grand that morning from a wages snatch in East London, he was still feeling the rush from the job and he was enjoying his pregnant wife's adulation. He needed it, because for all the strange there was floating about in his orbit, there was only one woman on his mind and she was beginning to take over his every waking moment.
Patricia had used him, and that had never happened to him before in his life. Usually he was the conqueror. He used women, they did not use him, consequently he was absolutely besotted with her, and to make matters worse he had a feeling she knew it and was enjoying his discomfort. The way she smiled at him, then ignored him, before finally speaking to him in that animated way she had, making him feel like he was back in with a chance. Then blanking him for days, as he spent his time trying to think of excuses to talk to her.
But their encounter had blown his mind. Never before had a woman taken him to bed, enjoyed him without even talking to him before or after, and then acted as if he didn't exist. He thought about her constantly, her boyish body that she was so confident with, her small breasts that he had adored. Patricia had taken what she wanted from him and he had loved it.
As he thought about her his hand slid towards his wife's swollen breasts and he caressed them gently. She was so unlike Patricia. Jackie resembled a cow, with huge udders and that milky smell women got when they were ready to drop. Patricia was long and sleek, and she could move like no woman he had ever bedded before.
Jackie felt his hands on her and as always was willing to give in to him. Like her mother before her she believed that if you never refused a man he would not want to stray. Her father had proved the lie to that statement and so had her husband.
She, like Lena, didn't understand the logic of womanising men. It was all about power, and like a rapist, they used women as a means to an end. It wasn't really anything to do with the sex act, as far as they were concerned that part was just a bonus for all concerned. It was about the chase, and once the women had succumbed they were history. They were another story to be told in the pub, another conquest that made the men concerned forget the futility of their lives. They never once cared, or really desired the woman in question, who were just a pawn in their game of life.
'You be careful, Freddie. I'd rather scrimp than see you banged up again.'
He smiled at her, the smile that made every woman think she was the only woman in the world who mattered to him. 'You're my girls, ain't you? I have to take care of my girls. That's why I work all the hours God sends.'
The answer annoyed Jackie as he knew it would.
'What? In the whore houses…'
He clamped his hand across her mouth roughly, all the time speaking in a low, determined whisper that brooked no argument. 'Don't start, Jackie, you know it's me job. I have to keep an eye out, mate, see that the punters don't rip anyone off and make sure the girls don't try and pick anyone's pocket. Especially Ozzy's.'
She was struggling to sit up now, had moved away from his embrace. Then, pushing his hand from her mouth roughly, she lit a cigarette to control her breathing, before saying scornfully, 'The girls ? Is that us girls, as in me and your daughters, or the whore girls?'
He sighed, his long-suffering sigh, the sigh he used to make her feel stupid, make her feel that she was in the wrong, was always in the wrong. It was the sigh that told her if she kept on there would be trouble.
'Shall I stay at home then?' His voice had risen and she knew the kids would be able to hear him from their bedrooms, which was another of his psychological weapons. 'Shall I sit here and watch the flock wallpaper with you, eh? Drop a trip, shall I? At least that way I would have a bit of entertainment and all.'
He was getting aggravated now. She wonders why he ended up practically lamping her one, and then she causes all this! He took a
Patricia had used him, and that had never happened to him before in his life. Usually he was the conqueror. He used women, they did not use him, consequently he was absolutely besotted with her, and to make matters worse he had a feeling she knew it and was enjoying his discomfort. The way she smiled at him, then ignored him, before finally speaking to him in that animated way she had, making him feel like he was back in with a chance. Then blanking him for days, as he spent his time trying to think of excuses to talk to her.
But their encounter had blown his mind. Never before had a woman taken him to bed, enjoyed him without even talking to him before or after, and then acted as if he didn't exist. He thought about her constantly, her boyish body that she was so confident with, her small breasts that he had adored. Patricia had taken what she wanted from him and he had loved it.
As he thought about her his hand slid towards his wife's swollen breasts and he caressed them gently. She was so unlike Patricia. Jackie resembled a cow, with huge udders and that milky smell women got when they were ready to drop. Patricia was long and sleek, and she could move like no woman he had ever bedded before.
Jackie felt his hands on her and as always was willing to give in to him. Like her mother before her she believed that if you never refused a man he would not want to stray. Her father had proved the lie to that statement and so had her husband.
She, like Lena, didn't understand the logic of womanising men. It was all about power, and like a rapist, they used women as a means to an end. It wasn't really anything to do with the sex act, as far as they were concerned that part was just a bonus for all concerned. It was about the chase, and once the women had succumbed they were history. They were another story to be told in the pub, another conquest that made the men concerned forget the futility of their lives. They never once cared, or really desired the woman in question, who were just a pawn in their game of life.
'You be careful, Freddie. I'd rather scrimp than see you banged up again.'
He smiled at her, the smile that made every woman think she was the only woman in the world who mattered to him. 'You're my girls, ain't you? I have to take care of my girls. That's why I work all the hours God sends.'
The answer annoyed Jackie as he knew it would.
'What? In the whore houses…'
He clamped his hand across her mouth roughly, all the time speaking in a low, determined whisper that brooked no argument. 'Don't start, Jackie, you know it's me job. I have to keep an eye out, mate, see that the punters don't rip anyone off and make sure the girls don't try and pick anyone's pocket. Especially Ozzy's.'
She was struggling to sit up now, had moved away from his embrace. Then, pushing his hand from her mouth roughly, she lit a cigarette to control her breathing, before saying scornfully, 'The girls ? Is that us girls, as in me and your daughters, or the whore girls?'
He sighed, his long-suffering sigh, the sigh he used to make her feel stupid, make her feel that she was in the wrong, was always in the wrong. It was the sigh that told her if she kept on there would be trouble.
'Shall I stay at home then?' His voice had risen and she knew the kids would be able to hear him from their bedrooms, which was another of his psychological weapons. 'Shall I sit here and watch the flock wallpaper with you, eh? Drop a trip, shall I? At least that way I would have a bit of entertainment and all.'
He was getting aggravated now. She wonders why he ended up practically lamping her one, and then she causes all this! He took a
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