Second Chances

Chapter 1 - Biting the Bullet

I can feel my head thudding with the beat of the music that seems too loud, too lively, just too everything. I look down at my feet, ensconced in shoes that are like the music, too much, too high, too bright, too sparkly and definitely too tight. My friends who insisted that this is just what I need and used lines like: 'Time to get back on the horse' and 'You just need to bite the bullet and do it' are with me, but are either already hooked up with men they've left at home or are clearly on the lookout for new meat and seem to be succeeding in their efforts. I question, for the umpteenth time what I'm doing here.

Maxine, my closest friend is now standing next to me and smiling. “How you doing?” she asks making me laugh.

“This is torture, Max. These places are more like cattle markets than I remember first time around.”

“You have been getting some seriously admiring glances, but I think your demeanour is putting them off. You look angry and scary.”

“Maybe I am angry and scary.”

“Come on. Trip to the ladies, a couple of cocktails to loosen you up and then we dance.”

“Dance? I can barely walk in these shoes.”

“Then you need more practice. I will not take no for an answer,” she tells me taking my hand to drag me off to the toilets that are quite plush and fortunately quiet.

Talking across neighbouring cubicles Maxine begins speaking again and confuses me until I realise she is now on the phone and talking to her husband, Regan.

“No, we haven't got any chocolate,” she tells him and then laughs a rude, intimate laugh. A private moment that makes me sad, sad for myself because I no longer have anyone to have a private, intimate moments with, haven't had for a long time, even before Miller and I separated. “Yeah well you just remember that babe and so long as you're getting up with the kids in the morning I shall be happy to oblige.” She giggles now.

I flush the toilet, readjust my clothing and exit the cubicle to wash my hands. I am still standing at the sink when my friend joins me, flushed and smiling.

“I don't want to know, don't tell me! I can't look at Regan if I have details of you and him.” I laugh. “And he is my boss, so, hell no.” We both laugh.

Maxine stands behind me and pulls my loose hair back into the nape of my neck.

“You're still the most beautiful girl I know,” she says making me smile as I recall all the times she's said this to me and I truly believe she believes it. “You are, look at you,” she implores, spinning me to check out my appearance in the full length mirror.

I am twenty nine years old and probably look a couple of years younger, I'm five feet four, petite, but have hips, a bottom and an ample chest, no boy like shape for me. I have curves and edges and I know I am considered attractive with hazel eyes, gold, green and brown in equal measures that seem to highlight my freckled complexion, just a few, a splattering my mother calls it. Maxine is still holding my hair back, like a pigtail in her hand, my unspectacular hair, mid brown, nothing out of the ordinary, although the few grey hairs that have appeared recently are being masked by the lowlights I have in, copper, dark blonde and light brown streaks hiding the signs of ageing and stress.

“Beautiful.” Maxine releases my hair as she traces her fingers down my face, her touch totally non-s****l. She skims across my naturally high cheek bones, down to my neck and shoulders that are barely covered by the overpriced dress I've invested in for tonight. Then she runs her hands down the sides of my body, over my hips and then with a smirk gestures along the length of my legs to my shoes, what she calls 'f**k me' heels.

I try to see what she sees and I know I’m an attractive woman, standing there in a dress of greys, purples, blues and white. It cost almost £140 and if I’m honest I am still reeling from that knowledge and considering whether I can return it for a full refund next week. The assistant who sold it to me told me that it could have been made to measure, but then I guess she works on commission. However, it is a nice dress; it has a skater style skirt, but the top has the cut of a swimming costume, exposing my arms and shoulders, almost as far as my shoulder blades, but not quite. I have noticed tonight that the younger women, girls seem to favour dresses and skirts that barely cover their arses, but not me, my dress finishes mid-thigh and as I don't have the longest of legs it suits me, as do the metallic silver high-heeled court shoes, that are going to cripple me before the night's out I'm sure.

My legs are bare, with the last of my tan holding on for dear life. I have been considering a spray tan, but am scared of leaving the salon orange. The bound, crew neckline of my dress allowed me to avoid further decisions about a necklace tonight, I don't really do accessories. They confuse me. I don't know what goes with what, so try and avoid them if I can. My wedding ring was my sole accessory for a long time, but not anymore. I smile at my reflection, and my friend's, whose hand is resting on my nipped in waist and I wonder if it is time to get back on the horse or bite the bullet, but the truth is I am scared to try and have no idea if I even know how to do this, again.

“Come on.” I smile. “I believe there was an offer of cocktails and dancing.”

I am just polishing off the remnants of my first cocktail, complete with umbrella and cherry when the sounds of The Vengaboys singing about going to Ibiza reach my ears. Maxine and I giggle and cheer as we head for the dance floor remembering this song being the soundtrack to summer 1998. Maxine and I shared our first holiday that year, a week with her parents in Skegness. We danced to that song every night in the clubhouse of the caravan site where we stayed and planned our girly holidays of the future and what holidays we had, starting three years later with seven nights in Ibiza, inspired by the song we’re now dancing to. We stayed in a very basic hotel on a bed and breakfast basis but rarely made breakfast due to still being asleep, always alone on that first holiday. Boys scared me then, still do, except the boys are now men and they scare me even more.

As our dance moves get bigger and wilder I become oblivious to anyone else around me which results in me hitting someone. I turn to see my unintended victim and find myself looking up into big green eyes. Soft, warm and friendly eyes belonging to a man. A tall man, at least six feet, with broad shoulders and a full head of dark brown hair, ruffled and waxed in a pushed back style. He smiles and I swear I am dazzled by his teeth and his mouth, a soft, pliable looking mouth that I believe was made for kissing, for sin. He's wearing dark jeans and a white shirt, open at the neck with, oh, a wet patch where the drink he was carrying from the bar now adorns his shirt, courtesy of my dancing.

“I am so sorry,” I say, hoping his smile remains in place.

“No problem.” he grins. “You were very, erm, involved.”

“If by involved you mean flailing like a windmill in a storm,” I say and find myself smiling up at him.

He laughs now, a deep and rich sound that makes me literally catch my breath.

“Can I replenish your drink?” I suddenly notice Maxine and the other girls watching me and grinning, some of them giving me winks and thumbs up as encouragement, but for what, I dread to think.

“If you're sure you've finished your dance I'll buy you a drink,” he offers smiling again.

I feel out of my depth as he places his hand in the small of my back to lead me towards the bar. I can feel the heat of his skin burning into mine as he gently guides me forward. My skin is tingling and coming up in goose bumps, which excites and scares me in equal parts. Maybe this is normal when faced with an attractive man after so long attached and then alone. I find myself being led into a corner of the bar where there are two stools available. I take the one closest to the corner and my new friend takes the stool next to me and summons the barman.

“What will you have?”

“I should really be getting you one.”

“Now let's not argue over our first drink. Save it for the next, something to look forward to.” He grins as he orders himself a mineral water and looks back at me for my required drink.

“Erm, could I have a cocktail?” I ask knowing they're a little pricey and remembering that Miller would have said 'just the one and make it last' or if I'd said I think I'll have a cocktail he would have checked the price and said, 'well think again'.

“Fill your boots,” my friend encourages. “Not literally though, your shoes are very pretty, too pretty to drink from.”

I blush as I watch him gazing from my eyes, down the full length of my body before resting on my 'f**k me' heels for a little too long before returning his eyes to mine.

“I'd like s*x on the beach,” I say and immediately hear how the words sound out loud and blush further as both the barman and my companion grin at me. “The cocktail, a drink, just a drink.” I clarify my meaning and am grateful when my glass arrives and I can hide behind it a little.

I remember on that first girly holiday in the sun I had a dream. A fantasy involving me and a tall, dark handsome man strolling along the beach hand in hand, then kissing beneath the moonlight and finally we're lying together on the sand, rolling around in the swell of the waves as they crash around us, like the scene from a movie, From Here To Eternity. I smile at the idea of it, all romantic and soft focus.

I'm unsure how long we sit there before he eventually asks, “So, do you come here often?”

We both laugh at his question and how lame it sounds.

“No. The last time I was in here it was two names ago and I was with my husband on a combined hen and stag do.”

“You're married?” He looks at my bare ring finger and I shake my head.

“Divorced.”

“Ah, snap, over a year ago,” he tells me and I feel butterflies in my tummy at the idea of him being available,

“Three months for me, although we separated a year ago.”

“A mere babe in the world of divorcees.” He smiles again, almost reassuring me. “Do you have children?” Before I answer he suddenly shakes his head. “Sorry, we haven't even exchanged names, I'm Aiden.” He offers me his hand that I accept and reciprocate.

“Eleanor, Ella, pleased to meet you, Aiden.” I grin and realise I’m still holding Aiden's hand in mine and it's burning, good burning.

“So, Ella, do you have children?”

“No, we, erm couldn't, not together,” I stammer confusing him judging by his face.

“We tried for a few years and had all the tests and two cycles of IVF but still no baby so the doctors reckon that Miller and I just weren't compatible,” I divulge and wonder why within minutes of meeting this man I'm opening up to him. “How about you?” I ask making him frown. “Children?”

“Ah, yes, three. Boys aged seven and two and a five year old daughter in the middle.”

“Wow,” I say unsure how I feel to be drinking with someone's dad, three someone's dad.

“Miller?” Aiden suddenly asks as he orders another drink for me. “Was that his surname, a nickname?”

I laugh and think that nobody has ever been so open in their distaste and confusion over Miller's name.

He's staring at me now, making me feel hot and overexposed. “You have a very beautiful laugh.” I blush again. “Was that line as bad as it sounded?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I acknowledge.

“I'm stuffed then because not only am I out of practice but it wasn't a line, I meant it.”

I blush deeper and think I must be the colour of a beetroot by now.

“So your husband's ridiculous name?” He turns his and my own attention from me.

“It's his real name, first name. His mother's maiden name was Miller and she wanted her children to have something from her so Miller got Miller. My dad always joked that it was fortunate my mother didn't do the same or I would have been Onion Statham.” I laugh again and remember what he'd said about my laugh which causes further blushing from me.

His eyes watch me carefully as I laugh and subsequently flush and I truly believe his earlier comment, he does find my laugh attractive, his eyes confirm it.

“Onion, really?” he asks, mouth agape.

“Oh yeah,” I confirm accepting a second s*x on the beach. “Who are you here with?” I ask, suddenly thinking there could be a date in here somewhere.

“Stag night, my brother's,” he grimaces.

“A stag night on water?”

“For me, yes. It's my weekend with the kids and I will need a clear head to endure swimming, a picnic in the park and a trip to the cinema.”

“Ah,” I say as if I understand, which I don't, not really. I can only imagine.

My friends suddenly appear and begin to make gestures and lewd comments behind Aiden making me laugh until he turns and one of my colleagues, Gail, is mimicking fellatio with a packet of mints she's just pulled from her handbag.

Aiden laughs at her before turning back to me. “Hen night?”

“No.” I shake my head, “Just slutty friends.”

They all laugh at me except for Maxine who moves to stand between us and introduces herself. “Hi, Maxine, the non slutty one. I'm Ella's best friend, married, upstanding pillar of society and you are?” she asks, sounding quite threatening suddenly.

“Aiden, divorcee and a genuinely nice man, pleased to meet you,” he says with a smile as if understanding Maxine's unsaid threat.

The girls all get fresh drinks as a soft tune sounds out, gentle music, romantic even.

“Come on,” says Aiden. “Let's dance.”

I place my almost empty glass down on the bar and with my hand wrapped tightly in his I follow him to the dance floor where he pulls me close and holds me against him firmly. Neither of us speak, we just move to the music, some remix of Justin Timberlake doing Sexy Back, but a really chilled version, like the original on dope. I find Aiden's head resting down against mine as his arms wrap more tightly around me pulling me flat against his firm body and I have to admit I like the feel of it. My skin is tingling and prickling where his body touches mine and I can't help but wonder how it would feel to have his naked body pressed against me. I pull back slightly as the shock of that thought registers in my mind; this man is a stranger, a very handsome and sexy stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. I try, and struggle to remember the last time I felt this way and I just know it was a very, very long time ago. Sensing the tension rising in me Aiden pulls me back to him and leans in to rest his lips against my ear.

“Ssh,” he soothes. “Feel the music, let it make you loosen up. Think windmill, be the windmill,” he teases and despite my earlier unease I immediately relax in my laughter. “Oh yeah, a very beautiful laugh, Ella.”

As the song ends it blends into a louder, booming tune and Aiden frowns as I grimace.

“Have you had enough of this place yet?” he asks and I immediately, without hesitation nod my confirmation. “Let me find my fellow stags and let them know I'm done. I'll meet you by the entrance in five minutes, okay?”

I'm still nodding as I find Maxine and the other girls dancing on the far side of the floor. Some with strange men I don't recognise, but who am I to judge?

“I'm going,” I tell Maxine, “With Aiden, it's a bit too loud to talk and listen here.”

“Shall I come with you?”

“No need, he's just telling his friends that he's leaving.” I follow Maxine's eyes until she finds Aiden standing with a group of men who seem to be making similar gestures and suggestions as my own friends had earlier. Leaning in my friend pulls me close and kisses me.

“I love you, but be careful. I don't want you falling off the horse. But he is very easy on the eye. Text me when you get home, let me know you're safe,” she says like a concerned parent.

“I will, and I love you too.” I give her a final kiss and a hug before making my way to the exit where Aiden is waiting.

He takes my hand again to guide me out onto the busy street.

“What do you want to do? Eat, drink, dance?”

“I don't really know.” I realise I’m likely to flounder now. “We could have stayed in there for dancing or drinking and I can't say I'm hungry.”

“How about a walk?” he asks and as we both gaze down at my shoes we both laugh. “Or not. I'd invite you back to mine, but I don't know how you'd feel about that.” He briefly sounds unsure for the first time.

“Or you could come back to mine, it's not that far. We could grab a cab.” I wonder what Maxine would say if she could hear me now.

“If you're sure. I don't want you to feel pressured.”

I smile as I think he sounds entirely sincere. “I can offer coffee, music and somewhere we can talk and hear each other over the music.”

“Sounds perfect. My car is around the corner.”

“What are we waiting for then?” I ask and allow him to lead me to the nearby multi-storey car park.

Twenty minutes later and with my directions Aiden is pulling onto my estate and with the final couple of instructions he's parking his Range Rover behind my more modest hatchback. I'm fishing my keys out of my bag as he follows me up the path and once inside I disarm my house alarm and reach down to stroke Issie, my black and white cat. She jumps up into my touch and winds around my legs before she turns her attention to Aiden.

“Hello kitty.” He bends to pet her before she decides she's had enough of us both and takes herself off upstairs.

“Tea? Coffee?” I ask throwing my bag down onto the table and continuing through to the kitchen.

“Coffee please.” He follows me until I’m cornered in the kitchen, against the cupboards and sink. “I would really, really like to kiss you,” he announces and although startled I know I want that too.

“I’m really out of touch with this, Aiden.” Somehow it sounds like a huge confession I’m making but I need to clarify this in case there’s any confusion in Aiden's mind.

“Then let me help you, although I may be a little rusty myself.” He grins as he takes the final step that closes the space between us.

He looks down at me briefly before allowing his smile to dazzle me again and then his hands are reaching up, into my hair, stroking my scalp. He tilts my head sideways and up then lowers his lips to mine. His full, soft, pink lips move across mine, then his tongue brushes across my lips and that's enough for me to part them and open my mouth in invitation. An invitation Aiden understands and accepts. I'm breathless as his tongue licks across my tongue that he does battle with. I don't realise that I’m wrapping my arms around him until my fingers are linking together after running through his hair. Eventually, after the kettle has boiled Aiden breaks our kiss and smiles down at me.

“That didn't feel out of touch,” he tells me in reassurance.

“Thanks.” Nerves are beginning to kick in again now as I wonder what to say or do. “What do you do, for a job, work?” I stammer.

“I run a property business, buying, leasing, renovation and development.” He looks embarrassed by it almost.

“Is that a bad thing?” I’m definitely confused now.

“No, just a bit lame and poncy when you say it out loud,” he admits honestly. “So, what do you do, Ella? Is Ella your real name, full name?” he asks suddenly, making me smile.

”I'm a teacher and my full name is Eleanor.”

“A teacher? I think I prefer you as an Eleanor.”

I raise an eyebrow thinking I’ve never really liked my full name, but I like that he likes it. As I gaze up at him and see something of a mischievous glint in his eye and suddenly imagine spending a night with him. With that in my mind all I can think about now is how we would fill the night. I think about having him in my mouth and his mouth bringing me to pleasure. I flush as heat and moisture warm my body and I know he's noticed. How could he not?

This atmosphere between us is thickening and sensing this and maybe sensing my rising confusion and apprehension he refocuses on the safe subject of my career. “I can see you in a classroom of screaming kids, learning times tables,” he smiles.

“Ah, then you'd be disappointed. I teach English, at secondary, so I have sulky teenagers rather than screaming seven year olds.”

“Really? Big kids?” he queries and sounds shocked. “I bet most of them are bigger than you. Don't you find it a bit intimidating? I don't know how you do it.” He frowns. “I think I'd end up hitting them.”

“Some do push your buttons and a lot of them tower over me, but I’m no pushover. The worst part is that a lot of the angrier ones don't want to do English, especially if they struggle with it, but it's a compulsory subject so we're stuck together whether we like it or not. So I try to make it accessible and enjoyable, even the boring bits, but I like the maturity and independence of older children rather than little ones.”

Aiden is staring at me, a little darkly. “Is it wrong that I’m jealous of your pupils? That during their adolescent years they get to watch you at the front of the classroom and when they shut themselves away in their rooms they have thoughts of you to keep them company.”

I shake my head slightly disbelievingly.

“What? You have to know that teachers don't typically look like you, well they never did when I was at school.”

I'm embarrassed again now, thinking of the inferences he's made, so with another blush I hand Aiden his coffee.

“Shall we?” I gesture towards the lounge.

We drink coffee and talk, curled up together on the sofa, we kiss, lots and lots until I am almost giddy with the sensations it brings out in me, sensations I had almost forgotten; my skin is on fire, I'm on fire, inside and out. I genuinely feel euphoric and know I keep grinning inanely and yet I don't care. His touch and his gaze scorch me, sear through me. Somehow Aiden is under my skin, my skin that now feels ridiculously tight. So far all we have done is kiss and hold each other, but I want more. I want Aiden to touch me. I'm not sure that I even remember how this works, but I want the sudden realisation that he has breached my clothes and discover his hands brushing across my body, my neck, shoulders, midriff, legs, behind, back, my breasts and my s*x. I am wondering how I can encourage this, facilitate it even when he pulls back from another kiss and looks at the large clock on my wall that tells us both that it's almost three in the morning.

“Bloody hell! Time flies when you're having fun.” He kisses me again. “I really have to go, Ella. I’ll be en route to the swimming pool in six hours,” he says with a frown that makes me laugh.

“I'm glad you've had fun and I'm sorry the fun has to end. It does have to end, does it?” I wonder how desperate I must sound.

“For tonight.” He reaches for a notepad and jots down his number. “I don't want to rush you or come on too strong, so call me when you're ready.”

I'm tempted to ring him right away because I’m more than ready, me and my body, but I don't call him. Instead, I kiss him again then escort him to the front door where we kiss again. I feel like doing a funny little dance when I eventually close the door, but I don't. I text Maxine, again, having already sent her 'I am home safe, with Aiden' I now send an 'I am still home and safe and Aiden has left'. She replies with a smiley winking face that also makes me giggle. I am high on life tonight, I am high on Aiden.

After locking my house I go upstairs and brush my teeth whilst grinning which does complicate teeth brushing and once in bed I text Aiden.

His reply is instantaneous and I smile, again.

I giggle and bounce beneath the covers of my bed because I am happy, excited and not lonely for the first time in forever as I go to sleep with Issie at my feet.