He decided on the latter of the two, as he moved swiftly towards the couple who still hadn’t noticed his presence. As he approached the two he slightly pushed Juliette off the socked man, She fell onto the bed shouting ‘What the fuck’ as Duncan reached for the man, grabbing him by the neck as he brought him to his feet and threw him against the wall.
All Duncan could remember was the first punch which hit the chap with great force, expelling the air out of the man’s lungs. Juliette screamed protests of ‘STOP!’ as she tried in vain repeatedly to pull Duncan off her lover. Every time she jumped on his back, he cast her down; he knew she must have feelings for him as she fought hard. He never raised his hand to her, although he wanted to. But he knew if he did, she would have ended up like the prick he had hold of.
“PLEASE DUNCAN STOP!” Screamed a still naked Juliette who clawed at him, like the alley cat she was. “Stop Duncan, you’ll kill him!”
It was those words that made him stop as the socked man slumped to the floor in a bloody mess. Juliette immediately went to him, cradling the bloodied man in her arms.
“YOU’RE A FUCKING MAD MAN, LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE DUNCAN!” She screamed at him, the socked man gurgling whatever he was trying to say.
“I’M A FUCKING MAD MAN AM I?” he shouted in response to her. “I wasn’t riding the fuck out of someone while my husband was stationed away, fighting for Queen and Country.” He bellowed.
He clasped his bloodied hands to his head in dismay as he stepped away from the two who were still on the floor. The bloodied and dazed guy tried to stagger up to his knees.
“MATE, stay the fuck down, DON’T get up or I’ll put you down permanently.” Duncan was frothing at the mouth with the anger. “What the fuck Juliette?” He pleaded.
Duncan looked down at the woman who had broken his heart, in reality; she had shattered his heart to be more precise. His face was still that of disbelief. This was his wife. The woman he loved and had spent the last eight years of his life with.
“We need to talk Duncan,” she sobbed, still cradling the bloodied chap, who had wisely heeded Duncan’s advice and had remained slumped, in a heap on the floor.
“We need to talk? You fucking reckon Juliette? Talk about what exactly? That you have some guys fucking dick in you or what?” Duncan knew he was bellowing, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Or the fact that I come home, from being posted overseas, and find YOU fucking someone else in OUR bed?”
He looked at her shaking his head. Inside he was breaking into a trillion pieces, and his beloved Juliette had done it.
“Duncan, we need to talk,” she tried again
He could only shake his head, dismay over took his reasoning. He felt sick to his stomach as he heard her speak;
“Why are you home anyway? You’re supposed to be stationed overseas? How comes your home, you’re not supposed to be home till January?” She questioned him, trying to turn the tables on him, for what she thought was his sneakiness.
“Well my dear, I won the Christmas raffle. As you can see I thought I’d surprise you.” He laughed at the irony of his statement. “Put something on, cover yourself up for God’s sake,” and with that, he grabbed her silk robe off the hook on the back of the door and threw it at her naked body.
He couldn’t look at her, the disgust on his face clearly evident. He knew if he looked at the sock clad man again he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from finishing off the job he had started on him. He stood there, clenched fists by his sides. He couldn’t believe what he had witnessed. He would have never have thought his Juliette would have been capable of such deceit.
He glanced down at the sobbing Juliette, who pulled the silk garment around her, sliding her arms in slowly to her deep sobs. His heart smashed into tiny pieces, he stood firm, although what he really wanted to do was scoop her up into his arms and tell her everything would be alright. But he knew it wouldn't, no matter what. She had betrayed him.
It was two days before Christmas, her parents should be here sometime in the morning, no doubt, long after the sock clad man had left. What had she been thinking? He glanced down at her again. Juliette slowly rose up from her knees, as she tied her belt to the robe. She stood there defiantly in front of her lover.
Duncan looked at her, he couldn’t believe her reactions to the situation, he would never have figured her to do something like this. He would not have thought her capable of such things. She was the beacon of sweetness and innocence and highly professional. He looked down at the bloodied man, it was only then he recognised him as one of her co-workers from her management team. Professional my arse he thought, fucking her colleague.
“So,” he put his hands to his head, “What the fuck Juliette?” He shook his head unable to look at her. The visions of her moaning while she straddled the sock man, grinding hard, flashed before him. He put his hands to his temples as though trying to squash the vision from his thoughts.
He wanted to yell and shout at her. He breathed hard, trying to control himself. He moved towards her. She flinched, recoiling back, almost tripping over the sock man behind her. Duncan stopped dead in his tracks. She was scared of him. He couldn’t blame her; he didn’t trust himself either to be near her. He moved back towards the door knowing the distance would do them both some good. It was Juliette who broke the silence.
“Duncan, I’m sorry you had to find out like this but, Tony and I are in love.”
She looked down unable to make eye contact with him. She swallowed hard before she spoke, as though trying to conjuror up the courage to say what she had to next
“I’m pregnant Duncan, and Tony is the father.”
Duncan looked at her. He had waited so long to hear those words, but to hear those words now, and under these circumstances. It was too much to expect of him. He looked at her, his eyes squinting in disbelief and anger.
“I’m sorry, you’re what?” He shook his head repeatedly, his hand now cupped to his ear as if he had misheard her.
“I’m pregnant Duncan, with Tony’s baby” she looked at him again, this time defiance in her eyes as she went in for the kill. “I know it must come as a shock.”
“You reckon?” He cut her a look with an over dramatized expression.
“I did write to you,” she sighed. “So you obviously didn’t get my letter,” she looked at him nonchalantly while staring at her nails. “I’m sorry Duncan, but this, overseas thing, really doesn’t work for me.” She pointed her finger, waving it in the air, as if she was a drag queen. “I need care and attention. I don’t want to be sitting at home watching the news, seeing troops in combat situations, and wondering if you’re one of them. Do you know what it’s like to sit and wonder if you’re going to get that dreaded knock at the door? And all because your husband has a hero complex and has to….”
“WHAT?” he stared at her, in utter horror at her statement. “You, fucking what?” He could feel his fists tighten with every word that fell from her vile mouth. His eyes narrowed with every word. “You know what Juliette?”
“What?” she answered a smug look on her face, she was obviously delighted with herself at the pain she was causing him.
“Have a nice life Juliette. Oh and FUCK YOU.” He took one last look at her, his eyes flicked up and down at her in disgust as he turned and walked down the stairs to the hall way, where he picked up his kit bag, and opened the front door. As he marched out, he left it wide open, allowing the ice cold breeze to flood into the house. As he proceeded to the gate, he swung it open with force almost taking it off its hinges; he marched down the road to the telephone box at the top of the street the temper steaming off him in the cold winter night.
He could only hope that he could catch Rubin before he started his night of debauchery as he marched down the road at a quick pace. Once he reached the telephone box, he picked up the receiver. He reached into his pocket for change; before he placed the receiver to his ear he wiped the earpiece on his trousers and placed it to his ear as h
e dropped the coins into the slot pressing the buttons. He waited, and then spoke. He must have only been a minute on the call, as when he replaced the receiver, coins emptied out into the returned coins tray. It was only when he was scooping them up he noticed the blood on his hands. He took the clean, pressed hankie out from his pocket and started to wipe them clean, when the phone rang, startling him out of the reoccurring vision of Juliette and her lover. Duncan grabbed the receiver and placed it against his ear.
2
Sympathy for the devil
Rubin Miller was sitting very comfortably on the deep tanned, leather high backed reading chair. Bernie, the young lady who had accompanied him, was on her knees in between his legs, having unzipped his trousers and releasing his member. She boldly licked the tip, slowly down to the base of his cock. She knew he liked to watch, as she leaned back up, stretching her tongue back up his shaft to the tip before she opened her mouth slightly and slowly took him into her throat, to his groans as she pinched her lips together to heighten his sensation of sliding into her hot mouth as she moaned. “Mmmm.”
Rubin was already caressing her face as she did so, but when she slipped him into her mouth, he couldn’t fight the urge to place his hands onto the back of her head, she started to deep throat him with vigour. The fact they were in a busy room with a full blown party happening, meant nothing to Rubin. This was his kind of party where things like this happened. He looked over to the corner of the room where a couple had been deep in a heavy petting session. He had been watching the guy, slowly move his hand up the woman’s dress, towards her crotch as he rubbed it sensuously, which then turned into the woman then leading the man across the room with his tie to the direction of the stairs. He watched as the woman led him out, no doubt towards the stairs where the bedrooms were located. His eyes moved swiftly back to Bernie’s peroxide head of curls, which bobbed up and down on his cock at a steady pace. His hands pushed down on her head, as she took him into the depths of her throat to her moans of more ‘Mmm’s’ and ‘you taste sooo good’. He hadn’t noticed the woman who had walked towards him, she had also been watching, and now she was bent down, leaning into him, as she slid herself onto the arm of the huge reading chair. If he was to be honest, it was her ample breasts that caught his attention. Mind you, in that low cut top of hers how could anyone not he thought. She reached behind his head and pulled him slightly towards her as her tongue found his mouth. She licked his lips teasing them, before she slipped her tongue fully in his mouth and danced with his. From the corner of his eye he saw her hand reach down to Bernie’s head and start to caress it with encouragement, which she dutifully obliged, moving at a faster pace looking at the buxom woman as she did. Rubin was immersed in his activities, having quickly found her pert nipples, which he tweaked between his free hand’s finger and thumb. He couldn’t resist giving them a playful hard tug every now and again. He could feel his cock start to pulse in Bernie’s mouth. No doubt, she could feel it too as she gripped his thighs tighter with her nails. Meanwhile, buxom lady was starting to unbutton his shirt, having swiftly undone his bow tie, which was the only thing that hung limply on his tight, muscular body. It was then he felt a familiar buzz on his waist, followed by extremely loud beeps, which shrilled and echoed even above the loud house music that was blaring from the hundred watt Celestion speakers.
“Sorry ladies, duty calls,” and he promptly stood up “Now don’t move, I’ll be right back.”
He spun around and walked towards the door, while fixing his still stiff cock back into his trousers. It was only when he got to the hallway, where the telephone hung on the wall, that he zipped up his trousers, his hard cock still a prominent bulge very much apparent against the taut material.
Rubin dialled the number that showed up on the display of his numeric pager, lit by its aluminous green screen, he recognized the area code to that of Duncan, and not Head Quarters as he had expected. He knew it wasn’t Duncan’s number, as he knew that off by heart. It was the only number he remembered especially when he was drunk. It rang once, before it answered, he had been caught off guard by saying hello to friends who had just passed him on their way into the room he had just come from. He tried to compose himself to speak shrugging his shoulders as though he was heading out into battle.…
*****
Duncan instantly heard the sounds of a party in the background and a familiar voice at the other end of the call.
“Miller here,” came the familiar voice.
“Rubin old buddy, slight change of plan.” He closed his eyes as he spoke, still trying to blot out the re-runs of Juliette grinding hard. “Do you still have your spare key in that false pebble thing?” asked Duncan.
“What’s happened old chap? Catch the Mrs. tasting the forbidden fruits?” Laughed Duncan’s best man, who knew that would never have been the case for the lovely Juliette, thus why he had said it.
“Something like that old friend,” he knew his tones had dropped, he hurt too much to hide it, and he wouldn’t have from his oldest friend.
“Ohh my God, your joking old chap, surly,” the astonishment evident in his voice.
Duncan could picture him standing there, huge grin on his face, no doubt a stiff neat Scotch in his hand looking quite dapper. And then that huge trademark smile, plummeting to the ground in surprise at Duncan’s answer to his quick quip that just happened to be true on this occasion. Mind you, if anyone had told him, that the five years, of what he thought was wedded bliss, would have ended like this, he himself wouldn’t have believed it.
“Dunc, are you serious? I was only fucking joking, you know me. I’m sorry old chap, I, I would never have…”
Duncan cut him off, interjecting before he heard Rubin utter those words or anything similar. Last thing he wanted was pity.
“Don’t worry about it Rube, shit happens. Look I don’t want to rain on your parade, but I need somewhere to stay, and I know you have a bottle of scotch with my name on it, just gagging for me in your fine drinks cabinet.”
“I’ll go one better Dunc old chap, let me come and get you? I’ve hardly touched a drop, and I’m only local in Shepherds Bush. There is some serious tottie here, and believe me, you wouldn’t believe what was happening to me when I got your page.”
“No Rube, not my scene, plus I have a date already with your bottle of scotch. I’m no company tonight.”
“Nonsense,” proclaimed Rubin in protest. “I’m just heading out the door now. I take it you’re at that ghastly call box at the top of your road?”
“Rubin, no seriously,” he protested. “I’m in no mood for anything, except that bottle of scotch. You stay at your party and I’ll head to yours. I just didn’t want you getting a shock when you came home to find someone there. You know the score, ask questions later” he tried to laugh it off. “Plus I’m really not in the mood for your scene Rube.”
“Well if you’re sure old chap, are you sure I can’t tempt you?”
“Quite sure Rube, have a good time, see you whenever.”
“Nice one Dunc, if you’re sure?”
“Rubin” Duncan’s voice was authoritative. “I will catch you later buddy, have a good time.”
He placed the receiver back onto the rest, and scooped up his kit bag. It was only then he caught the smell of urine in the telephone box. That and the smell of stale tobacco had filled the damp air of the small enclosed telephone box. The window panes had a layer of condensation that had yet to turn into droplets that no doubt would run down, when their time came. He pushed the door open and immediately felt the cold blast of air that hit him. He swung his kit bag over his shoulder and proceeded to walk a steady pace to Rubin’s house that was a brisk twenty minute walk from his.
He reached Rubin’s in no time. He thought it was down to the fact that the only thing he had thought of was that cheating bitch Juliette. It seemed with every step he took, his anger strengthened. By the time he reached down to the false pebble that housed Rubin’s spare key, he ha
d built up a sweat. Having stopped he could now feel the cold hitting his body, causing his clothes to stick to him uncomfortably with the cold sweat. He fumbled with the key, before turning it, and pushing the door slightly open. He placed the key back into its secret compartment, and placed the fake pebble back into its place, before he walked into Rubin’s house and closed the door behind him, allowing the kit bag to finally drop to the tiled mosaic floor. Duncan walked into the reception room and headed straight for the drinks cabinet. He pulled the door down, and reached for a glass before he grabbed the unopened bottle and made for the brown Chesterfield couch.
He sat down unscrewing the cap and poured himself a drink, which he promptly knocked back, before pouring himself another. He winced as the tawny liquid slipped down his throat, he grabbed at his laces of his boots as he started to undo, them. He knew he would have to put the glass down to achieve his goal, which he did down on the parquet floor, and the boots were finally off him. It was only then, he caught a whiff of himself. The walk here, had certainly done its job, and that housed with the fact that he had travelled for a total of twelve hours, well some of which were spent waiting for various transport aircraft to accommodate his flights home. He poured himself another drink, this time much more than the last two, and walked towards Rubin’s pride and joy, his music system, and pushed the button to turn it on. It instantly started rocking out what Rubin had last been listening to. He was unquestionably going through a ‘Rolling Stones’ stage, as ‘Charlie Watt’s superb drumming skills kicked out a thunderous and contagious beat, he couldn’t help but move his head as he sipped at the glass, while walking aimlessly around the room. It was then he decided to have a shower, and wash the shitty day off him. He refilled his glass after quickly knocking back its contents, and headed upstairs to the bathroom, glass still in hand.
Dragonflies The Duncan Peters Files Page 2
