"We are going to visit Valerie today," Carl Kent said into his phone. "Please be kind enough to come for me at school at a quarter to noon. As usual we will use your car."

Frank had every reason to accommodate his boss at the school. From being a kid brought up by a single mother, he had, in a matter of five years, become the highly respected director of music at the Raytheon Preparatory School in the leafy suburb of Kingsbridge. His pupils were highly sought-after, and scores of them had earned musical scholarships into their high schools. Frank's mother was a writer whose children's books that had caught the eye of Carl Kent, the owner of Raytheon. Even though the books were of a very high standard they could not fit into the curriculum of Raytheon, since the Heads Association of Preparatory Schools made those selections. So Carl had instead offered Frank a job at the school, hoping that he would pass the interview conducted by the Headmaster and his senior management team.

He had every confidence the boy would suitably impress the SMT and be offered the job. Frank had gone to Hospital Hill Primary, one of the top public schools in the country, and then attended Duke of York High School, a Grade 'A' school, gaining a Division One in his final examinations. He had earned his 'teacher's wings' at Highridge Teachers' College, so was uniquely suited to Raytheon. As he indeed proved.

He quickly established himself as a highly organised worker. Within the first term, he had established routines to be followed in the Music Centre's numerous rooms where various instruments were taught. He initiated a programme of bringing in some of the most qualified musicians in the city to teach the children, a web at whose center Frank sat overseeing every little detail. Soon it became known that staff members went to the Music Centre with very clear purposes if they did want to earn a reproof from its director. The musical achievements of Raytheon's children continued to rise and rise without any end in sight.

On this fine Saturday Frank drove from his flat not far from the school, parked two spaces away from Carl in the staff parking, and called him. It was 11:42.

"I am here."

"Give me two minutes."

It did not even take Carl all of that time. He opened the passenger door, and was seated before he greeted his protege.

"Good morning Frank!" he said softly. "It is good of you to come. Last night Sheila was hospitalised at Midwest Nursing Home. We are not at all hopeful that she will make it out of there this time." His voice was wistful, laced with heavy sadness.

Frank waited for a few seconds for his boss and mentor to regain his composure.

Then,"Let's go now."

The younger man started the car and drove out at a sedate pace, as if even the car was sad. Not many words were exchanged on the twenty-minute drive to Valerie's Riverside mansion. It stood back from the road behind a massive grey gate with gold embellishments. They drove in when the gate opened. Frank negotiated the tiny roundabout in front of the house, and stopped in front of the richly lacquered main door.

Carl turned and told Frank, "I will call you at a little before five."

"Yes, I will place myself in the vicinity about that time."

"Thank you." With that Carl pulled himself out of the car, closed the car door and started up the curved steps leading to the door.

Before he could even press the bell, the door opened and he found himself face to face with Kasim. This tall, light-skinned Pakistani had served the Hartley household since they first came as expatriates in this country some twelve years earlier.

"Good morning, Mr Kent!" said he, bowing in his customary fashion.

"Good morning, Kasim!" replied the visitor. "Is Mrs Hartley in?" He had talked to her earlier so the question was only a matter of form.

"She wants me to show you to her TV room, sir."

He followed Kasim past the sitting room and the dining room, until they reached a door opposite the dining room. Kasim knocked, and at the answer, he pushed it open for Carl but did not enter. He found her watching the latest news on France24 channel. She stood up and bundled him into a warm hug, the first time she had ever done so.

"I am so sorry to hear that Sheila has relapsed. We had hoped that she would pull through after her trip to Israel." She allowed her palm to rub his back softly and gently. He found this surprisingly comforting. "I know exactly how that feels," she added.

Carl had seen her struggle during her husband's final days, often wishing he could take some of her pain away from her. And when Dennis finally passed away he watched her go through that confusing time when she should have been glad that her husband's suffering was over, but she missed his company and love. Compounding the situation was society's almost certain disapproval of such an idea, that a man was better off dead.

Even through that dismal time they kept their friendship quite platonic. Neither of them could have anticipated what was in store for them.

"Thank you Val." He bent his face and looked into her calm eyes. "But we shall not dwell on that subject. The doctors are doing their best, I trust."

On an impulse he returned the warmth of her hug by holding her by the waist, while the other hand went to the back of her head, into her hair. They clung to each other tightly allowing feelings that had been dammed up for years to come to the fore. Each of them was surprised both by the sudden appearance and the vehemence of those feelings.

For her it was sympathy for what he was facing in the sickness of his wife. She could feel it as if it were herself watching a loved one decline. He, on his part, felt a deep gratitude for her friendship through the two years since Sheila was first diagnosed. There was a pang of guilt that she had helped him financially during the preparations to take his wife to Israel for treatment, yet he had done so little for her when her husband was ailing.

He held her tighter at this thought, feeling the tightening of her arms around him.

Afterwards they could never say who had started moving lips to the other's mouth. They only found themselves locked in a passionate kiss, each attacking the other like a starving beggar. Which they each were, not having had the closeness of a spouse for years, through no fault of their own.

She felt his manhood pressed against her navel, causing her passions rise to fever pitch in only a few seconds. Her nipples tightened and hardened under her top and she felt a moistness in her panty. That she could still feel this way shocked her to the core and she abruptly broke the embrace to go and stand by the window looking out into the lawn. Her face held a look of sadness.

Carl was left standing beside the chair she had been sitting on when he came in. "Did I hurt you in any way, dear Val?" he asked in a kind voice. The last thing he would have wanted at this moment would be to soil their long friendship. His cock, had it a voice of its own, would have been wailing that something so good had been cut short.

"No, not at all." She gave a little shiver, perhaps of anticipation. "Please forgive my forwardness."

He moved towards her. "No, forgive me for heaping my troubles on you like this."

At these words she turned red, teary eyes to his, took a step towards him and grabbed him again. This time they both came into it with purpose, kissing ravenously. But again she broke off, only to go and lock the door.

"Great idea!" he said, holding his arms out for her to come into. As soon as they locked back into their kiss he let his hand graze around her chest. She made as if to pull away, and he thought it was because she had not yet put on a bra. But since his other hand was resting just below her hairline she could not go very far. She didn't even feel like she really wanted to, anyway.

She stepped towards the long padded chair pulling him along. "Wonderful, I can now suck these lovely boobs." He was slightly surprised at this thought suddenly coming into his mind, unbidden. Then another equally strange. "Yes, even suck her pussy until she pours her essence." He almost broke the embrace to check if there was another presence in the room with them whispering these wild thoughts into his mind. He pinched her nipple gently giving her fresh pleasure. At this moment they felt a sense of belonging to each other.

He broke the kiss to graze lips on her neck, bringing waves of delight all over her. Now they were sitting at the edge of this seat, bodies turned towards each other. He licked the side of her neck up towards her ear, as his fingers kept up a play on her breasts, periodically pinching one nipple then later another. She threw one leg over his thigh opening up her thighs to him, which he took as signal to caress her thighs. But that was not enough for him. Quickly he gave rein to his earlier thought about her boobs in his mouth, slipping off the seat, kneeling and facing her.

Pulling her top off her boobs he attacked them with his mouth and one hand. The other had gone exploring under her skirt, encountering her panty. It was heavily ribbed so beyond the heat of her heated pussy, he could not know the lie of the land.

His mouth opened to take in a nipple and then squeeze it between his teeth covered by the lips. Above his head he could tell that Val had opened her mouth wide in ecstasy. He changed to suck the other boob, while he guided his hand, unseeingly, to strum her lips under that heavy material. He brought both hands to her hips as he nursed on her boobs. Then he hooked the elastic of her panty and drew it off and to her ankles. She lifted one foot then the other and then she was open to him.

He looked down at her pussy to see sparse black hairs over her mound. He brought his head towards her and she stopped him with her hands. "That is dirty!" she said vehemently. "Stop."

But he turned his head sideways so that one hand was dislodged and he placed his lips smartly on hers. He dragged them up, down and sideways. "Ooooh!" escaped her lips, while her hands remained clamped around his head, yet offering little resistance. Then he brought out the tongue to graze on the sparse growth. Her legs trembled where they had come to rest on his shoulders.

Stiffening his tongue he split her peach open, finding slippery juices nestled there. He dragged his tongue along its length. She was delirious with pleasure at this point. He sank deeper into her slit and found her hole. At this the feet were waving like windscreen wipers, completely out of control. Then he felt her clit, surrounded by the labia minora. He nudged it until he felt the hood being peeled off by the pressure of his tongue.

"Caaa-arl! What are you doing to me?" she shrieked. Now he had completely unpeeled the clit so that it felt like a tiny banana as his tongue licked its naked surface. He flicked it several times, but this became too much for her. He felt the legs kicking out while still on his shoulders, rather like slow pistons. He guessed she had reached a climax but no sound came from her mouth. He momentarily withdrew to the lower regions, licking her slit and hole languidly. Next, he flattened his tongue like that of a Doberman washing her from perineum to the top of the clitoral hood. The clit was highly sensitive by this time so that on every pass she shuddered.

"You have given me so much pleasure, darling. I know you want to dip your salami into me. I, too can hardly wait! Come." And with that she pulled him up by his armpits. He allowed himself to be manouvred up then turned her to bend ovet the seat, one leg on the floor and the other sort of kneeling on the seat leaving her as open as before, if not more. Carl took hold of his very erect cock and lowered his body to place his cockhead on her glistening lips.

"Come in, loverboy!" she urged him. And he thrust his hips forward, burying his whole stem to the hilt. He began movement into her and out again. He felt he needed to place on foot on the seat, and hold himself steady on the back rest with one arm. This added stability allowed him to increase his speed as he mated with her in animal fashion. His hand seemed to abhor freedom and descended to find her bouncing boob. Her excitement soared sharply, driving her over the edge. Her mouth was wide open without producing any sound, but her trembling legs spoke volumes for her.

Her warm juices on his stem sent him into a spiral of orgasmic delight and he poured his seed deep into her womb, which would surely have been fertilised had it been this time last year. Menopause had arrived in the fury of hot flushes and wild swings of temper late in the previous year. Not knowing this, he imagined that he had given her twins, so hot and abundant had his ejaculation seemed to him. His strokes grew slower gradually until his shriveled cock slipped out of her with a plop.

"Wow, Val! That was so wicked and sweet! I should have remembered my poor wife lying in hospital at this present moment."

"If I gave you some comfort, some pleasure, with my company I am glad. I would love for us to keep this intimacy for the rest of our lives."

Neither of them had any idea that at Midwest Nursing Home, Sheila was breathing her last at that precise moment.

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