This is a continuation of my previous story âAnother Business Dinnerâ. Briefly, I had gone with my neighbour to a dinner organised by one of her clients. During the dinner, one of the directorâs wives had come on to me and, at the end of the evening passed me a slip of paper with her mobile phone number on it. I had returned with Mary, my neighbour, to our cottages in the country where we had made love.
Monday morning dawned and I looked out of my bedroom window, waving goodbye to Mary next door as she left for the airport and a hurriedly arranged trip to New York. She was to be gone for two weeks and our relationship which had turned sexual over the weekend would be put on ice. I watched the chauffer driven car disappear up the lane, before turning back and heading for the kitchen and some breakfast. My initial hunger satisfied, I picked up my mug of coffee and headed for my little home office and settled down at the keyboard. As the PC came to life and the screen flashed through the log-on screens, I noticed the piece of paper tucked under the phone.
âI hope you enjoyed this evening, I enjoyed your company,â it read âLetâs meet. Call me.â Teriâs mobile number was written across the bottom of the sheet. âHmmm, I wonder?â I thought and returned to the PC. I spent the rest of the day catching up on e-mails, paying bills and generally doing jobs around the house. After the weekend with Mary, I needed a quiet evening so, after a simple dinner, I grabbed a bottle of wine and settled into the reclining chair in my lounge to listen to some music. By 10 oâclock I was sound asleep.
At 8:30 the following morning I awoke, still in my chair, the sun streaming in through the windows. Rubbing my eyes, I went to the loo and then to the kitchen for something to eat. I smelled like a tramp, yesterdayâs clothes were still on me, now very crumpled from my night in the chair. I grabbed a second coffee and headed for the PC to check my e-mails before heading for the shower.
There was a message from Mary, confirming that she would not be returning until the end of the following week and saying how much she missed me already. I scanned the rest of the mail, answered two urgent ones and reached forward to shut the PC down. It was then that I noticed that piece of paper again.
I looked at my watch â 9:15. I reached for the phone and then paused. How could I be doing this or even thinking about it? Mary and I had enjoyed a wonderful weekend, full of love and passion. How could I even think about another sexual encounter so soon? Then the little devil voice in the back of my head took over âGo for it, this lady is a slut, not like Mary.â âMary is probably love, but this woman is offering you lust.â
The devil won and I picked up the phone and tapped out the 10 digits. After all, it may not be anything and I could always turn away or cry off. âHelloâ Teriâs voice sounded hesitant.
âHi. Itâs Bill. From Friday Nightâ
Without a moments hesitation she said âHello, I was hoping you would call. I half expected you to ring yesterday.â
âI was too busy with workâ I lied âbut I thought I would give you a call to say thank you for Fridayâs dinner.â I tried not to sound too eager, nor too cautious.
âWell Friday was fun for me too and you looked after me so wellâ, she replied âSo can we meet?â
âWell Yes,â I replied âI could come up to town any day this week.â
âOh sorry didnât I say in the note? Iâm at our country cottage until Thursday.â Her voice sounded light and happy. Happy that I would be accepting her invitation soon.
âOh thatâs a shameâ I said imagining somewhere miles away from me, âperhaps another time then?â Perhaps fate would ensure that I kept true to Mary?
âWell I donât think itâs far from you. Iâm in Bibury just west of Oxford. Donât you live somewhere in Buckinghamshire?â
The devil took over again âYes and I know Bibury. In the Cotswolds right?â
You could almost feel her excitement when she said âYes thatâs right. Could you come over today?â
Two hours later I was in my car, pulling off the Oxford by-pass heading west on the A40. Freshly showered and shaved, cologne sprayed on in all the right places and dressed in a golf shirt and my best Dockers. Meatloaf thumped out his top hits over the audio in my Audi. I could feel my pulse quicken as I drove, nearing Bibury and Teri. Why was I not just turning around and heading home? The devil inside found a convincing answer to each question!
Teriâs âcottageâ in the country turned out to be a rambling farmhouse down a quiet lane. A stone built structure which in daylight looked the very essence of a Cotswold farm. No doubt at night it would make a perfect set for a horror movie, of a home for my little devil.
My car turned into the circular drive at the front of the house, the tyres scrunching the gravel as I drew to a stop. As instructed, I walked around the side of the house to a smaller side door, no doubt once the servantsâ entrance. I pulled the large bell handle and heard a clang somewhere deep inside the house.
What seemed like a minute (but probably less than half that) passed before the heavy door opened.
âBill you found me alright then?â the question unnecessary as she stepped aside to let me enter. Teri was dressed in a big red bath robe, the collar of which was turned up and the neck pulled across. She looked as if she may have just left the shower, but the well groomed hair, the modest but immaculate make-up and the perfume gave a lie to that.
The door closed behind me and she came to my side.