A Stranger in My Bed by Rachel Cray

Author:Rachel Cray
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: middle age romance, romance in middle age, love with a stranger
Publisher: Maryon Westerfield Publishing
Published: 2016-04-27T00:00:00+00:00

ALAN LEFT HIS CAR IN my driveway, as we considered it made more sense to use public transport into the metropolis. We arrived in London in mid-afternoon, and settled into our room at a plush hotel on Piccadilly; Alan phoned to book two seats at a show I wanted to see – a revival of an old musical I last saw some ten years ago – and then we went for afternoon tea at the Savoy, something I hadn’t done for a very long time. I always found the place had a relaxing ambience; today, however, we had a lot of talking to do.

“If you don’t get this post at Edinburgh – or anywhere else – what are you going to do with your life, Alan?”

“Write some books, I suppose. But all I know is philosophy and comparative ethics, and those kinds of books are not best sellers.”

“There must be something else you can do.”

“I enjoy travelling, but I want to put down some roots after all this time.”

“You could teach. Evening classes for adults, maybe. I’m sure there are some people who would be interested in your subjects.”

“I might consider running a business from home, but there’s always an element of risk. Things could go horribly wrong.”

“There was an element of risk when you appeared at my door this morning. I could easily have turned you away.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t. Thank you for letting me back in.”

I had a hunch that Alan’s return into my life could turn everything upside-down. Perhaps I needed something life-changing that would force me out of the rut I was in; as soon as I found my feet after I lost Bill, I should have returned to teaching. Instead I wanted to crawl into my shell at home and watch the world pass by from my window, indulging myself with cheap daytime television shows. This was no life for an educated, articulate woman. I needed the vital impulse to push me; and here was Alan, ready to provide that spark. But it seemed that he needed some kind of stimulus, too. Could I provide it for him?

We walked back along the Strand, across Trafalgar Square and on towards our hotel. “We have an hour to kill before dinner,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

“I am in your hands.”

“Let’s go for a quick drink in the bar. Then we’ll be handy to get our table. We can’t spend too long over dinner – otherwise we’ll miss the show.”

We each had a glass of white wine, which we managed to sip slowly enough to last until our table was ready in the restaurant. We decided that we would only have a light meal, and then return for supper after the theatre. And after supper... we would retire for an early night of passion together.

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