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Starting Over Again	By : gallygaskins Category: 1 through F > Clocking Off (BBC) > Clocking Off (BBC) Views: 1117 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Clocking Off and I do not earn any money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Chapter 15 – A chance meeting?

Mack sat at his desk, it was getting late and he was glad that he was just about done with the paperwork. The word document that he had open was staring blankly back at him, the cursor flashing as he desperately tried to think of something to write, he knew he loved Sophie but how on earth was he going to stand up in front of 60 odd people tomorrow, telling her that. At least when they’d been married in France it was a ceremony that was over in a matter of 20 minutes and it was mostly in French, Sophie having translated the service for his benefit as they’d made their vows and exchanged rings.

The phone beside him began to ring and he picked it up, knowing that apart from the security guard he was the only other person left in the building. “Hello?”

“Hello Mack.” Sophie said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hello pet, are you ok?”

“Yeah, just getting tired and I was wondering when you were going to be home, I need you to tuck me into bed.”

“I won’t be long. I’ve just finished the letters and schedules for whilst we’re away, so I’m going to pack up now and come home. I’ll see you soon.”

“Good, have you done your vows yet?”

“Have you?”

“2 weeks ago; you haven’t done them.” She stated.

“I don’t know what to write.”

“Come home then, I’ll give you some pointers. Have you eaten yet?”

“Not since dinner time.”

“There’s some pasta plated up for you, why don’t you warm it up, bring up a bottle of wine and 2 glasses to the bedroom and I’ll help you.”

“Ok, see you in 15 minutes then.” That was all the encouragement he needed, maybe she’d even offer to write them for him. ‘Not a chance’ his mind told him, but he could still wonder if she might.

He was soon home and after saying his hello’s to Sophie’s brother and his family, Mack was sorting himself out with food and wine before finally climbing the stairs to their bedroom. “Sophie?” He asked into the depths of the candlelit room, she was definitely up to something. He locked the door behind him, the last thing they needed was a visitor in the night.

“I’m in here,” she called from the bathroom. He strode into the en suite and found her soaking in the bath, bubbles and water gently swirling in time with her breathing, lapping at the skin underneath her breasts whilst her hair fell over the edge of the bath and dangled tantalizingly toward the floor.

“You look relaxed.” He said, a sparkle in his eyes as he took in every last detail, “do you want me to wash your back?”

“In a bit. Eat your dinner first.”

“I’d rather eat you.” He exclaimed, going out into the bedroom to retrieve a chair and bringing it back in, narrowly missing the wet flannel that served as a projectile. “Now, now, Mrs Mack. There was no need for that, I’m only telling you the truth.”

“You’d better eat up quickly then,” she draped a soapy leg over the edge of the bath, her pink toe nails glistening as droplets of water and bubbles dripped to the floor. “I’m not languishing in here just for the benefit of my skin, you know?”

“I must admit,” he said between mouthfuls, “I didn’t think you were either, what with all the candles and smouldering smelly things you’d got going on in the bedroom.”

“Just wanted a relaxed atmosphere, darling.” She teased, “after all this is my last night as a … hmm what would you call it … European bride.”

He poured out two glasses of wine and offered one to his wife. She took it, there fingers meeting briefly, sparks beginning to fly as she sat up a little and began to sip her drink. “So what will you be tomorrow, then?” He asked.

“A good old fashioned English bride. I liked being European.”

“Why? Because English brides are boring?” He joked, putting his finished plate on the side by the sink and knocking back what was left in his glass. He took her empty glass from her, “refill?”

She looked up at him, standing over her as she continued to lounge in the huge bath. “No, thanks.” A wicked smile formed on her face, “and in answer to the other question, no.” She said with meaning, “because English husbands are the boring ones.”

His bright blue eyes flashed, sparkling with desire, “are we now?” He pulled his shoes off by his feet, “I don’t think I am,” he returned, stepping his fully clothed body into the water and laying himself on top of her. He bent his head toward hers trying to capture her laughing mouth with his own. He kissed her, hard, his hands beginning to travel over her smooth wet limbs and curves.

“You’re mad.” She cried out.

“At least I’m not boring anymore.”

“Did I call you boring? I meant … desirous, handsome, loving and mine.” She bit at his lower lip, a tingling sensation travelling through him like fire to reach his groin in double quick time. “You’ve got far too many clothes on.” She grabbed at his tie, loosening it as best she could because of it being soaking wet and pulled the offending object over his head. She let it drop to the floor, where the water within it splashed over the tiles and made a puddle. “There’ll be a flood in here if we’re not careful.”

“Who cares, its our house,” he said, pulling her up to him for another molten kiss, she made quick work of his shirt buttons, pushing the green cotton fabric garment from off his shoulders and pulling it out from the waistband of his trousers. The soaking item discarded with the tie. He helped her with the rest, both of them guiding his trousers and boxers down as one, him pulling off his socks as his trousers creased around his ankles. Eventually, with some effort, he wriggled them off and they fell on the floor in another sodden pool. “Oh, Sophie, I love you so much,” his hands smoothed over her silky shoulders as he continued to lay against her, his arousal growing by the second.

He motioned for her to move forward as he knelt up, finally working his way behind her and lying with her in their bath made for 2. He rested his back against the bath, allowing her to rest her back against him before finding the sponge, covering it in chocolate soap and lathering her neck, shoulders, arms and hands before moving onto her ribs, stomach and finally her breasts. She relaxed into him further, closing her eyes to the gentle sensations he was evoking anticipating the next piece of skin he was going to entice. She sighed, revelling in his touch as he continued to wash each of her legs as she lazily drew them up out of the water and toward him. He softly nudged her forward, an arm gently holding her around her waist as he began to wash her back and over her bottom before sluicing her down and allowing her to fall back into the same place against his chest. “You know, if you’re really stuck with the vows we could just revert back to the normal ones.”

“No,” he swirled lazy circles over her stomach and rib cage with his fingers, watching her breasts bobbing about in the water, her nipples erect as hot air met cold wet skin. He ached to touch them but he wanted her to take the initiative, to go at her pace. “I’ll write them, just not sure what to write yet.”

She lent up, turning around and got him to move forward. She sat facing him, her legs hooked over his and crossing behind him. She took the sponge and lathered it up, returning the favour, soaping over his shoulders, arms and torso in much the same manner he had done with her. “You know why you love me?” She watched him nod, “then put that into words and write it down.”

“Sophie, it’s not that easy, I’m not a man who can express himself easily like this.”

She raised her eyebrows, “that’s not exactly the Mack I know, you express yourself very well with me and what about that picture you drew of me, there was more emotion in that alone, than I think I’ve ever been shown by any other person on this planet. And, to be honest, that’s who you’re doing this for. Me, no one else. Perhaps if you just imagined that you were talking to me, telling me what it was about me that made you sit up and think, ‘hey, I want a piece of that,’ or when it was you knew you were in love with me, tell me what you missed about me when I was away from you for those 9 months. Everything is important, James. Everything.”

She sat back a little in order to wash his legs before returning and hugging him too her so that she could reach his back. He audibly sucked in a breath as their bodies met, her nipples caressing against his skin as she continued to wash him. “I suppose I could tell you how much I missed your body for 9 months.”

“If you think that would go down well.” She smirked, bending her head to tease his nipples with the tip of her tongue. “James, I’m so hot for you, so wet. I want you.”

“You’re like that from just washing me?”

“Aren’t you?” Her eyes twinkled as she smiled.

“Yes, but then all men are perverts and just want to have their brains shagged out by a beautiful woman all of the time.” She gently bit down on a nipple, “ow, that hurt!”

“Hurt?” She asked playfully, tenderly rubbing at the bitten flesh.

“No, if I’m honest it felt quite good actually.”

“I know something that’s even better.” She purred.

“Mmm, I know.” He growled, helping her position herself above him before tentatively sliding herself down his erection. He lent his head back against the bath, as she brought her legs down between his and began to rock, the water waving gently with her fluid motion. “Sophie, this is good.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “very good.” He held onto her waist as she moved, beginning to gently rock his hips along with hers, their tiny movements creating a burning need in them both. They kissed, slow and passionately, her hands in his hair.

They must have spent 20 minutes like that, holding each other and kissing, rocking against one another, their gentle love making taking them up a very slow path to orgasm. Eventually, Mack reached his peak, “I’m coming, Sophie,” he whispered. She nodded, completely lost in the moment as he shot his seed within her, she carried on rocking knowing that she wouldn’t be long herself, gripping his shoulders as she whispered his name out against his neck when she finally came herself. She lay in his arms for what seemed like ages, “Sophie?”

“Mmm,” she mumbled, her lips vibrating against his skin.

“Can you move, petal,” he smiled, as she shook her head. “Ok, we’ll just stay like this forever then.” She nodded. As his penis receded from within her, he helped her to sit up and turned her around again, washing her pussy before washing her long dark hair for her. She played her part too, cleaning his cock before gently massaging shampoo and conditioner into his hair and washing it clean. Together they got out of the bath and wiped each other’s skin. Her eyelids were heavy as she lent into his touches, he brushed over her body with the towel, drying her down. He picked her up and took her into the bedroom, sitting her on top of the bed before drying her hair for her with the dryer. He pulled back the duvet and placed her underneath the covers, tucking her in. Bending down over her, he kissed her closed lids seeing her smile. “I’ll come to bed soon, love. Sleep peacefully.”

He donned a clean pair of boxers and after taking out his laptop, he sat at the table by the slightly open window, the soft breeze cooling his tingling skin. “Right,” he looked over to his slumbering wife, her arms and legs visible from where she’d uncovered them, “why do I love you? When did I know I loved you? What was it I missed about you most? Easy.” He turned back to the computer and began typing, “you’re going to love this, Sophie, I promise.”

.oOo.

Mack and Sophie stood hand in hand in front of the registrar, in the open space of the Lowry and Valette room of the Manchester Art Gallery. All manner of ‘urban life’ paintings surrounded the assembled crowd and it made for an interesting topic of conversation before the ceremony began.

But to Mack, none of it mattered. All he wanted to do was tell his wife, and the congregation, how much he loved and adored her. And as she stood beside him, he thought he’d never seen her looking lovelier, apart from on their actual wedding day.

He’d been up before her that morning, washing and dressing himself in order that he could leave her to get up without disturbance, only returning once to leave tea and toast on the bedside table whilst she’d showered. He’d never asked to see what she’d picked out to wear; knowing that what she’d decide upon would be perfect, much like the venue itself. Peter had suggested it after going to a wedding there not 18 months previously.

When he’d gone to get her, he met Jenni on the stairs, “how’s she looking?” He asked her.

“You know Sophie, she looks astounding.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he returned as he passed her and waited outside the door. For the last time he worried, hoping that what he’d picked out would match what she was wearing. He had on his dark charcoal grey suit with a pale grey shirt and black and grey shot silk tie, he needn’t have worried. He knocked lightly on the door before entering, his eyes falling on her immediately. A light grey silk and taffeta dress covered her form, its empire line flattering her shape, the skirt falling to just above the knee. Satin ribbons were attached at regular intervals from her bust down to her hips with a little more along the neckline of the halter neck. Sheer stockings encased her legs and height was added by the darker grey satin sling backs she wore on her feet. A matching taffeta pashmina was slung over her forearms. His mouth was still open as he looked further up, her hair was piled on top of her head in an elegant updo, soft tendrils falling around her face and her eyes had been coloured with smoky black and cool gold. “You look absolutely, amazingly, wonderfully, gorgeously, beautiful.”

“You can close your mouth, Mack.” She sauntered over, reaching up to straighten his tie. “You don’t look so bad yourself, you know.”

“Nowhere near as good as you,” he put his hands out to take hold of her, “I don’t dare ruffle you.” She smiled, leaning into him and standing up on her toes, his hands finding the delicate skin of her upper arm. She placed the most delicate kiss on his lips that she could muster. “Have I ever told you I love you?” He asked faintly.

“More than a million times,” she kissed him again, “but I will never tire of hearing you say it. By the way, I love you too, very much.”

“In that case, better get on. Got a blessing to go to. Are you ready, petal?” He offered her his arm.

“Yes, James. I am.” She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, “let’s get going.”

And now they were stood in front of everyone in the world that mattered to them, having their wedding blessed and reaffirming their vows to each other. “We now come to the point in the ceremony where both James and Sophie wish to express their love to one another with vows that they have written themselves.” The registrar said, “James, what does Sophie mean to you?”

“Right, well.” He felt to his inside jacket pocket and pulled out the printed sheet that he’d focused all of his energy on the night before. “Well,” he reiterated, reading over the words as they jumbled up in front of his eyes. He was good at public speaking; he’d had to do it at work, so why was he so flustered. He looked up, directly into the intoxicating, warm, hazel, almond-shaped eyes that were twinkling with delight for him. He smiled, looking down again at the paper in his hands; he folded it back up and replaced it in his pocket, taking her hands in his again as soon as he’d finished the previous task. “Last night, I wrote down all the things that made me realise I loved you but after reading it again I realise that the only reason, the only thing that makes me love you … is you. Sophie, when we met early that morning on the beach and you blinded me with your torch, when you were totally indifferent to me, that’s when I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.

“You were so different to all the women I’d been with before, so tantalizing and so full of hate for me and what you believed I stood for. You were a challenge and I set my sights high in order to have you in my life, so that I could want you, need you, love you every waking minute of every day. Every minute I’m alive, if I’m honest, seeing as you invade my dreams as well.

“Then there was your own self assured inadequacies to deal with, you never believed that I could fall in love with you because you never believed yourself to be beautiful. I’m just glad that you allowed me to show you just how beautiful you really are, inside and out, that you realised that beauty is only skin deep and how you blossomed because of it. You look absolutely stunning today but I couldn’t care less if you were wearing a bin bag, you’d still be my fabulous Sophie, the woman that will do anything to make sure that we’re both happy. Even when you were away from me for so long, you only did it with the best of intentions, I realise that now. You were doing it for us.

“And now, as we stand here in front of all these people sharing our love with them I just have one final thing to say. I’ve always desperately wanted what we now have, I’ve always desperately wanted a family but should that not happen for us, should that be the only thing that doesn’t work out in our favour, it will not make me love you any less. To have half the love you’ve showered me with would have made me a happy man but to not have you at all doesn’t bear thinking about. I love you, Sophie, with all my heart.”

“That was very touching, James,” the registrar began, his words nullifying in Sophie’s mind as she mulled over everything that Mack had said to her in front of everyone. She’d known what he’d written down, sneakily peeking at the document on the laptop that had been left in the bedroom before Mack had come and got her. He’d ditched that in favour of speaking from his heart and she knew that even after carefully preparing what she’d wanted to say then she had to do the same, speak from her heart. Unshed tears sparkled at the corners of her smiling eyes as she was brought abruptly back to the present. “Sophie?” The registrar queried.

She looked at the aging man momentarily, “sorry?”

“Would you like to let Mack know exactly what he means to you?”

She nodded, pursing her lips and grinning, she looked down at their joined hands, a loan tear escaped its prison and dropped onto her ring finger. She raised her head and looked directly into the depths of Mack’s deep blue gaze, seemingly drowning in them. “Like you’ve already said, when we first met I wasn’t very kind to you and I’ll admit that I never thought anything more of you until that morning at the vineyard when I thought Véronique was talking to her imaginary friend, uncle Jimmy.” She looked over to the little girl who was beaming, before returning her gaze back to Mack. “All I kept thinking of was what were you doing there, standing at the opposite side of the kitchen, V in your arms as if she belonged in them. I really thought you’d reeled my family in, captivating them with your charm and your money and if it wasn’t for Jenni putting me straight I don’t know whether I would have ever come to really know you, and that would have been my biggest mistake.

“I’d had some remarkably bad relationships and then you came along, I wasn’t even sure if I could ever trust you not after everything I’d been through with other men. But slowly I came to realise that you were one of the very best, despite everything all you ever wanted to do was help me and my family, even if that meant that we wouldn’t become anything more than friends. Then I really noticed you and I was hooked, every time I saw even the merest glimpse of you, my stomach lurched and my heart leapt into my mouth. It still does on occasion.

“And that’s when I knew I was in the greatest danger of all, when I knew I was falling for you. We spent that wonderful week out in the fields and the mountains, then we had time together on the boat, then we talking about a future that involved both of us being together and you’re right, it doesn’t bear thinking about not having you next to me, looking out for me, wanting and needing me, loving me and me returning all of that and so much more to you.

“You’ve taught me so much, taught me that I am worthy of love, not just disparagement and hatred as I’d only been subjected to before and thought that was what I only deserved. You’ve taught me that I am beautiful in many ways, and that I can trust you 100%.” She placed her left hand on his cheek, “I’m sorry that I put you through so much hurt whilst I was away from you and then running off without even giving you the opportunity to explain to me why your intention was to divorce me. But I’m glad you followed me to France and me you, back here, eventually it made me understand that even we could make it through the worst of any situation. I love you, James; nothing could ever take that away.”

Mack’s free hand wiped away another tear as it slipped over Sophie’s cheek, neither wanting to break the hypnotic bond they shared.

The registrar picked up the ceremony, “now that both James and Sophie have expressed their love for one another in the presence of this congregation and having re-confirmed their commitment to one another by the holding of hands, I now dedicate to you a little piece written by Sir Hugh Walpole. ‘The most wonderful of all things in life is the discovery of another human being with whom one's relationship has a growing depth, beauty and joy as the years increase. This inner progressiveness of love between two human beings is a most marvellous thing; it cannot be found by looking for it or by passionately wishing for it. It is a sort of divine accident, and the most wonderful of all things in life.

“Finally, may there be truth and understanding between you, you are a joy and a blessing to each other. May you enjoy length of days, fulfilment of hopes, and peace and contentment of mind. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mr and Mrs Mackintosh. James, you may kiss your wife.”

James hesitated briefly, Sophie’s gaze intent as she waited for him to embrace her. He dropped her other hand, allowing his arms to travel around her waist and bring her to him. “I love you, Mrs Mackintosh,” he whispered, tears of joy in his own eyes as his lips crashed down onto hers. They broke apart as resounding clapping and cheering erupted around them, and various members of the party came up to them shaking hands and kissing each of them.

They all filed out making their way through the gallery and down to the café area that had been set out for the group to eat, a buffet had been prepared and the bar was stacked with full champagne flutes. Mack picked up 2, making his way back to his wife and handing her one. “Here’s to you, Sophie. Thank you for falling in love with me … despite yourself and everything.” He grinned.

“Stop teasing me, James.” Sophie smiled herself, “thank you for teaching me to respect myself.”

“And?”

“And what?” Now she was teasing him.

“Well, don’t you want to thank me for falling in love with you?”

“Not especially,” she moved away from him quickly and back out into the gallery.

He followed her, eventually finding her sitting in one of the Victorian exhibition rooms. “There you are you tease.” He sat down next to her but on the opposite side of the bench, trying to catch his breath.

“This is better, don’t get me wrong I love the fact we’re celebrating again but I do enjoy just being with you on our own.”

“Mmm, yeah. So our toast.” He raised his glass, “to you, Sophie.”

“To you, James. Thank you for falling in love with me.” She chinked her glass against his before they drank heartily from their glasses. “Oh, God, what is this?”

“Bollinger, I think.”

“It’s horrible.”

“Can’t say I’m over impressed, and it was expensive too.” He took her glass and placed them away from them. “Come here,” she moved as close to him as she could, allowing him to put his arms around her and hug her tightly to him. “What you said, about V, looking like she belonged in my arms, that was wonderful, Sophie. Thank you.”

“James, I just want the next child you hold to be ours. It really got to me, what you said, about the fact that you’ll always love me even if we can’t have any of our own.” He felt her tears through his shirt.

“Hey, shh. Don’t upset yourself; I didn’t say it to upset you.”

“I know, good job the mascara is waterproof.”

“Shame about the eyeliner.”

“What?” Sophie looked at him incredulously.

“Only kidding,” his thumbs wiping away the moisture on her cheeks. “Anyway, we can always adopt.”

“Yeah, last resort though?”

“Yeah, last resort.” He embraced her again, his chin resting on the top of her head as she snuggled into his neck. “Sophie, we will have our own, I have no doubt about that.” She nodded, hoping that it would be the truth. He lent down to her, kissing her, delivering the sweetest kiss she’d ever thought he’d given her. “I think we’d best get back, Mrs Mack, before we’re missed. And seeing as it’s our party, we will be missed.”

She giggled, “yeah, just can’t wait to have you all to myself again.” She stood up, pulling him up to stand as he grabbed the glasses. She took his free hand and they walked back to the party.

Just before they walked back in, Mack pulled her back, “Sophie, just be prepared, now that everyone knows about the pregnancy issue, they are more than likely going to come at you from all angles giving you advice and feeding you with old wives tales. Me too, probably.” He smiled at her, “just take it on board, agree sweetly and then forget what they tell you. Ok?”

“Yeah, ok. Come on then, husband. The sooner we get back in there the sooner we can leave.”

.oOo.

It was 7 pm as they stood at the top of the steps to the front of the Manchester Art Gallery, arm in arm they skipped down the stairs rushing through the torrent of rice, tissue paper and glitter as they were seen off by the assembled party. After saying their goodbyes, Mack was ready to call a cab to get them to their hotel for the night.

“I want to walk, James,” Sophie insisted, “its not far.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s a beautiful night and it won’t take us long.”

They walked through into Princess Street, walking down towards Whitworth Street in order to cross over to Oxford Street and to the Palace Hotel. Mack drew her closer to him, his arm around her shoulder as they carried on in companionable silence, both happy just being in the presence of the other, Sophie finally putting her arm around his waist.

“Mack? Mack?” A familiar female voice broke him out of his reverie. He stopped abruptly.

“What’s up?” Sophie looked up to him.

He looked down to her, “I don’t know, someone just called out to me.” He turned them both around as he walked in a circle stopping when he caught sight of the slight woman in front of him. “Katherine?”

“I thought it was you.” She said in her broad Scouse accent. “How are you?”

“Very well, and you?” He asked, somewhat perplexed by the fact that she’d even bothered to ask.

“Not bad. Who’s this?” She enquired brightly.

He looked around to Sophie, noticing the stricken look on her face. He couldn’t have that. He brought her to stand in front of him, his arms around her protectively, his head dipping down to kiss her on the cheek, “this is my wife, Katherine. Mrs Sophie Mackintosh.”

Katherine stuck her hand out, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Katherine Turner, Mack’s ex wife.” She smiled.

Sophie took her hand and shook it, noticing that Katherine’s nails didn’t appear to be pristine or her hands smooth. “Yes.” She simply stated, letting the other woman’s hand drop away. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Ok,” Mack said, trying to make an awkward situation better, “we’ll see you around, Katherine. We’ve got some private celebrating to do.” And with that he turned them on their heels, resuming his earlier stance of his arm around Sophie’s shoulders. He encouraged her to put hers back around his waist, which she did eventually. She tentatively looked behind her; Katherine was watching them as they walked away from her, a glum expression on her face. Mack looked down to Sophie as they rounded the corner. “You ok?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she breathed out, lying. She couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
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Starting Over Again