That Wednesday had been one which in which he had run the complete range of human joy, misery and emotion.

He had successfully sold, delivered and installed his computer database analysis system to a large Insurance Company in South East London and it had made him feel good. A job intended to take all day, that was usually accompanied by all the normal troubles of incompatibilities, lack of disc space, forgotten passwords and wrong permissions, had been finished by two in the afternoon and that had included taking an hour off for lunch in a most agreeable pub. By three, the Company was producing its first reports and he was heading down the motorway towards the coast.

He abhorred bad time keeping and being early to him was almost as wrong as being late.

So he wasted time, by taking the pretty route through the villages. Not that those he found were that attractive, as for years they had suffered traffic and only now with the motorway fully-open, were they returning to a more genteel normality. Now those same villages were to be blighted by the route of the new high-speed railway to the Channel Tunnel. If it were ever to be built!

He wasted time too, by visiting the exhibition about the new tunnel, at the end of the motorway. Dominated by a now redundant tunnelling machine, it bravely tried to make an engineering success out of a financial disaster. He mused, as to how different everything could have been, if the Channel Tunnel had been built as planned in the sixties. He'd met one of the original engineers once, who'd told him that it would have been built, except for the rules of Government planners and the jealousy of Wilson's first Labour administration. They had not felt it right that after taking all of the enormous risk, a private company should be entitled to a reasonable profit.

Governments always interfere, he thought. It's why this country's in such a mess. Rules, regulations, subsidies for dying industries, double mortgage relief. All politicians need power, as why else would they do it. Certainly not the money! Peanuts, monkeys.

It was six when he reached the car-park by the cliffs and he was not due for another hour.

He parked his Rover and walked along the path overlooking the sea. Should he wait? Yes, he knew she would not be dressed yet. Should he phone? No, she was probably in the bath. He waited another fifteen or twenty minutes watching the quiet sea and the start of a beautiful evening. Probably only a start, as looking to the west he could see the dark clouds of rain that appeared to have been accurately forecast.

After another twenty minutes or so, he could wait no more. Getting back into his car, he drove slowly down the road, stopped at the house, almost ran up the path and then furiously ground the door-bell.

'You're early!' She was dressed in a simple, loose and revealing, pastel-coloured cotton dress. She gave him a chaste peck, indicating that her children were in the house.

'I finished early.' He decided that the truth was the best excuse. 'I've actually been waiting on the cliffs for nearly an hour!'

'You should've come in!' She leaned forwards and hugged him hard. 'I've been waiting. It's been so long.' They hugged and kissed tighter. 'We could have left half an hour ago!'

***

The evening seemed to pass at a fast pace.

They had walked around Canterbury and eaten at a restaurant in the Cathedral precinct. They had had little time for the splendours of one of England's most famous tourist traps, as they talked and talked, about all the things they'd done, should have done or hadn't done since they last met. They had enjoyed the meal, but if you had asked either of them, what they had eaten, a few weeks or even days later, they would not have remembered. Such was their interest in each other.

It was probably about half past ten, that they walked slowly arm-in-arm through the narrow lanes of the city to his car. They were looking in the shop window, where a couple of years previously, they had bought the infamous cartoon pig, that contained the messages and the locks of hair, that glared in pride of place on her bedroom wall.

Suddenly, he broke her grip and reached into his pocket. 'I have something for you!' He handed a small soft package, wrapped in aluminium foil. It would have been pretty paper, but as ever he had forgotten to buy any!

She carefully unwrapped the foil and found a small leather bag with a silk drawstring. Inside was a ring. The ring. The exquisite diamond held in the band of gold. It fitted the finger perfectly. 'You shouldn't have!' She examined it, as it flashed and sparkled in the lights from the shops and the streets. 'It's beautiful.' She kissed him very gently.

'It says sorry if you like. Sorry for all the rotten times you've had! Sorry for not coming more often!' He thought again and paused before continuing. 'But it tells you how I've always felt about you! And always will!'

***

Just before they descended from the Downs towards the coast, the rains started. Not heavy at first, but within a few minutes, the warning spots had become a solid and refreshing cascade of summer rain. As they passed the look-out from where in daylight and much better weather you had a superb panorama of all of the south Kent coast, she motioned him to pull in. He stopped the car, removed his seat-belt, eased back his seat and turned towards her.

She had already turned and had placed her naked feet over the centre console, so that they were resting in his lap. He could see her smile, in front of a backdrop of rain running down the window, illuminated by the lights of the passing cars. Her foot stroked him. 'I need to feel him inside me now!' It now dug deeper into his groin and continued stroking.

His left hand was now advancing down her bare legs, which teasingly were being held tight together,. Her hands were resting firmly in her lap, stopping his progress short. He tried to reach over and kiss her, but her position and the confines of the car, prevented any approach. But a hand rose to meet his lips and demanded to be kissed, whilst a second expertly undid and then removed his tie. His hand now felt all resistance cease and as she spread her legs, he found her warm, moist and very ready. Two, three and then four fingers explored, probed and caressed.

Then suddenly, she lifted her legs, turned and smoothed her dress down over her legs. In an instant, she had opened the door and was running into the trees, totally oblivious to the rain. Seconds later, he was running after her.

It took him almost a minute to find her, standing and hiding behind a large oak, perhaps a few metres from the road. The light colour of the dress had betrayed her, as a car had passed.

She did not run. She did not walk. She just stood there laughing, smiling, and getting soaked, whilst she waited for him to approach. As he grabbed her to his body and kissed her, he could feel that like himself, she was now wet through. Her hands were to his belt and flies and his were lifting her dress to expose herself completely. Within seconds, he had thrown her to the floor, hitched her dress and knees to her shoulders, dropped his trousers and pants and penetrated her. It was brutal. It was explosive. It was all animal passion and they both came simultaneously and very strongly. Teeth found shoulders on both sides and hands scratched deep marks in backs, arms, chests and buttocks. Tears merged with the rain and they must have laid there tightly coupled for several minutes, whilst they teased, nibbled, kissed, whispered and cried.

***

It was around one in the morning, that he started back up the motorway towards London and his flat in the Barbican.

He was tired, elated, dishevelled and very happy. Perhaps, at last he was in sight of the happiness that had eluded him for so long. The recession was starting to ease and his business of analysing corporate databases for problems, fraud, strengths and weaknesses was generating the sort of money he had always believed it would. His rocky marriage, that had lurched from problem to problem for nearly all of its eight years, could not last much longer and after tonight he felt that the one he really wanted and should have married all those years before, might at last give a proper answer to his questions and advances.

A single phone call shattered all those hopes.

Copyright 1999 by Ewart Higgins