I have to think for a moment. “Well, he had lots of friends. He liked to be sociable.”
“Were they your friends too?”
“Not really. My friends are people I work with mostly. With Ed it was people down at the Red Lion. Or other bikers.”
“Ah, right, the Red Lion. That’s the pub along the road from us, yes? I don’t tend to get in there much.”
“Well, me neither. Not these days. We used to though, me and Ed. Friday and Saturday nights as a rule.”
He gives his coffee an idle stir. I’m not fooled for a moment. Sure enough… “What was Ed’s job?”
“He was self-employed. A motorcycle courier. Delivering packages mainly.”
“I see. Was that lucrative? We often used couriers when I was fresh out of university, to take plans from one office to another, but these days all that tends to be done electronically.”
“He did okay. And of course, I had my salary.”
“Did you think about starting up your own firm back then?”
“Yes, occasionally. I mentioned it to Ed but he wasworried about us both being self-employed. We wouldn’t have been able to get a mortgage but for my salary. It’s different now, with the insurance.”
“You might have made more money as a graphic designer than he did as a courier.”
Ewan doesn’t say it, not out loud, but it’s there, hanging between us. Ed could have gotten a job. He could have been the one pulling a salary while I followed my dream. But he didn’t. He would never have agreed to that. He loved his bike, he loved riding it around and calling that making a living. But it was me who made our living. He financed his hobby.
“What about holidays? Where did you like to go?”
Clearly Ewan’s not done yet. He’s careful not to be openly critical of Ed. He has no need to be. My heart sinks. This is an easy one. There was only one type of outing, only one sort of holiday Ed would contemplate—the annual bikers rally in Brighton. I loved it the first time we went, and the second time even, though it rained a lot. By the third, and last, time we went, I was less enthusiastic. A holiday somewhere warm, where I could strip down to a bikini and loll in the sun all day with my e-reader, now that would have suited me. But no, Brighton it was. We were there just a couple of weeks before Ed died. Apart from Hawes on that awful day, it was the last outing we had together. I don’t want to say all this to Ewan though. It feels too disloyal still. In any case, it’s enough that I say it to myself.
“We didn’t get away that often. I was hoping to talk him into a bit of sun and sea, maybe this summer.” Noncommittal enough, I think. And true, as far as it goes. “I expect you get all the sun you want. Qatar, I mean.”
He smiles. “Yes, but working in forty-plus degrees is a far cry from a beach holiday. Still, Doha is a lovely city, and the resorts there are breath-taking.”
“Mmm, exotic and up-market though. Out of my league, at least for the next few years. Will you be there alot?”
“Not for a few months, but towards the end of the year, yes. I’ll rent an apartment then.” He pauses, leans back in his seat. “Would you come there too?”
“What? Me come to Qatar? With you?” Now this I did not expect.
“Paris hasn’t been so awful, has it? We’d have fun.”
“I’m sure we would, but… I couldn’t just up and go to Qatar. For months on end.”
“I don’t mean for months. Just for as long as you can spare.” He swills the remainder of his coffee down his throat. “Don’t decide now. Think about it.” He gets to his feet. “Are you ready? We’ve a plane to catch.”
Chapter Five
Ewan is away again. I miss him. I mean,reallymiss him. I’m not sure exactly when he’ll be back; three or four weeks I suppose.
I’ve made a decision. I’m going to get laid. Somehow. My battery-operated approach to sexual fulfilment has kept me just about the right side of sanity over recent weeks, but it’s not enough.
I’ve stopped fooling myself, I know now that it’s Ewan I want. I also know I can’t have him, it would just be too weird. Even though I now understand more about his relationship with Caroline, and I’m getting a more balanced perspective on my own less than stellar marriage, I’m not ready for another emotional commitment.
Sex with Ewan would be emotional. It would be passionate, hot, all-consuming. My head, my heart, my body would never be quite the same again. He might be able to view relationships dispassionately, but I can’t. And this leaves me wondering about the prospect of sex without the relationship baggage, the sort of fucking that brings two people together just for pleasure, nothing more.
The sort of sex Caroline and Ewan had. I’m thinking I could get me some of that.
Ewan mentioned a club in Manchester. There must be others. I make it my business to find out. I begin my campaign by reading up on BDSM, both fact and fiction. Next, I join an online fetish community, start chatting a bit, mainly with other submissives. I say ‘other’ submissives, because based on my response to what I’ve read, I’m pretty sure that’s the side of the fence I’m on. It doesn’t take long before I get a couple of recommendations for clubs I might try, in Leeds, one in Sheffield, and of course Manchester. I decide to give Manchester a miss, even though I know Ewan is thousands of miles away. I can’t run the risk of maybe running into someone he knows, or even someone he may have fucked. Instead I invest in some slinky black leather, red Lycra, and a pair of spiky heels. I head off to Sheffield one Friday night.
