In The Name Of Love (2 page)

Judging it was now the right time he eased his chest back
over her supine body and brought his penis towards her waiting pussy. With one
hand he guided the tip between the flanges of her labia and then with one
strong move he thrust it deep into her waiting body.

"Ooh Grant, that feels fantastic," she breathed, reaching up
to stroke his face and pull his lips back onto hers. "Make sure you pull away,
darling, don't come inside – will you."

His reply was to kiss her hard on the lips and pump his hard
cock in and out of her vagina, now smooth from their juices and making passage
a sheer pleasure.

She sighed with pleasure and wrapped her arms around his body,
holding him close as their lower bodies moved in unison. The pace increased as
waves of desire swept through him, and despite wishing to hold back and let the
fucking continue for longer, he knew the decision was no longer his to make.

His cock was on a mission. He'd had no sex for weeks, as his
wife had banished him to the spare room, and he had a lot of dirty water to get
off his chest. Nothing could stop the urgent thrusting as the first burning pressures
of an orgasm started their inexorable journey from deep within his body.

He was thrashing about like a mad man, his cock ramming in
and out of her body like the piston on a steam engine until with an unstoppable
rush his orgasm shot through his loins down his long cock to end its journey
splashing on the walls of her vagina.

His spent body collapsed on hers for a second, but her
strong arms rolled him off as she screamed, "You sod, you've come, haven't you?"

Without waiting for an answer she slid off the bed, cupping
one hand between her legs to stop the semen from leaving tell-tale splashes,
and rushed from the bedroom. She shouted over her shoulder as she left the
room, "Just you wait ‘till I come back from the bathroom and you'll get more
than the length of my tongue!"

The moment the bathroom door slammed shut, Grant sprang into
action and dressed in record time. He crept passed the bathroom door and was
almost at the bottom of the stairs when he slipped and tumbled the final steps
on his bottom, making a loud clatter as his foot rattled the balustrade rails.

The bathroom door opened and a naked Janice stood at the top
of the stairs. She shouted down at him as he slipped on his shoes. "You bastard;
you rotten swine, how dare you? A two-minute fuck and leave all your rubbish
behind, then home to the wife and kids – I'll bet."

He didn't bother to reply. In any case, it was too near the
truth. The only thing she got wrong was the bit about kids. The car started
first time, for a change, and he reversed out the driveway and was down the
road faster than Stirling Moss at Le Mans.

There was no guilt on his mind as he made his way back
towards Leeds, just a smile of satisfaction at the pleasure he'd just enjoyed.

Fate, however, has a way of balancing the scales of justice.

Joyce Worthington pushed a stray curl beneath her feathered
green hat, which was purchased from John Lewis to match her green tweed suit. Expensive
clothes and accessories, and regular visits to the beauty salon enabled her to
look very much younger than her 47-years, despite her thickening figure. She
looked at the clock above the receptionist's desk once again, and checked the
time against the jewelled watch left to her by her mother.

"It's almost ten minutes past three; can you call Mr.
Worthington once more, please," she said in the tone she reserved for people
she considered beneath her social station.

The outer office door opened and Miss Bainbridge entered, looking
as gaunt as ever and giving Joyce just a cursory nod before sitting down in a
vacant chair on the other side of the room. She was followed by Cyril
Worthington, who managed to trip over his own feet as he approached his wife.

"Just look at you, Cyril, your suit is all crumpled and
please fasten your waistcoat buttons," Joyce whispered in a bossy tone.

Cyril ignored her comments as he sat his large, gangly frame
down, and looked across the room at the mature secretary snuggled behind her
enormous desk covered with mountainous piles of folders crammed with documents,
he said, "Is Graham ready for us yet, Betty?"

"I think he was just waiting for you to arrive," she said,
picking up her intercom phone and pressing a button. "Hello sir, they're all
here now." She put down the phone and forcing a smile said, "You may go in
now."

Joyce was fast on her feet, but Beryl Bainbridge was quicker
and pushed past her to enter the office first and take the seat by the side of
the Department Head's desk. Joyce ignored her smug smile and shook hands with
Graham Baines, before taking her seat alongside her husband.

"Thank you for coming along this afternoon, Mrs.
Worthington, but the matter is quite important," said Graham, giving both Cyril
and Joyce his most serious look. They'd had dinner together and then played
whist on many a Saturday evening, and were on first name terms. It was obvious to
Joyce that he was pained by the reason for this meeting.

She nodded to him, and thought it best to not respond, but
let him continue without interruption. The sooner it was over, the better for
all concerned.

Graham glanced at Beryl and then continued, "I'm afraid
there has been a further serious complaint against your behaviour in the
office, Cyril, and I have asked your wife to be present because of the nature
of the complaint."

"That sort of behaviour is just not good enough, especially
in a man of his age," said Beryl, with a loud sniff and an accusing toss of her
head.

Joyce looked studied Beryl closely before answering, hating
her skinny body, her tight-lipped mouth, and straggly mousy hair pulled into a
tight bun. "What does his age have to do with it?" said Joyce, glaring at her,
"Are you suggesting the behaviour you refer to will be more acceptable in a
younger man?"

"No, not at all…" said Beryl, stammering as she tried to
regain control.

"Ladies, please, let me continue," said Graham, looking pointedly
at Beryl.

"Well, the first thing I need to know is what the complaint
is all about," said Joyce, "Because if this is just another waste of time over
what somebody ‘imagined' they saw, like Miss Bainbridge's complaint last year,
I suggest…"

"Mrs. Worthington; please," said Graham, anxious to get the
meeting finished with as little fuss as possible.

Joyce sat back in her chair, and waited for him to continue.

"Thank you. A complaint has been made that your husband ran
his hand up the skirt of one of the young female assistants in his department
and fondled her bottom," said Graham without stopping for breath. He mopped his
brow with a handkerchief and waited for a comment, but none was forthcoming.

Nonplussed, he looked around at the three persons at his
desk, but when nobody volunteered to speak, he said, "Well, that's the serious
complaint."

Joyce stood up and said, "You must be joking, Graham. You
drag me halfway across town to listen to that rubbish—what a waste of time. Who
made the complaint?"

Graham looked straight at Beryl, who went red and managed to
say, "I made the complaint on the same day it happened, because it is terrible
behaviour."

"Yes, well you would say that, Beryl," and turning to Graham,
Joyce said, "What did the young person involved have to say about this matter?"

"Well, I haven't actually spoken to her directly, with her
being a woman, you understand. Beryl questioned her about it."

"That is just not good enough. Please have the young woman
attend this meeting, will you. If she wishes to accuse my husband, I want to
hear her say so to my face."

Graham turned to Beryl and said, "Miss Bainbridge, if you
would be so kind as to go and ask…"

"No Graham, that is not acceptable. I'm not having them
colluding before she attends. Ask your secretary to bring her to your office,
please."

"Yes, of course," he said, picking up his intercom phone.

"Are you suggesting that I…" Beryl started to say, standing
up to face Joyce.

"Not at all, Beryl, I am just being fair to my husband. You
have made the accusation, but we've not heard anything from the person you say
is the victim of my husband's behaviour."

"Ladies, sit down please, and let's sort this matter in an
amicable way."

"There is nothing amicable about a third party suggesting
Cyril is guilty of lewd behaviour," said Joyce, sitting down and folding her
arms while glaring at Beryl in an aggressive manner.

The door opened and the secretary announced, "Miss Mary
Hughes, sir." And a tall, graceful young teenager in a tight fitting blouse and
navy skirt entered the office, and stood before the desk.

"You wished to see me, sir?"

"Yes, Mary. It's a serious matter, and I wish you to be
frank with your replies to my questions. They are of a personal nature,
involving the people in this room, but I can assure you that nothing said here
today will ever be repeated outside of this room." He gave all present his most
serious look before continuing."

"Mary; has your manager, Mr. Cyril Worthington here, ever
behaved towards you in an improper manner?" he asked in a soft, but encouraging
voice.

"Oh no, sir, he's a fair manager," she said, turning to
smile at Cyril, who nodded back.

"But I saw him put his hand up your leg beneath your skirt,"
said Beryl, raising her voice and going red in her scrawny neck.

"Good Lord! Mr. Worthington would never behave like that,
miss."

"But you said…"

"That's enough Miss Bainbridge," said Graham, glaring at
her. Then turning to Mary Hughes again, he said, "You are sure that Cyril never
accosted you in a familiar manner."

"He's always been the proper gentleman, and it is a pleasure
working for him."

"Thank you Mary, it seems there has been a misunderstanding.
Please return to your desk, and remember, this meeting is in confidence."

"Of course, sir," she said, giving a little bob of her head
before leaving the room.

Graham stood up, pulling his jacket together over his
tight-fitting waistcoat and said, "The matter is now closed, once and for all.
I will have no more mention of it from anybody. I'm sorry you've all been
troubled to attend."

He held his hand out to Joyce, and shaking it he said,
"Thank you for attending, and being so understanding. Good afternoon."

Joyce and Cyril left Graham's office together, and she was
pleased to see Graham gesture to Miss Bainbridge to take her seat again. She
hoped the witch was in deep trouble, but she also knew there was no smoke
without fire. Cyril did have a tendency to fondle young women, and it was
getting worse. Next time, his assistant may not be as loyal as young Mary had
been this afternoon, and that would be the end of his career, and his pension.

She looked at Cyril and said, "I guess I'll see you when you
come home this evening."

"Yes, goodbye for now, and thanks for everything."

She watched as his ungainly body stumbled across the hall as
he fumbled his way into his office, wondering how on earth he'd got this far in
the Civil Service, even though he was brilliant at his job. She also wondered
if he had any idea of her own involvement in the matter just concluded.

The previous afternoon she took a phone call from Graham,
who outlined the complaint against her husband and asked her to attend the
meeting. When Cyril came home for dinner, she took up the matter with him.

"When do you plan on telling me why you fondled a young girl
in your office?"

Cyril put down the evening newspaper, dropping his reading
glasses on top, while he gathered his wits. "Oh, that's just a storm in a
teacup."

"It's a big enough storm for Graham to ask me to attend his
office tomorrow."

"Ah, the Witch of the North has been at it again."

"Look Cyril, I dislike that Beryl Bainbridge as much as you
and I realise that she is after your job and would do anything to get it. But
what I fail to understand is why you continue to give her the ammunition to
continue her attacks."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to, but it just seems to happen
without me realising it."

"That is not good enough. You have many years before
retirement, and without your pension, we're going to be in serious trouble.
Never mind all the publicity it will bring, if it ever gets into the
newspapers. And bloody Beryl Bainbridge would use all her influence as a town
councillor to see that it gets published, if she could."

"There's nothing to publish."

"What exactly did you do to the girl?"

He looked around the room as if for help, and shrugging his
shoulders he said, "I'm accused of putting my hand on her leg, or something."

"Well, aren't you sure?"

He just shrugged and looked anxiously at his newspaper, as
if wondering whether it was politic to continue reading. "I can't even remember
it, or if indeed it ever happened."

"Oh, it happened alright. Councillor Bainbridge won't risk
her reputation on a lie or a fabrication," said Joyce, shaking her head and
looking at her husband in dismay. She loved him as a companion, but they'd not
shared a bed for many years, since the still-birth of their son about ten years
ago, she guessed. She knew he was not chasing young girls for sex, because to
the best of her knowledge he was now all but impotent. Fondling young women had
just become a fetish of some kind since his loss of conjugal rights through
mutual agreement, and it seemed to be a kind of release for him.

Joyce knew it was time for her to act, and she said, "Give
me the young woman's name and address."

She guessed Cyril must have known this question was coming
some time that evening, because he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his
waistcoat pocket and passed it to his wife without a word or even a glance.