One way ticket through Hell, and back.....again.

S.I.R.

A novel by Chris Norgate. Copyrights have been applied 2018.

S.I.R. an original novel by Chris Norgate

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the author except

for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

xanthic@angelic.com

I am indebted to my Father for living, but my teacher for living well. Alexander The Great

Descending Integrity Of Rising Angels.

Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide. Napoleon Bonaparte

Under their extraordinary efforts even their tight youthful flesh flexed and creased. The young woman’s teenage skin vibrated rhythmically with the small sharp gasps of pleasure that escaped from her lips. And although her eyes were closed her hands told her everything she needed to know as the muscular man above her bent her, unresisting, to his will.

The man, barely out of his teens, had spent most of those formative years perfecting the body that now dominated his girl’s immediate future. Soft mounds of flesh jiggled under their combined motions as they generated a light coating of glistening sweat.

She looked up at him smiling, making a bonding contact between their perfect blue eyes, the perfectness was matched by their perfect young bodies. The teenage goddess put her hands on the image of divinity before her, rubbing them along his chest. She marvelled once more at the impressiveness of her mate and his athleticism. She slid off and rolled onto her knees, lowering her head as she did so, to the damp, sweat laced pillow and felt him take up his pleasure once more.

There was a slam from downstairs as the front door was forced shuddering back into its hole. Stanley immediately flushed red and snapped his laptop shut and accidentally pushed it off of his small desk in panic. His office doubled as his matrimonial bedroom which was always kept spotless and he rapidly considered opening his laptop back up, closing down his current browsing window and replacing the office supplies now covering the cream carpet. The thumping footsteps rattling up the stairs signalled this time had passed.

Into the room came the beautiful blonde woman who, a brief few years earlier, had consented without too much cajoling to be his wife.

"You're early." Stanley said radiating heat through ill cloaked embarrassment.

"I would have been a whole lot earlier if I hadn't been stopped for speeding on the way home. Sir William has jetted off to one of his islands again, so while the fat cat’s away the secretaries will play. What have you been doing with yourself?"

Stanley was about to mumble ’Nothing, Dear’ when his beautiful wife slid forward the fallen laptop and opened it. Two very pink bodies continued their efforts in cinematic reproduction, although procreation would have been more easily accessible if other bodily avenues had been utilised.

"Oh Stanley, what have we talked about before? You know this isn't good for you."  Cassandra moved her perfectly manicured finger across the touchpad and softly closed the window.

"Sorry, Dear."

She moved the cursor again and opened a new window on the laptop. This time two young teen girls were rolling around on a four poster bed surrounded by fine lace sheets and nothing else. They both seemed very happy to be in each other’s company.

"This is what we agreed you'd watch when I'm out. Come on Stanley, I want a baby before next Summer so I need to get pregnant in the next two months. I'm going for a shower and then you had better well be ready to try again."

Cassandra reached forwards and patted her hand on her husband's crotch. She looked disappointed in what she found or more accurately, failed to find.

"Watch more of this and do your best to get excited about it. Porsha and Tims are onto their third and it's a girl this time."

His beautiful wife opened the wardrobe door and took out a dressing gown that cost him three weeks freelance commission. It had been crafted, not made - Stanley had been scolded for using that word - whilst in disbelief at the price in the shop. It was of the rarest of Japanese silk and only a limited few had generously been made available for the Western market.     

Cassandra left the door open, which Stanley hated as it meant a 60% reduction of his office work space as the door knocked the papers in his in-tray, and walked towards their ensuite bathroom.

Stanley watched her go. He was always a little envious of her for this as he was permanently banned from using the ensuite facilities after a drunken kebab extracted it's gastric revenge upon him and the Italian porcelain a number of years ago. He smiled knowing he would use it from time to time while she was out before scrupulously scrubbing it clean. He maybe slightly rebellious but not suicidally stupid.

Reverting his attention away from his wife's perfectly pert buttocks, Stanley looked back towards the laptop’s screen still showing the girls in full enjoyment. Everybody seemed to be enjoying everything more than Stanley ever had, maybe there was some trick he was missing. He willed, with all his might, for blood to flow in the other direction and down, away from his overactive imagination but, alas, whatever signalmen operated that line were on strike. He shifted position incase his trousers were too tight, knowing that if this didn't work he would be encouraged to take another of the little blue pills his wife had ordered from an online pharmaceutical supplier. They never worked the way they described or impressively depicted on the packet. Instead they often led to a great deal of discomfort and what he described as a liquid bowel. Stanley considered this a small price considering the website spelled pharmaceutical with a capital F.

Stanley tried to become interested in the show but all his brain could focus on were questions such as what kind of yoga they would have to have practiced to get into those positions and hoping they cleaned their teeth afterwards. These thoughts were interrupted when Cassandra re-entered the bedroom-office, robed and dripping water over the carpet and the research papers Stanley had placed carefully in chronological order earlier. He couldn’t rescue them from the ruining footprints as his very beautiful wife had dropped her robe right in the middle of his final report. Stanley cringed at the waste as his beautiful wife leapt on him spryly, pushing him off of his executive chair and onto the wide sprung filing system, which at the end of the working day, reverted back to the matrimonial bed.

Foreplay was more 2-ply as Stanley’s clothes absorbed the water falling from his wife’s unrobed body. Cassandra ripped and pulled everywhere until Stanley was suitably ready for her selected afternoon’s activity. It should have been amazing, a sensual gift from a beautiful wife to her husband, but Stanly could only think of the chaffing of the bedsheets against the sore patches from his enforced diet aiding jogs. He lay there looking up at his wife, who he admitted looked fantastic from this -or any - angle. Stanley was hypnotised by the pendulum motion of her breasts which flicked drops of warm bath water at the peak of every swing. It should have been fantastic, it should have been amazing, a perfect beauty queen in the prime of her life. Unfortunately there was one thing that spoiled the moment.

Cassandra pulled herself way, stomping off back to the bathroom in disgust.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really tried this time.” called Stanley from his recumbent position, pushing his head back so he could aim it at the recently slammed door. “I promise I’ll go back to the Doctor’s tomorrow.”

There was overly theatrical sobbing singing out through the locked door. Stanley pulled himself together and approached it with extreme caution as if stepping lightly towards the most dangerous and unpredictable risk in the world. He was, it was a woman.

“My mother tried to stop me from marrying you.” Cassandra wailed from the otherwise. “I never listened! All I want is a baby. I work hard, I do as much as I can and the one thing I want you won’t give me.”

Stanley looked around at his office. He saw all the material ‘one things’ that his beautiful wife had desired and just wanted. He looked over the golden vase and the designer handbag that took all the royalties of his first major novel, to not buy but adopt, from its creator. There were numerous other extravagances festooned throughout the expansive house that they both felt his little hobby writing would be better in this small corner of the bedroom so the other rooms could be turned over to the adornment of pretty and expensive things.

Stanley knew it was his bitter old mother-in-law who arranged their first date, she had to pretty much drive her daughter to the restaurant to make sure she turned up. Why date looks when looks fade? Money will always be money, no matter how many wrinkles it has. The words she spoke as she pushed her daughter through the door still hung around his ears like bees around their hive to keep him company on those long nights out on book signings or at times like this. Stanley’s own doting parents supported this idea. His father was then an MP and his mother did what she did with her time as she had a family purse to support her. There was a rumour that if seventeen people all met unfortunate ends before they managed to breed a new generation, there would be a title in the family. Theirs had been a marriage that suited both their needs at the time and they had grown very fond of each other over the last three decades. They saw no issues in their youngest child achieving the same, especially as Stanley’s father, as part of the wedding speech, rated Cassandra a 9.8 on the ‘you would after a pint’ scale of attractiveness.

Stanley got a real looker which helped him in social situations and dramatically improved his offers of work. Cassandra got Stanley.

“My love.”

“Don’t you, My love, me.” said Cassandra, as she opened the door and displayed her beautiful face somehow even more beautiful with the addition of tear filled eyes. “If you loved me you would have sorted that.” she pointed to the object of her greatest disappointment. “Out by now and given me the one thing I actually want in the whole wide world.”

“I promise, I really do.”

“No. It’s too late for that, for promises or anything else. I don’t think you want to have a child with me and to make this shame of a marriage into a proper family. Well if you can’t give it to me then I met someone today who won’t have your problems.” Cassandra pulled out clothes and a pair of white high heeled shoes from the handmade dresser and threw a dress over her head and pulled it down.

“How could you have met anyone? Sir William is famous for only employing women.” said Stanley not understanding what was being said.

“It wasn’t at work. If you must know all of my business, it was on the way home. He’ll be perfect to start the process off. Now don’t get upset, it's purely a business transaction. I told him if you weren’t up to the job then you would pay him to do it for you. Now, now, don’t get yourself excited. You know you can’t do it, it's exactly the same as when I had to get the kitchen fitters in after your botched attempt.”

“I don’t understand, are you saying you want an affair?” asked Stanley sitting on the bed as all blood that supported his frame fell away with lightheadedness and nausea rushing in to replace it.

“No, not an affair, once or twice. Maybe three times just to get the job done, that’s all. You’ll pay him every time until we get what I want.” Cassandra pulled from a drawer a pair of perfectly white panties and hooked her leg through one of the holes. “Now I haven’t got a lot of time, he only has a short time before he has other plans so I need to get going. Don’t look so down in the dumps, Dearest, I’ll be home soon and I’ll bring a Chinese.”

She blew a kiss as she hobbled out of the room trying to get the other leg into her underwear.

“Do you mean a takeaway or another man?” muttered Stanley under his breath. No, he wasn’t going to sit still and take this, he felt an unfamiliar feeling welling up from within, remembering what fear or anger felt like from being endlessly lectured about what to do, everybody telling him it was for the best or will be for the best.

“No.” Stanley called after his departing wife. “No I will not have this at all, I’ve put up with a lot from you and this is the very last straw, I mean it Cassandra, I….”

Stanley never found out how he was going to finish his diatribe because, at the sound her of name, Cassandra turned to face him but with only one leg in her knickers and the other caught up amidst the twisted fabric, she fell slowly backwards at first down the long showcase stairwell with a look of shock on her face - mostly at the turn of nature in her husband.

Cassandra Rhodes hit the last step and crashed onto the floor, sliding as she did so into a box holding several magnums of champagne sourced for their coming anniversary celebrations. The thin packing crate designed for presentation rather than protection cracked and broke, soaking both her and the ornamental African walnut  floor with the sweet alcohol infused fluid.