Greg Martin walked out onto the gravel drive and turned to look at the house, this 'mini-mansion' as Tania had called it at the outset. Within eighteen months she was talking about it being too small.
Greg shook his head now as he viewed the imposing frontage with the pillars supporting the arch over the large front door. Four large bedrooms, plus a spare room which had briefly been his workplace, a vast sitting room, a lounge with a 48 inch television on one wall, a dining room, a spacious conservatory that overlooked a wide lawn and neatly laid out rear garden.
And it was too small, for just the pair of them?
Greg had always found it difficult to keep up with Tania's tastes in general, and her whims in particular, which took into account her wild sexual demands. He had, over the past year, wondered whether he would have physically survived her libido beyond the two years they'd been together.
Looking up above the doorway arch, Greg regarded the large decorative window, which was at one end of the upstairs corridor, and he recalled the day he had returned from a trip promoting his book. Stepping out of the car, he had glanced up at that window and had found himself gazing at Tania's voluptuous naked body, legs wide, arms spread, red hair flaring, as she pressed her fiery bush against the glass, and smiled that constantly provocative smile at him.
Greg had known that within minutes his rising erection would be poking into that bush, trying desperately to quench the fire that was always aflame there. Tania was constantly ready for it. There was not one room in the whole house where they had not carried out some sexual activity, nearly always at her instigation. Blowjobs in the bath, anal in the annexe, cunnilingus in the conservatory, and screwing just anywhere, including on the lawn, they were all fairly standard, and interchangeable.
Ten months alone in the house had been time enough for Greg's anger to subside, as he had advised himself that he might have recognised that Tania could never be fully satisfied. Her final betrayal should have been no surprise, but it had left him with a sense of inadequacy which had somehow been eased when friends told him about her activities during one of his book promotion tours.
Looking up at the building which, at Tania's instigation, he had purchased on the strength of the success of his second book, Greg knew that he was now doing the right thing. How he had managed to survive these past months within its walls he'd never know. He was now awaiting a visit from the estate agents Manners and Garrett, to both consider the value of this house and to secure himself a residence that would most fit his needs.
Julie Simmons first sight of the house had her nodding appreciatively. She turned to Victor Manners, who had slowed the car, "This looks fairly special," she observed, and the older man's wrinkled face regarded her with a kindly smile.
"I thought you'd appreciate the chance to market a more up-grade property," he told her. After a few years with several agencies, Julie had been overjoyed to be appointed junior partner of this well established firm just three months ago.
Up until then it had felt that she had hit a dead-end. Life seemed to crush in upon her. The divorce eighteen months ago had been bitter and cruel. In spite of the obvious evidence of his frequent infidelities, Mike had contested the case with such blatant lies about her conduct that in the end, although granted the divorce, he had kept the house, and had to make very little financial reparation to her.
Being with a smaller estate agent she had managed to secure herself a tidy enough place, which was far removed from the comfortable three bed roomed house she had shared with Mike. Anyway, the whole affair had left her with the belief that 'all men are bastards.' Fortunately she had a couple of friends, both divorced, who agreed with her assessment.
The recent past, working with Vincent Manners and Clive Garrett, both in their early sixties, had been a pure joy compared with what had gone before. They had allowed her to ease herself gradually into the business, and this visit was another forward step in her progress.
"The gates are remote controlled," Victor commented as gravel crunched under their wheels. "Mr Martin agreed to leave them open especially for us. I believe that could be him standing outside."
"It's quite an imposing frontage," Julie said enthusiastically, "I like the front door and that large window over the top of it. I wonder why he wants to sell."
"For something bigger hopefully," Victor said, with a smiling sideways glance at her. "He's an author, you know. Greg Martin, heard of him?"
Julie shook her head, although somewhere in the back of her mind was the sense that she had maybe heard or read the name before. As Victor brought the car to a halt in front of the house, their client, Greg Martin, walked towards them, a warm smile on his face, which was quite handsome under a tumble of dark hair. He was fairly tall and looked quite well trimmed in a blue shirt and navy pants. There was only one fault—he was a man.
As they climbed out of the car, Greg Martin held out his hand to Victor, and said, "Good of you to come so quickly."
Victor chuckled, "Where business is concerned I'm very quick."
As Julie made her way around the car, he said, "May I introduce Julie Simmons, a new junior partner."
As she held out her hand, Julie sensed a momentary hesitation on Greg Martin's face. His eyes appeared to take in more than just her face. She didn't like that. Was that the look of a wolf? Then his hand held hers briefly in a handshake that at least did not try to impress with its grip.
"I'm looking forward to seeing inside the property," she said, wishing to appear friendly. "It is very impressive from here."
For Greg something else was impressive from his standpoint. In recent months, as he worked on his next novel, he had paid little attention to good looking women. He had no wish to be attracted. Just getting over Tania's perfidiousness had been task enough.
However, this Julie Simmons, had set something ticking inside him, like some long unwound clock. Under a flow of tawny hair, her rounded face had a glow and spark about it that suggested a lively spirit. Green eyes, allied to that tawny hair, wasn't that cat-like? Her figure, trim in a navy skirt and waistcoat style jacket, open to reveal a white blouse, gently raised by the subtle push of neat breasts.
Did he really take all that in with one first glance? What was going on here? Could he put it down to his long period of celibacy? Not really, hadn't he put his lack of response to other women down to a form of recovery from Tania's wild sexuality? So, why this reaction to an estate agent called Julie Simmons?
