On a cold November night, she heard it first — a primaeval cry that rent the air outside the walls and pierced the boundaries of the garden bedroom she shared with her husband of a little more than six months.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked, sitting up in the bed and shaking her husband, Robert, awake.

“For fuck's sake, Jane! What’s wrong?” he demanded angrily.

“I heard a woman screaming,” she said, “at least I think it was a woman.”

“It might be someone coming home from the pub. Go back to sleep,” he said. “I’ve an early start in the morning.”

“There it is again, Rob, did you hear it? It’s definitely a woman.”

He sat up and hushed her as he listened. They heard it again — Robert shook his head and tried not to laugh.

“What are you fucking laughing at?” she asked.

“That’s coming from next door,” he said.

“What? How do you know?”

“I’ve heard it before, Jane — it’s Will next door,” he said. “He must be up to his old tricks again. That’s the sound that some women make during sex.”

“You mean …”

“Yes. It used to be every fucking night of the week at one point until I had a quiet word with him,” he said. “I’ll talk to him about it during the week — I need him to look at our kitchen plans in any case. I’ll mention it then.”

“You can’t seriously expect him to adjust his love life to accommodate you, Rob,” she said.

“If he shuts his bedroom window, it muffles the sound a bit," he said. "Don’t worry, Jane, it’ll be fine. He’s a good lad — I might even be able to persuade him to trade her in for a deaf and dumb one.”

“You’re a chauvinist pig sometimes, Robert,” she said angrily, turning on her side away from him.

She was wide awake, her senses attuned to the pervasive silence that held the story details that weighed heavily on her mind. She waited until Robert began to snore and quietly got out of bed. She slid her feet into a pair of pink fluffy slippers and crept to the bedroom door, lifting a robe from a hook on her way past and pulling it over her pyjama bottoms and the white cotton vest she wore to bed.

She entered the dining room, passing through quickly until she reached the kitchen to fill the kettle for a cup of tea. Will’s bedroom window sat in the side wall of the mansard roof above Robert and Jane’s kitchen next door. A sizeable Velux roof light in their kitchen roof sat almost directly below it and, without thinking, Jane picked up the window release rod and opened it a few inches. She heard nothing except a heavy silence weighed down with a curious expectation that made her shiver. The boiling kettle shook her back to the present, and she began to swirl the teabag around in the hot water, mindlessly watching it turn to a dark amber colour. She reached for a jug of milk and froze when she heard mumbled words in a male tone followed by an audible sigh and a little female snigger.

“Hot or cold?” she heard him ask in a clearly audible voice.

“Warm,” was the playful reply, “and don’t be long.”

Jane listened closely to determine footsteps descending a flight of stairs, picturing Will trotting down his spiral staircase in his usual cavalier manner. She assumed he’d be naked, his wavy hair mussed up and that charming little grin he constantly wore creasing his handsome face.

“What did she want that was warm but could also be hot or cold?” she thought.

Her analytical doctor’s brain riffled through the possibilities. Water? Milk? No, she didn’t think that was his style. How could she find out? She heard the soft rattle of glass or crockery on a tray as he returned. A pregnant silence fell as she waited for further clues.

“Back or front first?” she heard him say.

“Back,” was the reply.

“Ok, turn over then — it’ll have to be room temperature. It’s non-scented in case of nosey neighbours,” he laughed.

Jane felt her face redden as he spoke, feeling that he could sense her there below them, listening with bated breath. She heard a female sigh ê it sounded dreamy. It was the sound of a woman in the throes of a sensuous experience.

“You have such soft hands, Will,” Jane heard from above, “oh fuck, that was nice.”

“Nice? Only nice?” was what she heard as his voice dropped slightly. “How about now, Helen?”

“Mmm, you’re gonna make me cum again,” she was almost moaning.

“I love when you cum, Helen — you taste so sweet.”

“Oh fuck, Will. I’m going to … FUCK!”

“Take your time, Helen, relax,” she heard him soothe her.

“Please fuck me, I can’t wait any longer, Will.”

There followed a silence interrupted by heavy sighs and a building tension as Jane heard the movement of the bed that could only mean one thing. She didn’t want to hang around in case Robert woke and found her gone, so she crept back into bed and turned onto her side, away from her husband. Not long afterwards, a long loud cry rent the air again, and Jane climaxed with her, her fingers deep inside her vagina as she rolled over to sleep.

She woke at 6:30 to the sound of the hall door closing behind Robert as he left for work. She knew Will wasn’t one for early mornings, and she tried to picture his bedroom and the tableau of his bed. Robert had taken her in to meet him a few days after she’d moved in and insisted that Will show her around his house. He’d just completed fitting out his bedroom and Robert, being a nosey fucker, wanted to see what it was like. It was tastefully appointed with bespoke walnut-framed glazed doors on concealed wardrobes, a flat glazed roof light, solid wood flooring, a bespoke floating bed with concealed lighting, and a huge bathroom evocative of a luxury spa. Everything was bespoke, right down to the simple bedside tables, their feet wrapped in dark gunmetal cuffs, and everything was installed to perfection.

She rose and walked into the bathroom, looking in the mirror at her matted long dark hair and shadow-lined brown eyes. She’d slept fitfully, her thoughts of what she’d overheard next door pervading her subconscious and causing her restlessness. Will was good-looking, and she enjoyed their playful banter. Still, he was never inappropriate and, even though he did a lot of work for Robert and his friends, he wasn't one to drop by unannounced and overstay his welcome. He’d actually built the room she was standing in, and even her father, Austin, a noted perfectionist, had raved about the quality of the workmanship and design, so much so that he commissioned Will to extend her parents’ kitchen and redesign their bedrooms and bathrooms at home.

Her mother, also Jane, seemed to turn into a giggling schoolgirl whenever Will flirted with her, and her sister, Amanda, often commented on what she would like him to do to her if only she weren’t married. She wondered now if anything had ever transpired between him and her mother or sister, a vision of them naked together flitting into her head briefly before being dispatched almost immediately. She thought it would explain a few things, chiefly the way her mother now almost danced through the day and began taking more care with her appearance, and the change in the style and fit of her clothing.

“Stop it, Jane,” she said into the mirror. “You need coffee.”

She went to the kitchen and put the coffee on to percolate, deciding to shower while it brewed. She was off work that day and had planned a lunch with her friends, Carol and Sinéad, in the Gourmet Food Parlour in Northwood, Santry. Sinéad was married, and Carol was in a long-term relationship with a rugby player that all three felt was going nowhere. Her thoughts were of this and what she’d wear as she showered, her nipples tingling as thoughts of the previous night overcame her once again. Shrugging it off, she quickly dried herself, wrapped a towel around her body and returned to the kitchen. She heard Will’s shower running as the sound floated through the open Velux window. She heard it stop, and his words carried on the crisp morning air.

“You should’ve brought a change of clothes, Helen.”

“It’s fine, babe, I didn’t wear them for too long last night, did I?” she said.

“No, but I did enjoy how wet your thong was — you might have to go commando,” he said, and they laughed.

“I always carry spares, little boy.”

“Less of the little, if you don’t mind,” he said.

“I don’t mean it literally — it certainly works for me.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Maybe not, but I think most of the neighbours must have.”

“Do you have time?” he asked.

“For what?” she said, a grin clear in her tone.

“Oh, I don’t know, the sight of you walking around naked is getting me wet,” he said.

“I’m a bit tender after last night, Will. That cock of yours is bigger than I’m used to. Can I take a rain check?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, "but it's not raining."

"It wasn't raining last night either, several fucking times,” she laughed.

Jane took her coffee and ran from the room. Her body was on fire, and she needed relief. She chose the showerhead and the strongest jet possible — lying back against the tiles as the spray stimulated her pussy. She was demolished when she finally brought herself off as she tried to prevent the image of Will ravishing her whilst making her scream like Helen, penetrating her mind. She spent the next hour tidying the house and picking up Robert's discarded clothing from the previous night, muttering begrudgingly to herself as she threw everything into a plastic basket that stood inside the bathroom door.

She suddenly remembered it was bin day, and it was her turn to push the wheelie bin out to the front gate for collection. Robert preferred to do it once every four weeks instead of the two available, so the bin was heavy as she dragged it behind her across the stupid gravel Robert had insisted on when having the front garden landscaped. A strong hand on her back stopped her in her tracks, making her jump in fright. She spun around to find Will standing behind her, a smile on his face as her eyes quickly dropped to his groin before flicking back up to look at him.

"Let me get that for you, Jane," he said, moving her a little so he could grip the handles.

"Oh, hi, Will, you frightened the shit out of me," she said.

"Sorry about that," he said, "the lads call me the ghost because I tend to move around the sites quietly. They say I sneak around the place, but I really don't."

"Maybe if you whistled or something," she said.

"Then I wouldn't catch them standing around yapping all day," he said, laughing. "Are you not in work today?"

"No, I'm just doing three days a week at the moment," she said, following behind him to the gate. "Are you keeping busy?"

"Yes, there's always something happening," he said. "How's Austin?"

"He's great."

"And Jane Senior?" he asked, nothing lascivious detectable in his voice.

"She's how she always is, Will," she said, "if you know what I mean."

"Tell them I was asking for them," he said. "So you're a lady of leisure today, are you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting a couple of friends for lunch," she said.

"Ah, the ladies who lunch," he said with a smile, "I'm tied to my office today. I've got six jobs to price, and I forgot that today is one of the cleaner's days. So much for forward planning."

"I didn't know you had a cleaner, Will," she said.

"Yeah, one of the lad's daughters started a cleaning business, so I give her three days a week —she doesn’t do a bad job."

"Which one of the lads? Elvis?" she asked.

"Yes, his eldest girl, Lorraine," he said.

They heard a voice carry over from his door. A tall, pretty girl with dark hair held Will's phone in the air. Jane took in his jeans and his tidy bum as he turned to look at her. She’d never paid much attention to it previously but wanted to memorise it for later that night.

"Will, there's a woman called Helen looking for you on the phone," she said.

"Tell her I'm busy, Lorraine," he said.

"Ooh, Helen. Is she your latest crush, Will?" Jane asked.

"We only went out a couple of times," he said, "it's not anything really."

He set the bin in place as she checked out an unobtrusive bump in his jeans and bade her farewell.

"Enjoy your lunch with the ladies, Jane, and don't be too hard on your husbands," he said with a laugh.

"I will, and we will if we want to," she laughed in return as he walked away.

She bade him farewell, and he went back inside his house carrying the leather file folder he had retrieved from his car. Lorraine was busily polishing the French Oak flooring of the living/dining/music room, the sound of Pink Floyd wafting through the house at a softly muted volume.

“You’re getting a great musical education since you started working here, Lorraine,” he said, picking up the coffee pot to make a brew. “Fancy a coffee?”

“Thanks, Will, I nearly know that one off by heart,” she said. “I’ll be finished down here soon.”

“Take your time,” he said. “How’s the business going for you?”

“It’s great,” she said. “Your Dad is gas, isn’t he?”

“Oh, you went to see him, did you?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks for that,” she said. “I have to take on three more girls. He wants us to do some apartment buildings twice a week.”

“I’ve a few jobs coming up too if you’re interested,” he said. “I need to have them deep cleaned when we’re finished the renovations.”

“Just let me know,” she said, turning her back to him as she worked, bending slightly to move her polisher across the shiny timber floor. The shapeliness of her bum struck him as it beckoned him through the skin-tight pink leggings that she wore to work. They were almost painted on and left nothing to the imagination.

The shape of the minuscule thong she wore underneath was now clear. Initially, he had thought she was naked beneath her leggings, and it took him several minutes of fevered inspection to notice the presence of a tag that had crept above the waist at the back when she bent further, and her black top rose slightly, exposing the skin of her lower back. He mindlessly spooned coffee grounds into the percolator as he enjoyed the show, a delicious semi forming in his shorts as the outline of her pussy was clearly defined when she bent to pick up the head of the polisher when she was finished.

She looked at him as he appeared to resemble a rabbit caught in the headlights, mesmerised by the tightness and allure of her sexy, nineteen-year-old body. He was convinced that she could detect his arousal, and he fought every impulse within him to move his hand there to determine if it was that obvious. Her little grin of satisfaction was ample evidence.

“Do I have five minutes before the coffee is made, Will?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s going to take at least that long to brew,” he said. “Why?”

“I need to change out of my work clothes,” she said. “I’ve a meeting up in the Enterprise Office in an hour.”

“What’s that about? Are you in trouble?” he asked.

“No, I’m on the scheme up there,” she explained, “I get 90% of my dole payment for twelve weeks, and I’m eight weeks into it. I have to attend an interview so I can get the next stage payments automatically.”

“How much are those?” he asked.

“75% for eight weeks and then 50% for thirty-two weeks — it stops then.”

“That’s handy, Lorraine,” he said. “Use the front bedroom to change. You can clean up in the bathroom there. This won’t be long brewing.”

“Thanks, Will,” she said, collecting a hold-all from the hall and disappearing into the room to change.

Will finished the coffee and was placing the lid on the pot when he caught movement through the crack between the slightly open bedroom door and frame. Lorraine was bent at the waist, rolling her pink thong slowly down over her legs. She methodically folded it and placed it on the bed beside her, her back turned to him, displaying her fantastic arse as she reached behind her and unhooked her matching pink bra, dropping it beside the thong and gently adjusting her pert breasts, massaging them slightly before reaching for her bag.

She turned slightly, and he could see her beautiful pink nipples as they stood long and erect while she opened her bag slowly. He knew, from the half smile on her face, that she knew he could see her, so he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. He was mesmerised. She removed some items from the bag and placed all but one of them on the bed beside it. It looked like navy blue polka-dot fabric, rolled up in her bag. She unfurled it and let it drop to reveal it was a dress that she hung on the door of a wardrobe in the bedroom, allowing him a teasing glimpse of her breasts and her shaved pussy. She lifted two other items from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom as he leaned against the counter and tried to decelerate his burgeoning erection.

He heard her call him as he watched the orange indicator light on the percolator's base. He looked through the opening again but couldn’t see anything, so he stepped closer and called out.

“Lorraine? Are you ok in there?” he called out.

“Yes, can you give me a hand, please, Will?” he heard her voice carry from the bathroom.

He went inside and stood outside the half-open bathroom door.

“What do you need, Lorraine?” he said gently.

“Come in, Will. I’m a bit stuck.”

He pushed open the door and saw her standing at the mirror. She wore a brief white thong and was in the process of putting on a matching bra when it seemed to stick to her damp skin, leaving her with tangled straps in one hand and the cups held over her breasts with the other.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I nipped into the shower for a quick wash, but I didn’t dry myself off properly,” she said. “Can you fix it for me, please? I’m all caught up.”

He turned her around and examined where the problem was.

“Ok, you face the mirror, Lorraine. This will have to come off again — I’ll try not to look,” he said.

“You’re going to take my bra off, Will James?” she grinned. “I’ve been hoping for this forever.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lorraine,” he said. “Don’t even joke about that. If Dave heard you, there’d be blue murder.”

She turned around, and he untangled the bra, letting it drop while she covered herself as she watched him in the mirror. Their eyes met.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing,” she said as she dropped her hands and reached one behind her to stroke his erect cock.

“Nice,” she said as he tried to pull her hand away.

“Stop, Lorraine.”

“I saw you watching me, Will,” she said. “Your mouth is saying no, but your cock is screaming yes.”

“You’re a little tease, Lorraine,” he said. “I’m nearly twice your age, for fuck’s sake. Surely you have enough interest from boys your own age.”

“That’s it, Will,” she said. “They’re just boys — they haven’t a clue. Besides, I’m nineteen.”

He finished untangling her bra and handed it to her over her shoulder. She took it and stared into each other’s eyes in the mirror. She dropped it on the floor. He touched her shoulder before he realised what he was doing, and she pulled his hand to her breast, watching him in the mirror as he cupped her soft little orb and stroked her hard nipple with his thumb as his other hand circled her waist, before resting on her stomach. Her eyes closed, and she released a deep breath, sighing as he caressed the softness of her abdomen, stroking her skin in ever-increasing circles as her other hand reached behind her and helped release his cock from inside his sweatpants.

He watched his hand slip to the smooth white satin of her thong, and he felt her take his cock in hers as she leaned back against him, the back of her head on his shoulder. His lips nuzzled her neck as his hand slipped under the gleaming white satin, slowly reaching the shaved skin of her pubis, the memory of seeing it as he had watched her, driving his desire. He saw her legs part slightly and brought his hands to her waist.

“Are you sure you want this, Lorraine?” he whispered.

“Yes, so much, Will,” she breathed.

He spun her around — her hand still holding his cock, she released it, and her arms encircled his shoulders as his lips found hers. He took her breath away with the depth of his longing, his tongue alive inside her mouth as hers slid under it. He opened his eyes and watched their reflection in the mirror, noticing how perfectly they fitted together. He saw his hands slip down along the crack of her bum and felt her grind against him as her mouth opened wide and her breath caught.

He moved his hand to her stomach, slipping it under her thong and down to her pussy. It was beginning to ooze as his finger met her vulva, her legs parting further in invitation. He took her nipple in his mouth, the temptation to feel it on his tongue too much to ignore as he pulled the thong down to an anxious exhalation of breath from her.

He stood and opened the door fully, guiding her through and into the bedroom. She walked in front of him, and when he turned her around, she smiled to see he was naked, his cock flexing in front of her. She sat on the side of the bed and took it in her mouth. Using practised movements, she delivered a perfectly performed blowjob, using her tongue and lips on the head of his cock to take him higher and make him squirm.

He pushed her off him and onto her back, slipping between her legs as she pulled him to her and kissed him again, a more measured and relaxed expression of desire and examination of their mouths. She groaned as she felt the tip of his cock pushing against the opening of her pussy, widened her legs, and placed it with her hand before rolling her hips gently to take him inside. A periodic little whine kept him informed of how she felt, the rising tone of her sighs an indicator of her state of arousal. Her receptive pussy sheathed his cock tightly as he penetrated her further, drawing deeper groans from her as he reached depths inside her that hadn’t ever been reached before.

Her head arched backwards, and she cried out as she felt a sudden new sensation surge through her, causing her to cling to him for comfort and reassurance. He felt her pussy begin to pulse as he reached his full depth, pausing to let her acclimatise to the new sensations as her body adjusted and her brain scrambled to understand. Her legs thrashed around, clutching his hips as her orgasm exploded inside her. She cried out when she felt her pussy almost explode as a long stream of cum cascaded from inside.

“Fuck ..” she screamed in anguished ecstasy, before flopping back underneath him, her arms holding him tightly as she rode out the delicious waves of completion, the intensity of her climactic journey diminishing slowly.

“Lorraine?” she heard through the haze of her mind, “Lorraine?”

“Yes,” she just about whispered.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m literally on cloud nine, Will,” she said a little less flustered.

“That was quite a heavy orgasm,” he said, striking her face.

“I thought it was going to rip me apart at first,” she said, kissing his hand. “I’ve never had anything like that before.”

He smiled as she settled back to her usual self and became conscious of his cock still deep inside her.

“I could happily die right now, Will,” she said, smiling.

“Don’t do that,” he said, “it wouldn’t look good on my CV.”

“Oh, I don’t think your CV could look more impressive, not from where I’m standing, at least,” she said.

“Let’s not advertise it, Lorraine, and you’re not standing as far as I can tell.”

“You didn’t cum, did you?” she said.

“Not yet,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I wanted you to come first. It was a pleasure to watch,” he said, shifting a little between her legs. “I’m not far off, Lorraine. I’m going to fuck you properly now — is that ok?”

“Fuck yes.”

He kissed her as she held him close, feeling her vagina releasing him and hearing her moan as he withdrew slightly, filling her again with a quick but smooth thrust of his hips as she gripped his hair in reaction to the agonised feelings and the residual sensations from her orgasm as they reignited within her. She moved against him, prolonging each stroke and feeling every nuance as they listened to each other’s vocal cues signal their approach to the pinnacle of their shared climactic release.

His breath became heavy as he felt the agonising feelings inside become intolerable. He heard her begin to whimper softly as her teeth bit into his shoulder. He increased the speed of his thrusts, and she matched him stroke for stroke before she exploded in orgasm, her entire body shaking in his arms as he continued to fuck her, his ultimate climax a deafening crescendo that made him weak as he erupted inside her, holding each other through the barrier of ecstasy.

He rolled onto his back, leaving her to clutch at his hand. He heard his phone ring from the pocket of his discarded bottoms on the bathroom floor. He squeezed her hand.

“Life goes on,” he said, leaving the bed to retrieve his phone, answering it as he crawled back to lie beside her.

“Will, Duncan McAllister here, how’s it going?” the voice said.

“Ah, Duncan, what’s the read?” Will said.

“Would you allow me to pick your brain over lunch today?” he said.

“Sure thing, Duncan. When and where?”

“I’ll be out in Santry this morning. How about the GFP at 12:30?”

“I can do that,” Will said. “Are you buying?”

“I suppose I’d better,” Duncan laughed, and they hung up.

“That’s lunch sorted at least,” he said to Lorraine. “What time is your meeting?”

“Oh fuck, I completely forgot about it!” she said, and she scrambled out of bed into the bathroom for another quick shower.

He smiled, grabbed his clothes, and dressed quickly. He had an hour to kill before he had to leave. He was sitting at his desk when Lorraine came to say goodbye.

“Will we ever do that again, Will?” she asked, not wishing to hear the answer.

“We shouldn’t, Lorraine. I’m sorry, I lost control of myself.”

“Don’t be — we’re only human,” she said, “but if you ever want to, you just need to say.”

“Lorraine … ”

“It’s ok, Will. I know that you and Jane next door have something going on,” she said.

“What? Where are you getting that from, Lorraine? Jane is married. To a fucking client!” he exclaimed.

“I saw you checking each other out this morning, Will. There’s definitely something there.”

“I was helping her with her bins, Lorraine, for fuck’s sake.”

“While she was helping herself to a good long look at your package … and your arse, Will,” she said. “You have to know that she wants you in the worst possible way.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree there, Lorraine,” he said. “You’re definitely holding the wrong end of the stick.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” she said, waving him goodbye as she left for her meeting.

Jane distracted herself by getting ready for her drive to the restaurant. After several fruitless attempts, she chose a blue patterned blouse that fit her perfectly and a darker blue calf-length dress to go with it. She decided against wearing a bra and squirmed into a black lace thong that made her feel like a woman again. She pulled on a jean jacket and, with a quick brush of her dark hair, left the house and drove up to Santry to meet the girls. She was most of the way there when Robert called.

“Hi Rob, what’s up?” she said.

“Did you put the bin out?” he asked quickly.

“I love you too,” was her initial irritated, sarcastic thought, but instead she said, “Yes.”

“Where are you?” he asked.

“On my way to Santry.”

“What’s going on up there?”

“I’m meeting Carol and Sinéad — we’re having lunch. I told you about it.”

“Is that today?” he asked.

“Yes, it is. Do you ever fucking listen?”

“Ok, but don’t be long. I’m meeting Will at 4:00 to go through the plans for the kitchen,” he said.

“He didn’t say anything about that to me.”

“When were you talking to him?”

“When I put the bin out, about two hours ago.”

“Ah, I just set it up with him a few minutes ago,” he said.

“Ok, I should be back in plenty of time,” she said. “Will I stop off in Woodies on my way home and get some paint swatches?”

“You’d better, I suppose — I’m no use for that,” he said.

“I know,” she said, cringing inside at how he almost gloried in his colour blindness.

They rang off as she parked the car outside the restaurant. Carol and Sinéad had arrived before her and were about to take their seats when she walked in to join them.

“We’re all on time for once,” she said, taking in both girls.

“Look at you, Jane,” Carol said. “I love that blouse. Where did you get it?”

“London,” she replied as Carol felt the fabric and unbuttoned the top two buttons.

“That’s better,” she said, “you might as well show them off a little as you’re braless today.”

“That makes two of us, Carol. How’s Jamie? Any sign of a ring yet?”

“You’re worse than my mother, Jane,” she said.

“Let’s not get into Carol’s abortive love life, Jane. How’s married life treating you?” Sinéad said.

“Let’s not go there, Sinéad, I just had a lovely romantic call with him a few minutes ago about whether I’d remembered to put the bin out or not.”

“Ah, it does diminish the bloom on the rose a little, doesn’t it?” Sinéad said.

“In no small measure,” she said as they all took their seats.

“It looks like he’s still keeping you awake at night, though — you look a bit, shall we say, sleep-deprived,” Carol said with a laugh they all shared.

Sinéad and Jane exchanged quick, knowing glances.

“If only, Carol, it’s like a switch has been switched off — I’m not joking with you. Rob goes to bed at ten and starts work at seven. He hardly touches me anymore, and when he does, it’s over in a flash,” she said.

“It’s only sex, Jane. You’ll get used to that soon. At least you have someone to go home to. I haven’t seen Jamie for three weeks since training started again. To be honest with you, I’m thinking of giving him the elbow,” Carol said.

“It’s not before time, babe,” Sinéad said, pointing at her attire, a short white minidress that didn’t hide anything, “you shouldn’t have any trouble replacing him dressed like that, though.”

“You’d think, wouldn’t you?” she said. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a hunky neighbour to lust after, like some. Do I, Jane?”

Jane blushed and noticed Sinéad’s look of surprise.

“What about you, Sinéad, how’s Bernard?” Jane asked.

“Let’s not go there,” she said. “Speaking of hunky builders, though, would you introduce me to Will? I need to get some ideas for my house.”

“I’ll give you his number — you can call him yourself.”

“You can introduce us now,” she said, nodding at the door, “he’s just walked in.”

Jane looked around with a start and saw him deep in conversation with the head waitress, who fawned all over him. He was with a chap in a suit, and she led them to a table where they sat, removed their jackets, and hung them on the backs of their chairs. He looked around the restaurant, noticed Jane and her friends, excused himself from the table, and strode over with a smile. Jane stood to greet him with a hug, and he kissed her cheek before she introduced him to the girls. Carol jumped to her feet and shook his hand, while Sinéad tried a disinterested nod but failed miserably.

“What brings you up here?” Jane asked him.

“Sometimes I have to consort with architects, and they tend to go for places like the GFP,” he said. “We do a lot of work for them in all of their restaurants, so it’s a semi-reciprocal arrangement.”

“I think the waitress fancies you a bit,” Jane said.

“That’s my sister,” he said.

“Is it really? Shit, I’m sorry, Will,” she said.

“No, it’s not — we had a thing once, that’s all.”

“It must have been an amicable breakup,” she said.

“Yes, life’s too short for unhappiness or recriminations, Jane.” He kissed her again and bade them farewell before returning to his table, stopping to talk to the waitress again and leaving her laughing.

“I think he likes you,” Sinéad whispered in her ear.

“He’s just being polite to a neighbour, Sinéad. We get along,” Jane replied.

“No, I think he likes you,” she said.

“What? What makes you think that?” she asked.

“I think you like him too, Jane.”

“Ok, you’re starting to get way off track, Sinéad,” she said.

“That hug was far more than a neighbourly hug, and you visibly squirmed when he touched your arse.”

“He never touched my arse!” Jane said.

“If you say so, now spill it before Carol comes back,” Sinéad said.

“Where is she gone?” Jane asked.

“She’s over with the hunk, giving him her number.”

Frustrated, Jane told Sinéad about the previous evening and how it affected her.

“When you say feral screams, what do you mean?” Sinéad asked.

“I mean wild, uncontrollable screaming, Sinéad. I woke Robert up when I heard the first one, thinking someone was being beaten up outside in the street.”

“What did Rob say?” she asked, curiously.

“He said he’d have a word with Will, that it’s happened before. He thinks it’s funny.”

“He’s a man — he would.”

They stopped talking about it when Carol returned to the table, a smug grin on her face.

“Well? Did you make a date with him?” Sinéad asked.

“No, I just gave him my number,” she said. “It’s just me moving on, I suppose.”

“Symbolic or real?”

“A bit of both, I suppose. It’s been on my mind for a while, and it felt safe with you guys here.”

“What if he calls?” Jane asked. “He’s a notorious bachelor.”

“I’ll fuck him at least,” she said candidly, sipping from a glass of wine.

Jane glanced at Sinéad, who was smiling at Carol. They continued with their lunch, all talk of men and Will abandoned. Jane was ill at ease with Will's proximity in the restaurant. She had felt his hand touch the small of her back and slip briefly along the curve of her bum, but it was fleeting and not worth mentioning. She also felt his cock against her stomach as she hugged him, and her previously snug thong was now feeling very moist. She excused herself and went to the bathroom, bypassing Will as she left the room. Her pussy was impossibly wet, so she dried herself off as best she could in the restroom, deciding to leave the thong on until she got home to change. She stopped by his table on the way back.

“Hi, Sinéad needs some advice on getting some work done on her house,” she said. “Is it ok if I give her your number, Will?”

“Of course, but I might not be able to touch it for a while,” he said. “The work, I mean.”

She slapped his shoulder.

“Speaking of work, I’m going to drop into Woodies on my way back to get some colour swatches. Is there any particular brand you recommend over another?”

“In your house it’d have to be Farrow and Ball, Jane. You won’t get those in Woodies.”

“Shit! Where would I go for those?” she asked.

“I have some back at the office if you want to drop in.”

“What time?”

“Say 2:30? Or I could bring them to the meeting at 4:00,” he said.

“I’d like to do some homework on them beforehand — I’ll swing by at 2:30 if that’s ok.”

“Perfect, I’ll have them ready for you.”

She left the restaurant with the two girls, waving at Will as they passed his table by. She gave his number to Sinéad and told Carol to behave herself and, laughing, they all got into their cars and drove away.

She knocked on Will’s door at 2:30 exactly. She’d agonised for an hour about what she’d wear and how to engage with him, whether to affect an air of indifference or to engage in the playful flirting that he enjoyed. She went so far as to fantasise about how she’d react, somehow, if he stripped her naked, going as far as taking a quick shower and changing her underwear just in case. She felt he’d probably notice a complete change of outfit, but she did, however, apply a small spray of scent between her breasts, just in case. Will answered the door with his phone to his ear, not an unusual state of affairs for him. He was laughing as he signalled for her to come in. She heard him finish the conversation with,

“How does 7:30 in Bon Appetit sound?” followed by a laugh of agreement.

He hung up the phone and shrugged.

“Sorry about that, Jane. That Carol is a head case.”

“Carol?”

“Yes, we exchanged numbers at GFP,” he said.

“Yes, I knew that,” she said, her stomach lurching. “Are you going to go out with her?”

“Yes, tonight. She’s very persuasive,” he said. “Anyway, I have your swatches here if you want to take them with you. If you want some advice, I wouldn’t go darker than the Old English White.”

“Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind,” she said, leaving him behind as she left for home.

At 4:00, Will knocked on the door, and Robert brought him into the kitchen. Jane was in the study, outwardly poring over plans and swatches assiduously. She thought about their conversation as he told her about his date with Carol. It became clear to her that he didn’t see her in the same way as he saw other women. There was a time when he’d be stripping her naked with his eyes, but not that day. No, he seemed comfortable relating to her in an almost brotherly way, asking what Carol drank and how her relationship with Jamie was going. When she arrived home, she resolved to try and change that view.

She needed a shower in the worst possible way, so that was where she headed first. She quickly stripped to just her thong and walked into the bathroom, her skirt and blouse discarded in the bedroom and left thrown haphazardly on the bed. She peeled off her thong and hung it over the rim of the laundry basket, hoping the flimsy garment would catch his eye and distract him. She dried herself off after showering and dropped the towel on the floor, then padded barefoot into the bedroom and dressed in a daringly revealing pink lace bra and thong set, low-rise jeans that looked like they were painted on, and a sheer white see-through top that hid nothing as she pulled a sweet little cashmere cardigan on over it, leaving it open at the front.

She set up her ironing board in the kitchen and pressed a selection of lingerie that had previously been thrown into her top drawer, creased and unused of late. A pile of bras, panties and thongs adorned the table beside it, seemingly thoughtlessly abandoned but carefully arranged to throw him off. She reapplied a light layer of powder to her face and eyes and spent time making her hair look just right, finishing with a touch-up of lip gloss in the bathroom mirror, where she was when Robert arrived home.

“Jane?” he called as he closed the door.

“What’s up?” she said, joining him in the living room.

“Where did you put those kitchen plans? I thought I told you to put them somewhere safe?” he said, his anxiety prominent as his OCD overcame him.

He followed her into the study, where she’d placed them on an empty shelf. She reached up to get them. As she reached, her thong peeped out over the waistband of her jeans, much to Robert’s disgust.

“You do know that everyone can see everything in those jeans, Jane, don’t you?” he said, taking the sheaf of plans from her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your underwear is on show! Go and put on a dress of some kind — that’s not appropriate.”

“How dare you! Who do you think you are?” she said, picking up her swatches.

“I’m your husband, and I said change into a dress — you look like a whore in that getup!” he demanded.

“Fuck you, Robert, you’re not my father. There’s nothing wrong with how I’m dressed, and I’m certainly not going to take fashion advice from someone who can’t even tell brown from red. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I have stuff to go through here,” she said. “You need to change out of your work clothes — you smell like a fucking hospital.”

She fumed as he walked away, slamming the study door behind him. Will knocked a while later, and Robert let him in, and they went straight into the kitchen while Jane fumed quietly in the study. She sat there for close to an hour, her stubbornness refusing to let her concede defeat, as Robert ignored her and effectively rendered her opinions on the renovations irrelevant. She had to get out of the study and the house completely. She opened her laptop and booked a room at the Clayton Hotel for five nights. It was close to the surgery where she worked, and she could remain pretty anonymous there. She rued the day she went against her father’s advice when she agreed to move into Robert’s house after the wedding, the evening's events illuminating her true position in the marriage.

She tidied everything away in case Robert had a breakdown, picked up her car keys and walked through the kitchen, past Will and Robert, to the bedroom. She picked up a short jacket, packed a small case with clothes and accessories and sauntered out again. She collected her pile of ironed underwear and threw it into a tote before heading for the door. As she passed the two men, Robert stood up and looked at her as he almost stood in front of her.

"Are you going out?" he asked.

“Fuck off,” she said and kept walking.

"See you around, Will," she said over her shoulder as she walked straight past her husband.

Robert watched her start her car and reverse out of the garden. He made a run for her as she took off away from the gate, but he was too late. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled her mobile. She cancelled the call and put the phone in Airplane mode. A feeling of peace descended as she drove into the Clayton Hotel car park and parked in an underground space. She’d attended many conferences and meetings there, and she knew the facility well. She checked in, took the lift to her first-floor room, wheeled her case against a wall, and lay down to catch her breath. She turned her phone back on to several voice messages and twice as many texts — all from Robert. She deleted them all. Her phone rang. It was Will.

“Hey, sorry about that earlier,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it. Are you ok, Jane?” he asked.

“Is dickhead beside you?”

“No, I’m in my own house,” he said. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Thanks, Will,” she said, beginning to break down at someone who just wanted to help her. “I’m sorry, I can’t …”

She dropped the phone on the ground as the tears came. She cried for several minutes before she heard Will's voice screaming from the earpiece of her phone.

“Sorry,” she said, “I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself.”

“No need, Jane,” he said gently. “Where did you go?”

“I needed to get out of there, Will.”

“I know. Where are you now?” he asked.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” she said. “I’m going to get drunk tonight, but I’m ok, honestly.”

“I’m cancelling Carol. If you want to bend my ear, I’ll wait for your call, no matter the hour.”

“I’m at The Clayton,” she said, “don’t tell Robert.”

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“Just lunch.”

“I’ll treat you to dinner in the Italian restaurant up there — they do a mean Pescatrice Con Salsa Livornese and a fantastic Fondente Al Cioccolate,” he said.

“It sounds amazing, thank you, Will,” she said gratefully.

“Thirty minutes? I’ll meet you at the revolving door,” he said.

“Make it forty-five. I need to put my face on.”

“Don’t overdo it, you’re beautiful as you are, tear-stained eyes or not,” he said.

“Ok, I won’t. I’ll see you in a bit.”

She sat back against the headboard and thought for a moment. She needed an external viewpoint. Robert’s number flashed on her screen as the phone lit up.

“What!” she said tersely.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I don’t want to talk to you at the moment,” she said. “You made me feel irrelevant, and I don’t particularly like you at the moment. When I want to hear your voice again, I’ll call you — until then, leave me alone.”

“You’re my wife,” he shouted.

“At the moment,” she said with finality. “I’ll drop by your house and pick up some things over the next few days.”

She hung up before he had a chance to speak, and she stripped naked, tossing her clothes haphazardly on the bed. She picked up the slinky pink thong and smiled that at least it had gotten a reaction, if not exactly the one she was expecting, and from the wrong man entirely. She felt the need to wash the day off her skin, so she stood in the shower and let the water do its best to purify her.

“You’re beautiful as you are,” she said to her reflection as she made the necessary touches to her eyes and face.

She ignored the racy lingerie in favour of something a little less tantalising, choosing a plain white thong with her jeans and a loose white blouse she usually wore to work. With a quick appraisal in the mirror that she wasn’t really feeling as she picked up her handbag, and a shrug of the shoulders, she left the room. She took the stairs instead of the lift, pushed open the door to the large reception hall, and immediately saw Will standing just inside the entrance portico. Her heart leapt, and she instantly regretted not taking more care with her appearance. He smiled at her when he saw her approaching, and he enveloped her in his arms in a comforting embrace, holding her whilst speaking into her hair, words she couldn’t quite make out. She stepped away, and he gave her an appraising look.

"You look beautiful, Jane," he said.

"Yes, I know. I always look spectacular in jeans and a white top, Will."

"Ok, I'll try not to embarrass you," he said. "We're a little early, so why don't we grab a drink in the bar first?"

"Good idea," she said, "you can tell me what Pescatrice Con Salsa Livornese is then."

"Monkfish with tomatoes, garlic and olive oil."

"Can they not just say that?" she laughed.

"They're Italian, so … no," he said, and they laughed.

The bar was very busy, and she felt his hand on the small of her back as he guided her to two stools at the end of the bar, close to the entrance. He held one out for her until she was seated, and he ordered a white wine for her and a pint of Guinness for himself.

"I thought you were off the drink, Will?" she said.

"I'm cutting back, Doctor Ward, that’s all. I'll have this one and then drink water for the rest of the evening."

“Sorry, I must sound like a complete harridan,” she said.

“It’s fine, I can take it from you, Jane. I know you mean well,” he said.

“I’m sorry about walking out back at the house,” she said.

“There’s no need to apologise,” he said. “You’re an intelligent woman — I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“I did,” she said. “He’s difficult to live with, Will. Does that sound awful?”

“It sounds logical to me.”

“I’m not sure I want to go back,” she said defiantly.

He smiled at her.

“Why the smile?” she asked.

“No reason, I’m just happy to see the real Jane coming to the surface,” he said. “You’ve been far too quiet up until now.”

“I thought you’d take his side,” she said.

“Why?”

“You were friends before I came along …”

“He’s a client, Jane. I choose my friends wisely,” he said. “We get on, that’s about it. Truth be told, I’d be more inclined to side with you than him.”

“Why?”

“You smell nicer,” he said, and they broke down laughing.

They had a couple of drinks and dinner before wandering out of the restaurant and out into the car park to get some air and stretch their legs. She took his arm as they walked,

“How long do you plan on staying here, Jane?” he asked eventually.

“I don’t know, Will. I’m still working things out in my head.”

“Does anyone else know you’re here?”

“No, and I’d rather keep it like that if you don’t mind.”

“It’s safe with me,” he said. “Although I think I’d go mad stuck here for an indefinite period.”

“I work the next three days. That’ll keep me occupied.”

“Do your parents know?” he asked.

“Not unless dickhead told them,” she said, “which is not beyond him. I’d bet he’s already told his entire family and blamed it on me. Maybe he’s right — it probably is my own fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Jane,” he said. “I’m not one to pry, but if you want to unburden yourself, I’m there for you. No judgement.”

“Let’s get back inside,” she said, “it’s getting cold.”

He looked at his watch.

“It’s nearly 10:30, I should probably make tracks,” he said.

“Do you fancy a nightcap? I have a nice red in my room,” she said.

“I’d love to, but it wouldn’t look right tonight, Jane.”

“It’s just a drink.”

“I know, but I don’t wish to convey anything that has overtones of what might be considered to be any form of predatory behaviour, tonight of all nights.”

“Do you think I’m going to seduce you or something?” she asked with a taunting grin.

“No, not at all, Jane,” he said.

“You seem very sure of that.”

“Should I not be?” he asked.

“Who can say?” she replied.

“You, me, we all have free will,” he said, “pun not intended.”

She giggled like a schoolgirl.

“Ok,” he said, “one drink, no seduction tonight and I’ll take your washing home for you and bring it back tomorrow evening when I collect you to bring you out somewhere special for dinner.”

“Ooh! Yes, how can a lady refuse? But if not tonight, when?” she asked.

“We’ll talk about that tomorrow when the wine isn’t talking on your behalf — now let’s get you snuggled up in bed for the night, young lady.”

He left her an hour later, her eyes fighting to stay open. He carried a small bag of her clothes with him and threw it into the washing machine when he got home.

He slept fitfully, thoughts of her big brown eyes smiling at him filling his head. For once in his life, he was unsure of himself, and it made him uncomfortable. He woke fully at 3:00 and looked at the stars through the glazed roof of his bedroom. He had struggled to leave her by herself. She was alone in a strange hotel with nobody except him to confide in. His heart ached for her, but he knew only a few strands of what had led her to leave home.

He knew them both well, Robert a little more than Jane, and he was aware of just how much of a dick that Robert could be at times. They never gave the impression they were a committed couple, and his OCD could be grating, but he knew Robert held the moral high ground in that moment and would play that card to the fullest. He eventually dozed off into a tormented sleep about an hour later and woke to the sound of his ringing phone at 7:30 the next morning. It was Jane.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hi Will, did I wake you?” she said.

“No, I was just about to get up. Did you get any sleep?”

“Yes, I did. The wine hit me hard,” she said.

“That and the events of the day,” he said. “It was pretty traumatic. Did you hear from Robert?”

“No.”

“You should probably text him to let him know you’re still alive.”

“That might make him think things that he has no right to think,” she said. “This is the first morning in a long, long time that I woke up with a sense of peace, Will, despite the hangover. This hotel room isn’t the most luxurious place in the world, but I feel a sense of ownership that I don’t normally feel in Robert’s house.”

“Why is that, do you think?” he asked.

“I suppose it’s because I’m paying for it with my own money,” she said. “I’m so glad that I didn’t give in to his demands and stop working. I’d go mad otherwise.”

“I never knew he wanted you to give up your job,” he said.

“He wants babies, and me tied to the house to look after them.”

“I’m not surprised by that — they’re a very competitive family, aren’t they?”

“Yes, annoyingly so, but enough of him,” she said, “did I give you my underwear to wash last night?”

“There was some underwear in the bag with a T-shirt and a blouse. I tried the blouse on, but it wouldn’t fit. They’re not really made for men to wear, are they, Jane?” he laughed.

Her laughter over the phone made him smile.

“Are you really going to wash them, or are you going to get Lorraine to do it?”

“It’s already in the machine,” he said. “I put it in when I came home. Your clothes, I mean … in the washing machine.”

She shrieked with laughter.

“Thanks, Will, I needed that. I’ve laughed more these past few hours than I have in the previous six months. You have a wicked sense of humour.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“You know I don’t mean it like that,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “You educated types are so easy sometimes.”

She laughed again.

“I’d happily lie here talking to you all day, my dear man, but I have to get to work. What are your plans for the day?” she asked.

“A couple of meetings mostly, nothing too taxing,” he said. “My biggest problem is how I’m going to explain the pink lace thong that’s drying on the counter in my utility room if Lorraine sees it.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I let you take that home with you. This is so embarrassing,” she said.

“Oh, I didn’t mind, Jane,” he said. “I had quite an interesting time seeing if I could make it work.”

“Did you now?” she asked with a laugh, “and did you succeed?”

“Define success.”

“No, I haven’t had a drink yet.”

“Maybe later then,” he said.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“Mr. Fox.”

“Fuck off, Will!”

“What? Do you not like it?” he said.

“I’ve been trying to get in there since it opened. How did you manage that?” she asked.

“We did all the work there. I sent Anton a text. Can you do 7:00?”

“Yes! Is it fancy? Who’s Anton?”

“It depends on your point of view — I think smart casual is acceptable,” he said. “Anton is the owner. Did you know he’s part owner of D’Olier Street too?”

“What’s that?”

“Another restaurant on D’Olier Street.”

“I didn’t know that, and this is a conversation that I didn’t think I’d be having at this hour of the morning,” she said, descending into fits of laughter.

“Ok, you get to work while I fiddle around with this thong to see if I can do anything with it.”

“Thanks for everything, Will. I’ll see you later,” she said.

“Text me when you get back from work.”

“I will.”