It's still Sunday evening and I'm still in the study. I've finished wrapping my daughter's Birthday gifts for tomorrow morning.
I'm feeling old-fashioned and a bit nostalgic and have been rummaging through what the kids call "Dad's vinyls". Just for a change, I want to use the turntable and hear the occasional crack or hiss that somehow lends greater authenticity.
Sarah Vaughan has been replaced on the turntable by Cleo Laine, and all my old Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington LP's are calling to me.
Yesterday evening, as I drove her home, Pam complimented me on my children. I thanked her and made a mental note to pass the compliments on to kids, too. All too often we expect young minds to grow and sprout wings without giving them the praise needed to inspire them.
I didn't need to ask Pam if she'd enjoyed her day. It was blindingly obvious that she had.
"Is it okay to talk seriously now?" she asked.
"Yep" I said, concentrating on the road. "Go for it."
"Well, I've been thinking about what you said - seeing a counsellor, I mean, and I think it's worth a try."
I was glad Pam had said that but wanted to be sure it was because she wanted to seek counselling and not because she felt I thought she should.
I put it to Pam that we often come up with an answer without having grappled fully with the question.
"What do you mean" she asked.
"I mean, if seeing a counsellor is the answer then what's the question in your mind? What's the problem you're looking for help with?"
"But I've already told you everything" Pam protested. "You know what the problem is and I thought you wanted to help."
"Pam, I want to help you by being the best friend I can possibly be. I think you've had a hellishly raw deal over the years and I think you need lots of support and understanding. So, friendship I can give in abundance, and gladly."
"And ..?"
"And ... nothing" I said. "You have my word I will never betray your confidence to anyone in our circle, and I'm glad to give you whatever support I can, but I can't help you determine the what, where and when of your journey - if indeed you do feel a need to move onward. For help with that you need someone unbiased, detached - someone uninvolved with you personally - a professional."
"You're a professional" Pam retorted, and I could see she was unhappy with where this conversation was heading.
"I can't be your counsellor" Pam. "I can't be your Psych. I'm already involved as a friend and I may have caused you even further damage by sleeping with you. If seeing a counsellor is the answer - and I agree that it is - then you may even find that I have become part of the problem."
"So what was today all about then?" A hint of petulance had entered her voice and demeanour. In a cool, analytical sense, I welcomed this as an improvement on the rigidly controlled person she usually presented to the world.
"Today, Pam, was all about having pure, simple, unadulterated fun. From what I can gather, doing things just for sheer, naked enjoyment is not something you allow yourself to do. I'm not a doctor, but my prescription for you was to provide a magic day with no pretences, no public persona - just a fun day with me and my family. And, if that sounds a bit cold-blooded, I had prescribed just such a day for myself too."
Pam lapsed into silence for the rest of the journey. Finally, when I'd drawn up in her driveway, I said: "You know, there have been lots of people visit my house for dinner or a swim or a game of social tennis. Quite a mixture of people - married, widowed, single, divorced, or just 'living in sin' as we used to term it, but you are the first single lady who has ever crossed my threshold as my sole guest."
"I suppose that's flattering" she replied. "Or does it just mean that I'm the first person you've felt sufficiently sorry for."
"No" I said, and I was close to anger. "I feel sorry that you've had to endure so much hardship - emotionally and sexually - but I'm not going to admit I feel pity for you or that you're my new pet charity. I enjoyed your company today. Without you I would never have had such a perfect day."
"Would you like to come in for coffee?" she asked.
"Before I answer that, Pam, I want to explain myself a bit better. If you check with any of my family or friends, they'll tell you that they have never, not even once, heard me swear. Only in bed or in my writings do I use the sorts of words most people use daily and without compunction."
"If I come in for a coffee, I worry that you may think I want to stay the night again. And I worry that I may do just that. I'd love to lie naked with you with all the lights on and have us explore each other's bodies. I'd love to fuck you again if it brings you pleasure too. I'd want to graze your breasts and cunt. And I'd want you to touch me too and try the sensation of having a hard cock in your mouth."
"This may sound a bit pious but it's the way I feel. And, rather than risk spoiling an otherwise wonderful day, I think it's best I head on home and give you time to think about this and perhaps come to understand my scruples."
Pam reflected for a moment or two, then said: "I think I understand what you're saying. You want to be a friend, you may even want to be more than just friends, but not before we're sure it's a wise thing to be doing - not before I've seen an independent counsellor."
"Well" I said "you can see a counsellor without it necessarily having anything to do with me. I'm not the burning issue here. What matters most is whether you feel that seeing someone might help free you up a bit and start enjoying life. For my part, I'm not about to bed someone who derives no pleasure from it. I love to fuck but not if it fucks up your life."
"What about the guy you mentioned?" said Pam.
"Tony?"
"Yes. Do you think he'd take me on?"
"Yes, he would" I said "and I'm happy to put you in touch with him if that's what you want. Just remember that what passes between you is strictly confidential - he won't be discussing you with me unless you ask him to do so, and, be warned, he's a rather a hard task-master - he'll listen and help you get certain thoughts and feelings crystallised in your mind, but, more important than that, he'll seek your active commitment to the process of recovery. OK?"
"I'll sleep on it and call you tomorrow" she said. "Thank you for a wonderful day."
Then, with a chaste peck on my cheek, she grabbed her bag from the back seat and headed for her front door. I waited till she was safely inside and then drove home, my loins protesting all the way at having been so ruthlessly over-ruled by my mind!
The kids slept in on Sunday morning. Once upon a time, we went as a family to church on Sundays. Since Jennifer's death we've not felt quite so chummy with God and only attend at Christmas and Easter.
I was up reasonably early and went for a jog before heading to the gym. I did some circuit work and some laps and then decided to hit the sauna - a place I usually avoid because the aroma really turns me off and makes my throat feel too dry. No one else was in there so I removed the towel from around my waist and used it to lessen the agony of hot pinewood against my arse and relaxed balls.
Just as I was approaching the point where I could stand it no longer, another guy entered. He too removed his towel and used it to sit on. I closed my eyes and willed myself to endure the heat just a bit longer. When I opened them again I noticed that his cock appeared semi-erect and that he was checking me out quite openly.
He was probably in his late thirties, maybe early forties, and I was tempted to strike up an acquaintanceship and see where it led. But, fortunately, another guy entered the sauna - this one more uptight than my friend and I because his towel remained firmly around his waist.
I left, showered quickly and went home. My sauna buddy was showering at the same time as me but I firmly avoided eye-contact.
I swear I feel as taut as drum-skin lately - so randy and so often thinking about sex. Probably a logical extension of the intense attention I'm paying to getting supremely fit for summer. Or maybe my second childhood has arrived!
As promised, Pam rang this afternoon. She said she slept like a log - even though she'd been determined to toss and turn all night worrying! - and she was feeling a bit sore in the shoulders from all the tennis and the paddling. My heart began to beat like a drum when she said she'd decided what to do.
I was relieved to learn she really does want to see Tony and that she's doing it because she wants to come to terms with the past and learn how to embrace life and move forward. Thank goodness.
Weird isn't it? For all that I feel perpetually randy, over the last day or so I've successfully avoided two potential sexual encounters - one with Pam and one with the guy at the gym - and I'm feeling glad I did so!
And one last thing before I head to bed. I received a phone call this afternoon from my old friend Graeme - "The Activities Guy" - and he's quite excited about visiting in December. Again my heart beat like a drum.
Apparently, he's booked an open return just in case. "Just in case of what?" I wonder but do not ask. I assure him that he is welcome to stay at my place, that there's plenty of room, and that I'm looking forward to seeing him again and having him meet my family.
Tonight I'll lie in bed and my mind will replay the times I spent with Graeme so many years ago. Memories of those long-ago experiences will echo and reverberate in my head until sleep overtakes me.
What a weekend - a drumming heart, a constant sexual yearning, and now the echoes of times past.
I'm feeling old-fashioned and a bit nostalgic and have been rummaging through what the kids call "Dad's vinyls". Just for a change, I want to use the turntable and hear the occasional crack or hiss that somehow lends greater authenticity.
Sarah Vaughan has been replaced on the turntable by Cleo Laine, and all my old Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington LP's are calling to me.
Yesterday evening, as I drove her home, Pam complimented me on my children. I thanked her and made a mental note to pass the compliments on to kids, too. All too often we expect young minds to grow and sprout wings without giving them the praise needed to inspire them.
I didn't need to ask Pam if she'd enjoyed her day. It was blindingly obvious that she had.
"Is it okay to talk seriously now?" she asked.
"Yep" I said, concentrating on the road. "Go for it."
"Well, I've been thinking about what you said - seeing a counsellor, I mean, and I think it's worth a try."
I was glad Pam had said that but wanted to be sure it was because she wanted to seek counselling and not because she felt I thought she should.
I put it to Pam that we often come up with an answer without having grappled fully with the question.
"What do you mean" she asked.
"I mean, if seeing a counsellor is the answer then what's the question in your mind? What's the problem you're looking for help with?"
"But I've already told you everything" Pam protested. "You know what the problem is and I thought you wanted to help."
"Pam, I want to help you by being the best friend I can possibly be. I think you've had a hellishly raw deal over the years and I think you need lots of support and understanding. So, friendship I can give in abundance, and gladly."
"And ..?"
"And ... nothing" I said. "You have my word I will never betray your confidence to anyone in our circle, and I'm glad to give you whatever support I can, but I can't help you determine the what, where and when of your journey - if indeed you do feel a need to move onward. For help with that you need someone unbiased, detached - someone uninvolved with you personally - a professional."
"You're a professional" Pam retorted, and I could see she was unhappy with where this conversation was heading.
"I can't be your counsellor" Pam. "I can't be your Psych. I'm already involved as a friend and I may have caused you even further damage by sleeping with you. If seeing a counsellor is the answer - and I agree that it is - then you may even find that I have become part of the problem."
"So what was today all about then?" A hint of petulance had entered her voice and demeanour. In a cool, analytical sense, I welcomed this as an improvement on the rigidly controlled person she usually presented to the world.
"Today, Pam, was all about having pure, simple, unadulterated fun. From what I can gather, doing things just for sheer, naked enjoyment is not something you allow yourself to do. I'm not a doctor, but my prescription for you was to provide a magic day with no pretences, no public persona - just a fun day with me and my family. And, if that sounds a bit cold-blooded, I had prescribed just such a day for myself too."
Pam lapsed into silence for the rest of the journey. Finally, when I'd drawn up in her driveway, I said: "You know, there have been lots of people visit my house for dinner or a swim or a game of social tennis. Quite a mixture of people - married, widowed, single, divorced, or just 'living in sin' as we used to term it, but you are the first single lady who has ever crossed my threshold as my sole guest."
"I suppose that's flattering" she replied. "Or does it just mean that I'm the first person you've felt sufficiently sorry for."
"No" I said, and I was close to anger. "I feel sorry that you've had to endure so much hardship - emotionally and sexually - but I'm not going to admit I feel pity for you or that you're my new pet charity. I enjoyed your company today. Without you I would never have had such a perfect day."
"Would you like to come in for coffee?" she asked.
"Before I answer that, Pam, I want to explain myself a bit better. If you check with any of my family or friends, they'll tell you that they have never, not even once, heard me swear. Only in bed or in my writings do I use the sorts of words most people use daily and without compunction."
"If I come in for a coffee, I worry that you may think I want to stay the night again. And I worry that I may do just that. I'd love to lie naked with you with all the lights on and have us explore each other's bodies. I'd love to fuck you again if it brings you pleasure too. I'd want to graze your breasts and cunt. And I'd want you to touch me too and try the sensation of having a hard cock in your mouth."
"This may sound a bit pious but it's the way I feel. And, rather than risk spoiling an otherwise wonderful day, I think it's best I head on home and give you time to think about this and perhaps come to understand my scruples."
Pam reflected for a moment or two, then said: "I think I understand what you're saying. You want to be a friend, you may even want to be more than just friends, but not before we're sure it's a wise thing to be doing - not before I've seen an independent counsellor."
"Well" I said "you can see a counsellor without it necessarily having anything to do with me. I'm not the burning issue here. What matters most is whether you feel that seeing someone might help free you up a bit and start enjoying life. For my part, I'm not about to bed someone who derives no pleasure from it. I love to fuck but not if it fucks up your life."
"What about the guy you mentioned?" said Pam.
"Tony?"
"Yes. Do you think he'd take me on?"
"Yes, he would" I said "and I'm happy to put you in touch with him if that's what you want. Just remember that what passes between you is strictly confidential - he won't be discussing you with me unless you ask him to do so, and, be warned, he's a rather a hard task-master - he'll listen and help you get certain thoughts and feelings crystallised in your mind, but, more important than that, he'll seek your active commitment to the process of recovery. OK?"
"I'll sleep on it and call you tomorrow" she said. "Thank you for a wonderful day."
Then, with a chaste peck on my cheek, she grabbed her bag from the back seat and headed for her front door. I waited till she was safely inside and then drove home, my loins protesting all the way at having been so ruthlessly over-ruled by my mind!
The kids slept in on Sunday morning. Once upon a time, we went as a family to church on Sundays. Since Jennifer's death we've not felt quite so chummy with God and only attend at Christmas and Easter.
I was up reasonably early and went for a jog before heading to the gym. I did some circuit work and some laps and then decided to hit the sauna - a place I usually avoid because the aroma really turns me off and makes my throat feel too dry. No one else was in there so I removed the towel from around my waist and used it to lessen the agony of hot pinewood against my arse and relaxed balls.
Just as I was approaching the point where I could stand it no longer, another guy entered. He too removed his towel and used it to sit on. I closed my eyes and willed myself to endure the heat just a bit longer. When I opened them again I noticed that his cock appeared semi-erect and that he was checking me out quite openly.
He was probably in his late thirties, maybe early forties, and I was tempted to strike up an acquaintanceship and see where it led. But, fortunately, another guy entered the sauna - this one more uptight than my friend and I because his towel remained firmly around his waist.
I left, showered quickly and went home. My sauna buddy was showering at the same time as me but I firmly avoided eye-contact.
I swear I feel as taut as drum-skin lately - so randy and so often thinking about sex. Probably a logical extension of the intense attention I'm paying to getting supremely fit for summer. Or maybe my second childhood has arrived!
As promised, Pam rang this afternoon. She said she slept like a log - even though she'd been determined to toss and turn all night worrying! - and she was feeling a bit sore in the shoulders from all the tennis and the paddling. My heart began to beat like a drum when she said she'd decided what to do.
I was relieved to learn she really does want to see Tony and that she's doing it because she wants to come to terms with the past and learn how to embrace life and move forward. Thank goodness.
Weird isn't it? For all that I feel perpetually randy, over the last day or so I've successfully avoided two potential sexual encounters - one with Pam and one with the guy at the gym - and I'm feeling glad I did so!
And one last thing before I head to bed. I received a phone call this afternoon from my old friend Graeme - "The Activities Guy" - and he's quite excited about visiting in December. Again my heart beat like a drum.
Apparently, he's booked an open return just in case. "Just in case of what?" I wonder but do not ask. I assure him that he is welcome to stay at my place, that there's plenty of room, and that I'm looking forward to seeing him again and having him meet my family.
Tonight I'll lie in bed and my mind will replay the times I spent with Graeme so many years ago. Memories of those long-ago experiences will echo and reverberate in my head until sleep overtakes me.
What a weekend - a drumming heart, a constant sexual yearning, and now the echoes of times past.