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Roddy suggested various upgrades for the computer as a Big Present, but I think he had half an eye on his own interests. I made an executive decision and rejected the suggestion from the most junior and most avaricious member of the family.
Phil has no creative hobbies because he is singularly useless at anything that requires manual dexterity or skill.
He’s tried everything from home-brewing to classical guitar and the wreckage still litters our garage, so there is no help to be had there.
A Small Party poses other problems. Phil’s pals and my friends don’t mix together too well, though the Kate/Al scenario might be worth watching. But if I just invite Phil’s chums it will inevitably end up as a drunken debauch, with Roddy and I consigned to the sidelines.
I know it’s Phil’s day, but this is not my idea of a nice family party, where good food and moderate drink is taken in a civilised atmosphere. Last year’s Birthday Barbecue typhoon puts me off that idea, there were hailstones bigger than the burgers.
So back to the Big Present.
Roddy suggests a camcorder, but Phil’s never expressed an interest, though he might now with our increased bedroom activities.
Something to be thought about.
I close the meeting with the decision that we have one week to make a decision, and Roddy gratefully escapes to play football. He’ll never make a good committee-man.
Phil/Friday, 23rd June
Oh shit, all hell has broken loose. MacDonald has been fired by Big Phil and my name’s been dragged into the mess. Seems I’ve been kept out of the loop about what was going on because I defected from Big Phil last year by going out on my own, and he hadn’t decided if he trusted me yet. The bung of back-bonuses was obviously his way of announcing he’d made a decision.
Anyway, it seems that MacDonald was poaching Big Phil’s clients and pointing them in the direction of my company. This was totally without my say-so, and God-only knows what MacDonald was thinking about, this type of thing isn’t done and is tantamount to a declaration of war, especially to someone of Big Phil’s sensibilities.
Things start making sense now. When I left Big Phil he said he admired my ambition, wished me well and told me to keep in touch etc. Three months down the line I found my clients, suppliers and credit-lines being closed down on me. This was Big Phil reacting to me stealing his customers. He was amazed that, when my company crashed, I had the gall to go back to him and ask for my old job back. He took me on just to see if I was right in the head, but continued to treat me like shit, which just confused me.
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But, of course, I wasn’t stealing his punters, it was MacDonald doing me a good turn, I assume. Anyway, one of the clients let the cat out of the bag and that’s why I’m back in the good books and MacDonald is out on his ear. I can’t let this happen, MacDonald may be a doughnut, but he doesn’t deserve this if he was only trying to help me. I’ll have to put my own job on the line and face up to Big Phil. Only this time I’ll talk to Annie first. That’s what got on her tits last time, when I had to raise money to start my own business, the fact that I didn’t discuss it with her. I’m sure she’ll agree with me that I have to stand up for MacDonald, even if I lose my job. She’s got a heart, I can always get another job. Or she might tell me I’m a total wanker and to keep my mouth shut.
Oh well, here goes.
Annie/Saturday, 24th June
Some ruckus at Phil’s work which required him to go in today. Seems MacDonald, the Falstaff of the building trade, has got himself fired for trying to help Phil when he started his own business. Phil feels he has to stand up for his friend which could put his own job at risk.
He asked me for my opinion and, of course, he had to do the honourable thing. Why does he need my sanction now, when it’s so obvious what he should do?
Anyway, the fact that he was away all day allowed me to get the lowdown on events from Al, who came over to the house grinning like a mad thing. Things seem to have gone superbly and I’m sure young Carter has been put in his place.
Al’s version of events is as follows, though the crude sexual terminology he added to my script on his own initiative -
I caught up with the young guy outside the school, and he looked just like you described him. Just to make sure, I asked another one of the kids and they said, ‘Yeah, that’s that prick, Tommy Carter.’
I walked along beside him for a while and then I asked, “You that Tommy Carter lad?”
He looked a bit worried, but agreed that he was.
“You don’t know me,” I said, “But I’m the husband of one of your teachers.”
He looked a bit confused, so I said, “You know, that special one ...”
This made him look even more confused and he said, “But you’re not ...”
“Not who?” I asked, and that seemed to put him on his back foot.
“It was only a bit of fun,” he said, and he was trying to walk faster, to get away from me, which was really stupid, because my stride must be at least double his.
“Fun?” says I, “Course it was. We all like a bit of fun, don’t we. In fact I’m always on the look-out for young chaps that like a bit of fun.”
The colour drained from his face and he stopped dead, instead of running, which shows he does have some bottle. “What do you mean?” he croaks.
“Well, young Thomas, me and my wife, your favourite teacher, like to have a bit of fun with young men, if you know what I mean.”
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“No.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh come on, lad, the way you’ve behaved over the past couple of years, you know what’s what. You’re not a baby any more.”
“I’m only sixteen,” he said.
“And a fine strapping big sixteen year old you are too. Herself reckons you’re hung like a horse. Is that true?”
“A horse?”
“You know, four-legged things. Good for riding.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t ...ride ...horses.”
“No need to be coy, son. Me and her, we’re swingers, we like to have sex with other people. She told me you’ve had a little notion for her for a couple of years, so I said bring the boy over and we can all have a little party together. Does that appeal to you?”
He was looking frantically about him. “No ..I’m sorry .. I’m just ...”
“Relax, Thomas. If you’re nervous about being alone with us, we can take you to one of our swinger’s parties.
There’s usually hundreds there. Lots of fucking going on, you’ll enjoy yourself.”
I patted him gently on the shoulder and he recoiled as if I had the plague.
“Come on, Tom, this is the 21st century, it’s time you broadened your horizons. There’s fucking left, right and centre at these parties. Everybody’s fucking everybody else, because we only have one rule - you can’t say no.”
“No?”
“Well, some of the guys would like the look of a nicely built young fella like yourself, and for the privilege of fucking their wives, you’ve obviously got to make yourself available to them, so they can get something out of the deal.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Oh loosen up, there’s not much to it, a bit of oral, a bit of anal, and some of these wives are very good-lookers, and each and every one of them is hot, hot, hot! You’ll need a holiday after one of our swingers’ parties, I’m telling you.”
That’s when he shouted, “You’re sick, you’re a pervert, I’ll tell my Mum!” and ran off down the road.
Pity in a way, the next bit was really good.
Bless you, Al.
Phil/Saturday, 24th June
Had to go in to work today, partly because without MacDonald we’ve got a mountain of work, but also because I wanted to have it out with Big Phil.
I think he sensed what was coming and kept avoiding me all morning. Then, when I thought I had him cornered,
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he suddenly found a reason to send me out to a site five miles away. I finally got hold of him after lunch and told him I needed to talk to him. Webster and Gillian, the only other two that were in the office, sensed what was in the wind and disappeared sharpish. Right away Big Phil said, “Save your breath, Phil. MacDonald’s a tosser, and he’s out.”
“But it’s not fair,” I complained, “He wasn’t doing anything against you, it was for me.”
Big Phil snorted. “My enemy’s enemy is my friend.”
“Aye, and my friend’s friend is my friend.”
He paused to consider that and then snorted again. “He’s a toerag, and he was stealing my punters.”
“It was work you couldn’t cope with.”
“Says who? MacDonald? Was he running the company at the time, because I don’t remember promoting him.
I’ll decide how much business this company can cope with.”
You didn’t win arguments with Big Phil, you just engaged him in conversation long enough for him to realise something was amiss. It didn’t always work.
“Intent. Think of intent. Did MacDonald have any intent to hurt you or the company?”
“I don’t know, I’m not a fucking mind-reader. Maybe you and him were planning to get into bed together and steal all my clients.”
“Oh, so I’m back in the firing line now?”
“Every one of my employees is constantly on the firing line. That’s the way I run my business.”
“You’re an egotistical bastard.”
“Yes. And you’re close to getting fired too.”
“I’m prepared for that, but you’ve got to take MacDonald back. He needs the job.”
Big Phil turned the colour of a cheesy wotsit. “Jesus Christ, and you don’t? You’ve got a wife and kid, Phil, away home to them and give me time to think about this. Don’t say another word!”
And that’s where matters rest.
Annie/Sunday, 25th June
Oh oh, the sex life has hit the skids again. I thought I would please Phil, as he’s so keen on continuing our therapy, by suggesting that we try out some of Fiona’s suggestions before our meeting tomorrow. He said he was quite tired but, in the end, reluctantly agreed. As a first move we shifted our bed a bit so we could see ourselves in the mirrors on the doors of the fitted wardrobes. We undressed and lay on the bed and kissed and cuddled, but this scenario didn’t really work, as we were too aware of each other trying to look in the mirror.
“Maybe if we’re in a position where we’d just naturally see the mirror,” I suggested.
There were two options, the first being me sitting astride Phil, and facing away from him, which meant I had a lovely view of penetration but he couldn’t see anything but the ceiling, and the second with me on my hands and knees and Phil behind me, which meant we could both see ourselves, but not our naughty bits.
Either way, Phil said he wasn’t impressed, which annoyed me slightly as I was trying to work my way to the
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camcorder from the mirrors.
Trying to keep the thing visual, I then suggested we dress up.
Phil sighed and said, “Okay, get your battling gear on.”
I assumed by this he meant my erotic lingerie, but I always think that’s most effective when least expected.
“No,” I said, “You dress up.”
“Not bloody likely,” he replied, “Anyway, you’re stuff’s too small.”
“Not that!” I explained. “I’ve always had a thing about your working gear.”
“What, a Burton’s suit?”
“No, the stuff you wear on sites. Go and get your hard-hat and wellies.”
He sat on the edge of the bed looking very serious. “You never said before.”
I pushed him towards the door. “No explanations. Fiona said that’s one of the rules. Is there anything you’d like me to wear?”
He put on his dressing gown and stood at the door, a little smile playing over his lips. “If we’re doing working kit, how about some teacher stuff?”
“Like what, I don’t have a mortar-board and gown?”
He seemed disappointed, but then said, “Just leave your specs on then.”
Specs? He has a thing about me wearing my glasses and he’s never ever said. Men.
Anyway, I lay back on the bed with my glasses on and a stern teacherish look. and he entered wearing nothing but his hard hat and wellies, and nothing happened. Well, what I mean is that after we’d stopped laughing and started rolling about, he couldn’t get an erection. Laughing together has always been a prelude to good love for Phil and I, and now it looks as if that’s gone too. We’re heading backwards instead of forwards.
Phil/Sunday, 25th June
Still in limbo, where Big Phil left me.
Phoned MacDonald and had a long conversation with him about what an idiot he is. He accepts now that his actions could have been misconstrued, but insists he is innocent of trying to pull a fast one on Big Phil.
When I told him I’d said I was prepared to lose my job if he didn’t get his back he nearly went ballistic. I wasn’t to do that. He didn’t need me to do that. He could get another job.
I reminded him that I’d had to go back on my hands and knees to Big Phil after he’d made me relatively unemployable so what made him think he would fare any better.
He said that as it was a matter of principle he was quite prepared to change careers.
“And you’ll do what?” I asked.
“The Council’s cleansing department has lots of vacancies,” he said, “And it’s always been an ambition of mine.”
At least he’s still got his sense of humour.
“How’s Glenda taking it?” I asked.
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“As rarely as possible.”
Like I said, sense of humour.
CLIENTS NOTES/WILSONS/9
I informed the Wilsons that as they had both expressed reservations about being asked to submit to a final
‘test’, I had decided to subject them to a period of assessment instead. Annie, especially, seemed very relieved by this, but became quite agitated again when I informed her that we would begin the assessment with a review of their foreplay procedures.
She said she was quite willing to relate the actions they took, but was unwilling to perform them in front of me. I told her that I was quite insulted that she still did not trust me as her therapist, and also that procedures as remembered and described rarely conformed to actual practice.
Phil agreed with me and related a tale from a staff training seminar he had attended. This involved the class in writing a description of the process of wiring a plug. Many of the people involved had begun the process by unscrewing the lid of the plug and this, according to the instructor, was wrong as they had not yet procured a screwdriver. Phil hoped that Annie, as a teacher, could see the point he was trying to make, but she insisted that his anecdote had no relevance.
Phil then said that if they merely informed me that they normally commenced with oral sex, I might well imagine that they did this while still clothed, which was not the case. I thought this was a very telling point from Phil, but Annie continued to argue that their state of dress was not relevant to whether they began with oral sex, which wasn’t what they did at all. Phil reminded her that on at least one previous occasion, on returning from a New Year’s Day party, they had indeed initiated congress with oral sex, and at Annie’s instigation.
Annie then said that if they were taking inebriated behaviour into account there was no limit to the number of ways they had begun making love through the course of their relationship. She hoped this variety would please me, but thought I was looking for the common or garden variety of means involved. I was enjoying this discussion immensely, and was glad that they seemed finally able to discuss their sex lives together. I suggested that they disrobe, if that would make them feel more comfortable in initiating sexual contact, and even volunteered to strip off too so that they would not feel as if I was an outsider, but Annie shook her head in a very prim fashion.
“We kiss,” she said, “We caress. We stroke each other’s erogenous zones. Our kissing may stray from our partner’s mouth to other parts of his or her body. This may develop into oral/genital contact. This may become reciprocal. At some point in the proceedings our excitement reaches a point where we are both desperate for intercourse. And that is where our foreplay ceases.”
This dry description didn’t really satisfy me, but Phil added, “I wore a hard-hat and welly boots last night.”
That was more like it. Progress at last. I knew Phil would end up as the instigator and recover his sexuality
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through that role.
Another excellent session.
F.B.
Annie/Monday, 26th June
I’ve just phoned Kate and told her about the madwoman’s latest wheeze, which was to watch Phil and I indulging in foreplay. Fat chance.
Phil was playing up to her again, though half the time I don’t know if he’s being serious or just winding her up. She, sad bugger, believes it anyway.
Kate’s head was full of Al. “Give me the brickie,” she breathed, “Or I will strike you down with a plague of boils.”
“Never mind that. I want you to tell me precisely what Fiona Buchan did for you that merited you recommending her to Phil and I.”
“The brickie first. Give me the Al. I must have him.”
“No. Behave yourself. Go and have a cold shower or something.”
“I tried that. My body’s so hot I made the water boil.”
“Kate!” I screeched, “Will you please tell me what you see in Fiona Buchan? The woman’s an idiot.”
“If I tell you, will you give me the Al?”
“He’s not mine to give.”
“A phone number. An address. A lock of his hair. A vial of his sweat.”
“I didn’t think he was your type.”
“He is Man.”
“Yes, he certainly is.”
“Give me the Al.”
“What about Fiona?”
“She’s an idiot.”
“What? You said she was a genius!”
“Her genius lies in her idiocy.”
“What does that mean?”
“Give me the Al.”
I took a second to calm down, instead of screaming at her again. “Listen, Kate. I have it in my power to give you the Al. He’s a very good friend of mine, and a very nice man. But you’re not even going to get a sniff of him, unless you explain what you mean.”
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’? Don’t you want the Al.”
“Yes, of course, he must be mine. But if I tell you, then it doesn’t work. Think about it.”
“Okay. And once I’ve thought about it, and once I’ve come to a satisfactory conclusion, I may well give your
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phone number to Al to see if he’s remotely interested in you.”
I was already replacing the receiver as she yelled ‘Annie, you swine!’ at me.
Phil/Monday, 26th June
I am a devious bugger and now have the crazy bonkers Buchan woman squarely in my sights. A plan is evolving which I shall shortly put into play, but in the meantime I am enjoying myself enormously. I have no regrets on this score, because I feel entitled to some fun, we’ve paid the loony tune enough money.
No more till the hour is nigh!
Annie/Tuesday, 27th June
There is no other word for it, I am a bitch. An uncaring, self-centred, opinionated bitch.
What is wrong with me? Don’t I care about other people’s feelings. Especially people that matter a lot to me.
But no, I’ve got to shoot off at the mouth, because I think I’m smart. If Phil leaves of his own accord this time I won’t be surprised.
Phil/Tuesday, 27th June
Sheena phoned me while I was at work, but I was ready for her this time.
“I’m sitting here with no pants on,” I boldly declared, “Which makes me feel like a very free spirit, but the hard plastic of this chair is making my bum sweaty.”
“You’re sounding very chirpy.”
“Well, I’m back with Annie, which is the main thing, but I’m also on the verge of losing my job. Actually, I’m passed caring.”
“Did Annie tell you we had a chat?”
“Oh, seeing my wife behind my back? I’ll need to have words with her.”
“Oh god, she didn’t tell you ...”
“Yes, she did, I’m only kidding.”
“I’m glad you’re back together. Everything working out okay?”
“We’re getting there. As I said, the work situation’s a bit crazy, but Annie and I are all right. How are you and Arthur?”
“Oh, he doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll be leaving him in two years time.”
“Planning ahead.”
“It’s the sensible way to do it. Why split up after a big argument when your blood’s full of pain and you don’t have any cash in the bank?”
“Could backfire on you. Just when you’re ready to walk-out, he could pre-empt you. That’s what can happen when you play little secret games.”
“The kids need another couple of years, that’s the only reason I’m waiting.”
“Living a lie?”
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“Like the rest of the world.”
“I’m sorry, Sheena. I wish you happiness.”
When I told Annie later that I’d spoken to Sheena, she said, ‘Why didn’t you take her out to lunch? That way I might have got a decent shag out of it.”
That, I think, was a bit uncalled for.
Annie/Wednesday, 28th June
I grovelled this morning. No two ways about it, I went down on my knees and humbled myself. Breakfast in bed, ran a bath for him, ironed his shirt, the works.
Roddy asked, “Are you all right, Mum?”
But I knew I had to make up for being such a cow, and Phil just kept saying, “It’s okay, you don’t need to.”
But I did, because otherwise my casting up to him would be cast up to me, and forever more.
It didn’t matter how often he said, “Don’t sweat it, Annie, it’s not a big deal.” I was determined to suffer.
As he was standing in the hallway he said, “Listen, honey, a couple of bad nights doesn’t mean our sex-life’s going down the pan. Men’s hydraulics are a bit sensitive, that’s all.”
Sensitive to what, that’s what I wanted to know. What was annoying him? Why wouldn’t he tell me? And why did we have to keep seeing Fiona if he’d already sussed his problem?
Phil/Wednesday, 28th June
Still no reaction from Big Phil. He isn’t avoiding me so much as just permanently busy.
Me too, by the way, as MacDonald’s workload has all been shoved onto Webster and me, and Webster claims to have a twisted ankle and isn’t travelling well.
One hopeful sign - Gillian confirmed that Big Phil hadn’t asked her to place an ad. for another manager. He either already has somebody up his sleeve, or he is thinking of giving Norrie another chance.
I’ll give him another few days, before I chin him again. He couldn’tpossibly fire me on my birthday, could he?
Annie/Thursday, 29th June
There is no doubt about it, I am too soft. I decided to give ‘the’ Al to Kate, even though I still haven’t worked out what she means about Fiona. I’m guessing that once a patient sees the state that she’s in, their own problems fade into insignificance.
Anyway, I allowed Kate to accompany me as I took a bottle of nice malt over to Al’s by way of a thank you for services rendered. Tommy has been suitably subdued since his encounter with Al the sexy swinger. This is a story I’m desperate to tell Kate about, because it’s funny and it also makes me look sharp. But as I’ve sworn Al to secrecy,
I can’t really go blabbing, especially to Kate who loves her goss. and has been known to cross the line between
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friendship and journalism.
Kate, of course, went into over-flirt, which is like warp-drive with go faster stripes, but Al just ignored her and chatted to me as he made us coffee.
This enraged Kate and unusually repeated a line I'd heard before, “Really, the only time I care for a man’s company is when he owns it.” I found that singularly inappropriate and reckoned desperation was making Kate lose the plot.
As we were leaving, Al finally turned to Kate and said, “I like Annie. I trust her judgement. See if you’d give your face a rest, that marvellous woman inside you that’s Annie’s pal would have a chance to make an appearance.”
I waited for the explosion, the scathing, cutting, testicle-removing, come-back and all Kate said was, “Yes, probably. Do you mind if I stay?”
Kate has the patent on ‘forward’.
Phil/Thursday, 29th June
Met up with Norrie MacDonald for a drink after work. I was hoping he might have some bright ideas about how I could help him to worm his way into Big Phil’s good books, but he had his Knight of the Golden Orbs head on.
I tend to find this quite wearing, but he was waxing eloquent, so I let him run with it.
“It’s all about shape, Phil,” he said, “Size doesn’t come into it really. Big tits, now that’s an obsession with guys. You’ll hear them saying things like, ‘What a pair of knockers on so-and-so’ and you know they’re only talking about size. But you never hear a guy
complimenting a woman by saying she’s got a big arse. Conversely, a scrawny little butt doesn’t do the business either.”
He pulled a napkin from the bar and began sketching.
“Look at a woman in profile, and you’ve got to have a certain amount of protrusion, not too much, and not too little. And that protrusion has got be situated in the right place, proving that the underlying muscles are in good working order. Now, switching to a rear view, what you see is an amorphous mass, a hemisphere of flesh, which isn’t really artistically appealing, until you give it definition. And, again, here we’re talking about the muscle groups, which pull in the flesh, so it doesn’t just sprawl out to the hips, or down to the thighs. We could probably work out a formula to describe the perfect ass. Now, if