look whose here” I said
Claire opened her eyes and glanced across and did a kind of double take before she was out of her seat and scrambling towards me.
Her hand was still busy in her knickers as her mouth engulfed all of me, not that there was an awful lot of me at that point.
“Oh” I said feebly as she sucked vigorously on my diminished member while she fingered herself with equal ferocity.
And by the time she had wanked herself to orgasm my manhood was wide-awake and she gave one gentle suck on my shaft before she release it.
Claire stood up and as she turned her back on me she wiped her slavering lips on her sweater sleeve then she pulled her leggings down to her knees.
“Big knickers?” I exclaimed as I spied her arse clad in M&S passion killers
“They’re practical” she said defensively “I can’t wear silk and lace all the time you know”
“They’re certainly practical looking,” I said
“Shut up and pull them down,” she ordered
So I tugged her practical pants over her plump shapely buttocks and down her thighs.
My hand released her knickers above her knees before they crept up Claire’s firm thighs, paused briefly to appreciate her firm cheeks before they settled on her hips and prepared to guide her backwards.
Claire’s hands reached the arms of the chair and as she gripped them tightly her knuckles whitened and she moaned quietly as her buttocks clenched and she squirmed and wriggled her way down my shaft until her hot creamy cunny had consumed me.
My hand then left her hips and went up to find her tits which I was relieved to find were not enclosed in a utilitarian of practical garment but encased within lace trimmed satin cups quickly replaced by my eager hands.
Meanwhile Claire was rising and falling on me exuding the most divine utterances on the downward stroke as she creamed my balls with her exuding abundance.
I still fondled her breasts as I enjoyed the ride and Claire did all the work and making deliriously sensual sounds as she enjoyed me.
She increased the tempo as she neared Shangri-La and I could feel the burning heat from her pussy, her breaths became deeper and more erratic as her head rolled back and forth until her panting rasping breaths crescendoed as she cried out in orgasm.
Then as she rose and fell on me once more I came which seemed to take her by surprise
“Oh” she exclaimed and then relaxed on top of me and sighed
“That felt cold,” she said giggling, “You have chilly swimmers”
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