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Loves Lost and Found</p>


1</p>
Claire was glad that he had agreed to stay with her when she asked it of him; to travel into his work from where she lived and to come back to her and she would have company. She had left the decision to Ben, his time precious and his mind preoccupied with the sale of his start-up company, Simpson Tech. Whether his company's name would survive the deal she did not know, but he had negotiated a package that would make him a wealthy young man and with the rest of his working life still ahead of him. He was only twenty-five years old and had left the family home some six years ago, while he was completing a technology degree and already making waves in a line of work he had simply 'dreamed up.'
Benjamin had been born to her late sister, Charlotte and her husband David Clarke. She had remained childless, and David had toiled with lone fatherhood. A telling and compassionate solution had been found, with she and her ex, Tony Simpson becoming Ben's parents in everything, her genetic link to Ben tenuous; her emotional bond always ragingly real. David had gradually drifted into the background of their lives, and he had remarried, stayed in touch infrequently.
None of this had escaped young Ben's attention but his bond to her, and less so Tony, explained his success. She became his anchor and he thrived. She was happy for him, though he worked prodigiously hard and seemed to have little or no time for a social life. He mentioned no one who occupied that space and so she did not feel too bad about having asked him to be with her.
He understood the reasons why, the defection of his father to someone else, and an ocean away in the USA, had made it unlikely that any reconciliation would be achieved.
"His heart's no longer in it," she had told him, tearfully, when Ben had learned of his parent's split, for that was how he thought of them. The resolute woman she thought herself to be had all but fallen to pieces, but Ben had helped her through the worst times, made still stronger their bond, and Ben had chased down his father and had her lawyers extract what was legally her due.
The settlement achieved her dream of keeping the small cottage she always thought of as the family home, with its thatched roof and set in a quiet corner of the village. It came with a cash settlement that eased away her worries and she, at fifty-two, could continue her work as a small animals veterinary surgeon and devote what leisure time she had to her garden, or feast her eyes on artwork, visit London galleries and take her mind off the glaring reality that she was now alone.
Ben's voice broke into her moment's reverie as they talked, she having to press her ear to her iPhone as an express train thundered by, the roar of its diesel engine as it passed her, two tracks away, changing to a whine before falling away.
"I'll meet you at Paddington, as we agreed. We'll go to the gallery from there..."
"And you will still come back here with me?" she asked. The breeze caught her auburn hair. She would deal with that when she was on the train.
"Yes," she heard him say, "we drive back in my car. You did take a taxi to the station didn't you?"
"Yes, I did...I'm not that scatter-brained, though I sometimes wonder about that."
"Just asking!" she heard him laugh. "I'll see you soon! We haven't had a family day out in ages... though looking at Picasso paintings takes them to a new level."
"I just want to see his work for real, not in a book...that's all."
"So do I, mother..."
She didn't mind the use of the word, 'mother,' when they were alone together.
Having him say Claire, when in company, had still to be comfortably achieved. After all she had been through in dealing with a cherished sister's loss, and taking in her child, she was more of an 'aunt' than mother, but the labels never really registered with her. The bond with Ben was special, particular and unshakeable.
"Look up what he is thought to have said about his work....it will give you something to do on the train."
"Don't test me on it will you?" she laughed softly. "Oh, here's my train. I'll soon be with you....bye!"
"I'm looking forward to it," she heard hm say above the drone of the diesel engine, the rumble of the train's wheels on the track. She stepped away from the edge of the platform. "I'll have my yellow silk handkerchief and I'll wave. You'll not miss me..."
Oh, but she did miss his easy ways that lifted her spirits, his invitation to see Picasso's works, on display, a wonderful surprise when he had told her about the exhibition some days ago, the tickets selling fast. For once, she was not on call in case of any emergencies.
The weekend was hers to do as she pleased, and she would not be alone. A dutiful and caring young man, her son in name and by association only, would be waiting for her; a faithful one she took to thinking and a reason to make a fuss of herself.
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2</p>
Ben Diyarbakır Escort kissed her on both cheeks. "You look wonderful!"
"Thank you...and I saw the yellow handkerchief," she smiled and taking in his appearance. "You look tired, darling..."
"I'm over the worst, thank God. The papers are finally signed...so I can relax and be with you." He felt Claire thread her arm through his, the yellow handkerchief in the breast pocket of his navy-blue summer suit. He had been obliged to dress formally for a meeting with the merchant-bankers that the buyout company had called in. He turned to look down at her as she brushed fingers over his short-stubbled beard. It was black, just as his curly black hair and bushy eyebrows. "We'll grab a taxi..."
"No, let's not. I'd rather walk. I've sat on a train for too long..."
"C'mon then!" He smiled at her, took in Claire's appearance; a billowy sleeved magenta blouse worn with a turquoise and magenta silk scarf that she had wrapped stylishly around her throat, tapered slacks and tan flats finishing of the desired look. It was in complete contrast to what he often saw her come home in, her vet's uniform. Her wavy auburn hair was fastened at her neck by a turquoise grip.
"Will I do?" she smiled; her full lips seen to tremble. "I worry about how this will look...me being seen with you."
"A clever vet with her wealthy son...that's who," he observes, casually, guiding her through the throng of pedestrians on the crowded pavements, the air heavy with diesel fumes and the road clogged with slow moving traffic. "Did you look up the saying attributed to Picasso?"
She heard his teasing of her in his voice. "Yes, I did..."
"Well?"
"Do I get to see the exhibition, or do I get sent home if I get it wrong?"
"You just buy lunch..."
"And here I was thinking you had become rich...and can afford to treat me."
Her grip on his arm did not slow their progress. She was unsure how it had happened, but she was flirting with him, or was light and teasing in return to his ways with her. He was happy, seemed on a 'high' following his success. Weekends for him might get to be different after today, but she didn't think his work ethic would lessen. She thought to help him ease up, just as she needed him to do that for her, the two of them now living out their lives differently from before.
Ben stopped at the entrance to the gallery, glanced at a poster with its flat blocks of colour and Picasso's trademark unfussy depiction of a woman's face.
"It's difficult to imagine what his mistress really looked like based on that!" he laughed, fumbling in his jacket pocket for the admission tickets. Claire detained him.
"The answer to your question, earlier, is this. 'Good artists borrow, great artists steal'."
"In that case, whoever the kindergarten child was he took that image from must have been upset!"
"Get inside before you embarrass me!" she laughed on a playful shove.
"Never...I need your company after all that's happened recently to both of us. I haven't seen that smile of yours for a long time...keep it bright."
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3</p>
"Here you are," Ben said in evident relief, "I wondered where you had gone..."
"I didn't want to disturb you in your work...and decided to do this while there's still some light." Claire had heard him talking, had caught a glimpse of him seated at his laptop in her small dining room, its beamed ceiling such a feature along with the inglenook fireplace. Much of the furniture and ornaments had been gathered over the years of her marriage and Tony had taken so little away with him.
She saw his eyes drift over her, then at the potted plants she had set out on the slatted shelves in her small greenhouse. The colourful scarf had been put away, along with the bangled bracelets and necklace she had worn, her slender-fingered hands now covered by men's size gardening gloves.
"Need some help...I could fetch water from the rain butts by the kitchen door?" he suggested, standing by her side and admiring her deftness in snipping away dead leaves from the plants. "Don't overdo it, will you...it's been quite a day."
"But a good one," she smiled, sought to brush away the tumble of her hair, now freed from te clasp that had held it. Ben did that for her without a word being said.
Claire watched him go along the path back to the house, the slabs set into the grass like giant lily leaves in a pond.
She felt happy and also tired; she had been dismayed to be woken when he had gently squeezed her hand and said they were arriving at their home station. She had dozed off, rested her head against his shoulder and felt at ease, the cares of work forgotten.
He had been attentive, even overly affectionate and uncaring what others might think of seeing them together at the gallery, then over a snatched lunch seated under the awning of a pavement café, then Diyarbakır Escort Bayan a stroll along the Thames close to Westminster Bridge. Ben had regaled her with his knowledge of paintings, images of London Bridges and the London skyline by Turner, Monet, Pisa and many others, some of the English School.
He had always been studious and knowledgeable, was entertaining and talkative company.
She turned away as she saw him begin to walk back to her, the large metal watering can in his hand. It wouldn't do to be taken in by what she felt, what he had said and done as company was offered. They were in her home again and what passed for order in her life would have to be restored, somehow.
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4</p>
Claire shifted in her bed, suddenly aware that she was not alone, a glass or two of wine shared over a salad supper having an effect on them both. Easy banter, touches becoming caresses, had become so much more and she had willingly succumbed; her doubts on what they were falling into dispelled. She had struggled not to appear rejected, even unloved, but Ben had slowly corrected her on that.
She lay in his embrace, almost pinned under him. From his slow and steady breathing she could tell that he was still asleep. His weight and presence close to her was reassuring, had eased away an acute sense of loneliness that she felt when she lay alone in the marital bed.
She was naked, felt the warmth of his skin against hers, could not keep from slowly, and lovingly, sliding her fingertips over his back, his slender hips, refrained from reaching for him and all that she had finally allowed to claim her, the tempestuous heat they had shared in acts that had not disappointed but amazed her.
Ben's accomplished ways as a lover had been astonishing, an exhausting surprise. They had not dwelt on who they were to each other, an exchange of kisses when they sought to end their evening and day soon leading to so much more.
"I'll help you through to different times...loving times again," he had kissed, his hands under her blouse and caressing her back without any resistance from her.
She had been undressed, had done the same for him with trembling hands and she had heard his soft gasps on seeing her naked, then the press of her body against his as slow kisses of what they were discovering of each other became deep open-mouthed searches, the flicker of tongues and drawing in of each other's breaths.
The sensation of his coarse pubic hair brushing her belly were matched by the softer down on his chest, the tickling of it against her nipples. Her boy had aroused a surge of longing and wetness in her pussy, the touch of his body to hers impossible to withstand.
"You said enough...last night, I seem to remember?" Ben said, his voice drowsy with sleep. He squirmed as she dragged her fingernails over his back then round over his belly. "What a wonderful way to be woken up..."
"I...I needed you to be with me...like we were."
"I know...and I felt that...wanted that too." Ben turned to face her and met Claire's soft, wondering smile, looked down at the tumble of her breasts and drew her to him. Claire draped one leg over his thigh, felt the press of Ben's penis to her belly.
She had reached down between them; had it slide against her moist heat. "You're warm and moist down there..."
"I can't help myself...can't explain it...can you?" she pouted before clinging to him tightly.
"No, not really...but it mattered to me, being with you like this.."
She loved to feel his naked body against hers, felt the nagging senses of longing in her belly once more, the tingle in her nipples that what she thought of and his breaths to them aroused.
"A slow and tender wake up," he kissed, sucking on one nipple as he pressed his face against the heavy swell of her breasts, breathed in the clammy heat underneath them. He had seen their indolent sway under that magenta blouse she had worn yesterday, she unaware of what the sight of it had done to him. He had wanted to be with her; the trip to London an excuse to see how things between them played out.
Try as she might, Claire had been unable to keep from him the toll of her marriage breaking up and that work was no distraction from.
"Touch me Ben, touch me...touch me please...again and again?"
"Where...here?"
He smoothed his hand over her thigh until he brushed his fingers up and down, pressed them into her, the teasing pressure enough to make her shudder, buck her hips to sustain these caresses. Then, he would slip a finger between her swollen pussy lips and find her, slowly and purposefully.
She clung to him, met his kisses, the tug of his lips on her breasts, she taking his head to each one in turn. He was paying homage to her body as he slowly claimed it, lay in her bed and she longed for his ways once more.
"Can you feel what you're doing to me?" she gasped, tugging on his hair and making Ben look at her.
"Yes, Escort Diyarbakır and you are so wet...it's like never before for me with a woman...a girlfriend."
"Have there been many?"
"Enough...enough to know what you do for me and that I want from you...and I'll bring. None have been this special...as you are to me."
"Darling, I've become so lost in this...with what we've done and want from you again now..."
"Then stay that way..."
Her push on him declared what Claire wanted to do now. He rolled back onto the bed and first felt the wanton, teasing, brush of her nipples over his belly as Claire leant over him, then her mouth and hands on his arcing prick, her grip tightening and feeling again its girth, the slow slide up and down as her lips slowly kissed its bulbous tip. The sweep of her hair over his skin matched Claire's working on him.
"Together...we do this together...Ben, darling," she said, shivering, as his fingers worked her, and she took him in her mouth. "You...you don't know me...who I've become."
She seemed lost in wat she was doing with him once more. "Yes I do...yes I do...go on! We do this together!"
He would let her take control, shuddered as she caressed her hands over his chest, licked his hard nipples and sucked on them, made love to his body in the stroke of her hands to his skin, his responses only making Claire bolder. She was seen to flick away her hair as she bent to him, squirmed on his questing fingers but his touches did not distract her.
"I'm not hurting you, am I?"
Her teeth had grazed over his nipples as she worked his penis, moved from one place to another, her touches making him jolt in his responses to her claims. The woman he knew as 'mother' had become someone else, like a siren beckoning weary, or lost, seafarers. His penis jerked, his body jolted as he lifted his hips from the bed as she sank her mouth over him, slicked her lips over his veined skin, bobbed her head to work him. He'd stopped in his fingering of her, was lost in what she...she of all people...was doing with him...to him, more like.
"You don't need to tell me what you enjoy, Ben...darling."
She saw the glisten of pre-cum leak from the slit, in the dome of his penis. She heard him moan, loved to see how his wonderfully long penis twitched as she worked him, all restraint forsaken. She wanted to live it out, do that differently and with him. She didn't know if he liked a little pain, perhaps he was still to discover that, as she had done with Tony on occasion, usually when they were both the worse for drink and after a dinner party with boisterous friends.
She began to really work him, to jerk him off. She saw his eyes flutter in pleasure as the thought of her working him, her hands and mouth breaking down his control. The scrape of her fingernails to his thighs made him gasp, to look down and see her wondering smile.
"You've...you've become someone else!" he yelled as she continued.
"And you're so strong and beautiful...so hard!" What she sometimes wondered about him had become ragingly real.
Ben hipped his prick into her mouth, felt her hands work him and he felt his arms straining as he pushed off the bed and looked down at her, at how Claire's head bobbed, her wonderful auburn hair spread like a fan over her shoulders, some teasing his belly.
"Stop...you'd better stop or I'll cum. I don't know if I can hold on much longer...stop now, Claire!" He squirmed as Claire dug her fingers into his skin to keep him to her.
"Not so hard!" she yelped, as Ben grabbed her head and pushed her down on him, his actions making her gag as the first bolt of his cum seared into her mouth and she pulled away, felt the rest splatter on her chest as she crushed his penis between her swaying breasts, rolled it between them in a wayward act of avowal of all that had been shared.
"Who...who are you? Who have you become?" he yelled, quivering as the last of his semen left his body, glistened on his penis' tip and slicked down his skin.
Claire moved and knelt beside him, saw his eyes slowly flutter open and she bent to offer a lingering kiss, offered slow caresses to his penis. It was already becoming flaccid, dropped against his thigh.
"I've become someone else. Evil comes in many guises..."
She slumped down beside him, felt Ben grip her hand as she lay with one arm covering her eyes. What she had shared, or done for him, played out behind her closed eyelids.
The day in London, his company, what she had lived through on account of Tony's defection had all played a part. Most of all, Ben's devotion had helped her to face up to that harsher reality that had become her life as a woman cast aside, but no longer.
They fell asleep in each other's arms.
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5</p>
"Do you have to go?" she asked drowsily, reaching out in her efforts to detain him. Claire turned and met his look upon her.
Ben kissed her soft smile, breathed in her heat and the musky smell of sex as he eased the thin duvet away and gloried in the sight of her naked body. They no longer had any secrets, the attention that he had paid to her skin, every part of her body, soft creases and hollows, having soon eased away any restraint and embarrassment.