A Chronicle of Intimacies

CHAPTER TWO - MAY, 1991-1

CHAPTER TWO - MAY, 1991

I was like a small boy looking forward to Christmas. My secretary, Kate knew of our date and commented on my new-found happiness. Those two weeks, those fourteen days seemed to pass ever so slowly. When that long-awaited Saturday finally arrived, I decided to dress casually, though, hopefully still looking reasonably smart. On our first two dates, I had worn a suit and tie, but felt that, for this day, beige slacks, white trainers, white sports shirt and casual jacket would be more appropriate. I put plenty of my Chanel after‑shave on, combed my hair into what would, hopefully, look reasonable for a man in his forties.

As I walked along the platform after alighting from the train at Chester, Carol saw me, walked up and gave me a big hug and kiss. I was pleased that she did not mind showing her affection in public, since the inhibitions of my earlier life had now disappeared. We walked out of the station hand in hand and headed for Carol’s car. Once in the car, we kissed and cuddled before driving to another part of the city. Carol knew of a car park close to the city wall, where we could leave the car for a few hours. Once there, we walked around the wall, for most of the time holding hands, and talked of our past lives.

Carol had been divorced for a few years after an affair with a married man. This disclosure immediately raised many questions in my mind, which I dare not ask. What had become of this other man and what were Carol’s feelings for him now? If she had chosen to answer my questions, I probably would not have liked the answers she may have given. I did know that, although this other man might still be in the background somewhere, it would not affect my feelings for Carol, nor must it spoil our enjoyment of each other. After all, if she had any strong attachment to this man, then she would not have joined an introduction agency and accepted my date.

I told her of my own marriage, of how my wife and I had simply drifted apart over the years and how this resulted in our separation and subsequent divorce. I found something very comforting about Carol’s company and it was not just s****l anticipation.

Although Carol knew the area well, she was not aware of the Water Tower, which was obviously intended as a tourist attraction. We went up the few steps into the reception area where, after paying our entrance fee, we were each handed a small, electronic receiver which was designed to hang around our necks. The first room we entered was darkened and, through lenses mounted in the roof of the tower, an image of the surrounding area was projected on to a horizontal white board in the centre of the room. After looking at this for a few minutes, I pulled Carol close to me and gave her a deep, passionate kiss. I imagined us making love in that strange room, but knew it was not a practical idea. This was proven as we separated on hearing someone else climbing the stairs.

We then walked down some more steps to a circular room with several alcoves around its perimeter. Through small earphones attached to our receivers, we were able to hear a different, dramatised commentary in each alcove. We both agreed that it had been very cleverly designed and sat in every alcove, holding each other close while we listened to this potted history of Chester. The next stop after the water tower was a bar, near to the river, where Carol had an extra dry Martini and I had a whisky and soda. The bar was not very pleasant and the service was slow, but at least it provided us with some refreshment on a warm, May day.

Eventually, we reached the end of our journey around the wall and headed back towards Carol’s car. She drove to a car park near to the theatre and, from there we walked to a small restaurant off the first floor walk‑way so typical of Chester. This was where I had to admit to Carol that my eyesight was not good enough to read the menu. I felt so useless at having to ask my partner to read to me. She did not seem to mind, but I knew that this would trigger off many questions about the extent of my vision.

Carol had asked if I would sit opposite her at the table, rather than by her side and, after a while, she asked, “Can you see me clearly, darling?”

“Yes, I can see you quite well, because the lighting in here is fairly good, but there are so many factors which determine how well I see, that it is difficult to explain.” I knew that this was not a completely satisfactory answer, but found great difficulty in comparing vision with anyone else, since my eyesight had never been good. From birth, I never had any vision in my right eye and that of my left had deteriorated gradually over the years through a condition known as retinitis pigmentosa. In everybody’s eyes, there are millions of light sensitive cells on the retina. In a person with normal eyesight, these cells are constantly dying off and being regenerated, but, in my case, no new cells are being created. This results in a gradual blurring of vision as more ‘dead spots’ appear on the retina.

I knew this could eventually lead to total blindness, but also knew there was no point in dwelling on this probability. It was far preferable, I felt, to get on with life and not to let it spoil my enjoyment of the world and everything in it. I had to accept that this unwanted inheritance would make me less attractive to women and, since I was certainly not handsome, my chances of attracting anyone were extremely remote.

This made it all the more incredible that I was now with a woman who obviously had fairly strong feelings for me. Equally, my feelings for her were already very strong and I found her warm, attractive, good company and very desirable. As she smiled at me across the table, I felt such a thrill and thanked God that fate had brought us together.

In making our choice from the menu, we each chose a different starter, allowing us to share them. We sat at that table happily feeding each other, completely oblivious to anyone else in the restaurant. Carol kept me sexually aroused for the whole of the meal, by stroking her bare toes up and down my legs. This simple action meant so much to me that I felt quite overcome with emotion. As with the first course, we chose different sweets with the intention of again sharing them. When the waitress brought them, she asked who was having which sweet. Carol and I looked at each other with a questioning smile.

The waitress understood our looks and said with a knowing smile, “Ah, you’re sharing them, are you? We nodded in acknowledgement just as if we were two, small children and once again, spoon‑fed each other. It would have been very obvious to anyone watching us that we were lovers, but neither of us felt the slightest inhibitions.

We had taken our time over the meal, so that we could walk straight from the restaurant to the theatre in good time for the start of the performance. On this occasion, Carol had chosen the theatre and booked tickets. The small theatre was quite full for the play about an Italian couple whose marriage was destroyed when the husband had an affair. Carol commented that the theme was a bit too near the truth for comfort, but I restrained myself from asking any probing questions. Although I was curious about her relationships, I was determined that I would let Carol tell me what she wanted and in her own time.

We did follow the play, but derived more pleasure from each other’s company. We held each other close, petted and enjoyed the occasional passionate kiss. The fact that the people around us could see our obvious displays of affection for each other did not bother us at all.

After the show, we walked around Chester for just a little while and then returned to Carol’s car. It was ten‑thirty and Carol had booked a taxi for eleven o’clock, to take me home. We decided to take advantage of the remaining time to enjoy each other within Carol’s car. Since we were in a car park in the centre of Chester, there was a limit to what we could get up to without being observed, but, short of actual intercourse, we took full advantage of the time available to us. Carol had very sensitive breasts and derived great enjoyment, as indeed I did, from holding each other close, bare breasts to bare breasts. As I fondled her, she sighed with erotic pleasure and said, “Oh, darling, I want you to do that all night. As soon as we can have the whole night together, please do that for me.”

These words were both surprising and magical to my ears. The thought of spending the whole night with Carol increased my excitement and I replied, “I will, my darling, I will.” The experience of being so intimate in a car and, in what really was a public place, was yet another first for me. As a middle‑aged man, as I had to admit I was, I was now experiencing what most teenagers took for granted, many of them going the whole way within their car. I still had difficulty in believing that this was really happening to me. It must be a beautiful dream from which I had yet to wake up at some stage and, yet, everything was so real. The warmth of Carol’s slender body, her deep, intense kisses, the darkness of the night, the sound of people walking nearby was all too realistic to be just a dream.

That thirty minutes passed far too quickly and, when my taxi arrived, we gave one last, lingering kiss and then parted company. On the journey home, I ran through all the events of that day over and over in my mind. I knew that my feelings for Carol were getting stronger with each meeting, each kiss and each touch. Was it s****l or something much deeper? I had not set out to fall in love and certainly never expected to fall so quickly. Everything about Carol felt so right. She was slim, petite, intelligent, very warm hearted and had many interests in common with me. I realised that it must be love when I found that she was constantly in my thoughts from awakening in the morning until falling asleep last thing at night. I looked forward even to the sound of her voice on the telephone. It had such warmth and sincerity that I could never tire of hearing her voice.

Before I met Carol, I had booked to go to Paris for a short holiday and now wished I had not. I asked Carol if she would be able to go with me, but I knew what the answer would be.

“I can’t, love. There’s no way I can leave the children ‑ not for that length of time.”

Occasionally, the children did stay with Carol’s ex‑husband, Alan, but that was usually for only one night. “You go on your holiday, darling, and we’ll see each other soon after you get back.”

The following Friday, I took a taxi to Manchester Airport and made my way to the information desk. Since I was now unable to read signs and notices, I had discovered that the best way to enjoy a holiday, was to inform the airport of the potential difficulties and they would provide assistance. I hated drawing attention to myself and my visual impairment, but, if it was done with a little sensitivity, a personal courier through the airports was, by far, the best solution. This type of assistance did not mean that security was relaxed and I was thoroughly frisked as I was passing through the area where hand luggage is checked. I did not mind this, since they had taken my word for it that I had anything wrong with my eyes. My escort, a pretty young woman, chatted quite happily as we went through the airport and she did not leave me until I was safely in my seat on the DC‑10. Throughout the short, uneventful flight, the stewardesses were attentive and helpful. I did realise that, if Carol had gone with me, none of this special treatment would have been provided, but I would have forsaken it all for the chance to be with her. I knew that a few, romantic days in Paris with Carol would have been perfect, but this was not to be possible.