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Most of all, go enjoy
and have yourself some kinky fun.

Temple_Boy
PhetX Welcome Team

After Tamsin’s
visit to his flat, Alasdair’s online life had relaxed into a lull.
Nothing, he knew, could compete with an experience like that. It
was a meal to be savoured and, like an anaconda that had gorged on
a goat, he was sated. His need for now was to lie low and regroup.
He focused on nurturing his body with fresh food, daily walks and a
reasonably committed effort to avoid alcohol, and his soul with
greater familial connection. The lid of his laptop lay closed for
the most part, and, despite the temptations of his unslakeable
thirst for whisky and a couple of minor falls off the wagon, he was
a genuinely contented man for a month or so.

By Hattie’s birthday,
even Lorna, with a little help from Lyall and subtle encouragement
from her mother, had mellowed her attitude a bit and Alasdair was
invited to join them all for Saturday afternoon tea, before five
10-year-old girls descended on their home for a sleepover.

Jane was there too,
alone this time, having been drafted in to whisk Maidie and Emily
away for the night and cut down on the potential for chaos in the
household. It was the first time she had crossed paths with
Alasdair in months and he was looking fresher than she’d seen him
in a while, as she informed him immediately.

Their greeting was, as
ever, heartfelt, and the afternoon was laid-back and pleasant. As
Hattie’s friends began to arrive and their parents stayed to chat,
the bubbly started to flow, although Alasdair abstained and Jane
stopped at two glasses of red.

“I know I’m not
driving, but this afternoon-drinking malarkey knocks me for six
nowadays and I suspect I have a long evening ahead of me
entertaining these two lovely young things,” Jane told him,
scooping her granddaughters up as she spoke.

“Never thought I’d see
the day,” he replied. “You need any help tonight? Seriously, I’d be
happy to – love to, if I’m honest – and, although I’ll need to
consult my social secretary, I do believe there’s a gap in my diary
this evening.”

The two little girls
cheered their uninhibited joy at the suggestion of a night being
spoilt by not just one but two grandparents, already imagining an
almighty, sugar-crazed evening of movie-watching and general
indulgence. Jane looked over at Lorna, who stood chatting to a
couple as they quaffed and laughed by the kitchen door.

“I’ll need to check
with your mum and dad,” she said. “I’d hate to risk your thrill
cells exploding without having warned them it might happen. But in
theory, yes, that sounds like a wonderful offer.”

Alasdair mouthed a
silent thank-you and gave the girls a hug. He wasn’t entirely sure
what had caused the recent, never explicitly mentioned ban on his
coming there, but he was truly grateful for the new chance and he
intended to make it up to them all.

Maybe it was the
convivial atmosphere of the afternoon, perhaps a gradual
understanding that Alasdair’s addictions were no threat to her
family, but Lorna welcomed the idea. In truth, she was worried
about her mother, who had seemed down lately – most unusual for her
– and she knew how much Alasdair always cheered her up.

The girls were right.
What followed was sheer kiddy decadence. Catching a taxi into town,
they had gone for pizza, followed by a 3D film at the cinema, and
had then come home via the newsagent, where each girl bought a
comic – no educational content, the only selection criterion being
the appeal of the free gift bagged up and taped to the front.

By the time they got
home to Jane’s and bathed, using the cola-scented liquid soap
Alasdair had picked up along the way, they were happy to be tucked
up under a blanket on the fold-out sofa that converted into a
double bed, propped up in front of a few cartoons before lights
out. They watched one more in the dark, by the end of which they
were both fast asleep.

Turning off the screen
and leaving the door ajar, Alasdair went into the kitchen, where
Jane sat, a large measure of something amber-coloured in a crystal
whisky glass in front of her.

“It’s okay, you know.
You can have a drink, I won’t tell. I just wasn’t sure if you’d
want one. I’m assuming this glowing complexion, picture-of-health
nonsense – and you really do look superb, Alasdair – I’m assuming
it comes at a cost?”

“You never were one to
mince words, young lady. Yes. Yes, you’re right, but the rewards
are worth it for a day like today. We are good, you know, aren’t
we? I mean with the girls?”

“Yes,” she said, her
face deadpan. “We would, I think, have made magnificent parents...
oh... wait a minute... Unless I’m mistaken, we already did.”

They laughed, and he
nodded towards the freshly opened bottle that stood on the ebony
kitchen surface. Jane poured him a stiff one and topped up her
own.

“It’s bloody hard,
isn’t it, this life business. Kept thinking it would get
easier...”

“We do okay,” she
smiled at him across the table. “So, seriously, let’s not pretend I
don’t know about the... various issues you’ve been having. What are
you doing, Alasdair? What’s going on in your life? You know I’m
here if you need me, right?”

“I know. I know,
lassie. It’s a lonely business, though, and I’m a stubborn old man.
I’ve got a handle on the drink… mostly… ach, as much as I can do
without giving in to all that AA preaching fervour. There has to be
a middle way...”

“This ‘old’ business
will have to stop for a start. If you’re old, I must be, and I was
reading just a few days ago how 60 is the new 40, which was
recently declared the new 30, although that seriously can’t be
true.

“You getting out much?
Keeping... how I hate this expression... yourself busy?”

“I’m busy enough. It’s
not that. Do you ever... are there things you find you regret? I
never did, but I find myself more and more raking over cold dead
coals. The chances I missed, the things I fucked up. And yet here I
stand, where many brave fellow travellers have fallen along the
wayside… you and me, Jane, we’re still standing.”

“Not merely standing,
but marching on. Drink to that?”

Their first toast, as
was by now a tradition, was to their children; granddaughters
followed; and then a drink to those who had fallen by the
wayside.

“That include exes?”
she asked.

“Let’s make this to
the ones we wish the best for. For me, I guess that’s Lexi. Tough
time they’re having over there. She needs all the luck we can send;
they both deserve it. The next one can be for the ones who passed
through causing more havoc.”

“To the
havoc-wreakers! That would – I’m guessing – mean Ella’s up there at
the top of the list for you?”

“You know...” Alasdair
paused.

“I know, I know...
she’s not for talking about. I just like to give you the chance,
just in case you’re ever ready to share. Oh, and of course, I’m
great when it comes to opening up old wounds. My husband used to
say I had a rare talent for it.”

“Ah, those
havoc-wreakers leave such delightful scars. No. It’s not that I
don’t trust you enough to share, Jane. More that I don’t trust
myself to talk about it, without raving off on some bitter rant.
It’s more than six months since I even heard from her, and three
years, more maybe, since she went back, and yet just thinking about
her, even hearing her name – it’s not got easier at all. At least
sometimes it feels that way.

“I fucked it all up,
pissed up and fucked up, and she didn’t care less. She ran away and
left me wallowing in a pool of my own shit. And that about sums us
up. Soulmates? Total car crash.”

“For what it’s worth,
I always quite liked her. I mean, I could see how you two clicked –
anyone could – but she was always going to go back to South Africa;
you must’ve known that. Her kids were grown up, for sure, but look
at us – we know more than anyone that four, 14 or 40, you still
want to give them as much as they’ll take of us in their lives. I
was surprised she stayed as long as she did. It’s a testament to
the strength of you two.

“Added to which – and
please don’t thwack me, but her dress sense was truly atrocious.
Very colonial in style. I mean, she was gorgeous, but I kept
wanting to give her a complete makeover. So she doesn’t keep in
touch?” Jane took the last gulp of her drink, gesturing to
Alasdair, with a shrug, that perhaps one more for the road was in
order.

It was.

“Not lately. And, ach,
honestly, there was no point. She wanted a nice, smooth, sorted-out
ending to something that left me in bits – bitter and in bits – and
it was never going to happen. The whole thing ripped the civilised
part of me into shreds and, though sober and straight I’d have the
strength to reply politely, in the wee hours it was hard, so hard
that I realised this glossy coating of civility was turning me into
a complete dick. I was continuing to damage us both. For what? For
the sake of her peace of mind that she had done the right thing at
every step of the way?

“This way, with no
contact at all, I remain the arsehole here and she gets to
baby-wipe the blood from her hands, go back home and live on like
none of it ever happened. That’s what they call closure, I
guess.”

“Ah, closure,” Jane
nodded at him with an exaggerated understanding. “I’ve always been
a fan of the voodoo-doll-and-pin approach myself. If it’s over,
there’s no need for anything but what feels right, and that
generally is a great big hunk of space, movies, some good books and
a few cocktail evenings with old friends. That said, I find
nowadays that if you avoid getting too close – no strings attached,
I believe they call it – a rejection doesn’t hurt anywhere near as
badly.”

“Which brings us to
the tall, laid-back American... Henry?”

“Frank, as I’ve no
doubt you well know.”

“Ah yes. Frank. Where
does he fit on that meandering path of yours? He’s still based in
London? Lyall says he’s been around longer than the others.”

“He has, he has. I
like him. He’s… he’s easy, I suppose, and for me right now, easy
works. Low maintenance. But I keep waiting for it to fuck out… for
me to stop fancying him… for him to not fancy me. For one of us to
want something more, and if that happens, hell, Alasdair, that’s it
for me. Jumping on to the celibate train, big time.

“Mmm, sorry… There are
not many people left I can talk to about sex at our age without
them shuddering.”

“You’re still the same
sexy woman you always were, and you know it,” he smiled. “Age
hang-ups? Yes, they’re there, but you’d be surprised, I think, if
you looked into the sordid male mind to find out how little most
things matter to them and how appealing the thought of a filthy
experienced mature woman appeals. We’re all boys at heart.”

“But not you. Never
you…” There was a pause, not awkward, just there, before she went
on. “What do you do, on lonely, lonely nights, Alasdair? Where do
you turn? Or has that button simply switched off in you, like it
seems, from so many of my friends’ accounts, to do in so many
men?”

And for a few moments,
Alasdair, who had never breathed a word of his online games to
anyone other than those with whom he played, was tempted to share:
to just blurt it all out and watch her reaction, to see what he
suspected would be her disbelief and disgust etched on that lovely
face. What would it feel like to share his reality with someone who
really mattered? It was tempting.

He had made it a
strict rule to protect the identity of any woman he met, and in the
past three years, there had been nine, all younger than him; he had
been meticulous in his discretion. He thought Sheila might have
suspected something on occasion, when he and one of his companions
had bumped into her on the way into his flat, but she had never
said a word. As a sheltered-accommodation manager, she too was
impeccably discreet, although she had been noticeably cooler to him
of late.

“A step too far?” Jane
asked, after his short pause. “You know I’d never judge. Erm, not
really in a position to, you might say.”

“Too far? You? Never.
You can ask anything and you know it. No. I’m happy with my own
company for now. Something more would be nice but… it would have,
like you say, to be easy, and let’s be honest here, I’m not an easy
man myself and they’re not exactly queuing up. I’m okay. I’ll be
okay. But for now, I think it’s time I dragged these sorry old
bones home. It’s late, I’m a wee bit tipsy, and the night air would
do me good.”

“I can’t offer you a
bed – the girls have taken that up – but I’m sure we could find a
small corner for you somewhere. God knows, you’re not a fussy man.
You sure about the walk?”

“Certain,” he nodded,
throwing down the last of his drink and placing the glass back on
the work surface.

He put on his jacket
and, giving her a tight hug goodnight, he walked the half hour
home. It was a dry, pleasant evening and his mind was clear,
despite the gentle kiss of the alcohol. He felt good, strong and
centred, and enjoyed the stroll.

It was pushing 1am
when he arrived back at the block, and he felt like a teenager
sneaking in after a late-night party. The place lay in total
silence.

Alasdair went into his
flat and straight to the kitchen, where he opened the cupboard
under the sink and felt around for the half bottle of emergency
Grouse he knew was there. The funny thing is, he thought, I don’t
even need it; but this realisation didn’t stop him as he unscrewed
the lid and retired to his lounge. It felt like an opportunity too
good to miss, as if the fact that he had already had a couple
obliged him to go the whole way; as if the glasses he had shared
with Jane, which had been perfect to lift his spirits on his walk
home, were somehow not enough to quench the real thirst he felt
deep inside, and he had to pour and pour and pour until the slight
haze became a fog into which he could fade into invisibility.