The Writers' Circle

Almost one hundred miles away, another woman was sitting. 
   Her stomach was also in knots   not quite so tight and not caused by the same fear. Her tension was of hope and apprehension. This was Sarah. She had been told by James that he was leaving Kate but she was not convinced that it would happen. She had read all the stories in the women's magazines of husbands and their affairs   of the loneliness of the lovers. They were always waiting for 'their' man to leave his wife and set up with them    they never did. Her friends had warned her countless times, "He won't do it, don't be such a fool."  She was prepared to take the risk that she was the exception to the rule.
   He had told her the night before that he was definitely going to leave   he had never promised it before and she did know how strong willed he was   but did he have the courage? 
	Eighteen years together is one hell of a strong bond to break. She also knew how deeply he loved Kate. He had always been very open with her. He had told her of his great love but also of his great disappointments. She thought that she could help him to change. She felt that she knew him better and that she had the character and the strength to help him change into what he wanted to be.
   It was close to midnight, she was in her night dress, sitting on the settee listening to his favourite music   glass of wine in hand, cigarette in fingers   mind   one hundred miles away.
 
   She was old enough to expect the worse. Blind optimism was for teenagers   she had their passion, their bursting love, but with the wisdom of years, not of personal experience but of observing and listening. She knew he would telephone soon to say all was well, that he was coming to her, but she also knew that he would not telephone that night   that he would 'phone in a few days time to say that he couldn't leave her, that he was sorry, that he really wanted it to work but... for the sake of the children.... In truth she didn't know what was going to happen.
   It had been less than two months since they first met, and in that time they had spoken on the telephone every single day   even weekends   and often more than once a day. He had stayed the night about ten times. Each time he left her to return home the feeling of desertion in her got stronger. He had told her that he loved her, but this was only after she had told him first and wondered if he felt obliged to say the words.
   What was strange for Sarah was the immediate impact that he had made on her. She had been out with several men since her divorce two years earlier, had slept with some, but none left a lasting impression. James went straight to her heart from the second she saw him. He was dining at a local hotel that she and her brother were visiting, just for a night out. Adam, her brother, knew James through business and when they entered the restaurant, James rose and asked them to join him.
   The first thing to strike her was his smile. His smile was large, sincere and immediately made one feel warm and welcome. He was smartly dressed in a dark suite and white shirt, dark-brown hair over his collar but well groomed. He was tall and very slim and she noticed his almost feminine hands   long slender fingers with manicured nails.
   He was extremely confident in his speech and, through much travelling around, had many stories to tell. He was a graphic designer with a large advertising agency   a job she later learned that he did not like. His love was art, particularly water colours, but he had been unable to earn a living from that and graphic art was about as close as he had been able to get to it and get a decent income.
   What also caught her attention that first night was the way in which he asked her lots of questions about herself. She felt very uninteresting   a deserted housewife with three young children, no job and lots of problems. His questioning was subtle but made her feel that he had a genuine interest in her answers.
   She went to bed that night unable to force her mind away from thoughts of him.
   Two days later she received a telephone call, "Hello, its James MaCallan. I got your number from your brother." She was shocked into not replying. "I'm back down in Taunton tonight, staying at the same hotel and wondered if you would do me a favour?"
   "If I can," she mumbled, unsure.
   "Well, I get very bored in hotels and wondered if you would mind keeping me company   over dinner, of course."
   "Oh, er... I don't know?" She was taken by surprise.
   "Well if you're busy, it doesn't matter, it was just a thought. How are you keeping, anyway?"
   "I'm fine thank you. It's not that I'm busy, it's just that I hadn't planned to go out tonight   and then there's a babysitter, and my car's in the garage."
   "Is it too late to get a babysitter?" he asked. "That is, if you wanted to come, of course."
   "I could try," she replied. Already three names had flashed through her mind.
   "Look, shall I ring you back later when you have had time to think about it? And don't worry about the car   I'll send a taxi to pick you up."
   "Okay, phone me about fiveish?"
   "It may be a bit later, I'll ring you when I arrive at the hotel around about six. Okay?"
   Yes, fine. I'll speak to you then. 'Bye."
   The rest of that day was all a flurry. What to wear, what to do with her hair, who to babysit, what time would she get home, what was she going to say to him, did she really want to go? Of course she did. Then it hit her   he's married. "To Hell with it, it's only dinner, after all, not an affair."
   He telephoned back as promised and the taxi picked her up at eight.
   Dinner was a delight. She learned all about him, his aspirations as an artist and his boredom with his job. He talked a lot about his two boys whom he seemed to adore and about his wife whom he loved dearly but found difficult to live with.
   She told him about her past, her ex husband and her two daughters and son, about her hopes for them.
   They laughed a lot   he liked to joke. They shared the same taste in music, although she admitted to knowing nothing about art. He shrugged it off.
   After dinner they retired to the bar but she would not drink any more alcohol, she had already shared a full bottle of wine and he was only drinking tonic water. Whilst he ordered the drinks she went to the 'Ladies' to touch up her make up.
   She studied herself in the mirror. She felt that she looked good for her 37 years   two years older than James   as she had lost a lot of weight since her divorce. She was five feet six with a 36C bust that she was proud of. Her legs, she thought, were never as good as she had wanted them but her 
calf length black skirt showed off the best part of them. She was wearing a floral, very light blouse that tantalisingly just revealed her bra through its thin material. Her long, very light, brown hair, when brought over the front of her shoulders, drew attention to her bosom. She had often been told how bright and laughing her blue eyes were, and the lack of crow's feet helped maintain her youthful look.
    As she studied herself, touching up her pink lipstick, she felt attractive, she felt good about herself, and a bit nervous.
   As she returned to the bar, the barmaid was laughing loudly at something James had said to her. He turned as Sarah approached with a beaming smile on his face. "Let's sit over there," he said, pointing the glasses in the direction of a brightly lit table. She wondered why he hadn't chosen a dimmer, more intimate table but decided that he was the sort of confident man who was not afraid to expose himself to bright lights. She would have preferred the quieter table but did not object.
   He asked her lots more questions about herself   her schooling, family, friends, boyfriends and expressed surprise that she was still unattached. "Still waiting for someone who makes me feel different. Also, after one failure I'm very careful about making another,." she told him.
   "Well, you'll surely never fail if you don't try," he advised, "so do you know what type of man you are looking for?"
   "Not really, but he has to be prepared to take on my three kids   we come as a package   and that probably frightens most men off. I suppose at my age, most of the free men are divorcees and are equally as afraid of getting it wrong the second time." James, who was two years younger than her, nodded in understanding.
   "Yes, I must admit, I would have to think very hard before taking on three of someone else's children. I've spent the last ten years bringing up my own and would be cautious about spending the next ten years bringing up others' children." She felt a small disappointment hit her and it showed in her eyes. He must have seen it because he followed with, "But then, if one loves someone enough, the children need not be a hurdle but a pleasant task in helping that person to bring them up." She gave him a small smile.
   At 11.30 she glanced at her watch and said that she had to go as she had promised to free the babysitter before midnight.
   "Would you like me to drive you home, or would you prefer a taxi?" he asked.
   "I wouldn't want to put you to the trouble, I'll be okay in a cab."
   "It would be a pleasure, not trouble, and I would like a drive, if only to get outside this damned hotel. I hate hotels."
   "If you really don't mind, it's not too far away," she said.
   They arrived at her home just before midnight and she invited him into her large Victorian home for coffee. She didn't really want the night to end just then.
   She seated him on the settee and put a cassette of Eric Clapton's on the hi fi. "You did say you liked Clapton, didn't you?"  He nodded enthusiastically. "Then you listen to him while I make coffee."
   When she returned they sat close together on the settee in subdued lighting and the first kiss came during a romantic song with a moody tune.
   He kissed her very gently on the lips, almost in a shy manner. The kiss was brief, as though he wasn't sure he should have done it. As he pulled his head back from the kiss Sarah placed her hand at the rear of his neck and pulled his head back into its former pose. Her kiss to him was fervent, not rushed or passionate, but a signal that she wanted it to continue. He read the signal well and his lips found her ear and neck. She shuddered in delight.
   It had been many months since she had kissed a man and she allowed herself to relax completely. She did not hesitate when his hand ran down her side and onto the flat of her stomach, nor when it slowly worked its way to her breasts. Just when she was expecting him to rest his hand there he raised it and very slowly moved it to her chin, brushing her breast and nipple so gently she wasn't truly sure if it had happened purposefully or if it were an accident.
   He firmly held her chin and turned her head to face him. He looked deep into her eyes, held her gaze for what seemed like a full two minutes and then gently placed his lips on hers. The caress started with quick, small kisses and worked up to longer and more passionate embraces. His hand again moved down her side and across her stomach but this time there was no gently brushing of her breast. He took her firmly and shuddered when he found that her nipple signaled her joy.
   After a few seconds she took hold of his wrist and removed his hand. She pushed her body forward to signify that she wanted to stand. He responded by rising and she joined him still holding on to his wrist. She pulled at his hand and led him to the door where she stopped.
   "I don't want to take you upstairs and then find you never come back again. I'm really afraid of that, it's not what I want but I don't know what to expect. Will I see you again?"
   He turned to face her, forced the hand holding her wrist behind her back and pulled her tight into him. A long kiss and then, "I'm in Taunton for two nights, I would like to see you tomorrow, if you will?"
   She smiled, kissed him on the cheek and said, "Then it would be a great shame to waste tonight."
   She led him upstairs to her bedroom.

   As the clock approached 12.30 Sarah stirred herself from her memories. That first night had been something very special to her. The following morning she had felt ashamed, she had never gone to bed with a man on the first date and always believed that it was something that she would never do. She told James so and he comforted her and told her what a beautiful night it had been. He made her feel better about herself.
   Now, she wanted him there. She put her arms around herself and hugged. She could feel the tears coming again. She reached out for another cigarette but had trouble lighting it with her shaking hands. She managed and drew deeply. The tears came and rolled freely down her cheeks, unchecked. She sobbed, short, shuddering sighs, "James, please phone, please phone, I can't bear the waiting. Phone soon, my love, please."


James had gone into the bedroom to pack, the two photographs of his sons carefully padded by jumpers. Two suits went into a suit hanger along with a dozen shirts and some casual clothes. He carried the cases down to the foot of the stars and went into the dining room to collect his watercolour book and paints. Kate joined him in the dining room. "Another coffee?" she asked.
   "No thanks, I'll be off soon."
   It was approaching 1 am. and he had a lot on his mind.
   "Not yet, James, there's something you haven't told me," 
Kate pleaded. They returned to the lounge and this time he sat in his armchair and she on the settee.
   "What have I done wrong, James? You haven't told me."
   "I don't know, nothing.... I.... I can't explain. I don't really know," he stuttered.
   "I don't understand. I don't know why you want to go. You say you want to change, but what into? Why do you want to change   what is wrong with you? I don't understand. Help me, you owe me that."  The tears cascaded down her face, but she wasn't sobbing. There was genuine questioning in her voice. She really did not understand and she could not let him go.
   "How many other women do you think I've screwed since we have been married? Scores. Do you understand? Scores. I don't want to go on like that, Kate."
   "Then just stop. What is the matter with you?" she shouted at him. "Are you so weak that you just can't say 'No'? For Pity's sake, grow up. Don't you love me, is that it? Is that why you screw around, trying to find someone to love? Love me, James, why can't you just love me?" She was angry, shouting, pleading and crying.
   "I do love you," he said slowly, "but I just can't help myself with other women. You see, every time I got caught you would give me a hard time but you never threw me out, you always forgave me. I knew you would and I know you always will. That makes it too easy for me. Can't you see that?"
   "So you wanted me to throw you out. Is that it? Do you know why I didn't? I'll tell you. I know why you screw around, it's because of your childhood, your insecurities, your desperate need to be loved by anyone and everyone. Oh, I know how you appear to the world, 'Mr. Confident', 'The Great Charmer', 'Mr. Personality'. Well I know you better. I know you better than anyone. I know that terrified, little, frightened boy inside you, craving recognition and loving. 'Mr. Centre of Attraction', but you don't fool me. Of course I know all that and I still love you, and always will. And why didn't I throw you out? Because I know that you'll grow out of your sleeping around, and when you do you will be a wonderful husband   you already are   apart from your womanising. And another thing, I was afraid that if I threw you out you would never come back. I don't want to lose you, James. You don't need to go. Can't you see, I understand. Nobody knows you better than I do. And what about the boys? And this house? Are you going to throw all that away just because you're too bloody weak to say 'No' to any tart who falls in front of you?"
   "You're right, I can't say 'No' and every time I don't, I hurt you. I love you so very much that I just can't go on hurting you. I know that as long as I live with you, I will go on saying 'Yes'. That's not what I want, Kate."
   "So we have all got to suffer because of your lack of restraint? Because you can't live with yourself, me and the boys have got to suffer. That's bloody rich, that is. And how are you going to live with yourself for what you'll do to us? How are you going to justify that? Well?" She was shouting, excited and panicked.
   "I don't know, Kate. I just know I've got to get out, for all of our sakes."
   "Don't give me that   'For all of our sakes'," she spat. "Who the bloody hell do you think you are? Don't tell me you are doing it for my sake or the boys' sake. You are doing it for your sake   you selfish bastard. Get out. Get out now."
She was at fever pitch and had jumped to her feet. She was standing close in front of him, so close that he couldn't stand up without moving her. He put out his arms and put his hands on her waist to move her backwards.   She screamed, "Don't you touch me, you bastard."
   She turned her back to him and went to the window. The curtains were open as there were no properties to the rear of the house, only a tall hedged garden. She stared into the darkness seeing only her own reflection and that of the room behind her.  She saw James rise and go towards the door.
   "'Bye, Kate. I'll get in touch in a few days time."
   She turned and flew at him, not now in anger. She spun him round to face her and threw her arms around his neck and held him with a strength created by a desperate person. She tried to kiss him, but he turned his head and felt the wet, tear stained cheeks of his partner for the past eighteen years upon his.
   "Please, James, don't go. Don't leave now. Stay tonight, we'll talk about it in the morning. If you still want to go then, okay. Don't go now. Come to bed. Please. Please." She was kissing him with dozens of short, sharp pecks.
   He tried to pull free from her, but her hold was so strong that he would have had to use violence to break her grip, and he would not do that.
   She was forcing her pecking, kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, his forehead. On tip toe she stretched up to him. Falling back on her heels she forced his head down to her face. She found his lips, forced a wet kiss on them. She held the kiss opening her lips and commanding his to follow suit. She put her tongue into his mouth and pressed as hard as she could with the pressure of her lips and by pulling on his neck with the madman's strength that had possessed her.
   He accepted the kiss and responded. She eased her grip, released his lips but continued to punctuate his face with her kisses. Eventually the strength drained from her and she collapsed to her knees at his feet. Her arms were around his knees, still gripping, her head pressed firmly on his thighs.
   "You can't go. Don't go. Please," she sobbed feebly. He put his hands on her head and stroked her short, dark hair. A tear finally forced its way through his lashes, slowly followed by another from the other eye. Within seconds, he too, was crying freely. "I love you, Kate. I love you," he whispered in a quivering voice.
   "I know," she said, "I know." She pulled herself tighter into his legs and kissed his thighs, "I know."