The King's Head was an old coaching inn adjacent to the village green. Besides the impressive front entrance framed by Corinthian pillars, an arched gateway large enough for a carriage and horses gave access to the central courtyard with stables on two sides. The original inn sign was a painting of King Charles II and was said to be over two hundred years old, but it had grown very dilapidated over the years and had been replaced by a modern version, which was rather garish in my opinion.
Sadly, the brewery had done very little to modernise the premises, and it had been steadily losing trade to a modern pub on the outskirts of the village. At the time Sir George came to the village, the inn had been sold, and by the time of these events, was a thriving and popular amenity once more. A modernisation programme glad been carried out without losing the distinctive character of the building, and as well as the main bar with its open fire and secluded alcoves, there was now a fine restaurant.
Gillian was sitting in a small alcove when I arrived, sipping a glass of white wine. Once I had introduced myself, I went to the bar where I bought another glass of wine for her and a pint of bitter for myself.
I really didn't know how to start, and since I couldn't think of anything better I started by saying how nice and cosy the inn was these days, and how I thought the new owners had done a really good job.
"Didn't you know," Gillian said, somewhat to my surprise, "Sir George bought the inn — he really fancies the idea of being a king, even if such a small kingdom as the village. But you would be very surprised if you knew what went on behind that door," and she gestured to a door to the left of the bar with a notice saying "Private" above it. "The inn is just a respectable front," she continued, "but that door is the entrance to an adult sex club, and at the end of a short corridor there is a reception desk with a larger than life picture of George wearing nothing but a crown and being given a blow job by Angela — "giving the king head" he calls it. He thinks that is very funny. Half the parishioners are members if I'm not mistaken, and I guess that Sonia has slept with most of them. Sorry to give you such unpleasant news, but I thought it was only fair that you knew what a slut your wife has become."
That put a bit of a dampener on the evening, but I proceeded to tell Gillian that I would be divorcing Sonia, and that I had put the house on the market. "As soon as I have made a sale," I said, "I will be moving to London, and I hope to buy a small apartment near to my office. I have already resigned from the Parish Council, and the sooner I can leave the village the better. There is really nothing to hold me here."
In return, she told me that she had left Sir George's employment with immediate effect that day and that she would be going to live with her parents until she found a new job. "Whatever you might think about him," she said, "Sir George is not a vindictive man, just totally without any moral scruples, and he has given me a year's severance pay, so I will be alright for the time being. He has also given me an excellent reference, so I should have no difficulty in finding something suitable."
After that, there was very little else to say, and once we had finished our drinks, we said goodbye, promising to keep in touch, although that was merely out of politeness.
ooOoo
Two years later I was living in London in a nice part of Chelsea. This was before the property boom took off and I had managed to find a nice apartment in a quiet mews near to the Royal Hospital. This was a few months after the financial crash of 2008, and I had learned from the newspapers that Sir George had been badly affected and was being sought by the Financial Services Authority for possible fraud and tax evasion.
Since our divorce, I had totally lost contact with Sonia, although I had written to her parents to express my sorrow at what had happened. Her mother had written a very gracious letter in reply, saying that she didn't blame me at all, and that she was not at all surprised. She went on that she had always known her daughter was a person of loose morals but had hoped that her marriage to me would have changed her for the better.
I was walking down New Bond Street late one afternoon when by chance I literally bumped into Gillian again. My mind was on a particularly difficult negotiation that I was involved in and I was not really looking where I was going when I collided with a young lady leaving the front door of an office building and knocked her bag out of her hand. I bent to pick it up for her, hurriedly offering an apology for my clumsiness, but when I stood up to give it to her, she just smiled sweetly and said "Hello Paul, how are you these days?"
Rather flustered, I stammered a greeting and was about to continue on my way when she put her hand on my arm and asked whether I had time for a drink for old time's sake.
Well, a drink became a meal and we parted with a promise to meet again the next day after work. I had not really paid much attention to Gillian's appearance before as I had been too preoccupied with my marital breakdown, but I now realised for the first time that she was a very attractive young woman, with a nice smile and sparkling blue eyes, and a lovely musical laugh. After two years of bachelor life when I had devoted all my efforts to my career, I was ready for pleasant female company, and I suppose, ripe to fall in love. Fortunately for me, Gillian was the right person for me, quite different in character from my former wife.
To our mutual surprise and joy, we found conversation very easy, and over the following weeks, we discovered that we had a great deal in common, including a love of opera and the theatre. A couple of months after our meeting I saw that there was a new English National Opera production of Puccini's La Bohéme at the Coliseum, directed by Jonathan Miller, who was returning to the ENO after a break of twelve years, and with the renowned young tenor Alfie Boe as Rudolfo. This promised to be a very exciting and much sought after production, and after pulling a few strings managed to get two tickets in the Dress Circle.
After the show, we had an excellent meal in an Italian restaurant in St Martin's Lane, only a stone's throw from the theatre, and afterwards it seemed quite natural to invite Gillian back to my apartment to discuss the production and to compare it to others we had seen. To be quite honest, I was also growing more than a little in love with Gillian and the breath of fresh air she brought into my life, and hoped that perhaps we might become more than just good friends one day.
As we entered my apartment I could feel myself getting both anxious and yet yearning for a closeness with this wonderful woman. However, even after two years I was still feeling very bruised and was afraid of being rebuffed if I made a move to take things beyond pleasant companionship. So I opened a bottle of wine and put on a well-known recording of La Bohéme from my large collection of CDs and records. Time passed very quickly as we talked about the performance that evening and other operas that we liked, and by the time we finished the bottle of wine it was well after two in the morning.
"Just look at the time," I said, "you really can't go home at this hour; you must have my bed and I will get a couple of blankets and sleep on the settee."
To my utter surprise Gillian took the initiative, and in a stroke solved a lot of my problems, by turning and putting her arms around my neck and giving me a small kiss on the lips. "Don't be silly Paul, I have had a wonderful time, as I have had every day since we met again. But it really is time that we took this to the next level if there is to be one."
I was so relieved and happy that I just held her closer to me and kissed her with a fervour that surprised me. I couldn't have been more delighted that Gillian had been the first to speak of what I had been unable to express. I guess Sonia had been right about me being an old fuddy-duddy. But no longer, not now, nor ever again.
Gillian is a woman with everything I had ever wanted in a true partner and friend and the physical attraction that had been simmering for weeks came to the boil and swept away all my hesitancy. Running my hands down her back until I reached her bottom, I squeezed and massaged the soft roundness of her cheeks and pulled her even closer to me. She moaned into my open mouth as we continued to kiss passionately, and pushed back against my now very hard member.