I got more than I bargained for at my local car boot sale. As I wandered the aisles of unwanted household items, looking at kitchen utensils for my two student flats, a young woman put a set of almost new saucepans on a tarpaulin in front of her car. She knelt to organise her display more attractively and did so in a way she was not intending. Her black shoulder-length hair hung forward, obscuring her face as she rearranged her items. Not hidden was her cleavage in her sleeveless white tank top. Her slender arms were a delicious caramel colour, as were her breasts that giggled when she moved things around. She looked up and caught me red-handed.

“They’re not for sale,” she said.

“What aren’t, the pots?”

“No, the other things you were admiring. I’m afraid they’re spoken for.” I reddened as she laughed. My interest hadn’t offended her. Now I could see her face, I put her at about thirty-five. Her brown eyes and healthy complexion betrayed a Mediterranean heritage. She was lovely, but I sensed sadness about her.

“How much are they, the pots I mean?”

“They are nearly new, so I’m asking eight quid.”

I pulled out a tenner. She apologised; she had no change until her husband returned. “Keep the change. The attractive display was worth a premium,” I said.

Now she blushed. “Your shadow gave you away.”

I thanked her for the tip and noticed other bits on her stall that could replace my breakages. I said her things were too good for my student flats.

“We’re moving house, it’s all got to go.” Her smile wavered, and I sensed the move was not by choice. She had a photo of a fridge freezer stuck on her car window. I squinted at it.

“You should put your glasses on,” she chided and took the photo off and handed it to me. Her hand was soft and warm. “I’m an optician,” she added.

“And I’m forgetful. They are reading glasses. I can see everything else just fine.”

“So I’ve noticed,” she said.

Our playful flirtation ended when her husband appeared, bearing two polystyrene cups.

“Seventy-five quid mate, no offers.” He was about the same age as her. English bloke, blond-highlights, not bad looking, but a cockiness about him that would soon wear on you. Her body language changed.  

“Okay, son. It’s a fair price. When can I see it?”  In deference to my age, I must have had fifteen years on him, and because I was a potential customer, he softened up and she relaxed too. I wrote their number on a scrap of paper and promised I’d call to confirm an appointment tomorrow. My attention shifted to the stall next door, then I remembered. I turned back to ask where they lived.

“Not far away,” said the husband unhelpfully. The woman sighed and gave me their address. As I walked off, I heard him berate her for telling me. “You’re too trusting, Lou. If he’s interested, I’ll tell him when he phones.” I looked back and caught the woman’s expression. A look of apology had replaced her carefree smile from our conversation. I made a sympathetic face and moved on. Once again, it surprised me what some woman put up with. I had him pegged as one of those controlling blokes who liked the sound of his own voice.

I didn’t phone the next day; instead, I turned up on spec because I’d lost the piece of paper. She answered the door puzzled and then smiled as she recognised me. “That’s a welcoming smile,” I said.

“I said you’d turn up. Simon said you were a time waster. He hates it when he’s wrong.” She seemed pleased. “He’s gone out, I’m afraid.”

“Sorry, I mislaid the piece of paper with your number on it. It must be with my reading glasses. Do you think we can manage without Simon’s help?” My expression betrayed my opinion of him. She didn’t take offense. She showed me into the kitchen and we did the deal for her fridge. I went back to my van for my trolley. A cup of tea was waiting on my return. I handed over the money and she shook my hand.

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name. I’m Noo,” she said.

“I’m Tom Hollis. Is Noo short for something?”

“It’s short for Anoushka. Blame my hippy parents. Anoushka Williams, soon to be Anoushka Da Costa again.  We’re getting divorced, that’s why we’re selling all this stuff.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. If it’s any consolation, Anoushka is too exotic to link with Williams. Anoushka Da Costa is the name of an actress, or a writer, or a painter, or even a clairvoyant. Anoushka Da Costa is a name with infinite possibilities.”

She smiled and laughed, cheered by the prospect. “Well, it is the way you say it. Anoooushka. Much nicer than Noosh when I was at school.”

“Perhaps it’s time for a fresh start with a new name.” We sipped our tea. She knew I was trying to cheer her up. It was a bit obvious, but welcomed all the same.

“We’re selling some other bits if you’re interested?”

Upstairs we stood in the hallway between two bedrooms. Both beds were doubles but with a single pillow on each. “Every picture tells a story, doesn’t it?” I just smiled sympathetically. “It’ll be a sad story you can tell your wife when you get home Tom.”

“I’m afraid not. Sally’s gone. Hit and run. Drunk driver. Five years ago.” It hurt me less saying it that way, but I did not expect it to affect her.

“Oh, my god, Tom. That’s awful. I’m all woe is me, and you’re…” Anoushka started crying and without thinking I drew her towards me to comfort her. Her head was on my chest. She felt warm and smelled nice. We stood like that for a moment until we became self-conscious. She pulled away. “I’m sorry, Tom. I shouldn’t be like this. I’m embarrassed. I hardly know you.”

“That’s okay, Anoushka. You’re grieving like I did. Grieving the end of your marriage.” Then she was off again, and this time she came to me. I put my arms around her and just let her sob quietly.

“You must think I’m pathetic and needy?”

“You’re human. It’s our only strength.” She looked up at me through her tears and I brushed the hair from her face. I wanted to kiss her, but I did not trust myself to leave it at a reassuring paternal peck on the forehead. The same thoughts were going through her mind and the moment hung until I diffused the situation with a joke. “Actually, there are a few things up here I am interested in. That’s an attractive freestanding mirror. What would it cost me?”

“Tell me everything you want, then we’ll do a deal.” We were back to the playful flirtation of the car boot sale.

We made up another job lot. She was pleased. “Good. The sooner it’s all gone, the sooner I can get out of here,” she said. “Simon said he would help, but he’s—”

“Been dragging his feet. Likes to do things in his own time. Likes to be in control?” I ventured.

Anoushka sighed. “You met him for a minute, Tom, but you’ve got his measure. He wasn’t always like that, or maybe he was, but I didn’t mind before.” She thought for a moment before sharing. “He’s moved in with his girlfriend and her kids. Some woman from work. They’ve been fucking for ages.” She was entitled to be bitter.

“The deceit must have been hard to take, Anoushka. You know a house clearance place would take the lot. Are you apprehensive about moving on?”

“I’m supposed to be the clairvoyant, aren’t I?”

I pondered for a moment. “The flats I let are both free at the moment.  I have a deal with the Medical School at the hospital. New trainee doctors move in the first week of September. That would give you over two months. A change of scene might help you think more clearly about the future.”

She was surprised. “I don’t know. It’s a very kind offer, but—”

“Anoushka, it can’t hurt to have options. I’m taking this stuff there now. It wouldn’t do any harm to have a look, would it? I’ll drop you back here afterwards. I have to come this way to return the van to my mate.”

She brightened up. “You load the van and give me ten minutes to get ready.”

She hopped into the passenger seat wearing a similar top similar to yesterday and a nice summer skirt. She’d also put on lipstick. But most of all, she looked happy.

“What?”

“You look lovely and I look like a housebreaker. I would have smartened up for our first date.”

“We’re not on a date, Tom!” She laughed.

***

We stood in the living room of the downstairs flat. “Not the student bedsit you were dreading, is it?”

“It’s lovely. And there’s a garden. So near the Centre, too. I could walk to work in twenty minutes.” Anoushka was trying not to sound too keen and failing.

“Off course, if you don’t want this place?” I saw her face drop. “You could always live upstairs.” She pushed me for teasing her. “Let me get the bits out of the van so I can move it up the road, then I’ll give you the proper tour.” 

We drank coffee on the small balcony of the upstairs flat. I was halfway through repainting all the woodwork, so we were outside to avoid the fumes. The converted loft gave the flat a second bedroom. It was nicer than downstairs. “It will be ready by the end of the week, Anoushka. Just the carpets left to clean. You saw the new mattress in the bedroom. The old one was a bit of a science experiment.” She pulled a face.  “Well, they were medical students.”

“Seriously, you would let me have this place for a few weeks? You’d have no problem letting it.”

“Well, I let it to the Medical School during term time. I found it’s easier to leave it empty for a few weeks in the summer. I tried Airbnb, but you have to service the place between lets, it’s too much hassle.” She was hovering. “I said you needed space to work out your options. I won’t be hanging around. It’s yours, Anoushka, no strings.”

“I’d have to give you some rent, Tom. I could not take it for nothing.”

“If you insist. The rent is one pound a month. That’s two pounds fifty for the entire summer. Cash in advance, please.” She smiled at my silly offer. “I’ll leave you to think it over.”

I went inside and a few moments later called her through. “I thought I’d air the mattress. No need to keep the plastic on it now.” She stood in front of the mirror I’d brought from her. I stood behind her. We looked at the reflection of a couple. I’m six-four and there was a gap between the top of her head and my chin. Her slim frame fitted inside my silhouette.

“Thank you, Tom. This so sweet of you. I am very happy to accept your offer.” There were tears in her eyes. I put my hands over her shoulders and wiped them away. A weight seemed to lift from her with the decision to move on. She leaned into me and I felt the heat of her body. She felt my hardness against her bum. We said nothing, but her cheeks flushed. I pulled her hair up and kissed her neck.

She sighed. “That’s nice, Tom. I haven’t felt nice for a while.” I caressed her breasts through the tee-shirt as she moaned. “Take it off, Tom.” Her lacy white bra contrasted with her caramel skin. She turned around in my arms and pulled my head down. Her mouth was so warm. Our tongues clashed and our senses went into overdrive. The feel of her made my hands tingle. I fumbled with the catch on her bra for a moment. Her dark nipples demanded attention and my lips moved from one to another as I tried to get a whole tit in my mouth.

Anoushka had to pull my hair to get my attention. “Fuck me, Tom. Put me on that bed and fuck me!” She pulled my top off and threw it on the mattress. “I don’t want any stains on my new bed.” We were naked moments later. Her body was lovely. A thin fuzz of black curls made a triangle above her pouty cunt lips.

My fingers dipped into her wetness and circled her prominent clit. Anoushka moaned. “Fuck me, please Tom.” Her desperation was a turn-on, I threw her down and struggled out of my jeans. My cock was so hard it hurt.  Anoushka pulled her legs back and opened like a flower.

“Oh, God. You are so beautiful.” I dipped my head to taste her and she objected.

“Please don’t. I haven’t had a shower this morning.” Her muskiness drifted up, inflaming me. I batted her hands away and put my nose in her pussy. “No Tom, don’t smell me. Oh, God!” My tongue on her clitoris quelled further objections. I nipped her engorged lips between my teeth. “Jesus, you’re trying to eat me.” Anoushka shook with her impending orgasm and pulled the back of my neck, feeding her cunt to my mouth. She arched off the mattress as she came, anointing my face with her wetness, before slumping down. She panted, frightened by the strength of her passion.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it?” She nodded. I leaned forward to kiss her, and she was surprised when I inserted two fingers, searching for the root of her clitoris. My other hand flashed across her splayed lips.

“No Tom, it's too soon. I need to—” Anoushka’s second orgasm was more violent than the first. External and internal stimulation seemed to short circuit her. Her legs snapped shut on my arm, like a wrestler about to spin an opponent. Her grip was strong, and I had to promise no more tricks before she would let me go.

We spooned in silence, each making sense of what had happened. I put my arm around her and she shrugged it off. On second thoughts she pulled it back and gave me a breast to hold. I gave her the lightest of kisses on the shoulder.

“You can stop that; my pussy is broken.”

I complied but twisted my hips to nestle my aching erection against her wet lips and pulsed gently.

“And you can stop doing Morse Code with your cock.”

“But it's an emergency, love.” I moved my hips backwards and forwards. After a minute, her resolve was crumbling and she backed against me.

“I’m sore, but you’re making me want it again. You’ve turned me into a whore.”

“A whore would not have your passion Anoushka.” I turned her to face me and got between her legs. She was so wet my cock found her entrance unaided. Despite my earlier attention, she was tight, and I thought the heat of her would make me cum before I was in properly.

“You’re stretching me, Tom. It hurts.”

I took it as a statement of fact, not a plea to stop, which I could not have done. We kissed for ages and she relaxed enough for me to slide into the hilt. Our pubes meshed, and I began easy strokes. I was not going to last long. I need not have worried.

“Fuck me hard, Tom. Fuck me and fill me.” Anoushka dug her heels into my arse to bring me to the gallop. I pounded her small frame and came in several spurts. “I can feel your cum, Tom. It's everywhere. There’s too much.” She grasped for my sweatshirt to catch the spillage.  I collapsed on her and we lay silent in a cocktail of our juices. Cum, sweat, tears, saliva; a forensic fiesta.

Eventually, we stirred. “I need the loo, Tom.” I eased out, and Anoushka did that comical cross-legged walk that only women can do.

I’d made a pot of tea by the time she arrived in the kitchen, fully clothed. She’d taken just long enough for the guilt to settle in. I smiled and she gave a brief one in reply and looked away embarrassed.

“Tom, what just happened. It was lovely and I would not change any of it. But it’s too soon and I’m not looking for—"

“I agree. Besides, first, you have to work out why you did it. Did you just want comforting? Do you really fancy me? Are you just spiting Simon?” Her mouth opened in surprise. I held up a packet. “Biscuit, Anoushka?”

She looked at me as she drank her tea. A thousand next lines went through her head, but none seemed appropriate.

I jumped in. “Shall I tell you what I’m thinking? I want to thank you for a fantastic, spontaneous, passionate experience. I have been a very lucky man. But you are a vulnerable woman, and I fear I may have exploited you. That was never my intention, but I like you and you responded and we let our bodies do the talking. I’m making no demands on you and I mean what I said earlier. You can have this place for the summer, no strings. I won’t be in your hair. You’ve got enough on your plate for the moment.”

Anoushka found her voice. “Thank you, Tom. I’ve no regrets. It was lovely. You made me cum so many times.” She looked away embarrassed, but her eyes lingered on the bedroom where in her mind we were still coupled. It was safer to look at me. “My hormones are all over the place at the moment. I’ve never slept with a man on a first date and look at me now.”

“It's not that bad, Anoushka. You told me we weren’t on a date, remember?” I laughed, and she leaned over and slapped my arm. “I just need to pop out and put some money in the meter.” I got up.

“Oh, God. We’ve been here an hour?”

“Two hours.” I almost hid my smile.

“I have to go. I can’t believe I’ve been here fucking for two hours. I have to get home.” She stood up.

I followed her out and locked up.

“Two hours, Tom!”

“Yes, but we wasted forty minutes drinking tea and talking.”

She went to hit me again, but my strides were too long for her.

I parked up just before her place. “Good, he’s not back yet. It will give me a chance to get this smile off my face. I don’t know what I’ll say to him, Tom.”

“He’s got no right to know anything. You have a piece of paper which says you are entitled to a private life. He’s making full use of his.” I felt mischievous. “Why don’t you say that bloke turned up, but because he had to move everything himself, he knocked you down on the price? Give Simon twenty-five quid for his trouble.” She laughed and kissed me on the cheek and slipped out of the cab. “I’ll be in touch in a few days when the flat is ready. It won’t be long, Anoushka.”

I dropped the van back at my mate and he asked what I was looking so pleased about. Twenty-five years ago, we’d have been sharing the ins and outs of my afternoon over a couple of beers. Now I wanted to keep Anoushka to myself. “I got a sweet deal on that fridge freezer and a few other bits, Martin.”

***

I played it softly, softly. After three days, I sent her pictures of my completed redecoration. My message: ‘Just the carpet shampooing, then it’s ready.’

I didn’t expect the non-committal reply, ‘Very Nice.’

I left it almost a week before texting, ‘Everything is ready if you are?’ Her tearful voice on the phone two minutes later surprised me.

“Tom, I’m sorry I’ve ignored you. Can you get your friend’s van again? I have to get out of here as soon as possible.”

I picked her up the next morning. The front door was open, and she looked a pitiful sight, sat on her cases like an orphan. Some other bits of furniture had gone. I was looking at the wreckage of her marriage. She just about held it together as I loaded her luggage and a few keepsakes into the back of the van. Not a lot to show for their years together. She was grateful for my silence as we drove.

At the flat, she made tea while I unloaded her stuff. She was doing okay until she saw the flowers in a vase and my welcome card. I went to hug her; she turned away, then she turned back. Warm body against mine, hot tears on my shoulder. She looked at me all red-eyed and snot-nosed, but I saw beyond that.

“Don’t look at me like that Tom, I’m hideous. I don’t deserve that look.” She shut her eyes and opened them again. “Stop it.” She tried to laugh, but it came out like a snort with it an enormous snot bubble.

“Now that is hideous,” I said.

“Oh my God, you leave me no shame.” She took my tissue, but it was a minute before she could look me in the eye again. “I haven’t even spent a day with you. I should not feel so close. I should not have—”

“You are so certain of what not to so. Do you know what you should do, Anoushka?”

“No. And don’t keep saying my name like that.” I lifted her head up and wiped her tears with my thumbs. I kissed her tenderly. “Say my name again. Tom.”

I helped her unpack. I could hear the cogs whirring in her head as she worked. “How do you know when a marriage is over, Tom?” I had the sense to know it was a rhetorical question. “Is it when he stops fucking you? Is it when he starts fucking someone else? Is it when he says he doesn’t love you anymore?” She opened her bag. “Is it when you have this stupid piece of paper?” I looked at the divorce nisi and put it on the table. Anoushka trembled. She cradled her hands across her belly. “Or is it when, is it when—”

“When he tells you his new partner is pregnant?” I ventured.

It shocked her, I could sense it. “He showed me the scan, fucking boasting about it. Do you know how many years I spent in IVF? All that pain and disappointment. I thought it was our problem, but it turns out it was my failure.”

I put my arms around her, feeling the rawness of her pain. Despite the emotional upheaval, I felt myself responding to her physical presence. I tried to pull away.

“Don’t Tom. Hold me against you. Your body does not lie.” She kissed me passionately. Her fevered hands worked at my belt and zip, then I was in her hands and she rubbed me against the heat of her groin through her summer skirt. I knew it was wrong, but I did not want to reject her. We did not make it as far as the bedroom this time. I lay her on the couch and pushed her skirt up and pulled her knickers down.

She’d trimmed her pussy hair very short. I could see her lips. “Do you like it, Tom? Do you like it more than he did?”

I lost control. My mouth was on her, savouring her heat and wetness of her. The ripeness of her flesh in my mouth and her musky essence. She was like an exotic fruit. She ground her pussy in my face as she came. Foreign oaths came from her mouth. I imagined they were the filthiest words in her father’s language. I could not wait for her to recover, I just splayed her legs and thrust into her. I did not last long. She was pleased she made me lose control. Afterwards, we lay in our dishevelled clothes, like two students who took advantage of an empty house for an opportunist fuck. I risked being truthful.

“Did that feel good, Anoushka? Knowing you could have me just like that. Knowing that I’m so weak for you, it does not matter what I feel. Is that what he taught you?”

She pushed away from me. “What are you talking about? You know nothing about my marriage. You know nothing about the real me?” Her skirt was back down now, and she snatched her knickers from my hand.

“I know it was all about pleasing him, and you tried, you really tried, but it was not enough because he didn’t reciprocate. And when you got upset, he fucked you. Medicated you with sex, just like you got me to do. But I don’t feel good about it because I care for you, Anoushka.”

“Shut up, Tom. Get out of my head. You don’t know about me.” She turned away, staring into the back of the couch.

“It’s not your fault to want what you wanted. It’s not your fault you could not conceive. It’s not your fault he did not want to adopt or foster. You both made an honest mistake. Don’t beat yourself up about it for the rest of your life. Forgive yourself, Anoushka. Just as I forgive you for using me just now.”

She turned and stared at me. She had to hear she was not a bad person. That the breakdown of her marriage was not all her fault. She was calm. At peace with herself. “How can I feel like this now, after how I felt an hour ago? What have you done to me, Tom? You think you’re so smart.” I shook my head. “You think you can read me like a book.” I shook my head again. I was bamboo blowing in the breeze. “Are you going to say anything?”

“Anoushka, kiss me.”

We were cuddling on the couch. My hand was playing between her thighs. “I should not be doing this. I’m not looking for another relationship.”

“Of course, it’s too soon. Although you probably jumped from one relationship straight into another over the years. Serial monogamy. Maybe with a slight overlap, but we are too polite to dwell on that.”

“Shut up, you’re just guessing. And I am not ready to date either.”

My fingers toyed with her hardening clitoris. “Good, because this is not a date.”

She trapped my hand between her thighs. “Well, what is it then, Mr Know-all?”

“Well, if I’m not mistaken, it’s a pity fuck. Twice, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You bastard! I can’t believe you said that.”

“No Anoushka, you can’t believe I was honest enough to say that. I would like to fuck you properly so you can compare. Compare the difference between me and Simon. Compare the difference between pity and passion. And compare the difference between me and whoever you meet next.”

“You cheeky bastard. You could not keep up with me, old man.”

“Now that is fighting talk.” I got off the couch and took her by the hand. She did not object when I led her to the bedroom.

It was late afternoon, and we were lying in a pool of sweat. I don’t know who was more exhausted. Coming seemed to take more out of her. I managed it three more times, she a couple more on top of that, although my last one was more of a mime, as I had nothing left to give. I pulled her head onto my chest. “Shall we call it a draw?”

“If we have to stop.” Anoushka was defiant. I reached between her legs. “No, a draw is fine, a draw is good. I can’t believe what I let you do to me. Your tongue, your fingers, your cock, everywhere. I don’t think there is a place on my body you have not explored.”

“That was the idea, Anoushka. For you to know what it feels like to be loved passionately, without obligation.” She looked puzzled. “I’ve made you no promises, I’ve asked nothing of you other than you respect the deadline to move out. We owe each other nothing. It’s scary, isn’t it?”

“You think I’ll be scared all on my own in the world. You think I’ll come running back to you all afraid and say, Tom please look after me?”

“No, that’s what I don’t want. I’m too old to be someone’s emotional crutch. Like you, I want to be wanted for myself. To be chosen by someone with free will.”

“This is another dare, isn’t it Tom?”

“You can call it what you like, Anoushka. But it’s the truth.”

***

I’d laid my cards on the table. I don’t know what I’d expected after that. But to hear nothing for weeks hurt. I blamed myself for being an old fool. I would not contact her again. Anoushka broke the impasse. She had no hot water. I went round to restart the boiler when she got home from work. I was done in five minutes. We sat in the kitchen diner drinking coffee. My eyes lingered on the sofa. Memories of the tangle of our half-clothed bodies flooded back. I wondered if there were newer memories for her; I did not like the thought.

“Stop that, Tom,” she said, knowing where my mind had been.“I’m supposed to be the mind reader, remember.” We studied each other. She’d changed out of her work clothes into an old pair of joggers and a sweatshirt. A hairband pulled her hair from her face, scrubbed clean of make-up. She was making herself as unattractive as possible. It did not change the way I looked at her.

“And stop that too.” She pretended to be annoyed but could not suppress a brief smile.

“Are you enjoying the single life again, Anoushka?”

“It’s been great to catch up with old friends. And make new friends.” She scored a hit, and I swallowed a lump. 

“You should get more sleep, Anoushka. You’ve got the rest of your life to enjoy your freedom. There is no need to hurry.”

Her hand went to the start of her laughter lines. “Thanks for the advice, Tom,” she said sourly.

I could see us getting nasty if the conversation continued. It was not what we wanted to say, but we were too stoked up to find kinder words. “I have to go now; I’m cooking dinner for a friend.” It was the truth, I had not meant it as a barb, but it stung anyway. I think she was more surprised she’d never considered my life outside of her.

“You should have said so when I called. I could have waited.” We looked at each other and knew that was not true. Neither of us could have waited.

“You needed my help. But now, so does she. Her husband is not well. He will not get better. Sometimes she just needs a break. Goodbye, Anoushka.” I kissed her cheek and left her sitting at the table.

On the drive home I recognised what the test was about. She wanted to see how far she could push me away. It was like the child who says they hate their mum. If they weren’t certain they were loved, they would never risk saying it.

I was surprised to get a text at 11.30 pm.

“Sorry for calling you out, Tom. I hope I did not spoil your dinner.”

I was glad she was nosey.

“Everything’s fine. BTW congratulations on not sleeping with me.”

She was self-deprecating.

“Yea for me. I’m all growed up.”

I was kind.

“Sarah’s gone home. Not that you’re interested.”

 She was honest.

 “Thank you, Tom. Goodnight.”

Neither of us were very good at pretending not to care.

***

It came to a head a week before her tenancy was up. Anoushka invited me over for a thank you meal. She had dressed nicely, but not provocatively, in a cream and black sleeveless shift dress. Because it covered so much of her, it made her bare arms more attractive. She pulled on a cardigan to stop my distraction. After a lovely Portuguese chicken dish, ‘It’s not all piripiri Tom,’ we sat on the couch and Anoushka gave her brief speech.

“Tom, you have been so kind to me. I was a complete stranger, but you helped me out of an awful situation and allowed me to get on with the rest of my life. I don’t think I can ever repay you. I’ll be out of your hair next week. A girl at work is looking for a new flatmate.”

I took in the nuance. Our business had been concluded. “I’m glad I was able to help. I hope the pleasure has been mutual.” She blushed. “But what is the rest of your life going to be about, Anoushka?”

She found a bright smile. “You know, going out, having fun, meeting new people, seeing new places. I’ve got lots of things to do.” She was having as much trouble convincing herself as she was me. That annoyed her. “I’m having a great time. You don’t know about my recent life, Tom. Its—”

“No, I don’t Anoushka. But you don’t know about mine either. I wondered why you never asked and now I know why, it’s because you never wanted to consider the possibility that something might take me away from you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Tom.”

“When Sally died, I was adrift, an emotional wreck. I had a lot of sympathy from friends, especially Sally’s friends. They’d look in on me now and again. There was one woman, Lucy. There’d always been a flirtation between us. I didn’t realise how unhappy her marriage was. We started fucking. Medicating each other with sex to dull the pain. See, I know what that is too, Anoushka. But it was not right, and we stopped before we hurt other people.”

“Okay Tom, I get it.”

She didn't want to hear anymore, but I was not finished. “Then there was the dating. So easy these days, and so meaningless. Swipe this way, swipe that. And what do you remember? Just another pair of tits, another pussy. Another fleeting relationship seen through the lens of a porn film.”

That struck home. “How many were there, Tom?”

“I don’t know, it’s not important.” Her stare demanded an answer. “Maybe a dozen?”

Her eyes opened wide. “You fucked a dozen other women?”

“Is that what you’re taking from this Anoushka? We’re not keeping score. Anyway, I had a head start on you.” Her embarrassed look confirmed my suspicions about her new friends. “It’s all meaningless, isn’t it? You have freedom to do things that don’t give you the pleasure they should. You break old friendships; you struggle to make new ones.”

The silence hung heavy for a long time. She swallowed her wine in one gulp and launched into her confession. “He was a colleague at work. A shoulder to cry on over the last few years. He’s got a wife and two kids. I think it was always a fantasy for both of us. We had the opportunity when I split from Simon. We would come here at lunchtime. It was great for a couple of weeks. I thought, yes, I can do this. Another woman did it to me. But then his wife came in one day to have their daughter fitted for glasses. I looked at his child and I knew we could not do it anymore. We both felt it was wrong. He’s transferred to another branch now, and I’ve lost a good friend.”

“Not so different then, Anoushka?”

She poured more wine. “And dating. Fucking Tinder. It like crack for sex addicts. How can anyone meet a genuine person that way?” She saw the question in my look. “I’m not telling you Tom, but it was not bloody twelve, okay?”

“But enough to know. Enough to know the difference. The difference between what is out there and what we could be. You may still need to look, but I’m ready Anoushka. I love you, and you’ve tried to test that to destruction because of what happened between you and Simon. I get that. But how long do you want to keep doing this for, before you’ve had enough? And will I still be here when you think you are ready?”

She knew what I was suggesting, and it frightened her. “I’m not sure, Tom. I’m scared.”

“Do you think I’m not?” I pulled her towards me and kissed her. She threw her arms around my neck. “I’ve missed this more than I thought I’d ever admit to you, Anoushka.” I didn’t want to spar anymore.

She put her head on my chest and continued her confession. “Afterwards, with those men. After the rush of lust and release, there was nothing. There was none of this. I hated you for what you said. For making me expect this. Intimacy.”

“Yes, I’m a bad man for wanting to save you from a lot of disappointment.”

“Liar, you wanted to save me for yourself. A dozen women, Christ! I only hope they were one at a time?” She searched my face.

“Yes. They were one at a time.”

“Well, don’t look so disappointed about it.”

“Come on, I want to show you somewhere.” I stood up and took her hand.

She knew I was driving home. My old Labrador, Masie greeted us at the front door. She sniffed Anoushka and rubbed against her leg. “That’s a good omen. She might let you stay. I’m going to put the kettle on. You are going to search for ghosts.”

“I couldn’t go snooping around your home, Tom.”

“I insist. How else are you going to get a feel for it, Anoushka?”

The tea was ready by the time she got back. She was carrying photo frames from the lounge. “He looks just like you. Heaven help the ladies.” It was my son’s photo with the university coxless four at Henley. They’d won the final.

“Yes. I think Luke is getting my share.”

“Oi. You’ve not done so bad, mister twelve.”

“Actually, it’s a baker’s dozen, thirteen.” She thought for a moment and went to punch me. I hugged her, trapping her arms. “But I would trade all the others for the last one.” I kissed her and we could both feel that heartbeat starting in the pit of our stomachs.

Anoushka squirmed free, brandishing another frame. “Your wife looks nothing like me?” Sally was tall and blond.

“You must be relieved I’m not looking for a direct replacement.”

“Well, you know you’re nothing like Simon.”

“Exciting, isn’t it? Come and see upstairs.” She looked in all the bedrooms. “Found any ghosts then?”

“No, only friendly spirits.” She kissed me and pulled me into the guest bedroom. She looked across the corridor at the bed I had shared with my wife. “Not yet, Tom.” I didn’t complain. I unzipped her dress, and it slipped off her shoulders. I stepped back to admire her sexy black underwear. “It was a compromise. I thought I was saying goodbye to you.”

I lay her on the bed and kissed her neck and shoulders. Anoushka squirmed. I turned her on her stomach and kissed her shoulder blades. “You’ve missed a spot.” She knew what I was doing. I was reclaiming her. I was wiping away all traces of the men she’d been with since the last time we were together. I ran my tongue the length of her spine and she shivered. Anoushka twisted and turned, offering her body to my lips and tongue and fingers. I brought her to the brink of orgasm several times and she was happy to be tormented. I put her toes in her mouth and sucked. They were connected to her pussy. She lifted her hips, offering herself to me. “Play with your pussy Anoushka, I want to watch you come.” I batted away her grasping arm, and she did it for herself. One hand splayed her lips and circled her clit while the fingers of the other squelched nosily between her lips. It was such an erotic sight. She shut her knees as she came, trapping her hand between her thighs. She took a while to surface.

“That was fantastic Anoushka, what a sexy woman you are.” My stiff cock in my hand provided conclusive evidence.

She was miffed. “Yes, well, if you want to see more of that, buy a film. Now come here and fuck me with that thing.”

She took the next day off work sick, and we stayed in bed all morning. Then we took the dog for a walk. As I cooked a late lunch, she pottered in the garden, pruning flowers and bushes like she’d been doing it all her life. She apologised for not asking first. I realised I’d not yet asked her to move in. “It needs a woman’s touch. I’d like that woman to be you, Anoushka. Do you need some time to think about it?” She nodded. After lunch, she lay with her head on my lap as we watched meerkats performing on a nature programme. She looked up at me and rubbed my stubbly chin.

“It should not be this natural, Tom. Not so soon. It’s not supposed to be this easy?”

I stroked her hair. “Why Anoushka? Anyway, for loads of people it isn’t. Don’t see a blessing as a problem.” We ended up in bed again before I had to take her back to the flat. We shared apprehensive glances on the journey. She opened the door and walked through all the rooms while I waited in the kitchen. She came in carrying a small bag and kissed me.

“I wanted to see it one last time. The place that changed my life. Please take me home now Tom.”

Two years have passed quickly. We’ve been very happy in our world. Our only problems start outside the front door. Her friends; ‘He’s too old for you. What about families? What happens in twenty years?’ Anoushka replied, ‘Most of you will be lucky if you’re still married in twenty years.’ A bit barbed, but accurate. I got the same thing from my friends. The men would shake my hand and ask me how I did it. But first, they’d look around to make sure their wives were not in earshot. The women, fearing I’d put ideas in their husbands’ heads, would find a quiet moment to wish me happiness, but warn the age difference rarely worked. I said of course it did, otherwise, Hollywood stars and business tycoons would not keep doing it. They did not appreciate the joke.

We talk about the future, and we’re looking at fostering. It’s not right Anoushka should miss the joys of parenthood. I was surprised the agency had no problem with my age. The woman reassured us that there was no discrimination. She said, ‘A loving family is all that matters.’ And that is what we are.

***

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