Mid-life Crisis Ch. 02

Patrick drove past the station and found a quiet, dark side road where he parked the large Merc.

"I have never felt like this Amanda," he said half turning towards me and holding my hand. "Do you know what I mean?"

Do I know what he means? He'd only shagged me about six times so far and I had sucked his cock twice in my dreams.

"Yes," I replied quietly and demurely.

Another clue I had learned to Kevin's straying was how often he fucked me. Most would think that if he was getting it elsewhere he wouldn't need it at home. Where he was clever, or thought he was, was that he made sure I got plenty well as much as he was getting. It's a bit like a husband suddenly bringing the wife flowers; obvious when you know!

As my tube had rattled through Leytonstone where it is overground, my mobile bleeped.

'Sorry babe, I'll be late, urgent client thing. Keep it warm for me. K'

So as Kevin rolled on top of me later that evening and I opened my legs, in my mind it was Patrick. As my husband entered me and kissed me it was the memory of Patrick's lips on mine in that side road that so aroused me. And as my husband fucked me, quite nicely as he always does, it was the recall of Patrick touching my breast that sent me over the top. I have often wondered what might have happened in that dark road after Patrick stroked and squeezed my breast if he and his wife hadn't been

entertaining an important politician that evening.

A few days we had been to a client meeting and had to return to the office to collect stuff, Patrick for a trip he was making to Dublin the next day, me to collect my laptop for I wasn't working in the office the next few days.

I was wearing a black, lightweight wool, Donna Karan suit with a skirt. The jacket had four buttons up the front so there was no need to wear anything, other than a bra under it.

We were standing in his office, he pulled me to him. We kissed, very strongly. My mouth was wide open, our lips were squirming together and his tongue was plunging and delving. I was gasping and sighing with pleasure and delight. He found my breast and squeezed it with just the right amount of pressure. Our kissing became more furious. I was ruffling his hair and running my hand up and down his back as he thrust himself at me. He was stunningly hard. One hand was inside my jacket, on my breast, outside my bra, the other was squeezing and cupping my bum. That hand ran up my legs taking the skirt with it. He bunched it round my hips at the back and stroked and rubbed my bum through my black tights. My jacket had come undone and he had eased one of my boobs from my bra. He was slipping his fingers inside my tights at the back, touching the top of my bare bum. I was playing my part. It was very much mutual. His shirt was undone, he'd removed his jacket earlier. As the sensations he was giving me from stroking the bare flesh of my boobs, pinching my nipples and now cupping the naked cheeks of my bum inside my tights increased, I was pressing, rubbing and holding his erection outside his trousers.

It was the act of him starting to push my tights down that got to me. I broke away.

"No, Patrick."

"I'm sorry, I went too far."

"It's not that?"

"What is it?"

"Not here, not where we work, it's too, I don't know, sordid."

"Yes, yes I understand," he said cradling me in his arms again.

"It was ok then, I wasn't out of line."

"No," I whispered, adding without really thinking "But somewhere else," as I pulled my skirt down, and straightened that and the jacket.

"Yes of course, I understand."

A week or so later, during which time we hadn't been together hardly at all for Patrick was involved in board meetings and the annual budgets, Kevin was home and I was busy with open evenings at the children's schools, Patrick called me into his office.

"RBS need us to go through that image research you recently wrote for them."

One of my key jobs was to take the information produced by the boffin-like researchers and produce readable reports in relatively understandable English. Sometimes, I would then develop Powerpoint presentations that one of the Account people and occasionally if the client was big enough, Patrick himself, would present to the client. The Royal Bank of Scotland was certainly big enough.

*

But you will have to come with me," he said smiling as I stood in his office a few evenings later.

"To Edinburgh?"

"Yes."

"OK no problem."

He went serious and looked me in the eyes as he fiddled with the report I'd produced.

"Er, um, it could mean an overnight stay."

I realised what he probably meant and I too became serious as the decision he was asking to make hit me.

"I see, really."

"Well maybe we could get there and back in a day, but it might be a rush and that can be tiring, I've done it several times."

"Will it just be you and me?"

"Maybe, but we'll possibly need one of the geeks there just in case they have any of theirs and they want to start asking questions on the statistical validity of sample sizes and other such research bullshit."

"Hmmm."

"What?"

"Won't that er, make things a little awkward?"

"Yes it could, but would you come?"

That made me smile. "Well that would have little to do with the geek would it?"

Patrick laughed, "I hope not, look I'll fix something to get him or her out of our way, will you er, accompany me to Edinburgh."

We both laughed.

This was getting serious. I had a big decision to make. If I went I knew I'd sleep with him and that would take me along the unfaithfulness path – again! Did I want that again? Could I handle the guilt, the lies and the excuses? Was this 'goose and gander stuff worth it?

The presentation went well and Ken, the research guy went straight to the airport after it. Patrick had arranged and had mentioned it in the presentation that he and I would be having further meetings the next day. So after saying goodbye to Ken we got a cab from the marketing department's meeting rooms in the Old Town to Princes Street. We had a cup of tea at one of the cafes looking out onto the wide, busy main road and chatted.

"Was it ok with Kevin you coming up here?"

"Yes, he's so wrapped up in his business he doesn't pay much attention to such trivia as my work."

"So it wasn't a problem you staying overnight."

"No, but I did imply there would be more than just you and me."

Smiling he held my hand. That seemed odd. It also seemed very erotic. So far, Patrick had touched me very intimately, but only my breasts, but that was when we were alone, naturally. Such a demonstration of affection in public was not only a rare pleasure and very welcome, but was also just right for the occasion. We were going to sleep together, we were going to make love and have sex, we both knew that and this show of tenderness and affection positioned this assignation perfectly; it said most clearly to both of us 'It's a lot more than merely sex.'

As we sat there in silence watching the world go by holding hands, memories of that fling with Craig some three years ago came into my mind. Being with him in public was unlikely, holding hands would have been unthinkable; after all forty something women don't do that with twenty something guys. With him I simply wanted the excitement, thrills and pleasures of no strings attached sex. I wanted adventure and anything new. I didn't want affection, endearment or love, just simple, straightforward sex. I wanted Craig to fuck me as often as I wanted him to, where and when I wanted him. Nothing more and nothing less. It wasn't like that with Patrick. I didn't want to be fucked by Patrick, I wanted us to make love. Whereas I had let, maybe even encouraged, Craig to screw me up against the wall in the pavilion, I couldn't bring myself to have sex with Patrick in the office. This was different again, this was affection, this was new to me as a mature woman for I was beginning to think that I was falling in love with Patrick.

We walked to the hotel pulling our overnight trolleys just like business colleagues, which we were of course, in fact so far that's all we were. Soon though, that was going to change, we were going to become lovers.

We were staying at the Rocco Forte, Balmoral, which is at number one Princes Street. It was exquisite. I had stayed there before with Kevin, when it was simply The Balmoral. Then it was elegantly old- fashioned, now it was super elegantly modern. It was wonderful.

"I booked two rooms," Patrick said as we strolled through the stylish, mainly black and white reception. "What do you want to do?" He asked after we had both checked in.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind, what now?"

"Well I have a few calls to make and a need a shower so how about a drink in the bar in what, an hour?"

"Fantastic, where would you like to eat?"

"Quite frankly Patrick I am happy to eat in the hotel."

"Good idea, why have the hassle of finding somewhere."

I called home and spoke to Sara who had found the whole idea of mum going away on business a real hoot. She was actually quite interested, or said she was in what I was doing for it in a way I didn't grasp tied in wiej a project she was handling. I chatted to her for the best part of half an hour undressing as I did. I then chatted to Mary who was one half of the amazing couple who did so much for us, from her babysitting and looking after the children to the point they looked on her as a surrogate granny, her housekeeping and sheer friendship. On top of that her partner Roy was a handyman plus; he just knew everything there was to know about anything to do with building, decorating, plumbing and simply houses in general and he kept out house in order.

Everything was cool at home, and yes she would call me on my mobile, I'd avoided saying where I was staying when she asked by saying that it was a wonderful hotel looking up to Edinburgh Castle.. I called Kevin, quite aware that it was only early afternoon in New York and left a voice mail explaining that I was at a 'thing' with RBS, I had previously told him I was going to Scotland, and probably wouldn't be able to answer if he called. Us not talking for a few days was nothing unusual as generally we lived in two different time as well as, increasingly, lifetime zones.

After clicking off, I was down to my panties and I realised just what a scheming, conniving bitch I could be. It then struck me, that I was about to get ready to commit adultery and that hit me hard. It didn't, though, stop me putting on underwear to be undressed in and a low cut at the front, zip right up the back, tight, just above the knee black dress.

"Oh my lord," Patrick said as later the dress slipped down my body and crumpled into a pool round my black patent, high heeled covered feet. "You look absolutely amazing Amanda, thank you."

Dinner had gone well. We both got slightly tipsy and we exchanged confessions that we'd never done this before; I sort of let Craig slip from my memory, as I imagined my nearly fifty year old, awfully attractive, potential lover may have done with some of his likely peccadilloes.

There was no doubt or worry in either of our minds that we were going to do it. It was becoming as inevitable as night following day, but then looking out the window in this northern outpost it was so much lighter than it would be in London, I did wonder a little.

"Your room or mine?" He asked as he ground his erection against me.

We were kissing in the lift on the way up to the sixth and top floor where the rooms with the best views of the castle are located. What a deliciously, sordid thing that is, kissing in a lift. Ok I realise that's the thinking of a mature, married woman and not all age groups would agree, but I bet there's loads out there that do agree.

I had no preference really, my focus was becoming fully directed to sleeping with Patrick, not worrying about where.

"Which comes first," I mumbled though his lips covering mine.

"Woops, I see it's yours," I giggled as he pushed me through the door and kissed me. I was hellishly nervous.

Even though I had no experience of such things, other than Craig and before that my husband when he 'seduced' me, I think what happened over the next few hours was probably a classic start to a love affair; at least that's what the books indicate.

We went onto Patrick's room. We kissed and slowly he undressed me. He unzipped my dress, let it fall to the ground and he ogled my sexy underwear; black bra, thong and lacy topped hold ups, no suspender belt this time!

We sat on the edge of the bed kissing, his arms were round my shoulders pulling me to him. That was nice, I felt warm and wanted. I undid his shirt and ran my fingers over his nicely hairy chest. He caressed my boobs outside my bra and then fumbled his fingers inside one cup and stroked that boob and nipple.

I was getting very aroused indeed and that combined with my surprisingly high level of nervousness was giving very strong and new to me sensations. My body and mind were in perfect, yet uncoordinated, sync as I am sure my temperature soared and my heart and pulse rates started to race.

With the usual lack of dexterity shown by men he fiddled the clasp of the bra strap undone, why on earth aren't they given lessons at school in removing bras! The wait, though, was worth it when he took the cups of the bra away from each of my boobs, although the way full tits like mine plummet downwards when unfettered can be disconcerting. Grasping them he leaned forward and tenderly kissed each of my nipples, which had of course reared up to their fullest and hardest. I held his head and cradled his face to my breasts. He slowly pushed me backwards so I was lying flat on the bed, my legs dangling over the side, his chest crushing my right breast as we kissed, our tongues sweeping all over the insides of the other's mouth. His mouth alternated from my lips to my breasts and nipples as his hand left my chest and slithered downwards. It went onto the bottom of each boob, across my lower chest, onto my waist, his finger probing my tummy button, past the elastic waist band of the flimsy thong and right onto my pubic mound. He pressed me there, I grunted and my body jerked.

"Oh God," I heard myself say as his finger found my clit from outside the silk of the tiny panties.

"Nice?"

"Oh Patrick," I groaned my mouth trying to devour his lips as my hand frantically searched for the hardness it wanted to feel. I found it just as he started to rub my clit. That did me; that sent me over the top. He had been priming me for this all day and now as soon as he touched me I exploded, what a girly thing to do.

I clamped my thighs together trapping his hand in there as I climaxed, quick, hard, fully and so wonderfully yet disappointingly.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled as the beautiful feelings roared all over me.

"Don't be darling, it was wonderful, it was lovely to see you like that."

"I feel a bit silly," I told him as he cuddled me and held me close to him as slowly my orgasm subsided.

"Don't worry."

"That hasn't happened to me since, oh never mind."

"No tell me."

"Well since I first went with Kevin," I mumbled, realising I was on dodgy ground. Fortunately he didn't ask the question, 'And who might that have been with?'

Lying on a bed in a hotel clad just in panties and stockings, being cuddled by a man who has not only just made me cum, but is also the person I feel I may be falling in love with, is clearly an exciting situation. But for quite some time, we just lie there, cuddling, occasionally kissing and touching each other. I, certainly and I think Patrick as well, was simply in awe of the situation and we didn't want to do anything that might break the spell. It was almost as if just being there was 'naughty' enough with any further sexual expression being unnecessary; well for a while that was!..

"You really do have a lovely body Amanda," he whispered kissing the top of my head and cupping my breasts. Of course, he had never seen me as good as naked before, I realised.

I smiled. "Thank you kind sir, but talking about bodies.................?" I said leaving the sentence unfinished, but pulling on his shirt. He rolled away from me, slipped his shirt off and started undoing his trousers. As he slid his boxers off and his erection jumped out he looked at me so I slid my panties off as well.

"I have visualised us being like this so many times," he whispered pulling me against his nakedness. "Have you Amanda?"

"Yes endlessly," I answered truthfully reaching for his erection and stroking it, sort of gratefully I suppose, almost as if he was giving me a present. He wasn't at all embarrassed as I sort of worshipped at the altar of his hard on.

He really did feel good against me and I revelled in our bodies touching from our lips to our toes. He stroked my buttocks and kissed my nipples; he cupped and squeezed my breasts and ran his hands over my tummy. I kissed him hard and ran my fingers through his hair. I let his hairy chest graze my nipples and I ran my nails down his back and onto the taught cheeks of his beautifully manly bum. He pressed his fingers against my mound and clit and I continued fondling his erection. It was magically erotic stuff as we built up to the inevitable. I was on my back, he was on top, I opened my legs, he was between them, I felt his cock against me and he pushed gently and enquiringly. And then wonderfully, marvellouslyy, amazingly and so fucking incredibly hornilly he shoved his cock right up my cunt. I gasped at the sheer power of the sensations as he surged deeply into me and I gripped him even more tightly if that was possible. It was like being fucked for the first time.

"Oh God Patrick."

"Ok Amanda?"

"Oh yes, yes I am so very ok."

And then we made love. Beautiful love, wonderful love, complete love, twice. He was clearly not the stud that Craig was, but now he was my lover and I didn't want or need a stud!

*

My affair went on. It became increasingly intense. Our need for each other, both emotionally and sexually, seemed to increase the more we were together. We naturally became closer and closer and inevitably, we fell in love. We both struggled to resist that, or at least, not admit to it, either to ourselves or, more particularly, to each other, but in the end we did, of course.

I hadn't felt anything so emotionally powerful since the early days with Kevin, but even those I couldn't recall being quite as strong as what I felt for Patrick; maybe the forbidden, even the impossible nature of what we were doing was fuelling our emotions. When we were apart I felt morose and could think of little else than being with him. And then when I saw him my heart really did pound and my pulses raced. Sitting in my little 'work cubicle' I would see him come into the open plan office and go to his office as my eyes as surreptitiously as possible would follow his every movement. I would know when he was about to arrive for usually we had spoken on the phone just moments before; I had bought a pay as you go phone specifically for talking to him. As he entered his glassed in office with the vertical blinds, so I would feel the heat welling up in my loins and breasts and my yearning for him would reach almost fever pitch.

After the first couple of weeks of the affair as it became obvious to both of us that it was more than just a little fling, not that either of us had really had any of those; Craig apart for me of course, we settled into a routine.

Although Patrick's wife and my husband were either out or away from home a lot, other commitments made meeting as often as we would like very difficult. We were able to sneak the odd whole evening together when both of our spouses were absent and we were able to fix something for our children. That would usually be an early dinner and then leisurely sex in a hotel bedroom. We had similar 'get togethers' several times in the afternoons. They had to be days I wasn't working for I couldn't just sneak off from the office as he could, although as I got more involved with clients so my diary management became more down to me than anyone else and I could sneak time for my lover.