This time next year... ~ Closed for ArticMonkey

[Anonymaso]

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Caitlin Maguire had fallen hard for Dylan. She had never been one for rough and ready truckers but he had swept her off of her feet. She had been his first admin employee, because her brother drove one of his trucks. They were inseparable during their first years together and their initial fears that working together would finish them as a couple had proven unfounded. Within 2 years they had married and a couple of years after that Caitlin confidently expected to fall pregnant. They waited the year required before the NHS would investigate her fertility and then their 3 cycles of IVF funding had born no fruit. Caitlin was left grieving for a child that had never drawn breath, while trying not to consider herself a failure as a woman. Needing a change of scene, she had left the removals firm and started working at a solicitor's office. She had started out in admin but was now a paralegal with a demanding workload. She frequently stayed late at the office but then Dylan also put in whatever was required to make his business work. Sometimes they were like ships that passed in the night. Caitlin had accepted she was barren and had no immediate plans to adopt or foster but she hadn't told Dylan this because when she was ready for a family she didn't want him suddenly getting cold feet. It was going to be a complicated enough process without making him privy to her apprehension about the whole thing at this stage in the game.

It had been a long, shit Friday and it was half past six when Caitlin caught a tram out of central Manchester to the suburb of Oldham, where they lived. Her head was aching and it was going to take everything she had not to crack open a bottle of wine the moment she was home. She let herself into their small Victorian terrace and was slightly disappointed when she discovered her husband was still at work. Caitlin squinted into the freezer without enthusiasm and her eye lit on a packet of scampi. That was the kind of cooking she could get behind this evening. She poured herself a Chardonnay and splashed some soda into the glass to help her pace herself. Caitlin flipped the oven on the heat up and then fished her phone out of her handbag.

"I'm home." She texted. "When are you back? Shall I put something the oven or do you want a ruby?"

Caitlin wasn't one to put strings of kisses onto her text messages or sprinkle them with endearments. Dylan knew she loved him, or at least he should do. It was their anniversary and while they had exchanged cards that morning, they weren't going out until tomorrow night, so a curry and a film were as raucous as the evening was likely to get.

 

[ArticMonkey]

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Dylan Maguire stepped down from the cab of his 18 ton lorry and stretched lazily. His crew were straight into the depot's tea room to put the kettle on or use the shitter. Dylan lit a cigarette and smoked it as he stamped round the lorry doing swift checks. The weather was icy cold with gale force winds that tried to slice his head off. He was convinced it was going to snow. Black ice had made the drive treacherous. Once satisfied, Dylan put his fag out and hurried indoors.

"Well I guess there's life in the old boss yet." Old Mick said, nodding at him. Mick had been a lorry driver back when Dylan first started out in removals, by virtue of his 'grandad licence' that didn't require specialist training to drive HGVs. He had quickly become too long in the tooth to lift and carry household goods all day, so when Dylan got his proper depot in Oldham with a storage warehouse, Mick had been forklift trained and promoted to site manager. Although he was to be found in the tea room more often than other men would get away with, Mick was devoted to the firm and completely trustworthy.

"Don't you doubt it." He had replied, with a sardonic twist of his lips.

The removal Dylan and his men had done that day was a high value job over to Barnsley. The customer was a retired antiques dealer who didn't appear to own anything that wasn't high value and fragile. Those were the only moves Dylan got physically involved with these days and he had not been built for desk work. His business was thriving but sitting at the computer and on the phone all day was a slow death to him. Every now and again he had to keep his hand in, not least to demonstrate to his colleagues that he hadn't gone soft in the gut.

Dylan was properly physically tired instead of carrying around stress and emotional fatigue in his belly while being physically alert. It always made him nostalgic for the early days of his firm, when he had pretty much been a one man band, until Caitlin had been hired to do the admin and sales work while he visited customers and ran the operational end of the firm. Dylan had been loathe to leave his business in the hands of some slip of a girl who happened to be the sibling of one of his men but Caitlin had quickly proven herself intelligent and capable. Soon he was relying on her. As the business grew and her responsibilities increased accordingly, they have inevitably spent more time together. For the better part of a year Dylan constantly counselled himself 'not to shit where he ate' and fuck up a great working relationship by trying it on with his hot admin assistant. At the same time, her natural deference to him as her boss had given Dylan a frankly unprintable thrill every time she had opened her exquisite mouth and spoken to him. Caitlin wasn't afraid to offer up ideas or to fight her corner but at the same time, she was his first employee who wasn't a hairy trucker and Dylan lost count of the times he had found excuses to leave the office for a moment so he could talk down his fucking semi and remind himself that he was not supposed to be glancing at her tits.

Dylan's had had a pint with his best friend Patrick and under the influence of drink, he confessed that he had been madly in love with his assistant since the day she had walked through the door in her pencil skirt.

"... But she's Sean's sister and she fucking works for me!" He lamented.

"Did you say you love her?" Patrick enquired. Dylan was stunned. He had never used that word in relation to her before, certainly had never allowed himself to think it. But it had slipped from his tongue completely naturally... because it was true. Dylan nodded. "That won't just go away then." Patrick continued. "The longer you deny yourself, the more obsessive you'll get about her."

"Fuck, man. What do I do?" Dylan took a swig from his brown ale and braced himself.

"You do this properly or not at all. You're either in a relationship with her, with Sean's blessing... or she tells you to go fuck yourself and you spend the rest of her employment treating her like your maiden aunt." Patrick surmised. "At least you'll have asked. You won't spend your whole life not knowing if she would have said yes."

"Shit." Dylan opined into his beer, wholly ambivalent now.

So when he had decided to 'do it properly' Dylan's pursuit of Caitlin wasn't so much a leap of faith as a precisely executed military operation. He did not plan on being rebuffed and once she was dating him, he would be at pains to prove to her brother that he wasn't just after a fling. Plus, they still had to work together. Every day. He couldn't risk flirting with her in the workplace because if he really fucked her off it could result in a lawsuit. Waiting until a works do would just look like opportunism. No, this had to be done 'properly.' So one Friday night Dylan 'forgot' to give Caitlin some paperwork and then followed her down to her car and passed it through the window. Away from the office and with two whole days until they would see each other again, he finally made his move. Along with the paperwork, he handed over 2 tickets to 'The Taming of the Shrew.' He didn't know what it was about himself but Caitlin had recently said she'd love to see Shakespeare at a theatre one day.

"Those are two tickets for tomorrow night." He told her. "Caitlin, I really like you and I have been thinking for a long while that we could be really good together. I know we work together but sometimes you've just got to take a chance. So, if you'd like to go to this show with me, meet me at Fred's Bistro at six, so we can eat before the show. If you think this is insane and have no feelings for me, please take a friend with you to the show, or even a date... whatever will make you happiest. If you've no interest in me that is of course absolutely fine and I will never say another word about it. There won't be an atmosphere on Monday. I'm a big boy and I won't cry. I just had to ask you... because I just had to know."

When she didn't say a word, just blushed and tucked the tickets into her handbag, Dylan already knew he'd got himself a date.

The rest, as they said, had been history. He had married her a couple of years later and a couple of years after that they had begun trying for a family. Nothing had happened. All the tests in the world had born no fruit, 'non-specific infertility' which was quack-code for 'ain't got a clue mate.' They got 3 cycles of IVF funded, which saw his beautiful wife run an emotional gauntlet while being pumped full of hormones, only to result in 'failed pregnancy' as they were called. Couldn't just tell his wife that 'nothing happened' could they? Oh no, the paperwork had to call her and her womb a failure. Dylan had been helpless in the face of her heartbreak. There was nothing he could do to make his wife happy. She wanted what mother nature had capriciously decided she could not have. Never mind that there were brainless slags all over Manchester shitting grimy little meal-tickets that they didn't even want. When Caitlin had gone to the law firm Dylan had been relieved. It was too much, to spend all day looking into his own wife's eyes and see nothing but grief and desolation. Maybe in time they could adopt but right now Caitlin was still coming to terms with her... well it wasn't loss because she hadn't lost anything but... failure. That word again. She had shot up the corporate ladder to become a paralegal in record time but that was just another symptom of her seemingly limitless grief. She just threw herself into it.

That morning they had exchanged cards and kissed but there had been no highly charged quickie in the shower, no promise of naughtiness tonight. Sex these days had been reduced to the means by which they failed to conceive. Caitlin had shown little interest for quite some time. Dylan was sympathetic, of course he was but sex was important to him and if they couldn't enjoy a good fuck like any other couple, then what did they have left? Could failing to start a family have finished their relationship altogether? Dylan refused to believe it but was struggling to find much evidence to the contrary these days. It was yet another waiting game; waiting for Caitlin to want him for himself again and not just harvest his sperm on days when she was supposed to be most fertile.

Dylan's phone buzzed in his pocket.

"I'm home. When are you back? Shall I put something the oven or do you want a ruby?"

Dylan sighed. So much for their bloody anniversary then. He had been in two minds about taking her out and now she just wanted a take-away. Dylan remembered their first dirty weekend away together and how they had hardly seen any of Lille because they had been unable to put each other down. He had put her up against the glass doors onto their balcony and fucked her from behind while she gazed out at the French skyline, her moans getting deeper and more animalistic the deeper and harder he nailed her to the glass. She had been so hot for him then, so achingly wet. Now sex was tarnished by recent events and he didn't know how to get that connection back.

He really wanted to go for a pint with the lads but that was unlikely to bring him closer to Caitlin. Dylan instead politely rebuffed the lads' invitations and sent Caitlin a reply.

"Fuck that. We're going out. Wear something hot. I'll be back within the hour."

His dick twitched lazily at the memory of her in stockings and suspenders - gear she had last put on this time last year. Did it have to be their anniversary for them to just enjoy one another? Apparently so.

 

[Anonymaso]

"Fuck that. We're going out. Wear something hot. I'll be back within the hour."

Shit.

Caitlin bit her bottom lip, ambivalent. She was exhausted from her day's work and wanted nothing more than to curl up on the sofa. Was that worth a row with Dylan before he'd even got home, on their anniversary? Probably not. As if looking hot was as simple as putting a bloody dress on!

"Fuck it."

Caitlin marched down the street to the corner shop, where she invested in cigarettes, a lighter, vodka and Redbull. She hadn't smoked since way back when they had first started trying for a baby. As she lit up and took a drag outside the shop it felt like she was drawing a line under the whole sorry charade. She wasn't pregnant. She was never going to be fucking pregnant. So she might as well drink and smoke.

She clattered back into their little house and flipped some music on, then poured herself a vodka redbull, to liven her up. Caitlin jumped into the shower and then put on her favourite little black dress, one she always felt confident in. Beneath it was a black bra, thong and stocking set. Caitlin made inroads into a second drink while she scrunched her hair into something resembling her natural curl but a bit less... natural. She complemented her auburn locks with make-up in metallic greys and blood red lipstick. By the time Dylan got home she was in the back yard in blood red heels, smoking another cigarette.

"So where are we going?" She asked him through the back door. "Because I'm not wearing this out if I'm going to freeze to death."

 

[ArticMonkey]

He was a little concerned at first when he couldn't see where his wife was but it didn't take long for Dylan to realise she was in the back yard. It had been so long since he had seen her smoke that he was concerned at first. The last thing he wanted this night to do was descend into floods of tears and fruitless recriminations. He walked a knife-edge with Caitlin these days. Dylan went through to where she was and looked her up and down. At nearly thirty his wife was still smoking hot. In a different time he might have acted on his impulse to take her tiny five foot frame in his arms, lifting her off the ground and wrapping her legs around his waist. Dylan looked her up and down. Yes, she was wearing a dress and there would be nice lingerie under it but there was no element of surprise these days. The dress was a trusted favourite that she had had for years.

"So where are we going?" She asked him through the back door. "Because I'm not wearing this out if I'm going to freeze to death"

Dylan held her lightly and kissed her on the forehead, testing the waters for intimacy.

"You look beautiful, Caitlin. I'll make a few calls and get us a table somewhere. We'll take a cab into the city." He kissed her cheek and lips but they were brief kisses and she made no move to reciprocate. Jesus, if he had his way they'd order that takeaway and then he'd spend half an hour fucking her over the back of the couch.

He turned and walked away from her before his hands inevitably found their way to her arse and started groping. He called the restaurant they had gone to on their first date, Frederic's Bistro. It did first rate French cuisine that was unfussy and the wine list was unparalleled in Manchester as far as Dylan was concerned.

"Bon soir mon ami. Avez vous une table pour ce soir, s'il vous plait?" The rest of the conversation took place in English and after a little discussion, they had a table for an hour's and a half's time. Dylan booked a cab, then went upstairs for a quick shower. He put on a shirt with smart jeans and shoes.

The cab whisked them through the city and Dylan requested they be dropped off at an old gin palace they liked that was only a five minute walk from the restaurant. He drew Caitlin into a little booth and ordered some Star of Bombay with a mixer that gave new meaning to the word 'tonic,' lime and cucumber swirling in the tall glasses. He raised one to Caitlin, his other hand curling up with the effort of not caressing her knee under the table.

"To us?"

 

[Anonymaso]

By the time Dylan had showered and changed, Caitlin was halfway down her third vodka Redbull. It wasn't like her to drink like this, particularly not on an empty stomach. The potent cocktail of caffeine and alcohol meant she was really looking forward to going out now. She stepped into blood red heels, pulled on a heavy woollen coat and then they took a cab across town. The Old Grapes was a gorgeous little place and their G&Ts were exquisite. Caitlin held Dylan's hand across the table and gave him a couple of pecks on the lips.

"To us." She concurred, clinking glasses with him.

Caitlin was of course aware that their fertility issues had caused her to neglect Dylan a little. It had started way back when they had first had tests and Dylan had been so stupidly thrilled that his sperm were healthy and motile. He had all but uploaded the bloody test result to facebook. For Caitlin however, all it meant was that the problem lay with her. Her fault. Her failure. And her internal plumbing was a sight more complex than Dylan's. Dylan had come to her appointments with her and done everything he could do in terms of giving her hormone injections and letting her work around whatever was going on with the fertility treatment, while somehow managing to keep their infertility from his colleagues. He had held her when she cried.

But... he hadn't cried. Throughout everything she had put herself through, Cailtin was always aware that Dylan wouldn't be heartbroken if there was never a baby. He said he wanted kids with her and he had done everything in his power to make it happen but he would be complete and happy regardless. Caitlin found herself resenting and envying him this in equal measure. One of her friends was happily childless. She and her partner instead did lots of travelling, gigging and socialising. She had quietly said once to Caitlin that if it didn't happen for her and Dylan she needed to remember what she already had and find other ways to enjoy life and become closer. Caitlin could certainly see the logic in this but her lacerated heart simply wasn't capable of it.

Dylan's continuing zest for life grated on her now. Caitlin knew he wanted them to reconnect sexually but she just couldn't seem to get past her body failing in one of its primary functions. She knew Dylan would be thrilled to bin the ovulation charts once and for all and have sex just for fun again. Caitlin tried to get herself into that mindset but thus far it had eluded her. It was like being told to make yourself orgasm when you weren't even in the mood. She did feel bad for Dylan because none of this was his fault but it certainly didn't help that he thought the end of her treatment should mean they could 'just get back to normal.' There was no normal. Caitlin was a walking fucking anomaly.

Caitlin smiled at Dylan and took a pull on her drink. It was exquisite. Maybe tonight... those few vodka Redbulls might have given her the boost she needed to enjoy this night properly. Maybe she had just been too uptight before.

"I do love you, Dylan." She stammered awkwardly, flushing a little. Christ you'd think she was a teenager on her first date, not a wife of nearly ten years with a shrivelled up fucking womb...

Don't think about that.

Caitlin closed her eyes and kissed Dylan full on the mouth, uncaring of them being in public.