I like to get to the pool early. I want to get my fifty lengths done before the place fills up with teenagers and college types lounging around and splashing in and out of the pool.

The outdoor swimming pool is a blessing in the summer. The councilman comes at 8.45 am precisely every morning between May and September and unlocks the gates. The showers and changing rooms are old but kept spotlessly clean.

I am one of the first ones in. I head to the mens changing rooms and quickly strip and pull on my swimming togs. I stand at the edge of the pool, take a deep lungful of air and dive into the water. There are a couple of lanes set up so we can do lengths without constantly crashing into the ones more interested in cavorting about.

As the pool fills up, it becomes harder to maintain my rhythm. The woman in front of me is swimming along, doing the breaststroke, her head bobbing up and down as she gracefully but slowly covers the length of the pool. She’s swimming at about half my normal speed. With a sigh of frustration, I dive to the bottom and sit, blowing bubbles, watching the legs and bodies move like ballerinas above me.

A woman in a teal swimsuit glides past. She reminds me of a mermaid as she gracefully flicks out and turns. I can see it happen in slow motion. The slow breaststroke lady is in the way and as the mermaid pushes off from the wall, they collide with a tangle of limbs.

I push myself up from the floor and swim to them. The mermaid lady is spluttering and coughing and I ask them both if they are ok. The breaststroke lady mutters about young people and swims on.

The mermaid lady laughs. “I wish. I’m almost forty.”

She turns and thanks me. “I’m Lucy, by the way,” and holds out her hand. I take it. “I’m Gregor.” I pause before smiling. “I’m just forty.”

I can feel the wedding ring as we shake and I wonder if she notices mine.

“You were swimming beautifully,” I smile, “Before you were so rudely interrupted. Shall we continue?”

She nods, slips under the water and swims off. I launch myself after her and side by side; we swim for a few more lengths before she takes a breather, resting by the side of the pool.

We watch a group of young people cheer as a girl wearing a vest top climbs out of the water. Her top clings to her and her hard nipples poke through the almost transparent white material. She blushes and hangs her head, but as she lies down on the grass, she is smiling.

“My son is in that group,” the woman states. “He’s off to university in the summer. He’ll fly the coop and I’ll be left behind.”

“What about your husband?” I query.

“Oh, he’s stuck in his books. To be honest, I doubt if he even notices if I’m around half the time.”

I glance at the clock as I hear the town hall bell ring in the distance.

“I’m really sorry but I need to go,” I apologise.

She smiles and thanks me again for rescuing her. As I leave the pool, I curse myself for not saying more, for not staying, for not explaining.

I get home and enter the living room. She’s sitting in the same position as when I left this morning. The carers have been and washed and changed her. Dorris, the home help is bustling around, talking away and filling her in on all the gossip from the surrounding areas.

“Thanks so much, Dorris. I’m so sorry I’m a wee bit late.”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I was just telling Sandie all about Jerry’s new girlfriend. I tell you she’s trouble and no mistake. Got herself a motorbike and everything.”

I smile and nod, offer cups of tea and then, after the usual refusal, go and make myself some lunch.

I sit with Sandie and tell her about the woman who swam like a mermaid. Her eyes flicker but I don’t know how much, if anything, goes in. I sit, holding her hand as I tell her everything; from the blackbird I saw on my walk to the pool to the young girl with the wet tee shirt. When I finish talking, we sit in silence.

I put the radio on for her and go and prepare myself dinner. After I feed her her drink and do the dishes, we watch television until the carers come to put her to bed.

“Mary and Katie will be here around eight tomorrow morning,” they tell me as they leave.

I smile and nod, grateful for the respite the carers and the home help give me.

I remember how happy and relieved I was when you finally woke up after the car accident. Even though you seemed so slow to recover, the doctors kept saying things would improve but after a few weeks, phrases such as ‘a minimally conscious state’ began to be bandied about. I was loathe to turn to Dr Google but even he seemed to agree that was what you were now experiencing.

They kept saying you would get better, that they saw glimpses of you shining through, but I never saw it. I never see it. The sparkle is gone from your eyes. I don’t even know if you know how I am.

The next morning, I’m back in the pool just after it opens. I see Lucy come through the gate along with whom I presume is her son. She looks different out of the water. Her blonde hair is tied up in a bun and she is wearing a yellow sundress. She walks with poise and elegance and heads into the changing room.

I don’t want to appear too eager so I turn and push off and begin my fifty lengths. I’m on the third length when I feel a splash beside me and I see a glimpse of blonde and teal as Lucy, mermaid-like in her teal swimsuit, swims alongside.

We swim in sync, touching the walls and turning as one. As we begin the final length she glances across, a glint in her eye challenging me to race. I power off, legs kicking, arms powering through the water. I lift my head as I touch the wall to find her there before me. She grins and rests her elbow on the side of the pool, drawing in lungfuls of air.

I lean in beside her and laugh. I laugh for what feels like the first time in ages.

“Would you like some lunch?” She raises an eyebrow as she turns to look at me. “There’s a lovely little pub we discovered the other day.”

My face falls. “I can’t,” I stammer. “Not today. But how about tomorrow? I could be free then?”

“Tomorrow then,” she smiles. “It’s a date.”

She slips below the water and with a flash of blonde, she swims off.

I speak to Dorris when I get home and she happily agrees to stay longer, telling me it is good to get out of the house now and again for more than just swimming.

After our swim the next day, Lucy is waiting for me outside the changing rooms. She smiles and heads to her car. I follow her to a sporty-looking blue Mini, open the passenger door and get in whilst she goes around the other side and climbs in behind the wheel.

“Right, let’s go.” and with a rumble of tyres on gravel, she heads off at speed. I expect her to pull up somewhere on the high street but instead, we head out of town and within minutes are driving along country lanes.

She drives fast but appears confident and in control the whole time. I can feel her watching me and I have to consciously not grip the door handle. I don’t know why, but I wonder if this is a test somehow. I watch stone walls rush past, praying a tractor doesn’t emerge from one of the fields. I breathe a sigh of relief when she skids to a halt outside a country pub.

“Well, it’s remote,” I observe.

“Don’t stray from the path,” she giggles and I look around to check the pub isn’t actually called ‘The slaughtered lamb.”

It’s not too busy and we settle ourselves in a corner and peruse the menus.

“OK,” she starts. “I told you I’m in a loveless marriage. What’s your story?” Her eyes drop to indicate my wedding ring.

I take a deep breath and unburden everything. I don’t mean to. I meant to give her the usual edited 12A-rated version. Instead, I go over everything. The happy marriage. The excitement of the pregnancy test. The icy road as Sandie drove to a pregnancy yoga class. The phone call at work. How I thought I’d lost everything until she woke up. How she’s never really woke up. How she's not really there and how my life is in stasis.

She doesn’t say anything. She sits and listens and as I finish, her fingers entwine in mine and she grips my hand. She squeezes it gently. She’s just about to speak when the waitress arrives with our order. Shepherds pie for both with a pint of IPA for me and a glass of Diet Coke for her.

The conversation changes. We talk about the food, the other customers in the bar, and the joys of swimming. Finally, when the knives and forks are laid on empty plates, she picks up her glass.

“Would you like to have sex with me?”

She takes a sip of my drink, watching me struggle to formulate an answer.

“You mean now?”

“Now, yes. And, depending on how it goes, maybe later as well.”

I swallow and can feel my face burning as a blush rises.

“They have rooms here too. I already booked one. She pulls a key out of her bag. I checked in while you were in the bathroom.”

I slowly nod. My mind reeling.

“We don’t have to do anything. But I’d like to spend some time getting to know you.”

“I’d better get the bill then,”

She’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs when I turn from the bar. I follow, watching her ass sway seductively in the red sundress. She has great legs, swimmer's legs. Shapely calves and toned thighs.

She opens the door and steps aside to let me enter first. The door closes and by the time I turn, her dress is around her ankles. The white bra and panties are lined with lace and for the first time, she blushes self-consciously.

I step closer and take her hands in mine. I pull her to me and we kiss. Our lips press together and for the first time in almost two years, I kiss with passion and vigour.

My hands slide up and down her slim frame. Holding her by the hips, we press and meld together. I can feel my erection growing in my shorts.

She breaks the kiss and gazes into my eyes.

“I think you’re a tad overdressed,” she whispers, tugging open the top button of my short-sleeved shirt.

I let my hands drop to my sides and watch as she slowly, deliberately unbuttons me. Her fingers slide my shirt from my shoulders, joining her dress on the floor. With a tug of my belt, my trousers follow and then she is sliding down onto her knees, gazing up at me as her fingers trace the outline of my cock.

She bites her bottom lip as she looks up as if waiting for permission. Then, with a wicked smile, she pulls on the elastic to stretch the shorts over my erection.

She makes a happy sounding mmmm as my cock bobs freely. Her hands guide me to sit on the edge of the bed. Her fingers grip my cock and steer the head towards her mouth. She kisses the tip then swirls her tongue around the head.

I arch my back and a sigh escapes my lips. Pleased with my reaction, she swirls her tongue around and around, paying particular attention to the folds of skin on the underside. She pulls my foreskin back and forth, masturbating me slowly as she licks and sucks the head.

“You’ve got a beautiful cock,” she murmurs as she kisses her way down the shaft. I mumble “I’m glad she likes it,” before I gasp with pleasure as she sucks one of my balls between her lips.

I can feel pre-cum oozing out and she slides her thumb over the head, smearing it over that sensitive underside, making me gasp and squirm some more.

Please don’t cum, I tell myself. Please hold off.

“Tell me,” she whispers, “are you one of those men who come quickly the first time but is up for round two soon enough?”

“Yesss,” I gasp through gritted teeth as she swirls her tongue up my length and around the head once more.

“Good,” she whispers, taking it deep into her mouth.

The sensations her mouth and tongue produce are like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It feels like multiple tongues are rippling all along my cock. Sensation builds on sensation and little strangled cries are coming from my throat. Just when it feels like I can’t take any more, my orgasm starts. It comes from the base of my balls and spasms through me, firing rope after rope of cum into her mouth. She clamps her lips to the base of my cock and continues to suck. My back arches, frozen in mid-air, my ass lifts off the bed. Finally, after what feels like minutes, she opens her mouth, releasing my cock and I slump back onto the bed.

Licking her lips, she crawls back up, gazing into my eyes as he lowers her mouth to mine. I can taste myself on her lips. A saltiness as our lips mash together. My hand slides up and down her side, my thumb stroking the bra cup as we press together, thighs and limbs entwined.

I manage to wriggle my hands under her back and after a couple of false starts, unclasp her bra. Her nipples are beautiful, dark red and stiff. The dimples around the areola are a slightly darker hue again. I purse my lips and blow my breath over it. It quivers and a soft sigh escapes her lips. I circle my head, the breath blowing from different directions as she squirms on the bed.

I lean closer and flick my tongue over the erect nipple. Her sighs become louder and emboldened, I slurp and lick and finally wrap my lips around it and suckle. Her legs slide on the bed, squirming more as the pleasure pulses through her.

“Oh god, yes,” she moans. “That feels so good. I go to kiss down her stomach but she stops me. “Don’t be so eager,” she admonishes. “Take your time.”

I nod and move my mouth from one nipple to the other, teasing, kissing and suckling them both. Her moans come more regularly, her hand caresses the back of my head. Finally, she pushes me down, signalling for me to move my mouth lower.

I kiss down her stomach, over the silvery stretch marks visible on her stomach and drag my tongue along the waistband of her knickers. I inhale her scent as it oozes out of her. My lips kiss the mound hidden by the cotton and lace. As I kiss lower, I can taste her through the fabric. My fingers scrabble for the waistband and I gently tug. She lifts her ass off the bed, letting me unpeel them from her and slide them down her thighs.

The neatly trimmed triangle of light brown curls gleams in the afternoon sun peeking through the gap in the curtains. She spreads her legs and juices glisten on her labia. Lowering my head, my tongue flickers and tastes her. The moans of encouragement she gives me as I drag my tongue up and down her folds causing my cock to reawaken. I swirl my tongue in circles around her clit, painting it up one side and down the other. For variety, I write my name over it. The swirl of the R and the flick at the of the G both create louder moans of appreciation.

My thumbs spread her lips open as I push my tongue inside her, tasting her, drinking her from the source. My nose rubs on her clit as I roll my head to push my tongue in further. Her hips jerk up to meet me. Her breathing is ragged and I can see her fingers gripping the sheets. I move my face against her, humping her, tongue fucking her as my nose rubs against her clit with every thrust.

Just when I think she must be about to cum, she slides her hand over my shoulder and tells me to come up and fuck her. My cock doesn’t need any encouragement and I shuffle up the bed, positioning myself between her legs.

She locks eyes with me. Her mouth is open, her tongue licking her lips. As I press my hips into her and my cock sides inside, she closes her eyes and arches her back, pressing in to meet me.

“That’s it,” she whispers. “Fuck me.”

I move in and out. She’s tight. Her pussy grips my cock, as if reluctant to let me go. She slides her feet up the backs of my legs and wraps her legs around me, her heels pressing on my ass, encouraging me to go deeper, harder, and faster.

Soon her whispered commands are replaced by soft whimpers and then, little bird-like cries. I can feel her getting close but my own orgasm also starts to signal its arrival.

I start to count the cupboard doors in the kitchen, trying to distract myself, not wanting to cum too soon. I speed up as she whimpers “harder.”

Even thinking of distractions is losing its effectiveness as her fingernails claw at my back. Her hips buck beneath me. My cock slams in and out of her. Every thrust met with a grunt of pleasure; Mine, Hers, Both.

I can feel it coming and no thoughts of B&Q are going to stop it. Her cries and moans begin to merge and with one final jerk of her hips, she spasms and orgasms. One, two, three more thrusts and I come too. We seem to hang in midair. Our bodies conjoined, connected, juices mixing and moulding inside her before, finally, we collapse onto the bed.

I slump on top of her, my face buried in her neck. Our hearts pound, our lungs inhaling lungfuls of oxygen as if we’d forgotten to breathe. At last, she giggles and guides me to roll off her. We lie side by side, gazing at the ceiling.

“I don’t make a habit of this, you know.”

I turn and face her. “OK,” I reply, not really knowing what else to say.

“What I mean is, I’m not some slag who jumps on every man I meet.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss her softly on the lips.

She smiles.

“Just so you know.”

I nod.

“I don’t make a habit of it either. Just so you know.”

She leans in and kisses me once more.

“Come on, let’s get dressed and I’ll take you home.”

We are quiet on the drive back. Ella Fitzgerald playing on the car stereo, both of us lost in our thoughts. It’s the first time I’ve cheated on my wife. I’d come close, even browsed escort sites but something always made me stop. The fear of being seen maybe, or the place being raided. I’d read about a raid in the paper and the thought of being marched out in my pants by the Guards was too much to take. And now, here I was, having an illicit lunchtime rendezvous with a married woman. God, what a middle-aged cliche.

She pulls up by the pool.

“Do you want me to drop you home or would you prefer to walk?”

“I’ll walk if you don’t mind. But thank you.”

I lean in to kiss her but she puts up a hand.

“Best not, not in public.”

I nod and put my hand on the door handle.

“Will I see you at the pool?”

“Tomorrow,” she confirms.

I smile.

“Let’s do lunch again soon, yes?” she asks as I open the door.

“I’d like that very much,” a smile beaming across my face.

She nods, puts the car in gear and drives off.

Sandie is sitting in her chair as usual when I get home. Dorris is telling her about the Bingo while polishing the brass ornaments.

She smiles and picks up her coat when I walk in.

“Thank you so much, Dorris.“

“No worries. It does you good. I’m always telling him, aren’t I, Sandie?”

She heads out with a “See you tomorrow,” shouted out just before the front door slams.

I sit and hold her hand, gazing into her eyes. Sandie looks back. I squeeze it gently, feeling the bones. The doctors say weight loss is inevitable.

“I met a friend for lunch today. You’d like her. She’s called Lucy.”

The phone rings and I rise to answer it. I don’t notice the tear glistening in the corner of her eye.