Stories from author Britease

[Brainmetal]

The Motorcyclist

By Britease ©

I had to get married ---- Now that's a bald statement if ever there was one, isn't it?

Well, takes two to tango I suppose, so I should have said that WE had to get married, Maddy and I, as otherwise it could have been a bit lonely stood up there on my own.

Even that's a bald statement, and is only a half-truth, as if we hadn't wanted to anyway, then it just wouldn't have happened.

"James," Maddy, my regular girlfriend for the last twelve months or so spoke out, one fine Friday Evening. "I've got some news for you."

"Good news or bad?" I smiled back, eyeing up my Five foot sixish, blondish, slimish rather gorgeous significant other.

"Not sure James," Maddy grinned at me a little nervously. "Could be either. Depends on you really."

Don't have to report the rest of the conversation to show you where that conversation was going. Suffice to say that a few moments later we were in one another's arms declaring our love for one another and trying to decide when I would transform my newly pregnant girlfriend into my newly pregnant wife.

"Anytime to suit your family," Maddy offered. "I've not really got any family left now that Auntie Beth has died, and I haven't got anyone back in Leicester that I'm still particularly friendly with."

It was true ----- Sad maybe, but true! Poor Maddy had lost both parents as a child in a motor cycling accident, and after some early fostering, had eventually been raised by 'Auntie Beth', a long-term friend of Maddy's late mother just outside Leeds. Poor Auntie Beth had passed away herself just a few weeks previously before I'd even so much as got to meet her her. I'd been away in Canada on business when she'd died, and by the time I'd got back, Maddy had been up to Leeds for the funeral and everything was done and buried --- Quite literally, as it were!

"What about Beth's son, Maddy?" I asked somewhat reluctantly, the conversation having been cut short by her on previous occasions when his name had come up. "You used to be close to Tom didn't you? Wouldn't you like him there on the day?"

"Tom's in prison James," Maddy shot back at me, her annoyance showing through. "I've told you before. I don't want to talk about him."

Oooops! Should have known better than to mention Tom. I knew he was serving time at her Majesty's pleasure, but I didn't know why, or where for that matter. Touchy subject ---Better do a quick change of tack.

"My parents are both retired so I think any date would suit them."

"The sooner the better then James," my wife-to-be smiled back at me patting her still flat tummy, and her anger forgotten. "Let's ring them now."

And so it came to pass.

Just four weeks later we were joined in matrimony at the registry office in Bedford where we were living, a small group of my family and our mutual friends in attendance. We went off to the West Indies where we had a wonderful honeymoon, but it was still several weeks after returning, that Maddy's tummy began to show evidence of the arrival of our first child.

Beth!

That's what we called the little bundle of joy that eventually emerged screaming into this world, complete with a full set of fingers and toes and things, and a pair of lungs that promised a few sleepless nights. My Mum's name was too long winded and out of fashion, so our daughter was named after the woman who Maddy had looked upon as her mother. I thought that appropriate and Maddy loved me for it.

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Married life was great and though I'm not saying we never had any disagreements, Maddy and I settled down well together, with our lovely little infant daughter. Beth was really quite blonde as she started to grow up, with even a touch of ginger in her hair when you saw it in the right light. Unlike my dark complexion and completely black hair, Maddy was a sort of dirty blonde so Beth took after her side of the family. Little Beth however had more my disposition, seldom getting upset or indeed even crying, unlike Maddy who had always been inclined to be a little emotional. A good mixture some might think, the best of both sides, though I was never quite brave enough to suggest such a thing to my darling wife of course.

We'd been married nearly four years, and Beth had passed her third birthday when suddenly not all was well in the Dawson household. Beth was her normal happy self and I was more than content with life, but Maddy obviously had something on her mind. She had given up work shortly before Beth was born, and since I was making pretty good money had never returned. By then we were living in a pretty little village to the north of Bedford and two or three times a week Maddy took Beth into Bedford to do the shopping, take her to the clinic or just meet up with her friends that she used to work with. Yes, and when I was around, we sometimes met for lunch, which was nice. But just lately she had been coming home in a very pensive mood from her trips into town, and there was obviously something bothering her. Maddy had been subject to moody periods in the first few weeks that we'd been going out together, after a mutual friend had introduced us. It was pretty obviously due to her concern that we were getting serious about one another pretty quickly, but she'd long since got that out of her system. I asked what the problem was of course, but just got the old shake of the head treatment. I considered the possibility that she might be having an affair with some guy, but she always had Beth with her, so that didn't seem even a remote possibility. As it turned out I was correct in that assumption, but maybe it might have been better if it had been just that.

"What on earth is the matter Maddy," I eventually demanded more forcibly when she was really down in the dumps.

She looked up at me and just stared sadly for quite some time before she spoke. "I guess I owe you an explanation James. You're going to find out soon anyway, so I might as well get it over with."

"Find out what?" I asked, her words filling me with dread. Was she ill? Was there something wrong with our beautiful daughter?

"Put Beth to bed honey," she suggested with a sigh. "Then come down and we'll have a talk."

"Right." I bundled little Beth up and took her upstairs; happy for once that she was so sleepy and not insisting on me staying on to read her a story. I wanted to get back down and find out what the problem was. If I'd known at that moment, then I would have stayed longer with Beth. Damn it, if I'd known what was going to happen, then I might never have left her bedroom.

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"Come and sit here James," Maddy told me, indicating the chair the opposite side of the table to where she sat rather than alongside her, which was not an encouraging sign.

"James honey, "she started, sighing deeply before continuing. "You've asked about Tom a number of times and I've never told you anything, have I?"

"No," I agreed. "You always shut me down."

"Well it's time that I told you about Tom," Maddy went on in not much more than a whisper. "Tom is a couple of years older than me, and when I was younger he was just like an older brother after I went to live with him and his mother."

"That sounds quite normal," I threw in to encourage her.

"Yes, but as we got older, things changed James," Maddy continued, avoiding my eyes. "We weren't actually related in any way, and we became ..... Well ..... Like boyfriend and girlfriend."

I simply nodded, wondering where this conversation was going, and suspecting that I wasn't going to like it.

"Then as we got into our later teens, we became more than that. A whole lot more."

"What did his mother make of that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level, and trying not to dwell too much on what 'a whole lot more' might mean.

"She was all in favour. Tom was a bit of a wild boy like his father had been before he died on his motorbike. I've never told you but the reason my parents and Tom's were so friendly was that they were all bikers, Hell's Angels and all ---- The whole lot."

"Hells Angels?" I cried out, totally caught by surprise.

"Yes," Maddy replied. "All four of them."

"But your parents died in a biking accident as well, didn't they?"

"Yes they did," Maddy admitted sadly. "They were in a big group going down to Brighton for a week end when they went round a corner too fast and wrote themselves off."

"And Tom's Dad?" I asked carefully, already knowing the details of her parent's demise, but surprised to hear that there was more to it.

"That was just four months later on his way to work. He ended up under a lorry, and Auntie Beth had lost her husband and two best friends in such a short period that she never got on a bike again. She grew to hate the things."

"Well that's understandable," I sympathised, never having been a fan of the things myself. As far as I was concerned, anything on the road with only two wheels was either a bicycle if it didn't have an engine, or the front or back half of a car if it did.

"That's when Auntie Beth took me in and bought me up as her own daughter," Maddy continued.

"But she was in favour of Tom and you getting involved with one another."

"Yes she was," Maddy went on, her whole manner indicating that half her mind was back in those times. "As I said, Tom was a real wild one and desperately keen on motorbikes and rode them without any fears just like his Dad. Beth hated the thought of what might happen to him, and I guess she thought that I might be a good influence on him."

"And were you?"

"I guess not," Maddy sighed. "In fact quite the reverse, and I ended up as wild as Tom was. We were part of a motorbike gang and got up to all sorts of things that we shouldn't be doing. Quite a lot of it things that the law said we shouldn't be doing."

"You mean like speeding?" I questioned her.

"Oh yes that alright, but an awful lot more as well. We all got quite a reputation with the local police."

"So that's how Tom got put away was it?" I surmised aloud, still trying to take in the news that my darling sweet young wife had once been a biker bird. At least that might explain the tattoo on her bum that she'd never been keen to give an explanation for.

Maddy didn't answer straight away, but just sat there looking as if she was gathering the strength to tell me something.

"Sort of," she mumbled at last, and I waited for her to expand.

"We were out one evening with the bike club, and on our way back from Manchester when we stopped off to meet up with another group that we knew. Tom was on his new Honda with me on the back, and I was desperate for him to let me have a go with it. I didn't actually have a full bike license though I had ridden the less powerful Suzuki that he'd had before, but I'd never tried anything as heavy and powerful as his new bike, so he wasn't keen. That upset me, so like a fool, I started to flirt with another biker called Mike who rode with the other gang. I knew he'd always fancied me and had tried it on a few times. Since I'm being honest here, I'll admit that me and him had had a bit of history when Tom hadn't been around. Never gone too far with him mind you, but we had got way beyond simply kissing a few times."

"I can hardly believe what I'm hearing Maddy," I gasped. I found it almost impossible that the mother of my child could ever have acted like that.

"It was all a few years ago James," she responded with a contrite look. "I'm a few years older and an awful lot wiser than I was then honey. You sure you want me to continue?"

"Yes, carry on Maddy," I told her. "This was all before I knew you. I have to admit I'm surprised by all this, but it doesn't effect how I feel about you."

My wife let out another huge sigh and smiled sadly at me, but otherwise remained silent, and I had to gesture to her again to carry on with her story.

"Well Tom, bless him, got pretty jealous about the way I was carrying on and the two gangs were getting a bit fractious with one another. There was going to be trouble, but me, silly little cow that I was just carried on enjoying the fuss that I was causing. Eventually Tom came and tried to pull me away from Mike, but I wasn't giving in. I told Mike that Tom was being mean to me and wouldn't let me have a go on his Honda, and would he let me try his Kawasaki out. There was no chance really as Mike's bike was even more powerful than the Honda, but he played along with it."

"He let you ride it?"

"No. I said there was no chance, but he wanted me to get on the back with him and take off. Two or three of their friends were sort of backing them both up, but trying to calm them down as well. But then Mike pushed his luck even further and told me that if I'd strip off topless and go for a ride on the back with him, then he'd let me have ago afterwards."

"Topless?" I cried out incredulously. "What made the idiot think you'd do that?"

"Because I'd done it before James ---- several times," she shocked me with. "Only ever on the back with Tom of course, but a couple of times at bike rallies, I'd done the tour round completely naked. It was nothing exceptional in that crowd and quite a few girls did it, flashing everything they had."

"I'm having difficulty in taking all this in Maddy," I told her, shaking my head as my tummy turned somersaults. "This doesn't sound like the girl I met and married."

"I've told you James, I'm older and wiser now, but at the time it was ..... Well ......"

"Fun?" I finished for her, to which she nodded and carried on, trying to keep up the wan smile on her face.

"Tom didn't react till I'd actually got my leather jacket and my tee shirt off, and was reaching behind to undo my bra. Then he grabbed me and screamed that if that's what it took then I could ride his damn Honda.

"You would have taken your bra off?" I asked her in some disbelief. I was shocked by her disclosures, but have to admit that I was more excited by her display than the bike-riding bit, and the picture of Maddy, in my mind, stripping off like that was .... Well, was having some effect on me. You know what I mean, don't you!

"Yes," she answered simply.

"And you would have bared your tits to them all?"

"Yes."

"And gone off with him?"

"Not sure, but probably. But I was hoping Tom would give in first."

"Christ Maddy," I mumbled. "You were a real bitch back then, weren't you?"

"I guess I was," she answered calmly. "But you have to understand that in a crowd like that, then guys are kings and the girls are treated almost like possessions, in public if not in private. When a girl got a chance to lord it over one of the guys, then it was a real rush. I suppose that's one reason why there were so many fights over women."

"So he let you have a go of the Honda then?" I questioned, though to be honest I was still more interested in whether she'd gone ahead and taken her bra off at that point.

That was soon to change however!

"Yes," she went on. "I put my jacket back on, gave Mike a kiss on the cheek to piss off Tom, but then went with him to his Honda. He was pretty furious with me, but still kept his word, and a few minutes later I was cruising slowly round the car park with Tom on the back. I was loving it, and by then I think even Tom was getting OK with it as I was doing really well. Then everything went to pot!"

"What happened?" I demanded impatiently.

"I guess I'd pissed Mike off as well, and he followed on his Kawasaki and started to cut me up. Tom was getting angry and told me to stop, but of course I knew better and began to go faster. Then Mike left the car park and went roaring off down the road, and despite Tom screaming at me, I took off after him."

At this point I couldn't help but notice that tears were forming in Maddy's eyes, and she looked to be on the point of bursting into tears. I moved around and put my arm around her, telling her to take her time, but she shook her head and carried on, beginning to sob as she finished her story.

"Mike went faster and faster, and like the idiot I was, I chased after it him. It was exhilarating and I ignored Tom shouting at me to stop and carried on."

At this point Maddy did burst into tears, sobbing so pitifully that I couldn't understand what she was telling me, and it took a few more minutes before she could finish her tale. By then I'd guessed that it wasn't going to end happily, and I sure wasn't wrong.

"Mike dropped back and rode alongside us, encouraging me to go faster and faster, while Tom was going crazy on the back, pounding me on the back to get me to slow down. But I didn't. I tried to get past Mike. I didn't make it though. I lost control."

"What happened Maddy?" I asked her gently, holding her as she cried aloud, remembering what was quite obviously an awful experience.

"The Honda slid from under me and crashed into Mike's machine. I wasn't aware what happened then and the next thing I remembered was waking up in hospital some time later having been in a coma of some sort. I had a pretty severe bump on the head, but fortunately for Tom he came off more or less unscathed."

"And This Mike character," I demanded. "What happened to him Maddy?"

"Dead!"

"Dead?"

"Yes dead!"

"Shit!"

"Exactly!"

"But what happened then sweetheart. I don't understand. You were riding the bike and Tom was just a passenger. How did he end up in prison?"

"He took the blame James," she sobbed. "By the time I came to and became able to realise what was happening around me, it was too late. Tom told the police that it was him in the front seat, and he got the blame."

"But it wasn't him Maddy," I protested. "It was you."

"I know."

"But why would he do that sweetheart," I searched for an explanation. "Why would he take the blame?"

"Because he loved me," she stated simply. "I was his woman and he wanted to protect me."

"Shit!"

"Exactly!"

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The pair of us had had enough by then and neither of us wanted to talk about it any further. So we cuddled up on the sofa and said nothing for what seemed an awful long time. Eventually I knew that there was more to this story and I had to know it all.

"What else do you have to tell me Maddy?" I asked at last. "There must be more to Tom's actions than you've told me so far."

"You're right of course," Maddy admitted. "At the time, believe it or not, Tom had a clean sheet with the police. He'd been pulled over a number of times and had speeding fines and things, but nothing more than that. After the accident apparently Mike didn't seem too bad, so Tom didn't think too much would come of it, and told the police that he'd been on the driving seat. Unlike Tom, I did have a couple of convictions and he was worried they'd throw the book at me, so thinking it wasn't too serious, he took the blame."

"You had two convictions?" I blurted out, wondering what other revelations there were going to be. "Christ Maddy, were you a criminal of some kind?"

"Not exactly James," Maddy grinned at me guiltily. "I told you the sort of things I used to get up to. They were both for indecent exposure."

"What!!!!"

"Riding round in the nude on the back of a bike on a camping site was one thing, but the cops didn't take kindly to us doing it through the middle of town."

"Twice," I queried.

"More than twice," Maddy whispered. "I got caught three times, but they let me off the first time."

I didn't know if I could take much more of this, but she went on to explain how Mike had taken a sudden turn for the worse and unexpectedly pegged out, and Tom had stuck to his story to protect Maddy. His case got bungled when it went to court and he ended up with an unexpectedly long sentence.

"Sounds like you owe this Tom guy a lot Maddy," I sighed when she stopped. "When is he due out?"

"That's the problem James. He still has several years to go, but I've just discovered that he's getting a remission for good behaviour, and will be getting out pretty soon."

"When?"

Thursday," she surprised me with. "The day after tomorrow. That's why I've been upset for the last couple of weeks."

Christ, what a mess!

I put my head in my hands and thought for a while. Maddy really owed this guy an awful lot, and dubious though I was, I knew I couldn't just ask her to abandon him after what he'd done for her. I didn't like it ---- I didn't like it one little bit, but she was my wife, I loved her, and I knew what had to be done. The poor bastard ---- While he'd been in the nick for something he hadn't even done, his mother had died and his girl had married someone else.

"I don't suppose he's got anywhere to go when he gets out has he?" I asked, praying silently that my supposition was not correct.

"Not really," she disappointed me. "His Mum's house was only rented and he's lost touch with his old friends up in Leeds."

Hang on a minute. I was missing something here.

"How do you know that Maddy," I questioned her. "How do you know so much about him if he's in prison up north somewhere?"

"He's not up North James," Maddy answered me so softly that I could hardly hear her. "He was, but he got into some fights up there and they transferred him."

"Where to?" I asked, knowing what the answer would be, before the words had left my mouth.

"Bedford," she mumbled. "Right here in Bedford prison."

"Some bloody coincidence that," I remarked sarcastically.

"Sorry James, honey. I know I should have told you long ago, but I kept avoiding it and it simply got more and more impossible to tell you. I felt trapped and didn't know how to get out of it."

"So your frequent trips into Bedford were to visit him then?"

"Not all the time, but ......" She shrugged her shoulders but didn't finish, the tears still slowly rolling down her cheek, as we stood there staring at one another, wondering what to say next.

"I moved down here to be near him James. I thought everything would work out, but I didn't reckon on meeting someone else honey. I didn't reckon on meeting you. I just didn't allow for falling in love with another man."

"What are we going to do now then Maddy?"

"I don't know James."

As I said before, I knew what had to be done. I didn't even know the guy, but Maddy owed him badly and she was my wife. Time to be magnanimous. "Look Maddy," I started. "I don't like the idea, but I suppose he could come and stay here for a few days. Long enough for him to find somewhere. Perhaps we can help him out with a few bob to get him started."

"Can't do that James."

"Why not?" I demanded, a little relieved that she didn't think it was a good idea, in truth.

"I don't think that would suit him James."

"Why the hell not," I bristled, considering that my offer had been pretty damn understanding in the circumstances.

"He doesn't know about you James!"

"He ... He .... He doesn't?"

"Tom doesn't know I'm married James. I'm so sorry honey, but I never had the guts to tell him, and he still thinks that I'm waiting for him to get out. I've made a right mess of it all haven't I?"

"Oh Shit!"

"Exactly!"

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The rest of the evening was a bit of a nightmare, the pair of us skirting round one another why we tried to work out in our own brains what to do. When we eventually got round to talking again, I tried to make it clear that she'd have to tell Tom the truth on her next visit, as the longer she left it, then the harder it would get. I was really pissed at her for being so stupid, especially when she was such an organised and forthright person normally. But --- Maddy was my wife, I loved her to pieces and of course I had our daughter Beth to think of. Yes Beth. Now there was the thing. I realised that Maddy still obviously had strong feelings for Tom, even though I hadn't pushed her on the point. But Maddy and I had Beth together, so I wasn't worried where her long time commitment lay. What I really wanted to do was to insist that she tell this Tom guy to bugger off, but deep down I knew that it would be a mistake. Maddy had to work this out of her system herself, and my job was to help her do that. The next day, the day before his release, Beth went off to visit Tom, and to tell him the truth. It wouldn't be easy but it had to be done and I took the day off to be there when she came home, knowing that she'd need my support. I waited at home my insides trying to turn themselves inside out, wondering what state she would be in when she returned.

"Hi Maddy," I greeted her at the door as she walked up our garden path. "How did it go? How did Tom take it?"

"He didn't," she answered, somewhat puzzlingly as she slid past me.

"What do you mean, he didn't?"

"I didn't tell him James," Maddy replied without looking at me. "He was so excited, like the best day in his life. I just couldn't do it James. I just couldn't break his heart when he was so happy."

"For God's sake Maddy," I started in on her angrily. "You think it's going to be any easier for him tomorrow? You think he's going to be any less upset? Grow up you silly woman."

"I'm not going to tell him tomorrow Tom," Maddy hit me with. "I've made up my mind James, and I'm sorry but I'm going to give him a few days of happiness before I destroy him. That's the least that I owe him James, whatever it costs me."

I stood there with my mouth gaping open as the implications of what my wife was saying sunk in. "A few days of happiness?" I queried anxiously.

"Yes James," she responded, at last looking up with a determined look on her face. "I've booked a hotel room in town for tomorrow night, and I fully intend to give Tom some payback for what he has done for me."

"No bloody way Maddy," I shouted at her. "If you think I'm going to stand by while another man beds my wife, then you've got another think coming. Christ woman, I know you owe him, but this is ridiculous."

"You can't stop me James," she screamed back at me. "It's my decision, my body and I'll do what I know is right. I owe him so much James, please try to understand."

"I understand OK! You're going to let another man fuck you. It isn't going to happen Maddy. It just isn't going to happen."

"I've made my mind up James."

"No bloody way Maddy!"

"I'm doing it James honey. Please why can't you understand?"

"Then I might not be here when you come home Maddy," I threatened. "You let him fuck you just once and our marriage will be down the pan."

"I was hoping you'd be more understanding James," she began to plead with me. "You know the situation I'm in and I have to do this. Please James, please try to understand."

"There's nothing to understand!" I shouted angrily.

"Then there's nothing to talk about," she screamed back. "Damn you James, why can't you understand. I'm not taking anything away from you."

"Damn you to. You do it and we're finished."

"Fuck you, you miserable bastard," she finished, and fled the room, slamming the door behind her, and leaving me standing there bewildered.

And that was it! I tried to talk to her later that evening, but when it was clear that I wasn't relenting in any way, she just shut me down. I felt like strangling the silly cow, and couldn't believe that she couldn't see what she was doing to our relationship. And what about Beth? Oh Jesus, what about poor Beth who was about to have her life torn apart.

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I got up fairly early having slept in the spare bedroom, got Beth up and dressed and made her breakfast. I didn't intend to hang around to watch Maddy go off to carry out her act of adultery, and planned to take Maddy out for the day so we wouldn't be there. Another day off work, but what the hell.

"I'll see you sometime tomorrow James," Maddy mumbled to me as she kissed and fussed over Beth, as I made ready to leave.

"Maybe, maybe not," I grunted unhappily, pushing her away as she tried to give me a kiss as well.

"Please don't be like this James," she all but sobbed. "It'll all be alright honey, I promise you."

"It won't be all right Maddy. Please change your mind."

"What's up with Mummy?" Beth broke in as her mother started to cry.

"She's just being stupid Sweetheart," I answered her, whisking her up into my arms and storming out without another word.

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All considered my day with Beth wasn't too bad, starting with a trip to the Zoo at Whipsnade, and ending somewhat predictably at McDonalds. I decided that I really ought to spend more time taking my daughter out, though the prospect of perhaps doing it on my own in the future didn't exactly appeal. I tried; I really tried to see Maddy's side of the problem, and could understand how hard it was for her. However try as I may, I couldn't go along in any way with her actions. Then I tried to put myself in Tom's position, and found myself struggling there. Poor sod had gone to prison for his love of a woman and what had the cow done to him?

Bloody hell what a mess!

"When will Mummy be home Daddy?" my little daughter asked when we got home.

"She's gone away for the night sweetheart," I told her, trying to keep it light-hearted. "She'll be back soon."

"Who's she gone with Daddy?"

"Just a friend," I replied, not wishing to expand.

"Is it Tom?" She then shocked me with, never considering the possibility that my daughter would know anything about him.

"How do you know about Tom?" I asked nervously.

"Mummy and I go and visit him Daddy, when we go into Bedford. It's not very nice where he lives, but Mummy says he can't come and live with us because the men there says he has to stay where he is."

I looked at my little daughter in disbelief. What a bitch was my loving wife turning out to be behind my back. Not only had she deceived both Tom and me, but she had taken our daughter ---- my daughter, to see the bastard in that damn prison. I was beginning to wonder if I knew my wife at all.

"Mummy said that Tom would be getting out soon daddy," Beth carried on. "What does getting out mean?"

"It means that he won't have to live in that nasty place anymore sweetheart," I told her without thinking.

"Oh good," she replied. "He's really nice is Tom. Will he be able to come and live with us then?"

"I don't think so Beth," I responded sadly. "I just don't think that would be possible."

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That evening was terrible and I simply didn't want to put my daughter to bed. One of those rare occasions when she actually had to tell me she was tired and wanted to go to sleep. In the end she fell asleep in my arms and I held her for some time before I eventually relented and took her up to her bedroom, not relishing the thought of having to spend the rest of that evening on my own.

The telephone call didn't help of course!

"Hi honey," Maddy greeted me when I reluctantly picked up the phone.

"What do you want?" I answered gruffly.

"Please don't be like that James," she pleaded. "I'm just ringing to make sure you're both OK."

"Beth's fine," I told her. "She's up in bed."

"How about you James?" Maddy croaked. "Are you OK?"

"Has he fucked you yet?" I demanded angrily, ignoring her question.

"Please James ...."

"Has he fucked you yet?" I repeated even louder, interrupting her.

"James ......"

"Answer the damn question will you?" I screamed at her.

"Yes he has," Maddy vented back at me. "He's fucked me twice already and will do again when he gets back."

"Well I hope you damn well enjoyed it you cheating bitch."

"I did," she shouted down the phone at me her temper matching mine. "What's more he's got a bigger cock than you and knows how to please a woman."

A silence followed that statement as I recoiled from what she said, and, I guess, she realised quite what she'd said to me.

"James honey," she cried out desperately after a few moments. "I didn't mean to say that honey. I swear I didn't ....."

I don't know how she finished that sentence, my ego shot to hell and back and my heart breaking into little pieces. I slowly and purposefully put the phone back down on the cradle and stood there staring at it, tears forming in my eyes. Of course it started to ring again just a few seconds later, but I grabbed the cable and ripped it from the socket. When my mobile started to beep a minute or so afterwards, I fumbled to find the off button, failed, and threw the thing with all my strength straight against the wall.

It stopped beeping as it shattered, and I stood there in silence, by then full sized tears streaming down my cheek. I stood there and sobbed. Sobbed while my wife waited for her lover to return and service her. Sobbed as the desolate loneliness engulfed me, hating the world and just about everything in it.

----------------------

I must have stood there for an hour or more, half wondering, and in all honesty half hoping that Maddy would turn up and make it all better. But that wouldn't have been possible would it, and sure enough she didn't come back. It wasn't till I thought of my little Beth that I began to galvanise myself, realising that I'd have to be brave for her. She was all I had as far as I was concerned and it gave me the will to carry on. I made myself a cup of tea, the solution to all evils, and sat there reflecting on how my life was about to change.

Would I take Maddy back? God, what a question. All my senses told me NO!, but my heart spoke otherwise, almost in a different language, and one that I could hardly understand. The only thing that I could be sure of was that I had to be strong for Beth's sake. I would fight to the ends of the earth to keep her with me, whatever Maddy tried. I found myself thinking that I'd even take Maddy back for Beth's sake, but who was I kidding. I wanted my Maddy back for my own sake whatever she'd done, but I knew it'd never be the same. It wouldn't work and it wasn't going to happen, and I started to well up again as I thought about the disruption that was about to happen to the poor little sweet girl who was sleeping soundly upstairs, unaware of the turmoil around her.

Damn you Maddy, why did you have to do this to the people who love you?

--------------------

I awoke the following morning with something stroking my face.

"Wake up Daddy," I heard through my fuddled brain. "Why didn't you go to bed last night?"

"Morning sweetheart," I greeted her sleepily. "I just fell asleep on the sofa and forgot to go to bed."

"Silly Daddy," Beth giggled at me. "Mummy will think you're silly when I tell her."

"I think Mummy already thinks I'm a fool," I replied sighing deeply as the situation settled down heavily again upon my overloaded shoulders. "Daddy's taken a day off work to look after you again. Where do you want to go?"

"Can we go to the zoo please Daddy," My little one cried out joyfully, clapping her hands together.

"But we went there yesterday honey bunch," I pointed out to her.

"But I want to go again Daddy," she giggled back at me. "I want to see the big elephants, and the funny monkeys, and .... And ..... And, what do they call those big ones with the long funny neck Daddy?"

"Giraffes, sweetheart," I answered her. "But you saw them all yesterday. How about we go to Old Warden and see the old aeroplanes?"

"Do they have Lions and Tigers and things there?"

"No Beth they don't," I explained to her, quite fancying a trip to the old aeroplane museum that I hadn't been to for years, if only to take my mind off things. "But they do have lots of other interesting things."

"Do they have a McDonalds there Daddy?"

I explained that they probably didn't, but that we could find one on the way home, and that about settled it. Yes ----- Half an hour later we were on our way back to the zoo!

-----------------------

It was a good day, and for several hours I was more or less able to forget my woes and revel in the enjoyment of my daughter. Perhaps she would be a vet when she grew up. It was OK right till we left Mc Donalds, full of triple something or other burgers and foamy milkshakes that the cloud began to descend yet again. How the heck could I mess this all up? How could I break up our marriage and ruin little Beth's life. Maybe Maddy and I could get over her transgression and in a few years the problems with Tom would all be a distant memory.

Maybe!

By the time we got home little Beth was ready for sleep, so we cuddled up on the sofa again and for the second night in a row, I ended up carrying her sleeping form upstairs. So far, so good, but then I had to wait on my own to see what time Maddy came back. We hadn't discussed it so I had no idea when she'd come home. Damn it, we'd done nothing but scream at one another since she'd announced her plans. I made myself promise that when she did, then I would hold my temper and try to talk sensibly. Deep down I could sort of understand why she felt she had to do what she had to do, but she had to understand my point of view. I had serious doubts whether we could get over, what I could only see as her cheating on me, but for Beth's sake I would give it my best shot. But, only if she did as well.

I waited for nine O'clock, somehow or other convinced that that was the time she'd be back by. Then I waited for ten and started to get really pissed off again. At twenty past ten the reconnected phone rang.

"Hello. James Dawson here," I answered cautiously.

"Are you in a better mood than you were last night James?" The voice on the other end demanded.

Not a lot Maddy," I replied. "When are you coming home?"

"Depends on you James," she said, instantly reminding me of that fateful day when she'd first told me she was pregnant with Beth. "If I come back in the morning, are you going to talk to me sensibly and not scream at me."

"Tomorrow morning," I shot back at her. "You're due back tonight."

"Plan's changed James," she announced. "Now are you going to be rational about this or not?"

I counted to five to control my temper before replying.

"Have you told him yet?" I asked, ignoring her question. "Does he know about us being married?"

"Yes James, he does."

"And?"

"He took it quite well all things considered," Maddy informed me as if discussing someone being told they'd been dropped from the village football team. "He took it a lot better than you did."

Oh yes?" I answered, fighting to keep from screaming at her. "And where exactly were the two of you when he took the news so well?"

No answer.

"And exactly what were the two of you doing when you gave him the news Maddy?" I carried on. "Or had you already finished?"

Still no answer.

"I'll see you when you get back home Maddy," I announced to the silent phone. "Then we'll decide whether this is still your home or not."

I heard a click, as this time Maddy put the phone down on me.

------------------

I got Beth up in the morning, prepared her favourite breakfast and took her off to the dancing lessons she went to every Saturday morning. There, I arranged for one of the other mothers to pick her up and keep her for a while if I didn't make it back on time.

"Maddy normally picks her up, but she's been away for a couple of nights," I explained, wondering how long it would be before the truth got out.

"That's Ok," the other mum told me. "Beth can stay with us all day if you want to have some catch up time with Maddy."

"Thanks," I said. I think I actually managed to smile, but I'm not sure.

Fifteen minutes later I was back at our house, my heart missing a beat as I saw Maddy's car already parked in her normal place outside. I hadn't wanted it this way, but what the hell, what difference would it make.

"Where's Beth," demanded Maddy sharply, when I closed the door.

"Where do you think?" I answered brusquely.

"You haven't done anything stupid have you James?" She virtually accused me.

"Depends on whether taking her to her dancing lessons is stupid or not."

"Oh ...... Oh yes ...... Sorry I forgot," Maddy mumbled in embarrassment.

OK, so round one to me, but there was a long way to go.

"Look James," she started off again. "Tom's been really good about all this mess, and made me realise that I'm not being very fair to you. If we can just sit down and talk this all through, then we both think that we can come up with something that works for all three of us."

"I presume you mean all four of us Maddy," I pointed out. "Aren't you forgetting Beth?"

"Yes of course James," Maddy rushed in with. "Of course I mean all four of us."

So ----- Round two to me as well. I was scoring points but the future didn't sound too rosy. I gestured for her to carry on.

"The fact is James that I truly do love you and always will, but now Tom's back, everything's changed, hasn't it?"

"How's that?"

"I don't think I ever stopped loving him, James," my wife explained to me. "I'm so sorry James, but I'm in love with two men."

"Trouble is," I decided to remind her. "The other one has a bigger cock than your husband."

"James," she cried out. "I didn't mean to say that. I was angry and lost my temper and honestly didn't mean to say that."

"It's true though isn't it?"

"So what," Maddy sobbed. "What difference does that make? I've never complained about your performance and never will."

"Damn right you never will," I rebuffed her. "You never will because you'll never get the chance to compare us again."

"Please James," she continued desperately, not giving up. "Please just at least listen to what Tom and I have worked out. Please listen James."

I shrugged my shoulders, half agreeing to listen and in a more confident voice she carried on.

"We, Tom and I that is, thought that we could work out some arrangement between the three of us. I could keep on living here with you and Beth so that we'd be like a little family, and Tom would get a flat or something nearby."

"So that you could visit him I suppose," I asked in disbelief.

"Yes of course, but I'd spend most nights here with you James."

"But half the nights with him and his monster cock!"

"It's not a monster James, and it wouldn't be half the nights either," Maddy mumbled, realising that things weren't going well.

"You really expect me to go for that Maddy?" I asked quietly. "You get the best of both worlds. Tom gets his freedom with a regular supply of pussy, and I get to be the cuckold, probably supporting the lot of us."

"I guess not," she whispered. "Not when you put it that way."

"I tell you what Maddy," I began to offer. "You ring Tom now and tell him to bugger off back to Leeds, and I might, and I repeat might, take you back."

"Doesn't sound like a very promising offer to me James," Maddy replied sadly.

"It's the best I can do Maddy," I told her firmly, still very unsure that I even wanted her to go for it.

"I guess I'll have to pass then James."

"Close the door behind you when you leave won't you," I thought I'd ended it with.

"What about Beth?" Maddy then asked. "She'll have to live with me and Tom."

"Over my dead body Maddy," was my spiteful reply. I'd do anything to stop that happening.

"We'll see James," Maddy smiled at me. "If you think you can keep Beth, then you've got some surprises coming."

"Piss off Maddy," I spat at her hatefully. "Go back to your jailbird lover. No court in the world would give you custody while you're with that loser.

Maddy said nothing more, just stood up, walked out and left. Oh yes, and she did shut the front door, and in fact nearly took it off it's hinges.

Game set and match to me? I didn't think so. In fact I had an awful suspicion that the game had hardly started.

--------------------

I heard nothing from the pair of them for the next four or five days. It was a bit like sitting there in the trenches in the First World War, waiting for the next salvo or major attack to over-run me. I did take advantage of going to see a Tim, mate of mine who was also my solicitor, only to leave with my absolute certainty that any court in the world would award me custody of Beth, a little in tatters.

"Fifty-fifty," He advised me mournfully. "If she can prove she's in a stable relationship, then the court could come down on her side."

"But he's a bloody jailbird," I tried to point out. "He damn well murdered someone." Wasn't true of course, but even Tim didn't know that that.

"He killed someone in an accident James," my friend informed me. "He's paid his price to society, and has the same rights as anyone else. What's he like? Does he look a bit dodgy or anything? Is there anything we can use against him?"

"No idea," I had to admit. "I've never met him. Never seen him."

"Perhaps you should James."

---------------------

All this time I had been killing Beth with kindness and attention, coming up with a variety of excuses as to why her beloved Mummy wasn't there for her.

"When is Mummy coming home Daddy?" She asked me sleepily.

"Soon sweetheart," I told her, unable to face up to telling her the truth yet.

"I miss Mummy."

"So do I sweetheart," I replied with tears in my eyes as I cuddled her desperately. And I did! Oh God how I missed that woman.

------------------

I was to meet up with this Tom character more easily and perhaps sooner than I'd imagined, when I got a call from my pal to attend a meeting with 'the other parties' as he put it, and their solicitor.

I put on a brave front as I walked into the meeting, surprised to see what this Tom bugger actually looked like. Come on now, biker guy, Hell's Angel and all that. I'd expected Tom to be some greasy, longhaired waster. The tall, clean cut, fair haired, somewhat slim and athletic man that confronted me, took me by surprise.

"Hello James," he greeted me with a nervous smile on his face, as he held his hand out to shake my hand. "Sorry we have to meet like this. In fact I'm sorry about the whole damn thing."

Oh shit! I really wanted to hate the guy, and I found myself accepting his hand and shaking it. At least I didn't smile too much, and maybe this wouldn't be so difficult as I was expecting. Oh, how wrong I was.

"Mr Dawson," their solicitor, an overweight, smirky sort of bastard opened the proceedings. "It's obvious that your wife isn't going to accept you back, so there's no point in you pursuing that avenue."

Tim, my solicitor shoved his hand out to hold me back from taking a swing at the wally, and took up the challenge.

"I don't think my client is interested in that possibility either," he countered. "As far as we are concerned, it is just a matter of deciding your client's access to the daughter of the marriage. Obviously my client will be the primary carer and she will live with him, but he is prepared to grant reasonable access to his soon to be ex wife."

"Not that easy," fatty replied with a smile that would have done a crocodile credit. "My client --- That is my clients, have a superior claim to the child."

"Rubbish!" I cried out, but Tim motioned me to calm down again.

"The fact that my client Mrs Dawson is the mother of the child is not under dispute," fatty continued. "Are we agreed on that?"

Tim acknowledged the fact, giving me a funny look, as puzzled as I was by the line the other guy was taking.

"Then we also have to acknowledge who the father is," the bugger continued, and this time Tim had to physically restrain me from confronting the arsehole.

"My clients maintain that Mr Dawson is not the father of the child, but that her former boyfriend, Mr Thomas Wellings is the father."

Tom? Tom is Beth's father? What bloody nonsense is that? I was so shocked that I just sat there with my mouth gaping open.

"We have documented proof, by way of medical evidence that Mr. Wellings is ninety nine point nine per cent certain to be the child's natural born father. We also have complimentary evidence that your client Mr. Dawson couldn't possibly be the father."

"What rubbish are you saying," I screamed at the fat bastard. "Beth is my daughter. I was there when she was born and I've bought her up. I .... I ....."

"Apparently not Mr Dawson," fatty cut across me. "You may have bought her up as your daughter, but you are not her real father. My client Mr. Wellings is."

"But that's not possible," I protested. "He was in prison when Maddy got pregnant. I was there when she was born for Christ's sake. It's just not possible."

"My clients have explained that Mr. Dawson," he carried on in a monotone. "Apparently you were away in Canada when Mr. Wellings' mother died, and he was granted compassionate leave from prison to attend her funeral. My client Mrs. Dawson, at that time Miss Jones, also attended the funeral, and they .... Well, let's say they had the opportunity to re-acquaint themselves."

I felt the room begin to spin as I took in what he was telling me. I couldn't believe it, but somehow deep down I realised it could be possible. I was dark and, well, sort of stocky. Beth was growing up to be tall and slim and fair haired, just like ..... Just like .... Just like her Dad!

Oh shit!

As the room reeled around me, Maddy burst into tears and ran from the room. Tom got up to follow her, but hesitated.

"I'm sorry James," he said to me. "I swear to you Maddy had no idea that you weren't Beth's father till she started to grow up and looked like me."

"Does that excuse her?" I shouted at him. "Does that make fucking you when she was virtually engaged to me acceptable?"

"No," he agreed quietly, shaking his head. "Maddy's got no excuse for her behaviour, but I love her, always have, and .... and ..... Oh hell James ---- I'm just so sorry."

With that, he turned on his heels and followed Maddy out of the office.

"Well Mr. Dawson," the fat solicitor started up again. "Can we get some agreement here? I've got a busy day, so if we could come to some suitable terms perhaps."

Before I could react, Tim leapt to his feet a yelled at the other solicitor.

"Shut up you miserable bastard. You say one more word and I swear I'll ram your nose through the other side of your face myself."

"Not very professional," commented fatty snottily, but he stood up, gathered his papers and hurriedly shuffled out of the office. "You'll be hearing from me."

"Sorry James," my pal, my personal legal eagle sighed at me when he'd gone. "I didn't see that one coming."

No, nor did I.

My story doesn't end there, but it might be worth mentioning at this point, that the view of Maddy's back as she had rushed out of that office, was the last time I ever clapped eyes on her. If I'd known that then, perhaps my actions over the next period of time might have been different, but then again on reflection ---- perhaps not.

--------------------

Tim rang his secretary and told her to cancel everything for the rest of the day, and despite her protestations, he gathered me up as it were, and virtually dragged me off in a daze to the nearest pub. There the pair of us sank the first three pints in the time it took to order them, and over the next hour or so, somewhat mysteriously, five or six of my best pals turned up to help me drink myself into oblivion. Can't remember the end of the evening or leaving. Can't remember much of the next day for that matter, my first coherent thought being the following morning, waking up in a strange bed with an equally strange but very attractive female body cuddled up to me.

I never quite worked out what the arrangement was, but if anyone paid her then it certainly wasn't me. Either way, the girl disappeared and I never saw her again. Or perhaps I did, but unless she was naked with the tattoo of a rose on her naughty bits, then I simply wouldn't have recognised her if she'd been right there in front of me.

I guess that's what good friends are for!

I won't pretend that a black cloud descended on me and I withdrew from the world. I'm the sort of guy who thinks his beer glass is half full, rather than half empty, and with that positive attitude I set forth to make a life for myself. OK, the black cloud was there sure enough, but I did try my best. I dated everything that came my way, whether pretty or not, but found myself going for women with children, single mothers or divorced. As you may imagine this made me pretty popular and I got my just reward pretty frequently, but the only one of them that I started to grow feelings for, dumped me when she accused me of only wanting me for her daughter. That's right, I was trying, perhaps too hard, to replace my daughter Beth. I was trying to find a partner with a Beth substitute.

Crazy? Yes I know, but that's how it got to me.

Eventually I recognised my problem and I attempted to regulate it. It cut down on the number of women I dated, but that was no bad thing. What about Beth herself you may ask quite reasonably. And yes, I did insist on access to her, despite there being no actual blood connection between us.

But that was a damn disaster!

Maddy and Tom had moved back to Leeds and I had to travel up one week end to visit with her. Neither Maddy or Tom had raised any objection to be fair to them, and indeed had done everything to make my trip easier. It was Tom that I talked to every time I rang, and it was Tom that greeted me when I arrived to pick up Beth, Maddy having, perhaps wisely made herself scarce.

But it didn't go well.

Poor Beth was just so confused and spent the whole day trying to persuade me to come and live with them, unable at her tender age to understand just how unlikely that was to ever happen. She just went on and on about it, and couldn't accept that Daddy didn't love Mummy anymore, repeatedly telling me how nice 'Daddy Tom' was, and how happy I would be there. When I took her back she started crying when she realised that I was about to leave her, she clung on to me, bawling her eyes out and having a tantrum. In the end Tom had to pull her away from me and hold her while I ran from the house, my tears matching those of poor Beth.

It was terrible and broke my heart yet again, perhaps worse than previously. It was the most awful decision that I'd ever made in my life, but I vowed there and then that there would be no more visits. I couldn't put little Beth through that agony again, and I didn't think that I could put myself through it either. When I told Tom of my decision he actually tried to get me to change my mind, saying they'd do all they could to make it less traumatic next time, but deep down we both knew that it had to be for the best. Eventually we sort of agreed that I'd give it six months to give Beth time to settle down in her new life, and then we'd see. We agreed that, but we both knew what that really meant, and that was that for her sake, I would no longer feature in her life. Maybe when she was grown up, I promised myself. Maybe when she graduated or something. I promised myself all sorts of things, but the reality was that I was totally on my own again, memories of my wife and daughter being just that ---- memories!

I'll be forever grateful that I wasn't of a suicidal disposition.

---------------------

Life went on, as it has a tendency to do so, and my painful memories faded somewhat. Time, they say is a wonderful cure, but I can assure you that it is no miracle cure. You have to work at it and work at it I did, carving myself back out another new life. When the first Christmas came along I couldn't let it pass without doing something. I went out and bought a present for Beth and sent it off, not knowing how to sign it or say who it was from, not wanting to restart the old heartache. It was with some surprise that the week after Christmas I got a letter from Leeds. Yes Beth wrote me a little letter of thanks, and told me a few things about her life. Obviously some adult had helped her, and somehow I felt sure that the someone was Tom and not my ex wife. I did wonder if she even knew that the letter had been sent, but didn't let myself dwell on that possibility.

In the letter she called me 'Daddy James'.

I know that meant that I'd been relegated and that 'Daddy' was no doubt now Tom, but it actually cheered me up a whole load, confident that Beth had two parents that loved her, and that I had a name that she would maybe always remember me by.

Daddy James!

I continued to send her presents every birthday and Christmas, and continued to receive thank you letters from her and photographs, noticing with pride how her hand writing improved over the next couple of years or so. Often Tom would pop a little note in himself just to tell me about how well she was doing at school or dancing lessons or whatever, but no mention was ever made of me visiting again. I must have harboured secret hopes that we would meet up again soon, but after a year or so, Beth mentioned her little baby brother in one or her letters and I accepted that I'd better not push my involvement any further. Tom and Maddy then had two children, and I was no part of that family.

--------------

Now not surprisingly my pal Tim's wife had a friend. Well, she had quite a few friends of course, but you know what I mean. Her name was Sally, she was a solicitor, a couple of years younger than me, dark haired and slim with the most fantastic pair of legs I ever did see. The fact that I'm even mentioning her here obviously means that Sally became something special, so many of our interests coinciding that it was as if we were always meant to be.

Eventually I popped the question. We were both divorced, gainfully employed and quite simply in love. Oh yes, the sex was pretty damn good as well in case you were wondering.

"Oh James," she answered me a big smile on her face. "I'd love to......"

But there was a but! Unspoken, but unquestionably a 'but'.

"What's up Sally?" I asked, surprised to be honest that there might be a 'but'.

"I know your history James," she replied quietly. "You'll want children, won't you?"

"Of course I will Sally," I grinned back at her. "At least two, maybe more."

"But I can't have children James," she shocked me with. "That's why my last marriage broke up. My ex was desperate to have a son to keep his family line going."

"You never told me that," I whispered, remembering that her ex husband David had been some sort of minor Baronet or something, which is why a son would be so important. "Who's fault was it?"

"Oh mine James. We were tested and David was OK, but my eggs weren't quite what they should be. Not impossible, but not very likely."

"And he ended your marriage just for that?" I asked in surprise. "David always seemed such a nice reasonable sort of guy whenever I've met him."

"No, it wasn't just that," Sally answered me a little sadly. "But it was that little problem that led to the arguments and eventually ...... Well, eventually to our divorce."

"I'm so sorry Sally. I didn't have a clue. Couldn't you have adopted or something?"

"I would have but David's family were dead set against it and in the end it drove a wedge between us."

"Sad," I commented.

"Very sad," she agreed. "But then I wouldn't have met you, would I?"

"So you will marry me then," I sprung on her.

The conversation went on, Sally worrying that she didn't want another marriage failing for the same reason, and me trying to assure her that I would accept it. We talked about possible adoption or other artificial means, that Sally with her past history knew a lot more about than me. In truth, there really were an awful lot of things to think about, and neither of us were getting any younger.

"Why don't you ask me again in three months time?" Sally at last suggested. "When you've had time to think about it."

"How about I leave the question on the table and you give me your answer in three months?" I countered. "Before if you want."

And that's how we left it. I wanted her to say yes, but deep down I had to admit that I had reservations. I really, really wanted a child of my own. More than one to be honest, and adoption and all that stuff left me feeling a little uncertain. So uncertain unfortunately that tiny cracks began appearing in our relationship where none had been before, and where there simply didn't need to be any. There was no question of us breaking up or anything, and we were still very happy together, but there were doubts, and the marriage question got put quietly on the back burner.

------------------

Every cloud has a silver lining they say. Maybe that's true, and maybe not. I certainly wasn't thinking of clouds that morning as I sat in my office wondering how the hell to justify a large expenditure on a new project I was fronting. The last thing I wanted was a phone call to interrupt my chain of thoughts, especially one that had no connection to my pet project.

"Mr Dawson?" asked the unfamiliar and rather officious sounding voice. "Mr. James Dawson?"

"That's me," I replied casually, my concentration still on how I could make a quarter of a million look like pocket money.

"I have to ask you a couple of security questions Mr. Dawson."

"Fine," I went back, still a bit miffed at the interruption. "But first of all, who are you?"

"Sorry," the voice came back, sounding anything but sorry. "My name is Mrs. Murphy from Headingly Social Services. Headingly is a suburb of Leeds."

"I'm perfectly aware of where Headingly is Mrs. Murphy," I replied, my interest suddenly increasing ten fold. "What can I do for you?"

"You are Mr. James Edward Dawson?"

"That's me."

"And you were previously married to Mrs. Madeline Dawson, who subsequently became Mrs. Wellings?"

"That's me," I repeated, getting a little annoyed with her officiousness.

"As a security, could you tell me your ex wife's middle name please?"

"Jean," I replied.

Happy with that she also asked me what her date of birth were, which of course I answered correctly again.

"What's this all about?" I demanded somewhat more forcibly.

"Headingly Social Security Services are charged with sorting out some outstanding matters concerning the late Mrs. Wellings."

"The late Mrs. Dawson," I queried, realising immediately that would have been Tom's mother. "But she died several years ago and I never met the woman. What could that have to do with me?"

"On the contrary Mr Dawson," the voice came back. "Mrs Wellings died six days ago. She was killed in a motorbike accident along with her husband."

"What! ..... She can't have done ..... She .... She .... They ....." My voice petered out as the impact of her words sank in. I nearly dropped the phone.

"I'm sorry Mr Dawson," The social security lady continued. "I thought you would have known."

"What about Beth?" I cried out aloud," as the terrible possibilities shot through my brain. "She's alright isn't she? Please tell me she's OK."

"She's somewhat upset sir," the woman continued, the slightest trace of humanity appearing for the first time. "She wasn't involved in the accident, but she's obviously very upset. She's been asking for you but it's taken us a few days to track you down."

"Where is she?" I all but shouted down the phone. "I'm leaving now. I'll come and get her."

The woman told me that they had her and the address and five minutes later I was in my car and leaving the car park, my oh so important project forgotten.

-----------------

I was as nervous as hell as I sat in Mrs Murphy's rather dingy office, having convinced her that I really was who I was, and that there was no question whatsoever that I wanted Beth. Somewhat to my surprise I discovered that Tom and Maddy had done nothing to change anything, and of course I'd heard nothing about a request for adoption. As far as the law was concerned, I was still legally Beth's father, as that's what it said on her birth certificate.

Fancy that!

I guess I was upset to hear of Maddy and Tom's demise, even considering what she had done to me, but I was simply so excited to be seeing Beth again, that such thoughts or feelings simply hadn't seeped through yet.

But there was something else that I hadn't thought of as well!

Eventually there was a tap on the door, and another woman walked into the room holding Beth's hand ---- My Beth ----- The first time I'd seen her for nearly four years.

"Daddy. Is that really you?" Beth asked timidly. Not surprisingly as though I'd had photos of her sent to me, she hadn't seen me since she'd been four years old.

"Yes it's me sweetheart," I choked the words out, the first single tear running down my cheek, and holding my arms out to her.

"Daddy, Daddy," she cried out as she ran to me. "I've missed you. I knew you'd come for me."

I told you that there was something else I'd completely forgotten about and it was as I cuddled my daughter in my arms, that that omission suddenly became apparent. As I tried to lift Beth up in my arms, something was not quite right. Looking down, to my surprise I spotted another little chap clinging on grimly to Beth's skirt for all he was worth.

Oh Shit! I'd forgotten. Beth had a little brother!

"This is Jimmy," Beth introduced me, when I let her down again, not wishing to frighten the poor little chap by winning the tug of war. Even so, the poor little fella looked as if he was about to burst into tears. He was about three years old or so, and looked a right little tyke. Dark haired and solidly built, looking like a potential future rugby player. He was obviously frightened to death, but was holding on bravely, unsure what the future held.

"Hello Jimmy," I smiled at him reassuringly, but he glared back still unsure.

"This is Daddy James, Jimmy," Beth encouraged her little brother. "Say hello."

"Daddy James wot used to be your real Daddy?" He asked Beth, but not taking his eyes off me.

"Yes Jimmy," she told him. "Mummy and Daddy always told us how nice he was and now he's going to be our Daddy and take us away to live with him."

Mrs Murphy opened her mouth to speak, no doubt wishing to correct that innocent statement as nothing had been discussed concerning Jimmy, but I held up my hand to stop her, and she had the good sense to keep quiet.

"My Mummy and Daddy have gone to heaven," little Jimmy spilled out. "Will you really be our new Daddy?"

"How old are you Jimmy?" I asked, a thought suddenly occurring to me as I looked at the little lad. "Free," he told me. "Free and ... and ...." At which point he looked up at his older sister for help.

"He's three and four months," Beth finished for him. "His birthday is on the seventh of November."

"Well bugger me!" I cried out as the truth became clear. The mathematics weren't difficult at all. Three years and four months plus another nine months and that took us back to mid October.

Yes ----- Over a month before Tom was released for prison some four years previously. Coupled with Jimmy's build and complexion, there was no doubt in my mind.

Jimmy was my son!

For Christ's sake they must have known, and even called him Jimmy after me. No wonder Maddy had not been there the single time I'd visited, as she must have been showing by then.

"Come and give your Dad a cuddle little man," I grinned at him a warm feeling coursing through me. He hesitated just a moment and leapt into my arms, closely followed by Beth, and the three of us cuddled and cried, oblivious to the others around us.

---------------

It was plain sailing after that. I obviously had the legal right to take Beth away, and it took just ten minutes in front of a hastily sought out Judge to be given the right to take Jimmy as well. Of course there would be paperwork to do later, but I knew a certain solicitor lady who I hoped might be happy to help me with that.

"This is my friend Sally," I introduced my two new charges the very next day, noting that her eyes were already misting up.

"Are you going to be our new Mummy?" piped up little Jimmy.

"Shush Jimmy," Beth admonished her brother. "Daddy said that the lady was a friend of his."

Sally looked at the pair of them for a few moments before saying anything, while I held my breath.

"That's Ok Beth," she eventually managed to get out as her tears started rolling. If your Daddy still wants me, then I think you two are the answer to our prayers and I'd love to be your new Mummy.

Well the offer was still on the table and the three months weren't up, so you can guess how it all ended up, can't you.

That afternoon Sally and I took the two of them out for the day, and we held hands, ran together, played together, laughed together and looked together. Yes that's right, we went to the damn zoo again.

-----------------

There were of course difficult times in the following months and years, as my two children remembered Tom and Maddy who had been their parents. But time is indeed a healer and those times passed, as our children grew up and Sally and I started to happily grow older together. Beth did become a vet and happily married to a young civil engineer, and we are expectantly waiting for the first grandchildren. Jimmy joined the Royal Air Force and has just got his wings. I wonder if his love of aeroplanes came from the number of times that we dragged one another to Old Warden to see the museum there?

[Brainmetal]

Damn Car

By Britease ©

I cursed the day that I'd sold the damn car, and then I double cursed the cursed damn day that that I'd bought the damn thing!

Damn car!

I'd fancied a Porsche all my life, and I found myself there, me pushing thirty, a four year old Ford outside our house, and just about enough money in the bank to pay the difference. The difference that is between my old Ford and the considerably older but none the less beautiful red Porsche 911 that I'd been drooling over for the last four weeks every time that I passed it in the garage in town. The registration number even featured the letters GAD. Got it? George and Debbie!

I talked to my wife, pleaded, cajoled, joked and made every sought of promise imaginable, and at last she came round and agreed that we could splash our hard earned savings out on the object of my desire.

That I guess was my first mistake.

On reflection, Debbie and I weren't really Porsche material, the Ford being more our type of thing, maybe some GTI or other, or even an MX5 perhaps. But as I'd said, I'd fancied a Porsche for so long that I couldn't wait to get behind the wheel once it was mine.

"Golly George," Debbie grinned at me the first time she sat in it. "I'm not sure I feel right in a car like this."

"You look great dear," I told her happily, smiling at my pretty young wife, imagining how much better she'd look sat there in a shorter skirt and skimpy top, than the sensible dresses that she habitually wore.

That was part of the problem I suppose, neither of us being 'clubby' types or lovers of the bright lights. We were both schoolteachers at different schools in our little town in Bedfordshire, where we'd both been teaching since we'd left college. I'd been there nearly five years and Debbie, some two years younger than me a little less. We'd met at college when I'd plucked up the courage to approach her in her first year to ask if she wanted to share my blotting paper, as it seemed that we were the only two in the class who still used a real fountain pen. She'd looked terrified at first, not knowing how to respond, having no idea that I was going through the same emotions.

Quite how we got there will always remain a mystery, but for the rest of that year we went steady, even though it took me till our sixth date till I actually got round to kissing her. Debbie really was a pretty little thing, only five two, with long brown hair that she almost always kept done up in a bun. She was slim and nicely put together in a homely sense, breasts not at all large, but very firm and pert, not that I was to confirm that till much, much later. As you will have guessed perhaps, I graduated, got my job in Bedfordshire, and when Debbie followed a couple of years later, then marriage soon followed within months.

So there we were, me and my sensibly dressed wife sat in our Porsche, and didn't we feel grand! I set off on our first trip, surprised at the power available compared to my previous cars and absolutely loving it. And I continued to love it for the next four months, rather inconveniently just out of the three-month guarantee that it had come with.

The first time I heard the noise I ignored it, imagining that it would just go away. The second time I simply couldn't pretend that it didn't exist, and by the time we got home that evening from school, we both knew that something was amiss.

A trip back to the garage where we'd bought it didn't help much, as all they did was direct us towards a specialist over in Luton.

"Gear box trouble mate," the oily mechanic informed us with a sad look on his face. "All sprockets and grommets these things. I wouldn't want to take this too far with a problem like that."

You can imagine we were both desolate, all our savings having gone into buying the damn thing.

"I've got a spare one in the back," he cheered us up with. "If you leave it with me then I could have it done by Wednesday."

Well, at least that cheered us up, and Debbie gave me a cuddle and a little smile of encouragement.

"How much?" I asked feeling more confident.

"Three grand for the box plus labour," he floored us with.

"Three thousand?" I screeched in disbelief, my innards running cold at the prospect of such an impossible sum.

"Yes mate," he confirmed. "Three thousand plus another grand or so for the labour and gaskets and things. Plus VAT of course.

Oh shit!

-----------------------------

Our house was a pretty sad place that night, with Debbie trying not to blame me, though every time she looked at me her eyes showed the evidence of tears trying to break through, and it nigh on killed me with shame for what my indulgence was about to cost us.

"We can't afford it you know George," Debbie spoke out at last.

"I know honey," I agreed broken up. "I'll ask the guy what he will give us for it."

"I'm sure it'll be Ok George," Debbie assured me, though the look on her face told me that she knew full well that it would be anything but so.

-------------------

"Not interested mate," the mechanic informed me the following morning. "Once the gear box has gone on a car like this, then it'll be something else. I don't need trouble like that."

"But what can I do?" I pleaded with him.

"Stick some thick oil in the box to quieten it down, and then get shot of it mate," he suggested rather disinterestedly.

"But I couldn't just sell it to someone else knowing there was a major problem," I protested. "That wouldn't be honest."

"Stick it in the car auction then mate," he went on. "Then you won't even have to see the poor mug who buys it."

"Thanks for nothing," I thought as I carefully drove the damn thing home that evening, praying that the noise wouldn't suddenly get worse, and having no idea what to do.

That evening the two of us talked it over for hours, hating having to take advantage of some poor soul, but not knowing what else we could do. Duly, the following Saturday found us buying the extra thick oil, and most of my Sunday morning was taken up swapping the oil, no easy feat at the best of times. The Porsche was delivered to the local car auctions in Bedford the following week and we sat back to wait. A call on the Friday confirmed the good news that the car had indeed sold, but the bad news was that the top bid had been far below what we had paid for it. We'd expected the auction price to be less than we'd paid of course, but it was still a hard knock to accept.

"Well that's your dream over for a few years honey," Debbie consoled me, as we looked at the replacement second-hand bog standard Volkswagon parked where the Porsche had so proudly sat, our savings blown on our unfortunate escapade. "But at least you lived it for a few weeks."

"Thanks sweetheart," I sniffed back and took her in my arms and pulled her tight. "The important thing is that we've still got each other."

-----------------

Life went back to normal for about three weeks, our sensible car doing all that was asked of it, getting the pair of us to and from school each day. Of course questions we were asked about the sudden disappearance of the Porsche, which had caused such a stir when it first arrived in my school car park, but we brushed them off with claims that we'd simply changed our minds when we realised how much the running costs were going to be. Not quite the truth, but close enough, and to be honest a bit of a face-saver.

---------

"Mr Adams," the voice on the other end of the line demanded when I picked up the phone one evening shortly afterwards. "Mr George Adams?"

"Speaking," I confirmed.

"The Mr George Adams who used to own the Porsche 911, that was sold at the Auctions the other week?"

My legs went weak and my stomach knotted, knowing that the bloody Porsche had come back to haunt us.

"You still there Mr Jones," the now threatening voice demanded. "It was you who sold it I presume."

"Yes," I mumbled back uncertainly. "What can I do for you?"

"I think you know what this is about Mr Adams don't you?" the voice stated, and my silence did nothing but confirm it.

"So what are you going to do about it Mr Adams?" the guy on the other end went on. "What are you going to do about the duff gearbox you passed off onto me?"

"Gearbox?" I queried, well aware that I was on a loser. "What gearbox?"

"I'll tell you what Mr Adams," he went on, ignoring my denial. "We'll come round to see you to discuss the matter. We've got your address off the paperwork and we'll be there in about half an hour, so you'd better be thinking about what you're going to do about it."

Before I could say another thing, the phone clicked off and I was left standing there, shaking.

I called Debbie and told her what had happened, and she burst out crying.

"I told you we shouldn't have bought that damn car," she sobbed. "I knew it would lead to trouble."

We were still standing there when only a quarter of an hour later, the front door bell rang. I sent Debbie into the other room, and gingerly opened the door, my claims of no responsibility half worked out in my head, when three men, big men, brushed past me.

"Right then George," the middle one with the closely cropped hair and scar on his face said to me. "Where's my bleeding money you stupid bugger?"

"What money?" I murmured back, taking in his six foot odd height, bulky build and grim expression. "You bought the car, we didn't make any claims on condition, so the gearbox is your problem."

"Like a broken leg would be your problem you mean?" He shot back roughly. "And that would be just for starters."

"What do you mean," I spluttered, the horror of our situation hitting me. "You wouldn't."

"Don't piss me about sunshine," he shouted back at me, the anger in his dark threatening eyes shining through. "Ten thousand quid on the button and the car's yours again, but you'll have to go and pick it up down in London where the bleeding gearbox blew up. That's what I paid for the bloody thing and that's what you're going to give me back."

"But I haven't got ten thousand pounds," I told him. "That's why I had to sell it."

"Well you've got half an hour to find it sunshine," he threatened me; stepping up and shoving his face up close to mine.

"But I can't," I answered back as confidently as I could. "You can't get away with this."

"Hurt him a bit Jimbo," the leader said to the huge black guy stood next to him. "Don't break anything though ---- Not yet."

I found myself backing up across the room as the human nightmare moved towards me. I admit it --- I was terrified, bloody terrified. This Jimbo character was even bigger than the first guy, with muscles that seemed to have muscles built on them. His bald shaven head only added to his frightening appearance.

I yelped in pain as he grabbed my arm and twisted it, bringing it back up behind my back, till I thought it would surely snap.

"Get off him you brutes," came my wife's scream as she charged into the room, unable to stick to my instructions to keep out of it. "Leave him alone."

"Well what do we have here then?" leader man grinned nastily as he took in my pretty young wife. "You're a pretty little thing aren't you?"

"Bit skinny if you ask me," the third lout, a long lanky scruff of a man piped up. "But pretty enough I suppose."

"Nice little pair of tits though by the looks of it," the leader cut back in with. "Can't really see though with that big jumper she's got on, can we."

"Shut up you bastards," I cried out at them, but all I got for my trouble was even more pressure on my arm.

"Leave him alone," Debbie pleaded as I yelped out in pain again.

"Break his fucking arm Jimbo," came the response.

"No please don't. Please don't," my wife screamed as my yelps turned to squeals of agony.

"Hang on there a minute Jimbo," the leader instructed my tormentor, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt the pressure relax on my poor joint.

"Take your jumper off darling," he ordered my poor Debbie. "Let's see what you've got."

"No I can't," she sobbed back at him, a look of horror on her face. "I've only got my bra on underneath.

"So much the better, " the one holding me growled. "Come on girly. Give us a show."

"No!" Debbie cried back the tears streaming down her face.

"Shall I break his arm now Ted?" Jimbo asked casually of the boss man.

"No please," Debbie sobbed.

"Get your kit off girly, or we break his arm," Ted snarled.

"No, please no," screamed Debbie in anguish. "Alright, I'll take my jumper off."

"Don't do i....." I started but I was cut off with a further wrench to my arm, that all but made me pass out.

My own eyes were watering up in a mixture of pain and humiliation, as I watched my wife hesitate then reach for the bottom of her jumper and slowly pull it up and off over the top of her head. She stood there, her lovely pert breasts clad only in her lacy little bra, and her eyes cast down to the floor, too ashamed to look up.

"Not bad for such little tits," the third lout commented.

"I quite like little tits sometimes," Jimbo, the black hulk still holding me countered. "Especially little white tits like this little girly's got."

"I think I agree with Jimbo," Ted, the leader laughed out mirthlessly. "Them tits look pretty good to me, and I think we should see them properly."

My objection was cut off by another squirt of pain, and Debbie just stood there saying nothing and doing nothing, as the three of them stared at her with grins spread all over their cruel faces.

"Now you know that I could tell Mike here to take your bra off for you don't you my little darling," Ted growled at Debbie. "And neither you nor hubby here could do a thing to stop it."

"I know," mumbled Debbie, hardly audibly.

"Sorry, what was that you said?" Ted teased my poor wife. "Didn't hear you properly."

"I know you could, you bastard," Debbie spoke up fiercely staring him in the eye, and standing up straighter. "Why don't you just get on with it?"

"Not so much fun darling girl," he explained. "I want you to take your bra off yourself. I want your wimp of a husband here watch you bare your own tits to us, and I want him to feel the shame for trying to cheat me."

"No, I won't do it," Debbie replied her voice breaking with emotion.

"Christ I'm really enjoying this you know," Ted remarked to nobody in particular. "I wonder how we can persuade you?"

Debbie just dropped her head, at a loss to know what to do.

"Tell you what little thing," he continued after a few moments. "You take off your bra darling, and we'll leave you in peace for the time being. We won't hurt limp dick here I promise you."

"You promise?" Debbie responded hopefully. "You really promise?"

"I promise darling," he laughed back, knowing that he'd hooked her. "You take your bra off and let us all have a grope of your tits and we'll let hubby here go."

"No groping," my wife shot back. "You didn't say anything about touching, just that I'd have to take my bra off. I'll do that, but no touching."

"Things change I'm afraid my little thing," he continued to tease her. "A strip and a grope. Not a lot to ask."

Debbie gritted her teeth and refused to be drawn, looking daggers at him.

"Ok then little lady," he grinned at her, lapping up her discomfort. "Mike there didn't seem so interested by your little tits, cute though they no doubt are, so we'll cut him out. Take your bra off and only two of us get to have a feel."

"No you bastard, no," cried my Debbie, shaking her head. "I won't do it."

"One of us then sweetheart," he counter offered, grinning all over his face, revelling in her discomfort. "Christ I'm really, really enjoying this chaps."

Debbie said nothing, just shook her head.

"Tell you what my pretty little thing," Ted carried on tormenting my wife. "Only one of us gets to play with them lovely tits of yours, and you can pick who it is. Jimbo or me, or even Mike if you want. How does that sound?"

"That or we break this wimp's arm that is," he added with a grim smile when she didn't respond. "Come on girly think about it."

"Well it wouldn't be you that I'd pick," Debbie snarled at him, thinking perhaps that she'd got one over him.

"Of course not darling," he countered her with. "Never expected you would. Now who is it to be my pretty one? Is it Mike or Jimbo that gets to feel those lovely little tits of yours?"

"Jimbo," whispered my wife causing my stomach to knot up as if some strange beast was scratching away at it.

"No Debbie," I cried out in despair.

"I've got to," she cried back, pleading with me to stay out of it.

"Please Debbie don't."

"I've got to!" she repeated.

"Jimbo, you've chosen then have you?" Ted resumed amused at our little conversation. "Lucky man."

Nobody said anything for some moments, the three of them just grinning at my poor dear wife.

"When do you want me to do it?" she asked at long last.

"Whenever you're ready my dear," he tormented her, putting all the pressure on my wife.

Slowly eyes cast downwards, she reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra, holding it in place for some moments before letting it drop away, her luscious round little breasts bared to all four of us, standing there like two ripe pairs, the tips visibly wavering about as she shivered with embarrassment.

"Come on then, damn well do it," she whimpered when nobody made a move towards her.

"Do what?" teased Ted, the bugger. "What do you want us to do?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Debbie replied between clenched teeth. "For God's sake just do it."

"Do what exactly my sweet?" Ted went back, not letting her off the hook. "Tell us exactly what it is you want us to do."

"Feel them," she sobbed. "For God's sake feel my breasts."

"I think she wants one of us to grope her," Ted announced to the other two. "Look how hard her nipples are. She must be desperate."

It was true!

Debbie's nipples were rock hard, as hard as I'd ever seen them, and they were bobbing up and down as she fought to catch her breath.

"Shut up," she screamed at him. "Jimbo, come and do it please."

But Jimbo didn't move. He was still holding on to me and knew perfectly what his boss-man was after.

"Seems he's a bit tied up darling girl," Ted almost crooned at my half naked wife. "He can't let go of your hubby and that lovely pair would be wasted on Mike."

Debbie sobbed, the movement making her bare breasts wobble even more, and earning a whistle of appreciation from Ted.

"That just leaves me sweetheart," he encouraged her. "Do you want me to take Jimbo's place?"

"Yes, just do it," she whispered, giving in.

"Ask me nicely," he taunted her. "You rejected me just now and hurt my feelings, so you'll have to ask me properly."

"Feel my breasts," Debbie said between gritted teeth.

"Say please," Ted demanded, knowing he was totally in control.

"Please feel my breasts," my wife whispered in reply.

"Sorry darling," he replied. "Speak up so that I can hear you."

Debbie looked up at him with a look of hate in her eyes. However she stood up straight, put her hands behind her back and thrust her naked breasts out at Ted.

They looked gorgeous! So inviting. Oh fuck it! I didn't want to look, but I simply couldn't tear my eyes away from her naked torso.

"Please Ted," she said slowly and precisely. "Will you please feel my breasts for me."

"Of course I will my dear," he replied with a grin. "Since you asked so nicely and obviously want me to."

With that he stepped towards her, reached out and took her left breast in his hand, first weighing it carefully, and then squeezing it gently but firmly, before rolling her hard nipple between his fingers. Debbie screwed up her eyes and gritted her teeth, trying her best not to let it get through to her. But the challenge was too one sided, and eventually a groan escaped through my wife's lips, as she pushed forward, thrusting her breasts out towards him.

"Ok if I suck them Sweetie?" he asked her softly, his whole attitude seeming to change.

Debbie fluttered open her eyes, but nothing seemed to register with her, before nodding her head, throwing it back in passion as he bent down and took her other sweet little breast into his mouth.

This time the groan was louder and more purposeful, and she grabbed at the back of his head, pulling his mouth urgently to her breast, shoving it hard up to his enveloping mouth.

"Christ," laughed out Mike as he watched. "She might have little tits, but she's some goer ain't she?"

"She's bloody loving it," added Jimbo, as Ted reached down and started to flip open the buttons on her skirt.

And me?

All I could do was watch the awful scene being played out in front of me, desperately trying to deny to myself that my treacherous cock was reacting to the scene of debauchery. Hardly able to believe that my innocent young wife could be so easily seduced into such wanton behaviour.

My heart gave a lurch as her skirt, now freed, slid slowly down her slender legs till it puddled at her feet, and I could scarcely believe my own eyes as of her own free will, she stepped out of it and kicked it aside.

"Don't you just love them little white cotton panties," Jimbo commented, relaxing the pressure on my arm just a little at last.

"Yes Jimbo," his mate agreed readily. "Makes her look all sweet and innocent despite the way she's acting."

"I prefer my women in high heels normally," Jimbo remarked as if he was discussing what model of car he fancied buying next. "But them little white ankle socks look just dandy on her don't they?"

I'd no sooner taken their comments in, than Ted, the dirty bastard, proceeded to slide one of his big hands down Debbie's tummy, his huge fat fingers toying with the waist band of her knickers. To my utter astonishment and dismay, my previously naive wife, grabbed at his wrist but did nothing to stop him as his whole hand all but disappeared down the front of her admittedly fairly large knickers.

"Oh my God please don't do that," she groaned, her own actions nullifying any likelihood that her words would have any effect, and I had to stand there watching the brute manhandle my wife.

I simply couldn't describe the anguish and feelings of hopelessness that enveloped me.

I next heard a mobile phone ringing behind me, and to my surprise Jimbo simply let go of me, freeing himself to reach inside his jacket for his phone. By then poor Debbie's panties were half way down her thighs, her ample dark bush peeping out from between Ted's fingers, as he rubbed the palm of his hand up and down against her bare pussy mound, the slick wetness on his middle finger indicating far too graphically where it kept disappearing to.

I couldn't move though!

I felt paralysed; disgusted, but mesmerised by the sight of my wife being stripped and felt up.

Jimbo was busy on the phone and Mike was ignoring me, as he leant forward trying to get a closer view up between my wife's legs, but all I could do was stand there with my mouth gaping open, staring at that hoodlum as he physically abused my wife's lovely trim body, right there in front of me.

"How does that feel darling?" Ted baited Debbie, as he slid his middle finger deep up inside her. "I bet my finger's bigger than your husband's cock isn't it?"

"Oh God yes," she gasped, which was a downright lie as it happened, but it didn't stop her from collapsing against him as he roughly fingered her, her gasps of pleasure, literally tearing lumps off me.

"Ted," called out Jimbo, holding his hand over the mouthpiece of his phone. "Got a problem boss."

"Can't you see I'm busy Jimbo?" He complained at him, hardly hesitating in his attention to Debbie's now completely naked body.

"It's Horseman," Jimbo explained with a look that everyone except me seemed understood. "He's gone wild again."

"WHAT!" exclaimed Ted, letting go of Debbie, who had to grab at him to avoid falling to the floor. "Horseman? Horseman? Is that fucker on the loose again?"

"Afraid so boss," Jimbo casually informed him. "We've got to go and sort him out before he kills someone at the club."

"Bugger him," Ted spat out, looking down at my Debbie who was still clinging on to him desperately, still lost in the throws of her own lust. "Sorry love. I've got to split. Next time maybe."

Debbie's response bought the last vestiges of my world tumbling about my ears.

"It's Ok Ted," she told him, even smiling at the bastard. "I understand."

I was left standing there on my own, totally desolate, as Debbie, my wife Debbie, accepted the thug's hand, and allowed herself to be led out into our hallway to see them out.

Bear in mind now, that this was my wife, my by now naked wife, having walked out of her panties as she'd left, just her sensible lace up shoes and little white ankle socks left, walking willingly out with three thugs who'd just abused her body and held me so that I had to watch the whole deeply disturbing incident.

I stood there for a good five minutes, perhaps longer, my mind in a turmoil at what they might be doing to her on the other side of the living room door, as I waited her return. I know I should have done something. Reacted in some way, but I was simply totally out of it, in a world that I didn't understand.

My wife --- My previously shy and so reserved Debbie, out there in the nude with three strange men that we'd never seen till half an hour ago.

I couldn't believe it was happening.

I was paralyzed.

Then I heard the front door slam, and coming out of my semi trance, I rushed to spy out of the window, fearful for the moment that they may have taken Debbie with them. With relief I saw just the three of them get into the huge brand new looking Mercedes parked outside, and was able to relax just a tiny bit as they roared away.

What the hell was a guy like that, who could afford a Mercedes like that doing buying an old second hand car, even though it was a Porsche?

I didn't know ---- No idea, but the thought did occur to me.

"Sorry honey," she quietly said to me as she came back in, a large towel that she'd found somewhere wrapped round her to cover her nudity. "Guess I got a bit carried away there."

"Debbie," I virtually sobbed at her. "How could you? How could you act that way?"

"I'm sorry honey," she sobbed at me. "I've said I'm sorry."

"But for Christ's sake Debbie," I shouted at her, losing my rag. "You let him fondle you. You let him touch you. You let him feel your tits and finger you."

"What else could I do?" She cried out in despair. "They were hurting you and I thought they were going to break your arm or something."

"But ... But ... But, there was no need to let him do all that Debbie," I proclaimed. "There was no damn need to enjoy it for fuck's sake."

There ---- I'd said it!

"What did you expect me to do George?" Debbie retorted, losing her calm completely. "The damn man was sucking on my tits and sticking his fingers up my pussy. Right up inside me. I couldn't help how good it felt. I couldn't help reacting to what he was doing to me. Damn it George, I'm sorry if it upsets you, but it felt good and I lost control."

"But why did you have to go out into the corridor with them? You're naked for Christ's sake."

"I had no choice honey. They made me go."

"You didn't put up much of a fight did you?" I spat at her, wanting to hurt her, perhaps unfairly, but needing to strike out at something.

"I didn't put up a fight?" Debbie screamed at me. "What about you, you wimp? All you did was stand there and watch while they forced me to strip. Your own wife --- You did nothing to stop them."

"What could I do Debbie," I sobbed in frustration. "That big black bastard had hold of me."

"He wasn't holding you when the three of them took me out into the hall was he?" She shot back at me. "Where were you when Ted invited the other two to have a quick feel. Where were you when I had three pairs of hands all over my naked body?"

"I don't know Debbie," I mumbled unhappily, images of Debbie, totally nude and surrounded by the three of them, unable to fend their hands off, swimming before my eyes. "I was just so shocked that I couldn't seem to react."

"Well don't blame me you bastard," she retorted in temper. "You insisted on buying the damn car, and it's me and my body that's paying for it."

There was a short silence while we stared at one another, rethinking our positions.

"I'm sorry Debbie," I blurted out at last. "I know it wasn't your fault."

"Thanks," she whispered back, unable to look me in the eye. "At least that's something."

"Well at least it's over honey," I tried to comfort her.

"You think so?" She questioned me sadly. "Because I don't think so."

Oh shit!

She was probably right.

----------------

The next few days were not easy for either of us. If I wasn't reliving the horror of seeing that bugger Ted stroking Debbie's body, then I was wondering quite what the three of them had done to her just before they left. I simply couldn't ask her about that, especially since she kept breaking down in tears every few hours.

When the call that we had been dreading finally came, it was in some weird way, almost a relief.

"Why don't you and your lovely wife Debbie pop down to our club tomorrow night," Ted asked us. "I think I've got a solution to our little problem."

"I'd rather not," I found myself responding, caught out completely by his suggestion.

"That or we come over to see you again," he went on, making it more than clear that his suggestion was an order, whichever way I looked at it. "And that might not be so nice for you as I don't like wasting my time."

"OK, I'll be there," I promised, not seeing any way out of it.

"Not just you," he snarled. "You and that lovely wife of yours. In fact you needn't come if you don't feel like it."

"We'll both be there," I promised him, and got the address off him, of a club called the Yellow Duster, which I'd certainly never heard of before.

"I trust you haven't mentioned our visit to the police or anyone George, have you?"

"No," I replied, though it was only Debbie's fear of retaliation that had stopped me.

"Very sensible," Ted informed me. "Don't you worry too much. I'm sure we can sort this out."

Bloody great!

Early the next evening found Debbie and I nervously stood at the door to the aforementioned 'Yellow Duster'.

"It's a lap dancing club George," Debbie said, reading the spiel at the entrance. "What's that? How do lap's dance?"

"Oh it's a sort of men's club," I replied, wondering if we should bugger off and emigrate to Latvia or something.

"There's a picture here of a girl dancing round a pole of some sort," she went on, examining the single poster by the door. "It looks kind of fun."

"Yes dear," I agreed with my unworldly wife, really not wanting to cross the thresh-hold of that place, my heart pounding at the thought of what Ted's solution to our problem might be.

"Come on then let's go in and get this over with," Debbie sung out as she grabbed my arm and pulled us both through the door.

"You members?" A dodgy looking man in a cheap suit and a thin moustache greeted us inside the dingy looking establishment.

"No we've come to see Ted," I told him, pleased to see that Debbie now had a nervous look on her face as she clung on to me.

"Mr Walters said someone was coming," the doorman grunted, eyeing up my wife up and down as if he was examining a piece of merchandise. "He said you were a pretty little thing sweetheart and so you are. In you go."

Before our eyes had even adjusted to the gloom inside the club, Jimbo from the previous evening came up, grabbed Debbie's arm and whisked her off behind the bar, casually telling me to follow them. We went through a heavy wooden door and found ourselves back in normal levels of light in a rather scruffy office full of filing cabinets, where Ted was sat behind a huge, grey, metal desk.

"Ah! There you are my lovely," Ted greeted my wife, ignoring me completely. "And all dressed up nicely as well, I see."

It was true, and somewhat against my will, Debbie had dolled herself up for the meeting. Now when I say 'dolled up', what I mean is put her best 'going out' clothes on, though they were hardly sexy or anything, or even terribly fashionable for that matter.

"Now you come and sit on my knee young lady," he ordered her, and with a frightened look across at me, she nervously approached him and plumped her shapely bottom down on his lap.

Jimbo had positioned himself in between the two of us, so even if I'd had the nerve, I couldn't intervene.

"Now this solution I have involves you, young lady," he started, confirming my worst fears. "Now normally when I interview new female applicants to work here, I have them strip for me, but since I've already seen and felt the goods, I think we can give that a miss for the moment."

"Now hang on there," I started to object, but to my astonishment Debbie interrupted me.

"Let's hear what he's got to say George," she suggested.

"Very sensible young lady," Ted grinned at her. "Glad to hear that you're not going to be difficult."

"So what job am I being interviewed for?" she demanded somewhat more confidently than I would have given her credit for. "If you think I'm going to be one of those strip tease dancing girls, then you've got another think coming."

"We don't call them that anymore," Ted smiled in amusement. "Besides, an innocent little thing like you would need a fair bit of training before we'd let you do that."

"So what do you expect me to do then?"

"Waitress to start with," he told her, sliding his huge hand round her slim waist. "Then maybe try you behind the bar perhaps."

"Well," Debbie started nervously. "I've never been a waitress before, but I guess I could manage that perhaps."

""Now look here. I'm not ....." But my objections were cut short by a nudge in the ribs from Jimbo, that all but laid me out.

"How long do I have to work to pay the debt off?" Debbie asked Ted, throwing me a sympathetic look.

"Oh --- we'll see how it goes darling," he told her. "How many nights a week can you manage?"

"Two perhaps," she ventured uncertainly.

"Let's call it four then," he over-ruled her. "You start at nine each night till we close."

"What time would that be?" Debbie queried, but Ted simply shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

"Well the sooner you get started, then the quicker you'll pay the debt off," was the closest that we got to how long she'd have to work for, and the conversation that followed made me feel quite queasy.

"We're short of a girl tonight Debbie sweetheart, so you might as well get your outfit on and get out there," he told her, handing over a couple of tiny articles made of some silky material.

"But everyone will be able to see my bra in this top," complained Debbie, examining the tiny slip of material

"No they won't," he grinned back at her.

"Yes they will," she insisted, holding it up against herself. "Look, there's hardly anything to it, it's open right down the front, and in any case it's a bit see-thru."

I gulped; glad to remember that she'd put on a sensible bra that evening, one that wouldn't show off too much.

"They won't be able to see your bra, sweetheart," Ted assured her again.

"But they will," Debbie protested. "Look, there's nothing to it."

"They won't see your bra because it's not designed to be worn with one," Ted delighted in informing my wife. "None of our girls wear a bra when they're here, so that's something you won't have to worry about."

"But then they'll be able to see my ....."

She broke off and visibly gulped, as the implications struck her.

"Only when you bend down," Ted carried on. "You'll get a lot more tips that way as well, so you ought to practice how to give the clients a flash."

"A flash," Debbie exclaimed in shock. "You mean you actually expect me to flash my breasts at the customers?"

"Of course sweetheart," he laughed back. "It's a bloody night club. Once you've settled in you can let some of them have a feel as well if you want, and then you'll really rake in the tips."

Debbie stood there silently, her mouth gaping open, trying to take in what she'd just been told, even more surprises coming as Ted continued.

"Have you got those old fashioned knickers on again?"

Debbie simply nodded.

"Well you'll have to get yourself some new ones, thongs and things, as the clients won't like them much."

Debbie picked up the miniscule mini skirt, and we were both able to see why what panties Debbie had on, would be apparent.

"They'll do for tonight though I suppose," Ted carried on nonchalantly, ignoring both our looks of horror. "Unless you fancy going without of course, like some of the girls do."

"Without?" Whispered Debbie. "You mean without any panties in a skirt as short as this."

"Perhaps not," he said thoughtfully.

"Thank God for that," Debbie exclaimed in relief.

"No ---- You'd better get your pussy shaved before you go commando. Perhaps another night when you've got used to the guys out there mauling you. You should give it a go though, because the tips are so much better."

Oh Shit!!!!

Before I could gather my wits, Jimbo started to usher me out of the door, leaving my poor embarrassed wife standing there.

"Get changed then darling, you've got customers out there."

I tried to resist Jimbo, only too aware that Debbie had already started to undo the buttons on her blouse. As he forced me easily out through the door, my last sight of Debbie was of her easing her blouse off her shoulders, her little white bra out on view.

"What time shall I come and pick her up?" I asked Jimbo in desperation.

"No need mate," he replied as he edged me out of the club. "We'll make sure she get's home safely.

"But what time?" I demanded, the thought of poor Debbie taking her clothes off back in that office etched in my mind.

"Who knows?" He replied. "Depends how well she does and whether any of the customers want to chat to her afterwards or whatever."

Oh Shit!!!!!

---------------------

You can imagine!

I walked slowly back to my little Volkswagen, in a daze, never having expected to be going home on my own, furious at having to leave my dear wife in that place on her own.

The journey home was a nightmare, and I had to pull up a couple of times when I thought I was on the point of bursting into tears or something. I thought about going and buying a gun or something, but in the UK, that is all but impossible for an ordinary guy like me.

When I got home it was no better, and neither the TV nor my magazines could hold my interest for more than a few minutes, and eventually I spread myself out on the sofa feeling sorry for myself and worrying about how my poor Debbie was coping.

Midnight passed then 1 am, and Debbie was already out later than she had been for years. I think I may have dozed off at some point, but was bought back to reality by the growl of a powerful car pulling up outside. In an instant I was at the window, stunned to see a gleaming Aston Martin DB9, parked outside. A hundred grand's worth of car at least, and the bastard was making us go through this turmoil for an old Porsche. Why the hell had he bought it in the first place?

My heart pounded as I stood there watching the car, unable to see what was going on inside, fearful of letting my imagination run riot. After what seemed an age, but probably wasn't, the nearside door opened and a pair of long bare legs swung out. A lovely pair of bare legs that were familiar to me, with a pair of high heels on that weren't. Debbie closed the door behind her and leant back inside the window for a moment. Long enough for a kiss, but probably not so, the miniscule skirt that she had worn home rising up over her bottom to expose her white cotton panties. Well at least she had kept them on by the looks of it.

She tottered up the path on the unfamiliar heels, turning to wave at the powerful car as it pulled away, tugging at her little skirt as it rode even further up her thighs. By the time she got to the front door I was there, and Debbie jumped back in surprise as I opened it.

"You're still up," she called out huskily.

"Of course I am," I confirmed, staring unbelievably at her partially covered breasts, and the two darker circles that I could clearly make out through the thin material. "How was it? Are you OK honey?"

"I'm Ok, but very tired George," Debbie replied, her eyes visibly drooping with fatigue. "I need a shower and then my sleep."

"But what happened honey," I pleaded with her, desperate to know what she'd gone through, praying that she hadn't had to endure too much unwanted attention from her customers.

Just wanting to know for Christ's sake!

"Tomorrow honey," she said as she gave me a quick cuddle. "I really don't want to talk about it tonight and I must smell like a brewery with all the booze that's been spilled over me tonight."

With that, she uncurled herself from my arms that had encircled her, and left me staring after her as she wearily made her way to the stairs.

"But Debbie please," I called out after her, following her to the foot of the stairs, unsure whether to enjoy or feel disgusted at her white panty clad ass, as her skirt rose even further up her thighs as she took each step.

"It's OK honey, but not now dear ---- tomorrow," was her parting shot as she disappeared from view, leaving me stood there frustrated, confused and unhappy.

-------------------

She eventually did come to bed of course, but was in the shower an awful long time. She asked me to hold on to her, and within moments she was fast asleep, which is more than I could say for myself.

I lay there most of what remained of the night, pondering what life held in store for us. Wondering quite what indignities Debbie had been forced to put up with earlier, and torturing myself with what she might do in the weeks to come. Angry with myself that there didn't seem to be anything I could do about it.

The next morning came too early, and we both got ready and left for our respective schools, me avoiding the questions I needed to ask, and Debbie avoiding my eye. The day seemed to last forever, and needless to say I didn't perform at my best.

Then I went home!

"We need to talk," Debbie greeted me with. "I couldn't face it last night, but we really need to talk."

Of course I concurred immediately, and after I'd got us both a nice cup of tea, we sat down together to start our discussion.

"Do you love me George?" Debbie started with. "I mean really love me?"

"Of course sweetheart," I assured her, wanting to hold her in my arms and make all the problems go away."

"Well last night George, I did things that you wouldn't approve of," she went on, causing my stomach to contract painfully. "I did things that I could never have imagined doing, and I let men touch me a bit. I let them touch me where a wife probably shouldn't allow other men to touch them."

"What!" I cried out, leaping to my feet. "What sort of things? Where did they touch you?"

"My tummy, my arms, and a few times ..... Well elsewhere," she whispered guiltily. "One guy ran his hand up under my skirt when I had a tray in my hands, and couldn't get away so easily."

"God Debbie," I shouted out angrily. "You don't have to go back there. We'll go to the police and tell them what's happening like we should have done at the beginning."

"We can't honey," my wife told me, with a tear in her eye. "They've got photos of me now in the club with my breasts popping out of that stupid little top, and even one of some man who I hardly remember giving one of them a squeeze. They've threatened to send them to my headmaster at school if we cause problems and I'd get the sack and never get another job."

"But damn it Debbie ....." I started to protest, but Debbie held her hand up for me to stop.

"That's not all George," she went on. "Ted said that if you caused any problems then he'd break both your arms and maybe worse."

"What are we going to do then," I asked pathetically.

"We've just got to go through with it honey," she told me. "With the tips I make then it shouldn't be more than three months or so to pay him back."

"But I can't expect you to go through that for three months Debbie," I tried to reason with her. "No husband should expect his wife to accept treatment like that."

"It'll be OK George," my wife continued, reaching up to put her hand on my arm. "I'll be OK, I promise you."

"No," I declared. "I just can't allow you to suffer like that."

"That's the worst part about it honey," Debbie then said, giving me a look close to despair.

"What is?"

"Promise you won't hate me George," she demanded.

"I could never hate you Debbie," I proclaimed. "What could be worse than the way they've made you suffer?"

"You're sure?" she asked nervously.

"Of course I'm sure," I replied, and waited to hear what she had to say.

"I enjoyed it," she whispered meekly.

"What!"

"I enjoyed it," she repeated. "The first half hour or so was truly dreadful, but once I'd got used to it, then it didn't seem so bad. Then one of the men there told me that he thought I was the prettiest girl in the place and asked if he could have a proper look at my bare breast rather than just the flashes he kept getting."

"The bastard," I muttered, unable to believe what my previously innocent little wife was telling me.

"He told me that he was fed up with all the big busted woman there, and thought that my natural little breasts were beautiful."

I breathed in deeply to calm myself. What the guy had said was true as far as I was concerned, but I couldn't stand the thought of my wife having to put up with crude comments like that.

"I did it honey," she continued, almost weeping. "I'm sorry but I did it. I pulled my top aside and stood there with my bare breast out letting him look at it. His friends as well for that matter. I'm so sorry but I just stood there sticking them out at the whole table to look at."

"I can hardly believe what you're telling me Debbie," I struggled to say, though I could also hardly believe what effect her words were having on me. I was upset and there was no doubt about that, but like before, my erection was actually making me feel uncomfortable.

Christ! What sort of husband did that make me?

"George," Debbie took up the conversation again. "You're taking this awfully well honey. Much better than I expected."

"Well ..... That is ..... Oh I just don't know what to say Debbie," and it was true. I was totally lost for words to describe my outrage, but couldn't pretend that other very strange feelings were emerging.

'There's something else then that you'd better know honey. Might as well get it all over and done with now I've started."

What next? I had no idea.

"The other night," she began to explain. "When Ted told me to take my top off, then I couldn't believe that I actually went and did it, but by the time I was down to just my panties, I was desperate to get naked. I felt so hot and horny George. I simply wanted to get the rest of my clothes off and I was terrified that they wouldn't force me into stripping completely. When he started to feel my breasts and things I just lost it totally. Then when all three of them had their hands all over me out in the hall, I was in heaven."

"Is that it?"

I think my voice squeaked!

"Just about," Debbie admitted at last. "I love you honey and I don't want to hurt you, but I can't lie. You mean too much to me to lie to you."

Oh Shit!

Where the hell do we go from there?

------------------------

You think that was enough for any man?

You think it was finished for the night?

"I've got to go shopping tomorrow straight from school," she announced a little later, after we'd some how or other managed to get dinner ready and eat it. "I'll be a bit late home."

"Fine," I said. What else?

"I'm going clothes shopping," Debbie continued, staring over at me.

"Fine," I repeated. I wasn't being nasty, I'd simply had the wind knocked out of my sails.

"I'm going with Tammy," she went on gingerly, waiting for my reaction, which was to demand who the hell this Tammy was.

"A girl from the club," she replied, continuing to keep her statements as short as possible.

"You're going clothes shopping with a girl from that damn club?" I did react at last. "What sort of clothes."

"You know George," Debbie said in little more than a whisper. "High heels, some nice little thong panties, things like that."

"And how the hell do you think we're going to be able to afford that?" I nigh on exploded. She was in danger of pushing me just too far.

"Tips from last night."

"That's enough?"

"More than enough," she grinned at me more confidently. "I made more in tips last night than I earn as a teacher in a week."

What could I say?

Throw her out?

Dump her?

Divorce her?

Knock the living daylights out of her?

No of course I couldn't do any of those things, and didn't want to. The important thing was that she'd been completely honest with me and still loved me.

What could I do?

I really didn't have a clue!

Not a fucking clue!

------------------



Well, she went and did her shopping and wasn't home too late. She didn't chose to show me what she'd worn, and I was too much of a prick to ask her.

We just carried on, and except that Debbie wasn't around for several evenings of the week, nothing seemed to change much.

Then came Monday the eleventh.

I remember the date for some obscure reason.

"Honey," Debbie said to me cuddling up on the sofa, while we watched Coronation Street on the box. I hated it, but she'd always loved it and me watching it with her was a sign of my love. "Ted's asked me to do something, but I told him I'd have to ask you first."

"He accepted that?" I queried, not remembering Ted as the sort of guy who asked rather than demanded.

"Yes sort of," replied Debbie. "He's really a little bunny rabbit when you get to know him."

I chose to ignore that remark!

"He wants me to be a dancer," she then hit me with. "I've been practicing at the club and he thinks I'm good enough."

"A dancer?" I queried.

"Yes a dancer," she confirmed, smiling back at me as if she'd just told me she'd got promotion at her school.

"Not wearing many clothes I expect," I ventured, recalling the photo outside the club.

"Not a lot," she blurted out. "At least, I'd end up without any."

"A strip tease dancer," I asked her. "My wife, a strip tease dancer?"

"They don't call them that anymore honey," she consoled me. "Exotic dancer, pole dancer, lap dancer, whatever. But they don't say 'strip tease' anymore."

"But you still take your clothes off?"

"Yes, all of them," she confirmed.

"Can I come and watch?" I surprised her with. Myself as well for that matter.

"I'd rather you didn't honey," she responded in surprise. "Ted isn't too keen on his artist's husbands visiting the club.

At that point, I nearly lost it. My wife had to ask her boss if I could watch her taking her clothes off, and he was probably going to refuse me permission????

Damn it!

Damn the lot of them!

Damn that bloody car!

----------------------

The next few weeks got increasingly impossible, as Debbie worked as a teacher every day and at the club four nights a week. It seemed we hardly saw one another as when she wasn't working, she was catching up with her sleep.

Our sex life had all but disappeared.

"This can't go on Debbie," I announced one night when we were in bed, Debbie having come home absolutely knackered. "We've got no marriage anymore. You're killing yourself."

"You're right,' she replied to my surprise. "I've been thinking about it and I'm going to pack up at the end of this week, and we can be more like it was before."

"Thank God for that," I told her happily. "Whatever the problems, we'll sort them out honey pie."

I took her in my arms and pulled her towards me, intent on doing the dastardly deed with my wife, albeit the first time for two or three weeks.

She fell asleep!

Oh well ---- There'd be another time I told myself.

--------------

Of course asking her to pack up working at the club and the reality of it were two different things. I had no idea how much of our dept had been paid off, and quite what the implications of us not being able to pay the rest off was something that we had yet to face.

But face it we would, and we'd face it together.

"That's it," she announced towards the end of the week. "I've quit! I've given my notice in and we'll have more time for one another."

"What did they say?" I asked somewhat nervously.

"They weren't very happy at all," Debbie told me, her face creasing up a little. "But they accepted it, and so that's the end of it."

"No repercussions Debbie," I asked my heart beating. "That's really the end of it."

"Absolutely George darling," my lovely wife confirmed. "That's it! Finished! The end!"

Glory be!

I thought we'd never get through it, and I owed so much to my wife for going through what she had experienced. I didn't know how to thank her, but vowed that I would find a way.

The weekend passed, and we clung to one another a lot, though she was so tired that we only managed a couple of short sessions.

Nothing special, but a new start ---- A new beginning for the pair of us, out of the clutches of those hoodlums, and just the two of us.

Monday morning I had to leave early for the music class as usual, and I left Debbie eating her breakfast as normal.

"See you this evening darling," I whispered to her, and she responded with a crushingly lovely smile.

Everything was going to fine again!

It looked as if our problems were over.

I should explain that on Mondays I started early, but was allowed to skip off the final lesson, and I rushed home, intent on having everything perfect for when Debbie came home. I wanted that night to be special. I wanted it to be the first night of the rest of our life.

"Hi honey," she greeted me as I walked in the door.

"Hi Debbie," I responded in surprise. "What are you doing home?"

"Making you a special dinner honey," Debbie grinned at me. "I'll be able to do that all the time from now on."

"But I don't understand," I mumbled in confusion. "Why aren't you still at school?"

"At school?" She laughed out loud. "Why would I be at school?"

"Because you're a teacher," I answered her, surprised at her answer.

"Not any more George," she smiled back. "I told you that I'd done as you asked and given my notice in. I'm not a teacher anymore."

"WHAT! But I thought it was the work at the club you were packing in," I uttered in astonishment.

"Why would I do that?" Debbie asked, a look of puzzlement on her face. "I can earn nearly as much in one good night at the club than I do in a month as a teacher."

"Yes but you have to ..... You .... You ......." I babbled on, unable to express what I was thinking.

"I have to show my tits and things off you mean?" Debbie finished for me. "So what? It's no big deal, and in fact I mostly really enjoy it."

"But all that studying and training," I mumbled on, her use of the word tits for the first time ever not lost on me. "All lost. All for nothing."

Not completely dear," she smiled condescendingly. "My main act is usually dressed up as a teacher lady. Not that the outfit stays on for long though."

"Not quite the same thing," I pointed out.

"Come on honey," she carried on, ignoring my comment. "Come and eat your dinner, because I've got to be at the club for eight O'clock tonight. There's a group of Quantity Surveyors arriving early from some conference and they'll need entertaining."

"Entertaining?" I spluttered, at a loss for words.

"Yes dear," Debbie smiled at me. "They're said to be a horny lot, so I should do well for tips."

"Tips?"

"Yes Chips dear," she answered. "Steak and chips, your favourite. Now eat up sweetie and enjoy it."

Oh Shit!

What the hell had happened to my marriage?

Bloody hell ----- At least the chips were good.

--------------

Life continued and I did see more of my wife, though it was hardly the same as before. Her style of dress changed so radically that some of our old friends started to avoid us. Not many of the guys though, and our house became more and more popular as they called by, hoping to catch Debbie in the sexier and skimpier clothes she seemed to prefer.

The sex was better though.

But that's not everything you know.

------------------

Debbie became fairly evasive about what she actually did at the club, and question as I would, she didn't want to talk about it. Only that everything was still OK, and that the money for the Porsche was gradually being paid off.

Eventually one night I couldn't stand it any longer, and I found myself outside the club, wondering if I had the nerve to go in.

The same scruffy thin guy took my money, showing no recognition, and I found myself inside the place again. I have to admit that in the evening with a crowd of people in there, the place looked a lot better than it had looked the previous time, and I was surprised at how many women patrons were there sprinkled among the groups of men.

Then there were the waitresses of course, all rather stunning and in minuscule little outfits every bit as small as the one that I had seen Debbie in. I was approached by several of them asking if I wanted any company, the shock dawning as I realised that my Debbie must have been doing the very same thing. After about ten minutes my nipple count passed into double figures and I stopped counting, though I certainly didn't stop looking. Eventually I discovered that if I joined the group of men stood at the back, then we got served at the bar alongside, and the waitresses, or hostesses as they really were, stopped propositioning us. From there I had a good view of both the stages, hardly more than raised podiums where the girls were performing.

Now I'm a normal sort of male and I have to admit I enjoyed what I saw, as a succession of lovely women took their turn to take all their clothes off and display themselves quite openly to the men crowded round each stage. There was one little blonde that I was particularly taken with, and for some moments I almost forgot why I was there.

But still I could see no sign of my Debbie.

It was a good hour later that I saw Ted and Jimbo breeze through the club, and though I almost didn't recognise her at first, Debbie was with them. It was what she was wearing that fooled me!

No ----- She wasn't in a mini skirt and skimpy top, but quite the reverse. She wore a sensible skirt and a white blouse that covered up just about everything.

What the hell was going on?

Ted and his pals joined another group of men sat round in a sort of open booth, and Debbie to my surprise reached up and gave Ted a peck on the cheek, before going off behind the stage area.

"Pretty little thing ain't she?" said the guy stood next to me giving me a nudge, no doubt having noticed my interest in her.

"Very pretty," I replied shortly, not really wishing to get into conversation.

"She's the new girl," my new friend went on. "Only been stripping a few weeks, but she's got a lovely little body on her."

"I dare say she has," I replied out of politeness.

"You'll see yourself soon," he went on. "I think she'll be on next."

Oh Christ ---- The reality was about to be upon me.

Sure enough, the previous girl collected her tips from the guys round the stage and disappeared back behind the curtain. The compare came on and cracked a couple of smutty jokes, and then announced the girl that you've all been waiting for. Even the guys round me seemed to stand up to attention a bit more, and there was actually a ripple of applause as the compare made way for Miss Jones, as he described her.

Then I got it!

Miss Jones, Debbie that is, came strolling out onto the stage in what I then recognised as her schoolmistress outfit, all prim and proper. She strolled round the stage glancing at the men stood there over the top of her obviously false spectacles, and appearing to tick off names on the pad she held as if taking the class register.

"Right!" She announced after a while, and the whole club seemed to go quiet. "You all seem to be here boys, so we'll start the lesson."

I noted that she had everyone's attention to a level that would have done any real class a credit.

"OK boys," Debbie went on. "What's the square root of twelve thousand six hundred and forty seven? To the nearest three decimal places, please."

When nobody answered, she just shook her head and tried another virtually impossible mathematical question.

"OK boys," She announced, frowning at everyone. "This really isn't good enough. I'll try another question and if the boy I choose gets it right, then he'll get to select what item of clothing I take off."

Debbie kept her frown on, even though by then everyone else was grinning happily.

"Right, you boy," she called out, pointing at some forty year old with a group of his mates. "What's two plus two?"

"Four!" Cried out the contented punter. "Please take your blouse off Miss."

Tutting away, Debbie slowly undid her blouse and discarded it, revealing one of her old prim and proper white bras. I hadn't seen any of them for some time, and wondered where they'd gone.

"You boy ---- In the green shirt," she restarted. "Where's your school cap?"

"Left it at home Miss," shouted back the hapless guy with a laugh, who was then refused a chance for being improperly dressed.

The bald boy at the back there," carried on my wife. "What's five times two?"

"Ten Miss Jones," he roared back. "Get your skirt off."

Say please you naughty boy," Debbie retorted with a mock angry look. "Don't be so cheeky in class."

"Sorry Miss," he came back immediately. "Please would you take your skirt off next?"

"Certainly boy," she smiled at him, and seductively unzipped her modest skirt that I also suddenly recognised from before, slid it down her shapely legs and threw it aside.

By this time I was a bit of a basket case, not knowing whether to be angry or just sit back and enjoy it. My Debbie wasn't simply a stripper ---- She was an entertainer, and was so obviously loving what she was doing.

"Best stripper in the place," my friend alongside me informed me. "Wait till you see her lovely little tits. They're bloody gorgeous."

"Told you so," he went on when another pupil managed somehow to calculate three minus one, and Debbie added her bra to the small pile of clothes behind her, her bare breasts out on display for everyone to admire, her nipples so obviously rock hard, even from that distance.

"Right boys, now concentrate," Debbie instructed the enraptured class of 'boys' gathered round the stage. "Whoever gets the next question right first will get to come up here and help me take these off," snapping the elastic of her thong panties. The whole lot of them seeming to lean forward to hear the question better.

"The square root of thirty six, times the square of five?" Debbie cried out to them.

"Hundred and fifty," I mumbled to the guy alongside me, amused as he tried to count on his fingers.

"Rubbish," he said. "It's ..... It's ...."

"A hundred and fifty Miss," shouted out some flash looking guy above the rabble around him a minute or so later.

"Correct boy," Debbie beamed at him. "Now come up here and collect your reward.

The flash git leapt up onto the stage, the bouncers stiffening to attention to make sure nobody followed him up there, and Debbie, the cheeky bitch, took his hand and led him to the centre of the stage, brushing up against him suggestively as she did so.

Till then, to be honest, I'd been a bit carried along in the swing of the whole thing. Taken in by Debbie's great act, and enjoying the sight of a beautiful young women taking her clothes off as all the other guys were doing. If I'm forced to admit it then the fact that it was my wife made it even more intense. But what she'd said about some guy helping her off with her panties, suddenly struck home.

Suddenly I didn't want to be there anymore.

"Blimey," my friend commented loudly. "Can you imagine yourself up there sliding that piece of crumpet's knickers off. Can you imagine it?"

"Yes I can actually," I mumbled, feeling my chest tighten as I recalled how many times I had done that since we'd known one another. Not that anyone took any notice, too interested in watching as the lucky git up on the stage, got to slide his fingers inside her tiny panties and slide them down her legs. My insides churning as he leant his face forward, planting a kiss on her now naked pussy.

"Naughty boy," my stripper wife admonished him. "Do that again and I'll have to give you the cane."

But all that did was to encourage him to lean forward again and take a long lick between her legs.

"Six of the best for you boy," Debbie groaned, and not even I was sure if she was pretending or not. "I'll see you in the headmaster's study later."

Despite his attempts to prolong the encounter, the bouncers moved in and gently but firmly removed his hands from my wife's bare body, and propelled him back to where he had been sitting.

Debbie never gave him a second look.

That didn't however prevent me from feeling sick!

I'd seen enough!

All I wanted to do was get out of there. I'd known what she had been doing in theory, but the reality was more than I could stomach.

Worst of all ---- Yes by far the worst, was that Debbie so obviously enjoyed it!

What the hell had happened to my sweet little wife?

----------------------

I never admitted that I had been to watch her act, and other than her less modest clothes, there was little to suggest that she was anything other than she had always been.

My loving wife.

It came to a head however when I was teaching a group of elder kids one afternoon and was having great difficulty keeping their attention. They were all really young adults rather than kids and I'd always had a good report with that class. But that day they simply weren't with me, and were all sniggering over something that they were passing round between them.

"What's this?" I shouted out, grabbing the paper from one of them as he passed it across the aisle.

"Do you recognise her sir?" Nick Jones, one of the lads asked me. "We all thought she looked familiar."

My heart dropped as I looked at the sheet, which was a computer printout, and discovered to my humiliation that it featured my wife, spread-eagled naked over the bonnet of a car. There was no doubt in my mind from the moment I saw it. Not sure why, but I just knew.

"It is your missus isn't it sir, another of the boys asked. "We found it on the internet."

"Of course it's not her," I blustered. "Looks a bit like her, but ....."

"But it is her sir," Jones insisted. "Look that's the Porsche that you used to own."

"WHAT!"

"Yes look sir, one of the others went on. "It is your old Porsche as we recognise the registration number with GAD. Why hasn't your wife got any clothes on sir?"

I couldn't answer.

"Is your wife an escort girl sir?" Asked David, one of the shyer boys. "She's very pretty and has got gorgeous tits sir. If you don't mind me saying so sir."

"What's an escort girl?" another of the lads asked the class at large. "Why is Mr. Adams' wife posing like that with no clothes on?"

"That's enough boys," I told them, trying to take back control.

"An escort girl is like an upmarket prostitute," butted in Jones, the 'know all' little bastard. "Mr Adams' wife looks like she might be one."

"How much does she charge sir?" Asked a boy at the back.

"More than I would," Angie Thomas butted in before I could respond, the girls in the class having been quiet up till then. "I'd do Mr. Adams for nothing."

"You'd do anything with trousers on for nothing," Jones yelled out.

"Not you I wouldn't you idiot," she shot back at him, standing up and sticking her tits out. "But if Mr. Adams wanted me to, then I'd strip off and give you all a show like his wife has."

"Behave yourself Angie," I shouted at her, acutely aware of how she had been flirting with me all year, and disturbed by my own reaction at the thought of her carrying out the act that she'd just threatened.

"Well she's got bigger tits than your wife has sir," another girl Natalie butted in. "Nice bod though."

"Shut up the lot of you," I screamed, having lost my temper in front of a class for the first time ever, knowing that they'd lost all respect for me.

"Is it really your wife sir?" Amie, the shyest girl in the class piped up in the silence that followed my outburst. "Why would she do that sir? Why would she put photos of herself in the nude on the internet?"

"I don't know ----- I don't bloody well know!" By which time I'd had enough. I charged from the room, my face red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, not stopping till I reached the sanctuary of the staff common room, where I sat close to tears for the rest of the lesson.

It got worse!

"Hey Jim," called out Tony, the geography teacher as he entered the staff room, unaware that I was huddled at the back out of view. "Have you seen those photos of George's wife going round the school?"

"Seen them," retorted Jim, the sports master. "I've been confiscating them half the bloody morning."

"Can I have one," Tony shot back hopefully.

"Me to if there's any to spare," added the new Chemistry assistant. "I don't even know the girl, but from what I've seen she's a cracking piece of crumpet."

"Lovely pair of tits," agreed Tony. "Would never have expected it of her though, I've met her a few times and she always seemed rather conservative."

"Not any more," laughed Jim. "From what I've heard there's a rumour that she's a stripper down at some club nearby."

"Maybe we should all go down one night and take a gander," Tony chuckled.

"We'll ask George if he can get us some tickets," giggled the new chemistry guy.

"I don't know if he even knows what his missus is up to," was the last comment I heard as the three of them walked back out of the room, on their way to their next lesson, all laughing their heads off at my expense.

My stomach was churning ---- Damn them!

--------------------

The upshot was that the assistant Head master eventually found me curled up in an armchair in the common room when I should have been taking the next class.

"You'd better take the rest of the day off George," he instructed me. Those photos are all over and everyone will give you a hard time."

In fact I ended up asking for the week off, and I guess they were more than happy to see the back of me.

And so to home!

I was staggered when I found the Porsche of all things, parked outside our house when I got home.

Things were getting totally out of hand.

With a heavy heart, I got my key out and entered my home.

-----------------

My mouth gaped open in shock as the first thing I registered upon entering our lounge, was that thug Ted, the bastard, slumped out on our sofa as if he owned the damn place. He looked up when he saw me and grinned.

"Long time no see George," he smirked at me, leaving me speechless.

"What was that you said honey," Debbie asked as she breezed into the room from the kitchen, totally missing the fact that I was standing there behind her.

"Nothing that matters gorgeous," Ted responded, holding his arms out to her, and pulling her onto his lap when she went to him, his great paw of a hand, closing round and totally encompassing her left breast.

Her action was bad enough.

It wasn't that she was wearing those ridiculously elevated CFM high heels, so much as that was all she was wearing.

Starkers --- Naked ------ Nude ------ It was all hanging out for Christ's sake.

"We'd better be going Debbie," Ted told her when he emerged from the passionate kiss that she bestowed upon him. "We've got a long way to go."

"Oh come on Ted," my wife replied, snuggling up to him. "We've got time to enjoy ourselves a bit surely."

"Not sure your husband George would be too happy with that Debbie," he told her, giving me a huge wink over the top of her bare shoulder.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him sweetheart," Debbie whispered to him.

"Maybe Debbie," the bugger teased the pair of us. "But since he's stood behind you, that could be difficult."

"What?" She cried out looking up at him, but all he did was grin and nod his head at her in confirmation, before turning his head towards me, and greeting me yet again. "Hi George!"

Debbie's body went stiff and rigid in an instant, till she at last turned her head slowly to look round at me.

"Oh my God noooo," she cried out, her face a picture of desolation. "George ---- I didn't .... That is I wouldn't .... Oh God no!"

Stand-off!

"Come on girl, get some clothes on," Ted broke the silence with. "We've got a ferry to catch."

"But Ted ....." Debbie started to protest, only to find herself dispatched towards our bedroom with a smart smack on her bare backside.

"Now don't be doing anything stupid George," Ted grunted at me as he stood up and towered over me. "So I've been fucking your wife, but there's no need for you to get upset. I'm the only one that's been getting her pussy."

"I'm supposed to feel good about that," I spat out.

"Why not?" he replied casually. "Most of the girls at the club are up for fucking anything with trousers on and some money in their pockets."

My mouth opened, but no words come out. Was I supposed to be grateful that he was the only one that was fucking her????

At that point Debbie came rushing back into the room, still pulling a skimpy top on over her bare tits.

"Please don't get too upset George," she appealed to me, trying to take me in her arms as I backed away. "It's all been for you honey."

She was still looking back at me as Ted led her off out of the door.

"We're just off to the South of France for a few days honey," she called back to me. "I'll only be gone a few days and then everything will be OK. We can go back to how things were before."

"Fat chance," laughed Ted as he propelled her towards the Porsche, giving me, the loser, a look of derision.

-------------------

The next day was worse than a bad dream, and the equal of any nightmare that I could remember. I heard nothing from Debbie, and her mobile didn't even give me the option to leave a message.

Not that I was at all sure that I even wanted to.

After two days of hearing nothing, I even plucked up courage on the to ring the club were she worked, but the whole place seemed to be in turmoil from the answers I was given. Early the following evening I drove over there, not knowing what else to do.

One minute I was all for divorcing the bitch and the next close to tears worrying about where she was. Worrying whether she was all right.

The club wasn't open when I got there which surprised me, so I settled down to wait in my car. Over the next hour or so any number of cars turned up, waited a while then drove off again. By ten, it was obvious that the club simply wasn't going to open that night, and for some reason that made me feel bad, and even more cut off from Debbie.

What was I to do?

I drove slowly home, pulled over in front of my house, and wearily started up the pathway.

"Mr. Adams?" A deep voice by the side of me surprised me with. "Mr. George Adams?"

My heart dropped, remembering the last time that had happened and dreading what was coming next.

"Your wife is Mrs. Debbie Adams?" the large man in a suit carried on after I'd confirmed my identity.

"Yes," I reacted automatically. "Where is she? What's happened to her?"

"That's what we'd like to know," the voice carried on. "Would you like to continue this conversation inside sir, or would you like to accompany us down to the station?"

For the first time I looked up at the large man who had hold of my arm by then, and for the first time noticed the uniformed police officer stood alongside him.

Oh Bloody hell! ------- What now?

----------------------

I chose my own living room, not wishing to be dragged down to the local nick. I was in big enough trouble with the school already without having to explain that away if anyone spotted me being taken in by the local coppers.

WRONG!

Not the local Bobbies by a long chalk!

"Do you know where your wife is at the moment sir?" They asked me, and I'm being polite when I use the term asked.

"Do you have any idea at all where she might be?" They demanded more forcibly when I told them that I didn't.

"Do you know when she is due back?" He carried on when I mentioned the South of France, which didn't seem to surprise him.

"She said a couple of days," I mumbled feeling inadequate that I had no idea where my own wife was.

The guy looked at me almost angrily for some moments, and then turned to his colleague.

"Take him in Norman," he instructed the uniformed man. "I don't think Mr. Adams is telling us everything he knows."

Despite my protests, I was dragged from my house and ushered into a squad car, and whisked off. But not to the local nick as I'd expected, but much further, where they plonked me in a cell to await my fate.

It took two hours of questioning till I at last convinced them that I knew nothing more, and even then they refused to give me a lift back and I had to find my own way home. The one thing that I did discover that my Debbie was involved in something serious.

Drugs!

Serious drugs!

But I knew no more.

That night when the phone call came, I wasn't expecting it.

"George? Is that you?"

"Yes Debbie," I responded immediately recognising her voice. "Where the hell are you? What's going on?"

"No time honey," she sobbed back, half breaking my heart despite what she'd done to me. "Listen ---- You have to do something."

"Collect the Porsche and put it in the garage," she instructed me, after refusing to explain anything, except to tell me where it was, the other side of London, and where she'd put the spare key. "I'll be back in touch as soon as I can."

"But where are you?" I insisted on knowing, or refusing to carry out her wishes.

"Jimbo and me are at a friend of his in Tottenham," was all she'd tell me, bursting into tears when I asked her for some reason, where Ted was.

Then she was gone!

The next day I caught the train down to London, and the tube out to the suburbs and picked up the Porsche, which was exactly where she'd said it would be, and drove it home. Couldn't put it in the garage as it was too full of stuff, so I left it outside as we usually did with our cars.

-------------

"See the Porsche has re-appeared Mr Adams," DI Jenkins of the drug squad as I now knew him to be, greeted me as I opened the door early the next morning. "I've got a search warrant for the house, so we'll take a look at the car as well while we're here."

In fact they weren't really too thorough with the search. Didn't seem to be over-interested. Almost as if they knew they wouldn't find anything. They loosened some dog they had with them through the house, but he didn't seem any more worried about the place than they did.

"Try the car," Jenkins told the dog handler, but that didn't evoke any more spark from the dog, and with a shake of his shoulders, the handler cleared up and left.

"Heard from the missus?" the DI demanded, albeit somewhat more friendlily than the last time.

I simply looked at him, wondering what the hell to say.

"The car didn't get here by it's own accord sir," he pointed out patiently.

I guess at that point something inside me snapped. Maybe it should have done so long before, but ..... Well it hadn't. Not till then.

What the hell was Debbie up to?

How involved was she?

Why the hell should I take the rap for what her and those hoodlums had done? For Christ's sake, she had been fucking one of them behind my back.

I told him everything, finishing with the information about Jimbo's friend in Tottenham, at which point Jenkins smiled broadly.

"Got the bastard!" He exclaimed, and with a word of thanks shot out to the waiting police car and made off with tyres squealing.

-------------

I nearly missed the breaking news on the television. You know those banner things that go along the bottom of the screen and spoil your concentration. I just caught the end of it and had to wait a good ten minutes till it came through again.

'MAJOR DRUGS BUST SHOOT OUT IN NORTH LONDON THREE KILLED'

My heart sank.

Debbie, my Debbie ---- Had she been shot? Was she dead? I no longer knew whether I loved her or hated her, but I didn't want to see her dead.

-----------------

I searched half the night, desperate for more information, trawling through the news programs, the internet and God knows how many wasted phone calls, but all to little avail. All I could discover was that the police had raided a house in Tottenham in north London and there'd been a shoot out, and three men had been shot dead and two policemen wounded.

Three men!

Yes men!

By no imaginable mistake could my Debbie be mistaken for a man could she?

Could she?

They got things wrong all the time, the press. But ..... But they couldn't get that wrong, could they?

Shit! Did I really care anyway?

------------

Well of course being the British press, they did get it wrong, though not as far as Debbie was concerned. In fact only two guys were killed, though another was wounded, but my Debbie was arrested and charged. It appeared that they'd been involved in running drugs from Northern Africa, through Spain into France and then on into the UK.

I didn't shed a tear when I discovered that Ted, bless him, was no longer with us and gone to meet his maker up above there somewhere. Some other guy, a Frenchman that I'd never heard of copped his lot as well, and Mike --- You remember Mike? ----- Well he'd been badly wounded and would eventually end up losing his leg.

Jimbo had been arrested at the same time as Debbie, and those two and four or five others were to be put up on trial.

And I'd shopped them.

Did that worry me?

Well not now that half were dead or disabled and the others in jail it didn't.

"I'm so sorry George," Debbie sobbed when I went in to visit her the first time. "I've done such awful things."

We chatted some more about how we were going to afford a decent lawyer to defend her, though from what I heard it seemed to be a cut and dry case. Trouble was that I hated the sight of her, but couldn't stop loving her ----- Not easy.

"Don't sell the Porsche George," she insisted, but when I asked why she simply looked around her, no doubt wondering who might be listening.

It was on my second visit that we were allowed to talk more privately.

"I suppose you've been wondering why Ted bought our Porsche honey," she said, and of course I had. "The gang bought powerful cars that wouldn't attract too much attention to smuggle the drugs in. They cut holes in the wings or whatever, hid the drugs away and then welded the wing back up so nobody would notice."

"You mean they did that with our Porsche?" I asked in astonishment. "There's a secret compartment?"

"I think so."

"But they had their dog all over it Debbie, I informed her. "They didn't detect anything."

"Our Porsche wasn't used for drugs George," Debbie told me in a whisper. "Buy yourself an angle grinder thing and see what you can find."

"Do you know what's in there?" I queried.

"Not sure," she whispered to me. "But it must be worth investigating."

------------------

I went straight home and cleared half the mess out of the garage, enough to make room for that damn Porsche. Having put it in there, I left the bloody thing there, half afraid of what I might find if I started to investigate.

Several months later the trial come to court, and Debbie was sentenced to twelve years in detention, but that meant that with good behaviour she could be out in eight or nine.

Jimbo wasn't so lucky and got a twenty stretch, coupled with a list of other convictions. He wouldn't be out for a long, long time.

Eventually curiosity got the better of me, and I went out to the hardware shop and bought myself an angle grinder, and set to work. Four hours and several cuts and bruises later, the wings of the car were a mess.

But I found it!

I found the hiding place.

My hand shook as I reached inside and extracted the surprisingly big leather bound parcel that was hidden there, and I dropped it on the floor, terrified that it might explode on me or something.

Plucking up the courage to investigate further, I took a knife to the package and slit it open, not knowing what to expect to find inside, and not knowing what the hell I'd do with them if it turned out to be drugs.

What I didn't expect to find was Euros.

Not pounds or dollars but Euros. Bloody thousands of them, all bundled up in tight bundles. Not unnaturally I started to count them, but after ten minutes I lost track of where I was. It was only then that I realised that each bundle had twenty notes in it, so all I had to do was check the denomination, and they were all fifties or hundreds, so that was easy.

Half an hour later and I had the total. Four hundred thousand Euros!

Ok, I may have made a mistake or two, but who was worrying about that?

Four hundred thousand bloody Euros.

At the time that was the equivalent of well over three hundred thousand pounds. It must have been the money they were going to use to pay for the drugs.

Bloody hell! Decision time!

-------------------

It didn't take me long to decide not to declare the money. It obviously was obtained illegally, but not by me, and the only person still alive or with enough sense to know about it would be Debbie, and even she didn't seem to be too sure. I worked out later putting pieces of information together that Ted's gang drove down to France with money hidden in one car, and swapped it for another identical car that had the drugs hidden in it. Just a matter of changing the plates over and nobody would be any the wiser. That's obviously why they decided to re-use our Porsche, to match the identical one that the French crooks had already.

Maybe my tipping the coppers off that they were on their way to the South of France scuppered the exchange. I didn't really know, but I hoped I'd been responsible in some way.

So, was I going to tell her?

Was I going to tell anyone?

How on earth was I to convert Euros into pounds?

Well I did tell her on my next visit, but claimed that there was only twenty thousand euros hidden away, and that I'd keep it to help her when she eventually got out. She seemed surprised that the sum was so low, but if Debbie suspected me of lying, then she never mentioned it. She had enough problems of her own by then.

Next to get rid of the car.

How do you get rid of a car with lumps cut out of the wing? Not easy!

Eventually I patched it up as well as I could and drove it over to the Porsche guy we'd talked to before, giving him some story that it had been vandalised. Not sure if he believed me, but the first thing he did was to open the engine compartment. That's in the back by the way, for those who don't know about Porsches.

"It's got a replacement gearbox," I told him.

"It's got a new engine and gearbox," he informed me to my surprise.

Anyway, we struck a deal and I walked out with a cheque for nine thousand quid, which was a lot more than I'd been expecting considering the mess I'd made of the thing.

As you can imagine, I was pleased to see the back of the damn car.

I quite deliberately didn't change my lifestyle so as not to attract attention, though I did buy myself a few new things at Marks and Spencers, where they accept Euros. I put our house on the market at a very reasonable price. It was attractive to first time buyers and the market had risen since Debbie and I had bought it, so four months later I left the solicitors office with another cheque for forty-two grand.

Nor bad eh?

Not only did I have money, but I then had an excuse to spend some of it. The cheated husband making the most of what he had left from his messed up marriage.

A trip down to the Casino in France more or less solved all my problems of making the euros legal, when I left the place after a hectic weekend with a certified legal cheque for three hundred and forty seven thousand, six hundred and twelve euros. My winnings!

I guess somewhere if someone searched deep enough, then they could have discovered the three hundred and ninety two thousand that I'd invested in order to walk out with that cheque. Ok, so I'd lost forty odd grand, but what the hell. The Casino covered the cost of my hotel stay for the weekend, and whatever the beautiful nineteen-year-old French blonde cost who kept me company. She could do things with her ..... Well, that's another story.

----------------

Well, what else?

The Porsche was gone and the Volkswagen soon followed it. I thought about getting myself a new Porsche, but simply could face it, my dream of owning a Porsche, long since spoiled.

Didn't stop me getting an Aston Martin though did it?

Not the top of the range model, the Vantage being sufficient for a simple guy like me, and I lorded it around town showing it off to all and sundry, never actually going back to teach at my old school.

----------------

"Hi," said the pretty little dark haired beauty with the big tits as I parked my Aston outside a restaurant one evening shortly after buying it.

"Hi gorgeous," I threw back at her, by then getting into the swing of attractive women of all ages taking more interest in me since I'd bought the Aston.

"It's Mr Adams isn't it?" The lovely thing asked me to my surprise.

"Yes," I replied, wondering what she was after.

"Don't you recognise me sir," the girl grinned at me.

Sir? Sir?

It had been quite a few months since anyone had called me sir.

"Mandy Davis Sir," she carried on. "I was in the fifth form when you first started teaching at our school."

Oh yes!

Oh boy yes!

The sexy little schoolgirl that all the male teachers lusted over but never dared do anything about.

Mandy Davis ----- Crikey, was she a cracker. I did a quick mental calculation as to how old she would be by then, and decided that perhaps with a bit of luck, that thirty might well go into twenty-one, whatever her last maths teacher might have said.

It did!

We did!

The pair of us ended up shacked up with one another in a swish apartment in La Rochelle on the South West coast of France, and when we started to look for something other than bonking one another all day and all night, we bought a boat. There are lots of them in La Rochelle, and we ended up with a three-year-old forty footer that we rented out to rich Europeans during the summer, with me as skipper (OK, I had to do several courses to qualify), and Mandy as the cook come hostess.

It was great. No, really it was for nearly two years, till the hostess side of Mandy's job became more important then the cooking part, and I walked in on her 'entertaining' one of our male guests, a guy who had more money in his piggy bank than I had in the world.

We parted friends, me having got together by then with a billionaire's discarded trophy wife, an ex model, Russian girl not much older than Mandy, who was paid off several million to release her previous husband.

Will it last?

No bloody idea, but I just think it might.

----------------

Ok, so what about Debbie, you're thinking.

Still loved the girl in my way, but there was a lot of water under the bridge since then. She's due out in less than two years now, and probably thinks I'm still waiting for her.

Maybe I am?

Then again, maybe I'm not, and if you saw Elka, my beautiful, Russian companion, then you'd understand why.

Now by chance, just like the French girl at the Casino, Elka could do things with her...... No never mind. I won't bore you with little details like that.

[Brainmetal]

Damn House

By Britease ©

Times had been good ----- but now they weren't so!

Life can be like that some times.

-------------------

Becky and I had been married seven years, though the significance of that treacherous number escaped me at the time.

The early years had been all summer and wine, both having good jobs, great prospects and plenty of spare income. The second year we had taken out a mortgage to buy our own house, but by the sixth year my lovely wife Becky, ever upwardly mobile, had pushed us into an even bigger, better, and of course more expensive one.

A four bed-roomed detached executive house, on a pretty exclusive development on the edge of town, with a double garage, upscale kitchen and wonder of wonders, a designer conservatory---- in oak ----- no less.

It was lovely and in fairness, I liked it a lot.

But Becky, she drooled over it when she first saw it, and didn't let up till we mortgaged ourselves to the hilt to procure it.

It was her dream.

No problem ---- we had the income to cover it, though the 95% loan we took out eat up a huge proportion of our money at the time.

But we were riding the wave like so many others, and who in those heady days of the first decade of the new century, could imagine that property prices would do anything but spiral even higher and higher.

We couldn't go wrong --- The house on it's own would make us both wealthy, as prices went up and up --- well they did that all the time ----- didn't they?

Everyone knew ---- There was no risk involved!

Then came Northern Rock, the first British bank to run into problems, rapidly followed by the whole lot of them.

The Royal Bank of Scotland should have been allowed to go broke such was the mountain of badly negotiated debt that it was left holding, and even in America, with Fanny May and the rest .......?

International financial melt down!

Problems for them meant problems for us, especially when one of those very banks started to lay off staff, and Becky became one of the nameless thousands.

No job, no income, and in those bleak days of 2008, no prospect of finding an early solution.

I still had my job, but even we found ourselves struggling, and as hard as Becky tried, and she really did, there was just no similar work to be found.

Problem!

We survived for about two months without so much as changing our lifestyle, out credit cards, one by one, maxing out, and our overdraft facility running up to it's limit.

Silly ---- Stupid ---- Foolish!

Yes I know.

Yes of course we were all of those thing, but after the carefree days that we had grown up in, we simply didn't see it coming.

Oh for the wisdom of our parents who had lived through both good times and bad.

Oh for the old head on young shoulders.

Foreclosure!

Last warning from the Building Society that if we didn't start to pay off our debts and get our loan back in order, then they would re-posses our beloved house.

Becky cried and I couldn't console her.

She blamed herself for losing her job, and no matter how much I tried to persuade her otherwise, she started to get more and more despondent.

-----------------

It was Angie, her best friend, who got Becky back on track, though the manner of her doing it left me a little apprehensive.

"If you can't get a job with your brain girlfriend," she told my wife one evening right there in front of me. "Do what I did and use your looks instead."

Well, perhaps I should explain!

Angie had been made redundant a few months before Becky, when the Insurance company she had been working for in middle management, that catchphrase that covered so many things, went belly up.

Like Becky, she'd found nothing available, and had soon offered herself up to the bars in the area to see if they had anything to offer.

One look at Angie and ...... A stunningly pretty girls balanced beautifully on the most gorgeous pair of long slender legs that one could imagine. Let's say that she soon found work behind a bar in the centre of town, and I don't doubt that the bar's weekly takings suffered not one jot as a result of her arrival.

Angie was single, or at least divorced from her ex husband Nigel, who had left her the rented apartment they had shared when he went off to Dubai, so it was enough for her to get by.

That rhymes --- sorry, it really wasn't meant to.

Nigel had actually been my best friend at University, and .............

Look! Hang on there!

I'm getting ahead of myself aren't I?

Let's go back a few years shall we?

Let's go back a whole twelve years or more!

------------------------------

Nigel and I, my name's Dick by the way, arrived back at Loughborough University for our final year, confident that we would be qualified Civil Engineers by the end of it.

We hadn't exactly been the most studious of students, but we did enough, had scraped through all the exams, and had basically tried to screw every female student that passed within range of us. And not only students, the girls from the local town were also much fancied, and at least as far as Nigel was concerned, one of the lecturer's wives had featured on his list.

It was Fresher's week, when the new intake of students arrived a week before the general return, in order for them to find their feet a little, and to see what the university had to offer. The second, third and fourth year students didn't come back till the following week, unless of course you were involved in one of the clubs or sports and volunteered to come back early to initiate some of the newcomers.

Nigel and I always volunteered.

We were very good at initiating the newcomers.

Remember that an awful lot of them would be of the female species.

------------------------

The Fresher's ball!

A wonderful institution where the first year students had a big dance up at the Union, to allow them to get to know one another.

Worked for us.

It was like a menu of all the new talent, or as it used to be referred to ----- 'The cattle Market'.

That year we scouted around the Union Bar, and then prowled the dance hall spotting talent. There was lots of it, but experience had taught Nigel and I, not to jump in at the first opportunity. We were after all finalist, had a car between us that first years weren't allowed, and in our overblown opinion of ourselves, thought we had the God given right to pick up the very prettiest girls.

Strangely, quite a lot of the girls seemed to agree with us, and we flitted from group to group, promising to return.

Then we saw them, dancing there together.

Two little angels, both eighteen, sweet and lovely, fresh out of school, and a prettier pair you never did see.

Both blondes ---- apparently ------ and both absolute stunners in their tight little mini dresses, showing huge lengths of leg in their pretty little high heels. I guessed that the slimmer one was maybe five-foot-five or so, and the more curvy girl just a shade less.

Don't ask me what bra sizes they might have worn, as neither of them seemed to have bothered by the way their boobs were bobbing around. At least the big-breasted one's were, and the slimmer girl's dress didn't have much of a back to it, so it was clear that she hadn't bothered either.

Lets just say that the tits on one of them, and the fantastic legs on the other knocked us both out initially. Not, you understand that the rest of them wasn't pretty wonderful as well.

They were dancing on their own, gyrating around, disporting their lovely slim young bodies the way that lovely slim young ladies were designed to do. A crowd of uncertain first year boys had gathered to watch them, all of them wondering who would be the first to gather the courage to split them up.

NO BLOODY CHANCE!

"Hi girls," my pal greeted them as we moved in between them. "I'm Nigel and this is my pal Dick."

They smiled at us ----- well neither of us were that bad looking, and I guess our confident manner must have counted for something.

"We're finalists," went on Nigel with a grin. "And we've got a car."

Had a way with words did my mate Nigel ----- knew what counted when chatting up women he did.

"And we're in the rugby team, and I'm Captain of tennis," I added, and with that we were in!

"I'm Becky and this is Angie," the curvy one with the tits told us, with more than a touch of a northern accent. "We were at school together and we've come on up to University together."

"We'd better buy you two girls a drink then," I suggested, the length of their dresses suggesting strongly that it might be a good investment. They agreed and followed us out to the bar, leaving a trail of disappointed first years staring longingly after the prey that had eluded them as it wandered off with the pair of predator finalists.

Felt good that!

-------------

"There girls," Nigel said as he gave them their drinks. "A half of beer for each of you, and a pint for Dick and me."

Got to get parameters settled with any new crumpet when at university. None of these fancy drinks when we were buying, no gin and tonics, no Bacardi and cokes or any of that rubbish.

Beer was cheaper and it lasted longer.

If things got a bit more serious then maybe they might warrant a full pint like us!

"Thanks," sung out the girls, as they cautiously put the glasses to their lips. A few uncertain mouthfuls made it clear that they weren't used to drinking. We knew the feeling and we'd seen it before. It was new, but they'd soon get used to the new way of life.

"You two both genuine blonds then?" demanded Nigel, once again demonstrating his tact and knowledge of the intricacies the English language.

The two girls looked at one another and giggled like the two schoolgirls that they had indeed been till a few short weeks previously.

"Well," encouraged my mate grinning at them. "Are you or not?"

"One of us is, and one of us isn't," Angie informed us perkily. "Can you guess which is which?"

We guessed.

They told us we'd got it wrong.

"Prove it," Nigel trumped them with, the implication of his challenge being missed by none of us.

Who knows? ------ If we managed to get them back to Rutherford, our Hall of Residence, then they might just let us compare the tops and tails to check them out.

Long shot for two girls we had just picked up, little innocents straight out of school, but you just never knew.

The two girls shot looks at one another, smiled, and then giggled yet again.

They were both very giggly!

"You up for it Angie?" asked Becky, and her friend nodded.

"One ---- two ---- three," the pair of them chanted, refusing to look either of us in the eye.

Then to our surprise!

Bloody hell!

Strewth and Gawd Blimey!

Right there in the bloody union bar!

The pair of them grabbed the hem of their tiny tight mini dresses, and with a wriggle of their hips tugged their dress up ---- Up over their hips, and only stopping when the hem reached nearly to their waist.

Fuck me!

They were flashing us.

Commando!

Two sweet little ex schoolgirls in micro mini skirts and they'd gone out for the night commando!

They didn't have a pair of knickers between them.

Jeeeez!

Nigel and I stared in disbelief at the two lovely young pussies exposed there before us. Both neatly trimmed, but one blonde and one dark brown.

"I'm the blonde," cried out Angie.

"And my hair is dyed," carried on Becky, the sweet little brown bush of curly hair between her legs making the comment somewhat superfluous.

"For Christ's sake girls cover yourselves up," called out Nigel, as various guys at the bar started to barge there way closer for a better view.

"OK," one of them said, and they shimmied their dresses back down over their bottoms.

Cheeky cows!

Now was the moment to try to get the pair of them back to our rooms, before the wolves circling us tried to take them off us so again Nigel used his natural charm to subtly persuade them.

"How about coming back to our room for a quick shag?" he almost had to shout over the raucous noise around us.

What wit! ---- How concise! --- Shakespeare himself couldn't have phrased it much better.

"Ok," said the slim blonde one ---- the real one ---- and with an arm round one of them each, Nigel and I whisked them off for an evening of pleasure.

-------------

Never that easy is it?

You know ---- When you think your all set up and then someone throws a spanner in the works.

There's me, my mate Nigel, and two beautiful hot bits of crumpet who were crying out for it. We got back to our study bedrooms and who did we find?

Cedric ---- bloody Cedric.

Cedric that is who shared our study area with, Nigel and me.

He was French, but not as you'd know it ---- no bloody idea at all, the thick sod.

There he was, pouring over some document, and the university year had hardly begun.

"Hey Ced," called out Nigel when we arrived with out trophies. "Piss off to your bedroom and give us some space would you old chap?"

Nicely put, I thought.

"Non!"

Nothing quite as negative as a French negative, and time has told me that it may always be thus.

"Come on Ced," I encouraged him. "Go and finish that in your bedroom. Me and Nigel have got visitors."

"Non!"

Oh shit! The entente cordial was about to be split asunder.

What was to be done?

"Cedric sweetie," Angie spoke to him seductively. "Please sweetie-pie, couldn't you give us some time alone.

"Please Cedie baby," joined in Becky. "Just for a while."

"Non!"

And that was despite the two girls standing there posing and pouting at him.

Bastard --- Fucking miserable French bastard.

"I'll show you my tits if you go," ventured Angie.

That was new!

"So will I," added Becky with almost unreasonable enthusiasm.

"Peut etre?" replied Cedric, leaning back in his chair and looking at our conquests. "Allez s'il vous plait!"

Thick sod was he?

Ok so I'd got it wrong, and by the time he'd finished ogling their boobies, and had a quick feel, then Nigel and I were on the point of despair.

The French bugger had felt up our two girls before we had.

Merde!

No matter.

Patience.

Ten minutes later and we were pairing off, Nigel with Becky and me with Angie. He had the tits, and I got the legs ---- Fair enough --- I'd always been a bit of leg-man and had a bit of a thing about firm little tits.

Besides, remember, I had the genuine blond.

---------------

Ok, let's admit it I fucked her ----- well of course I did, but I didn't expect her to burst into tears.

"Couple of sluts we've picked up here," Nigel had muttered to me earlier. "Quick screw and we'll see how it goes."

Shit and damn it!

An hour later we had the two of them sobbing and crying and pouring their hearts out. Two little North country schoolgirls trying to act grown up; trying to act sophisticated on their first day in their new life at university, and sorry for them, they'd met us!

Virgins the pair of them, but alas no more. I shagged Angie, and Nigel took good care of Becky's situation.

What an introduction to university life!

Maybe we should have dumped the pair of them there and then. But then again you haven't seen Angie and Becky, and no guy in his right mind would willingly let go of a couple of bits of crumpet as beautiful as those two.

So we didn't.

Of course we bloody well didn't.

I went out with Angie, and we screwed every night for a week.

Don't worry --- No problem ----- She'd long since stopped crying about it by then!

Alas! ......

Hard to describe why really, but one night I came back from tennis practice and found Cedric sitting there with a sly grin on his silly face.

"Votre ami," he told me jovially. "Ee is fucking your petite ami in ze room la bas."

Translation ------ and it's not difficult.

Nigel was screwing my girl friend Angie in his bedroom.

Bastard!

Bleeding bastard!

My first thoughts were ............. Ok they don't matter.

My second thoughts were ...... Where the hell was Becky?

If Nigel was routing Angie, then I would do the same to Becky ----- what the hell --- what did it matter --- Pity about the legs, but Becky's tits would maybe make up for them.

And I did ---- fuck Becky that is, though as I found out later, not till bleeding Cedric, the French bastard, had got in there the day before me.

However ---- Becky became my regular girl for my final year, even me finding out that if you wanted to really graduate, then you did have to put in some effort. I do happen to know whether or not she was faithful to me during that year.

No she wasn't!

She went to bed with Cedric at least six times, Nigel just the once when Angie and I went away for the week-end together, and that fucker who captained the football team as well.

Bastard ---- I hated him --- but couldn't complain, as Becky and I had a regular thing going, and that's what I needed during that hectic final year.

----------------

Exams ---- bloody awful

Results ------ could have been better.

Graduation ------ fantastic

End of University life and the real thing was about to begin.

Becky and I promised faithfully to be fidel with one another, though neither of us took it seriously. I moved on to my adult life in the construction industry, while she continued with the somewhat hedonistic and unrealistic life as a carefree student.

We went our own ways. I went back to see her a few times, and yes of course we had sex; but by then she had someone else in the wings, and I knew that I would have to find someone new for myself.

Reality dawned hard ---- No it really did!

As for the first time, at the age of twenty-two, I launched myself into the adult world. I made mistakes --- didn't we all --- but learnt from them, and my career gradually but surely progressed.

I met a woman and we moved in together. Shirley was her name, and lovely as she was, with long jet-black hair, great tits, and a great body, there was no great intellect to go with it.

She worked on the till at the local Tescos, and you don't even have to be able to add up these days to do that.

I'd heard rumours, but chose to ignore them. At least not to worry about them too much.

I came home early one day after the site had been closed down due to the seventh day of continuous rain. It was in Manchester of course, only to find her entertaining our foreman carpenter.

Mick was his name ---- Mick Jones ----- Nice chap ---- from Stockport, but I think he supported Man. United ----- Good worker ---- Great darts player ----- Enjoyed a pint!

"It's not what it looks like," Shirley exclaimed aloud when I walked in, though since she was sitting on his lap quite naked, it was difficult not to make rather obvious assumptions.

"Bugger it Dick," Mick the foreman added. "Thought you'd still be on site mate ---- Were you rained off?"

"More like pissed off Mick," I let him know, though I wasn't really that surprised or upset.

As I said, thick as a plank she was.

I told her to pack her stuff and get out of my place, and went off for a pint with Mick at the local. Couldn't blame him really and as I'd said, I'd heard rumours that Shirley had been friendly with half the management on the site.

We got back and the stupid cow hadn't taken the hint.

She was still there. Hadn't even bothered to get dressed. The pair of us had sunk a fair bevy ---- so what was to do?

The two of us screwed her silly half the night. She was still going to be leaving in the morning, but at least she got a good send off.

The last I heard of her, Shirley was shacked up with the manager of Tescos. It was the tits I suppose --- they really were impressive!

Even in a supermarket, you don't get many of them to the pound!

------------------

Let's move on several months!

News!!!!!!!!

Fantastic and unbelievable news.

Couldn't believe it, but Nigel and Angie announced their intention to get married, and I didn't even know that they were still seeing one another. Hadn't seen too much of Nigel since we'd graduated, and I hadn't really thought about Angie for a long, long time.

Best man ----- who else? ---- the one and only me!

Panic as I thought about the after dinner speech, and not really knowing his family that well, how risqué dare I be.

It went well though, and I avoided making any jokes about it being the best man who had taken the bride's virginity.

Afterwards I found myself chatting to the two bridesmaids, and sure enough one of them was my old sex playmate dear Becky.

Well of course --- She was Angie's best friend. They'd both graduated a couple of years after we had, and Becky filled me in on what they had all been getting up to since. The two girls had apparently settled down after Nigel and I had left, and of course he and Angie had kept their relationship going. For her part, Becky had gone through a string of boyfriends over the two years that were left at Uni, but at least only one at a time.

Since then, it seemed she thought she had found the love of her life, but that had fizzled out a few months previously. Something to do with discovering that she wasn't the only one in their relationship who had a boyfriend. Never understood that sort of thing myself ---- Not my sort of thing and never will be.

"I'm a good girl now. Haven't been to bed with a man for nearly three months now," she told me with a laugh. "Unlike my ex boyfriend."

You can probably imagine what the comment that she hadn't had a man in some months put in my mind, and with that exact thought, I asked her what she was doing the following day.

"Going out somewhere with you I expect," she retorted. "But we've got this evening to get through yet."

Well that seemed pretty promising to, so you can imagine my surprise when several hours, a shed full of drinks and a number of dances later, I found myself kissing her goodnight on her doorstep, and didn't even get invited in.

"I don't want to push this too quickly," Becky told me. "I've made that mistake too many times before."

"But it's me Becky," I protested. "It's not as if we're strangers you know."

"That's what I mean," she countered. "I know what you're like."

Then with a smile, she said goodnight to me, and closed the door behind her.

Gob smacked!

No sex for me that night, and I went home feeling sorry for myself.

----------------

The next day was a revelation for the two of us. Becky really had changed and had matured much as I had. By then she was working in a bank, was ambitious and doing very well, and had long since left her wild ways long behind her.

One date led to another, and before we knew it we were going steady, though to my surprise it took three weeks till she let me share her bed and her body. The years since I'd last tasted it hadn't done her body any harm, and her big tits were still as firm and delicious as they'd ever been.

We fell in love!

Oh blimey!

Maybe not so surprising after all, but Becky moved in with me, and less than a year later, we were married. Nigel was my best man, and got me back for the outrageous but true things that I'd told his guests at his nuptials. Of course he didn't tell all and sundry that he'd fucked Becky before I had, any more than I'd told his about Angie and me.

Then Becky got a great bonus the following Christmas, and we used that as a deposit on our first house, a sweet little two bedroomed starter house in the suburbs.

I really liked that house.

But Becky was ambitious, and as I said earlier, upwardly mobile like so my young professionals were at that time. Not that I wasn't ---- Just not to the same extent perhaps as she was. The starter home quite quickly didn't satisfy her, and she wanted something bigger and more 'suitable' to our emerging position.

Fair enough ---- though I was quite happy where we were, I could see her point, and it looked like a great investment in a rising market.

Besides, I loved her like a puppy dog, and if she'd wanted me to live in a tent in the bloody desert, I would probably have agreed.

It was about then that we heard that sadly, Nigel and Angie had split up and going for a divorce. Nigel rang me and told me that he vaguely suspected Angie had been having an affair with her boss, but her version was quite different, informing us that she'd walked in on him and the next-door neighbour with no clothes on.

Becky and I talked about it, and both of us agreed that Angie's story was by far the most believable. We were concerned about how we would maintain our friendship with the pair of them, but Nigel solved that by taking a job in Dubai, and except for the odd e-mail, I've never heard from since.

---------------------

Well, that about gets us back to where I started. Seems some time ago now doesn't it?

I had my job, but Becky was unemployed and we had a damn huge mortgage on our house hanging round our necks. Couldn't even sell the damn thing, as prices had plummeted and we were dipping into negative equity.

"Use your looks instead."

Angie's suggestion hung in the air like an elephant. I didn't like the sound of it, but in fairness my wife working behind some bar would have it's obvious advantages. Much as I loved my wife, and I did, I'd never been the jealous sort and the thought of a group of guys ogling my missus didn't really upset me.

Well, I was proud of her wasn't I?

She was gorgeous ---- damn beautiful --- even prettier than that first night I had met her.

"I'll take you along to the bar I work in Becky," offered Angie. "Nick, the manager will take one look at you and sack one of the other girls if he has to."

Lo and behold ----- so it came to pass!

Yes, Nick did like the look of my Becky, and whether he sacked someone else or not I don't know, but she started the following week.

She seemed to quite enjoy it, coming home late four or five nights a week; apparently making more money in tips than Nick paid her in wages. It was a bit worrying that Becky didn't want me to go and see her at the bar, claiming that Nick, the boss, didn't like husbands and boyfriends around, spoiling the image of his attractive bar staff.

That should have sent warning bells shouldn't it?

What to do?

Bugger him.

One evening coming home from work, and having had a few pints with my mates and knowing that Becky wouldn't be at home, I took a detour and found myself outside 'The Place'. Silly name I thought, but it was obviously busy, with people coming and going all the time.

Why not?

I gingerly slid in through the front door, and pushed my way through the packed bar to see if I could spot Becky.

Bloody hell!

It wasn't my wife that I saw first but one of the other girls, a neat little blonde with a nice rack, a saucy smile and good legs.

Till that point, it never occurred to me that the bar staff might be obliged to wear a uniform. Never even thought about it.

Totteringly tall high heels, tiny short shorts that showed her bum off, and a tee shirt that seemed to have had the bottom half cut right off. All long legs, bare tummy and more than a hint of upside down cleavage as it were ---- Quite a sight!

But where was Becky? Where was my wife?

There she was ----- Oh Gawd blimey!

The outfit she wore was exactly like the little blonde's that I'd just seen, except that it looked tighter and even smaller on my buxom wife.

Jesus ----- No wonder she raked in so many tips.

What a mixture of emotions!

Damn it, half of me was furiously jealous at the amount of flesh she was flashing, and part of me, yes ---- that part --- was excited at seeing her so exposed as that. In a moment of panic, I pondered on whether Becky's wild side had returned.

One of the clients patted her on the backside, and I held my breath as I waited for her to wallop him. But no! All she did was turn round to him and smile. She said something that I couldn't hear, but if it was a telling off of some sort, then neither of them were taking it too seriously.

Keeping myself hidden back in the throng, I then watched Becky as she flirted and joked with her customers as she served out the drinks, coquettishly wagging her finger at the odd guy who took too many liberties with his hands.

Now understand me, and understand me well!

I didn't mind guys looking. Damn it all, I loved it when Becky went topless on the beach in the summer!

But touching ---- groping, squeezing and all, was some thing else altogether.

I found myself gripping the back of chair to keep my anger in check.

What the bloody hell did my damn stupid wife think she was up to?

Is this what she did every night when she was at work?

Did she enjoy being touched up by all and sundry like that?

How far did she let them go?

What liberties did she allow them to take?

Then some bastard put his arm round her from behind and cupped Becky's breast and gave it a squeeze, as he leant forward and kissed her on the back of her neck.

What did she do? ----- Just laughed at him and casually patted his hand away as if it was of little consequence.

No bloody wonder that my damn wife didn't want me to see her at work!

I'd had enough, and pushed my way angrily forward, pushing the guy who was still getting a free feel of my wife's tit, away from her.

"Careful there mate," he shouted at me angrily. "Piss off and find your own tart."

"Oh God another drunk," I heard Becky yelling, not having realised who I was. "Quick, somebody call the ........"

At which point she looked me straight in the face, and realisation dawned.

"Oh my God Dick," she cried out in anguish, her eyes wide open in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing?" I screamed at her. "What the fuck do you think your doing?"

I didn't hear her answer. In fact I don't remember much more of that evening, though I do have a vague recollection of my fist connecting with some guy's chin.

I think I came second, or maybe even worse, and can vaguely remember being thrown out of the bar by some big bouncers, and then soon afterwards someone dragging me into the back of a taxi.

"You OK Dick?" the 'someone' was asking me, but at that point I wasn't sure of the answer. I had one eye that didn't want to open, and a hell of a pain in my shoulder.

Oh yes! And my fist hurt like hell as well --- But maybe that was a little more satisfying.

Peeping out of my one good eye, I found to my surprise, that the woman beside me was no one other than Angie, looking pretty hot in her sexy little outfit.

"What happened?" I asked my tending Angel. "Where the hell is Becky?"

"Don't worry Dick," she told me. "Settle down --- Becky is following us in your car."

Why was she following us in my car?

Why wasn't she in our taxi?

Better still --- why weren't we all in my car?

I think ---- I'm not too sure, but I think that I flipped out again a bit. I suspect that Angie should have taken me to some hospital or whatever, but we'd all had a good bevy, and none of us were thinking too straight. I ended up at my place ---- Our wonderful, bleeding, superb, bloody house!

Then I passed out, and I think that Angie had undressed me and put me to bed.

What the hell ---- She'd seen it all before, even if it had been a few years.

-------------

THE AFTERMATH

"What the bloody hell do you think you were doing you stupid bastard!"?

Nice way to be greeted on a Saturday morning, especially when you were sporting a sore head to end all others. I just looked up at her --- Becky that is ---- my wife.

"You stupid fucker Dick, you've got me the sack," she spat out at me, but my brain was taking some time to register the facts.

"Ah," I started to say, but without a great deal of success.

"Shut up you dummy," she responded. "You've ruined everything you stupid sod. I've lost a well paying job and now we're going to lose our house."

It was then that the events of the previous evening started to come back to me, and I felt my anger returning.

"I've ruined everything?" I queried. "What about you? What was I supposed to do when I saw that asshole feeling you up."

"That asshole as you call him was a good customer of mine you idiot," Becky spat back at me. "He was one of my biggest tippers."

"Oh I see," was my haughty reply. "So if they tip you well they get to feel your tits do they?"

"He didn't feel my tits," she squealed back at me.

"I saw him Becky," I replied angrily. "I watched him put his arm round you and give your tits a squeeze, and watched you as you did nothing to stop him."

"Oh that," my wife retorted, just a little taken back. "That was nothing ---- Just one of the gang having a bit of fun with me, that's all."

"A bit of fun! ------ A bit of fun! Letting guys in pubs play with your boobs is just a bit of fun is it?"

"Dick," Becky cried, her voice now full of emotion. "You're getting it all out of proportion. If us girls wanted to get good tips, then we had to accept a bit of messing about. Why the hell do you think we were dressed up like that for Christ's sake? It didn't do you any harm ---- You haven't lost anything."

We glared at one another angrily; both probably worried about saying too much and going over the top.

I was angry --- hurt --- disappointed in my wife. But I didn't want this incident to end our marriage. It was stupid of her maybe, but it wasn't that serious, and I was obviously pushing her into a corner.

It was a corner that neither of us wanted to end up stuck in.

"Well I got the push anyway Dick," she said at last in a far more controlled tone. "I'm sorry if what you saw upset you. Maybe I shouldn't have let them get so familiar, and I won't be going back there anyway."

Quick decision!

I guess that was about as near as I was going to get to an apology, or an admission that she was in the wrong.

I could have pushed it ----- I could have continued the argument, but at that moment in time I was still sore from my brawl from the night before, and didn't feel up to it.

We dropped the subject, and Becky laid down beside me and gave me a careful and loving cuddle. We kissed a bit, and played around a bit, and it was lunchtime before we eventually managed to get up and dressed.

-------------

Two or three more weeks went by without Becky finding another job, other than the odd bit of babysitting, which hardly helped at all. She'd had a few offers but they were very much in line with the previous one and each of them I vetoed.

Then came the letter from the solicitor!

'On behalf of Mid Shires building Society ............. '

And so it went on!

We had just ten days to make a substantial payment on the house, or we really were on the point of losing it.

I expected Becky to cry, and to carry on the way that she had when we'd received the previous warning.

But she didn't!

She simply sat there silently deep in thought, virtually excluding me from her ponderings. After a while, Becky stood up and walked out of the room and I heard the telephone 'DING' as she picked it up in the other room.

Who she was calling I did not know, but I simply couldn't see any way that we could conjure up the three thousand pounds they were demanding.

When Becky came back into the room she had a solemn expression on her face, and her whole demeanour was serious.

"I can't think of any way we can raise the money sweetheart," I told her. "Not that much in so short a time."

"I can," she shocked me with. "I know a way."

My mind ran riot, trying to imagine a way out of our dilemma.

A loan?

Sell the family silver that we didn't have anyway?

Rob a bank?

No ----- Personally, I couldn't see any way out ----- Just no way ----- Our house was on the line.

"You might not like it Dick," she graciously informed me. "But at least listen me out."

That meant, I knew straight away, that I wasn't going to like it.

"No going back to work in any of those sex bloody bars," I exclaimed, full of pent up frustration. House or not, there was no bloody way that me wife, my love, was going to disport her half naked body to a group of half drunken louts.

"Not that Dick," she informed me quietly. "It's what Angie's been doing since she left 'The Place'."

I hadn't even known that Angie wasn't working at the bar any more. And had no idea whatsoever what she was now doing.

"What's that then?" I asked her, genuinely wanting to know.

"Well Dick, I don't want you to get the wrong idea," Becky continued. "Don't jump to any silly conclusions."

"I won't," I said. "What's she doing?"

"If I tell you, then let me explain before you blow your top," my wife told me, which was disconcerting to say the least.

"Just tell me."

Promise you won't get upset."

"I promise."

My wife swallowed deeply, sighed, and took a big breath. Did wonders for her tits but I was just about beyond noticing.

"You might not like it."

"Just tell me for Christ's sake."

"She goes on dates," she spurted out, and then pulled a face, waiting for my reaction.

"Dates? What do you mean, she goes on dates?"

What the bloody hell was this?

"Now don't get upset Dick," she calmed me. "There's no sex involved, nothing like that. Angie just goes out to dinner and things with lonely businessmen who are on their own in town over night."

"Lonely business men!" I nearly screamed at her. "Are you telling me that Angie is working as a bloody prostitute?"

"No No No," she screamed back. "Listen to me you bloody idiot. She goes on dates and that's all. There's no sex, no touching, no nothing! She simply keeps lonely men company for the evening. They just take her out to dinner. Maybe dance with her at the most ---- But that's all. I promise you Dick that's all."

"What sort of men," I demanded, my mind in a twirl. "How does she find them?"

"She works for an agency Dick," my good wife went on. "They're mainly older guys in their fifties or whatever. She tells me they are mostly really well off --- They'd have to be for what the agency charges."

"An escort girl you mean," I blurted out, as I caught on what she was on about. "Angie works as an escort????? She has sex with lonely clients?"

"Don't say that!" Becky rounded on me. "Listen to me will you? Some escorts may do the sex thing, but Angie just does dinner dates."

"And men pay for that?" I queried, my head spinning. "Men pay a woman just to go out to dinner with them?"

"They do Dick," she replied. "And they pay a lot of money if you are pretty enough. They just enjoy the company of pretty, intelligent, elegant women when they are away from home."

"How much do they pay?"

I really and truly shouldn't have even asked that question, but having done so, was astounded by the figures she quoted me.

"Bugger me," I responded. "They must be rich."

"They are Dick. They are."

Having taken in quite what Angie had been up to since the last time I'd seen her, the fact that my wife, the woman who I loved was proposing to do exactly the same thing gradually filtered through my overloaded brain.

"No Becky," I told her. "No bloody way. There's no way I'm letting you go off on dates with other men, no matter how rich they are."

"But we'll lose the house honey," Becky pleaded. "It'll just be a couple of evenings a week for a month or so. Till we get back on our feet."

"No Becky," I told her firmly. "Absolutely not! My wife doesn't go out on dates with anyone, rich or not, old or not."

"Don't be so bloody stupid Dick," she shouted at the top of her voice. "If you think I'm going to let this house slip away from us, then you've got another thought coming."

"And if you think I'm going to let you go off with other men, then so have you!"

With that retort from me, she glowered at me, and turning on her heels, walked out of the room in anger.

"We'll see," she shot back at me. "We'll see who saves our house!"

------------

I was furious!

Well wouldn't you be?

My beautiful wife was proposing that she offered her good looks and fantastic body to another man in exchange for his money. It didn't matter that she wasn't going to sleep with him, that she wasn't even going to offer him any sexual favours at all.

I hated the idea ---- I detested it!

"Get used to it," she announced to me the following morning. "I'm doing it whether you like it or not. No way am I losing this house just to satisfy your damn male ego."

Well that was it really as far as she was concerned. I couldn't actually lock her up and throw the key away. So despite my continuing protestations, my threats and my pleadings, Becky confirmed her intentions to go through with her plan whether I accepted it or not. It was just a matter of time.

I felt so hopeless, so incapable, so humiliated. Becky was going to do something that I desperately didn't want her to do, but my opinions simply didn't count any more. I couldn't walk out of the house on her ---- We were broke! I couldn't even afford a hotel room for the night, never mind find myself a flat or anything.

I warned her that if she went on with her plan that our marriage was seriously at risk.

"Isn't it anyway Dick?" She replied to me sadly. "Are you sure our marriage would survive our house being repossessed. Where would we live? Where would we go?"

Alas, I had no answer.

"Just accept it please Dick," Becky went on, pleading with me, this time. "You know you can trust me darling, and I promise I won't do anything out of order ----- Please Dick, please."

I still had no satisfactory answer, other than to say we would still had one another, and that nothing mattered as long as we were together.

"Love doesn't put food on the table or a roof over our heads Dick," she reasoned. "When I worked at the bank, then I used to go out to lunch and sometimes dinner with male clients. You didn't complain then, so why is it such a big issue now?"

"That was different Becky," I claimed in anguish. "It was business and they weren't paying you for the pleasure."

"Depends on how you look at it," my wife went on, obviously having thought out her argument in advance. "I was getting paid to entertain them to get their business ---- Is that so different?

My company employed me and a couple of other attractive you female executives to do exactly that and I wore high heels and shortish skirts and left the odd button on my blouse undone deliberately---- Isn't that just the same?"

"Of course it's not the same," I cried out, but couldn't come up with any clear reasoning why it was in the heat of the moment. I'd simply never thought about what she had been doing.

"Do you think my clients didn't try to look down my blouse Dick? Do you think I never bent forward when discussing business with them to give them a better view? Do you really think they didn't enjoy looking at my bare legs? Do you think that I wasn't aware of what effect I was having on them, and that I didn't flaunt it to get what I wanted?

"But you didn't have sex with them Becky," I responded somewhat lamely. "You didn't go back to their bedrooms with them."

"And I won't do so either with the new clients Dick. It'll be just dinner, let them admire me and maybe a flash of cleavage or something. And that's it; no more than your pals get when I'm down the pub with you."

Oh God she was right as well ---- How many times had I smiled knowingly, after seeing one or other of my mates down the pub, contort themselves in order to steal a better view down her top or up her short skirt.

"No touching then?" ------ Oh Christ, I was losing this argument, and she was twisting me round her little finger.

"Isn't that what I've been saying all the time Dick," she simpered. "Please don't worry honey, it'll all be alright."

"I'm still not happy about it Becky." God ---- Even I thought I sounded pathetic.

My wife came into my arms and moulded her soft curvy body against me, assuring me that everything would be Ok, and that nothing between us would be affected. She kept on till I kissed her to shut her up, but by then I guess I'd already more or less lost the argument.

----------------

Then it happened.

I came home from work at my normal time one evening, and there was her note.

Darling Dick,

I'm going out tonight as arranged, and I promise to be home before midnight. Your dinner is in the microwave, and you just have to turn it on. Ten minutes on full power.

Please don't worry.

I love you.

I love only you.

I'll make it up to you when I get back.

Kisses,

Becky.

I can't begin to describe how I felt when I read that note, knowing that my wife Becky, my lovely, beautiful Becky, was off that very night on a date with another man.

Crucifixion could have been kinder!

I sat there on my own for hour after hour, not drinking, not eating, just waiting for her to come home. For my wife to come back to me!

Time dragged, and each minute seemed like an hour. Eleven O'clock seemed like the last week in December, and still I was sat there waiting.

A car outside maybe?

A key in the door.

All these sounds were multiplied by thousands as I had sat there for so long waiting for them.

The sound of her high heels clicking carefully down the hallway, expecting that maybe I would be long time in bed asleep.

No way.

I sensed her more than saw her as she crept into the lounge, totally unaware that I was sat there in the dark. I hadn't moved for several hours!

"Good fuck was he?" I astonished her with, and I'm sure that she jumped out of her skin in surprise.

"What are you doing up Dick?" She demanded.

"What have you been up to?" I replied.

'Nothing," she retorted shortly. "I've had a very pleasant evening with a charming man, and I'm sorry if that upsets you, but I've done nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oh good," I carried on to her. "I've had a fucking wonderful evening as well."

Waste of time!

Well no, that wasn't it. We were both on different wavelengths somehow, both following different goals.

Didn't help at all.

"I'm going to bed," Becky informed me. "I've done nothing tonight that I shouldn't have, but I'm feeling as horny as hell. Please come to bed with me."

With that she turned and left the room and I heard her steps as she went up the stairs to our bedroom.

"Fuck her," I thought, and settled down to spend the night stretched out on the sofa.

Didn't sleep well ------ For all sorts of reasons, I didn't sleep well.

----------

The next couple of days were difficult --- well of course they bloody well were.

We hardly talked, and the atmosphere was stifling.

She wanted to tell me what had happened that evening with her 'date', her first night working as an escort girl. But I refused to listen, and every time she broached the subject I simply stood up and walked out of the room.

I suppose I was hoping that she would apologise ---- beg my forgiveness or something and promise faithfully never to do it again.

But she didn't!

Three nights later when I came home Becky was upstairs in our bedroom, and when I looked in she was sat there in her bra and panties applying her make up. My heart gave a jolt as I registered quite how beautiful she was, but my eyes misted up us it registered that it was not me that she was getting ready for, but some other, unknown John.

A little later Becky came walking down the stairs in high heel sandals and a tiny little black micro dress that left little to the imagination. What really pissed me off was that I'd never seen the damn dress before.

It was new ---- And she'd bought it to go out with some other guy.

"Oh haven't you seen this dress before," Becky excused herself. "Of course not, I only bought it the other day. I'm going out for dinner at the George Hotel tonight so I had to have something appropriate."

I stood there in silence not bothering to mention that the only time we'd ever been able to afford to eat at the George was our anniversary a couple of years previously. Maybe that didn't matter to her too much any more.

------------

I put up with this humiliation for another week or so, so shocked by Becky's behaviour that I felt incapable to react, as I knew I should.

I couldn't understand it. I couldn't understand why I didn't explode.

I couldn't physically restrain her of course, but I didn't have the resolve to walk out on her, and couldn't afford to anyway.

Trouble was that the sex between us multiplied incredibly, to the point where I was finding it hard to keep up.

That was good ----- but for all the wrong reasons.

After her fourth date, and at least one more new outfit that I hadn't seen before, I decided that our life together stank, and the way we were going it would soon be unimportant whether we kept the damn house or not.

I was beginning to hate that damn house!

I had two choices.

Have a bust up with Becky and probably end my marriage, or put up with what she was doing and accept it.

The first option seemed to be forever, and the second for some limited if unknown time. I worked out that if I just stuck with it, then eventually the economy would pick up and she'd get another proper job, or at worst we'd catch up with the mortgage arrears and she'd no longer have a reason or excuse to carry on with her dates.

I chose the second option ----- Rightly or wrongly I decided to go along with her, not being able to imagine life without her.

You have to understand, that it was for us, and not that damn house.

So ---- On entering the house that very evening, I went straight to the kitchen where the delicious aroma of roast lamb made it obvious where she was, and what she was doing. Putting my arms around her, I announced my willingness to accept what she was doing.

Wow!

She turned, flung her arms around me and smothered me in kisses, and before long we were tearing one another's clothes off in some sort of frenzy.

What an evening --- what a night.

The only disappointment was the lamb ------ Didn't eat it! ---- Forgot it ----- Burnt it ----Pity really.

Then the next day we sat down and talked the talk.

"I don't want to know about anything you've done up to now, but from now on, I want you to tell me all about it. Who you're with --- Where you go ------ What you do."

Seemed a reasonable request and she agreed.

"I'm going out tomorrow night with some guy," she told me. "Going to the theatre, and then on to some reception."

I was surprised to find out that few of her 'dates' were actually for dinner, most of them being for visits to the theatre and receptions, but many of them where some guy simply needed a partner on his arm to make an impression, and the prettier the girl the better.

Some were even gay!

Yes, I know --- surprising isn't it, but in certain circumstances some gays needed to put a front on.

Not a lot of risk there, what?

I almost began to feel more relaxed about the situation ---- Let my guard down a bit!

So there was I the next evening watching my wife, my women, the love of my life, getting ready to go out with some other bloke.

"Why do you have to put on that sexy underwear?" I asked her. I wanted to know. I needed to know.

"Just makes me feel better," she replied. "He's not going to see it, but it puts me more in the mood."

Ok --- Good answer --- But God Damn that bloody house!

-----------

Several hours later, a few Cognacs to bolster me, and I was sat there waiting for Becky to come home. Despite my resolve, it wasn't easy.

She'd told me that some of the girl's husbands got a kick out of thinking about their wives with other men. I couldn't follow that one, but I thought about it, and the more I thought, then the more I could sort of see the attraction.

It still wasn't for me, but maybe I could work on it. Maybe it would make my torment easier. It sort of gave me something to hang on to I suppose ---- What a thought!

She came home!

She looked no different, other than looking just a little tired.

"Had a good time?" I asked, my casual attitude hiding the turmoil that was boiling inside me.

"Yes ---- great time Dick," she replied breezily. "George was really nice to me and I met so many interesting people. A couple of politicians, and a newspaper guy and that newsreader that you like on Sky television."

I didn't know which one she meant, and didn't enquire, having difficulty to keep my jealousy hidden below the surface. She was already moving in circles that were unknown to me.

"So what did you do then," I asked nervously, worried about the answer; "Did you .... Well that is did he .... Well sort of ...."

"We didn't do anything honey," Becky interrupted me. "He gave me a peck on the cheek when he put me into the taxi, and that was that."

We stared at one another for a few moments, me lost for words. But I guess I was relieved.

"Take me to bed lover," she eventually suggested. "I need you honey --- I need my man."

----------

Three nights later and Becky went off another of her dates, this time with a chap called Peter, who needed some arm candy to attend the opening of a gallery of some sort in the City. She was home reasonably early, with a vaguely bored look on her face, and flung her arms around me enthusiastically.

"God what a boring old fart," Becky exclaimed when we came up for breath. "He never stopped talking all night, and all he wanted to talk about was Modern Art."

"I thought you liked modern art," I replied in surprise.

"Maybe," she retorted shortly. "But not all damn evening, and not when we were surrounded by his simpering admirers all the time."

"Admirers?"

"Yes," she continued casually. "Peter Martin ---- He always seems to have groupies round him."

"Peter Martin?" I responded in shock. "That Peter Martin ----- the Rock singer from the seventies? You've been out on a date with Peter Martin?"

"Yes of course."

Her casualness was most unsettling.

"But he's a famous womaniser, a flirt. He's had half the starlets on television."

"I doubt it," Becky told me. "Don't believe everything you read in the press Dick. He was harmless. Didn't even try to kiss me."

Well blimey!

That was something else.

I'm not sure what surprised me the most. That my wife had actually spent the evening with someone so famous, or that the stories about him were false.

Maybe not false ---- Maybe just somewhat out of date.

Either way, I felt relieved to discover that rich guys really would pay to just have Becky's company with no strings involved. Maybe I was worrying too much.

I refused to acknowledge the tinge of disappointment that something hadn't happened, as I found that too complicated to understand.

The weekend was free, as no doubt rich men went back to their wives then --- who knows? The following week, there were two more dates, neither of which produced anything out of the ordinary. If Becky was telling me the truth, and I had no reason to doubt her, then this really was easy money, and we'd soon have our mortgage debt paid off, and we could get back to normality.

It was the next date that started rocking the boat, when she came home much later than usual, from some function up in the City.

"Why are you so late?" I demanded when she walked in.

"Sorry," she responded. "But John wanted me to go back to a friend's flat for drinks afterwards, and it was difficult to refuse."

"You could have rang me."

"Sorry Dick. Maybe I should have. I'll try to ring you next time."

"Next time," I retorted. "You mean you're going to be as late as this again?"

"Probably Dick," she said as she glared at me. "The agency tell me I'm one of their most popular girls, and they're getting more and more calls for me."

Popular girls ---- bloody hell, what did that mean?

Didn't sound good.

"Be careful Becky," I counselled her. "They'll be pushing you to go to bed with the clients next."

The hesitation in her reply was small, but noticeable.

"They already are Dick," she informed me quietly. "They keep asking, but I keep saying no! --------- They keep telling me I could treble my earnings, but I still keep saying no!"

It was good news to some extent, except that she sounded as if she was saying no for the wrong reason. Not because she didn't want to, but because of me.

God that was confusing, and a long silence reigned as we studied each other.

"My date tonight, David," she then hit me with. "I kissed him!"

"You mean kissed him goodnight Becky,' I croaked out at her, hoping that it was on the cheek.

"No Dick," she went on staring intently at me, waiting for my reaction. "I mean I kissed him ---- really kissed him properly. He held me in his arms and we kissed for some time."

Oh Shit!

I had a job to hold her gaze but managed, my stomach doing somersaults as I took in what she was saying.

This wasn't funny any more. Shit --- It never had been.

"We've almost paid off the backlog on the house Becky," I spluttered unhappily, trying to change the subject. "I think --- in fact I insist that you stop all this nonsense, and stop working for that bloody agency."

I knew that I should have put my foot down earlier, but now she'd gone too far.

"Don't you want to know what else I did tonight honey?" Becky said distracting me from my aim.

I can't imagine a worse question to be asked in such a situation. I didn't want to know, but knew that I had to.

I simply shrugged my shoulders in resignation.

Instead of telling me, Becky undid the buttons on her blouse, and shrugged it off her shoulders. To my horror, she had no bra on, and her lovely big tits were displayed there naked before me, her nipples as hard as rocks and the area around them showing signs of hectic attention. Not a sight that I would normally recoil from, but Becky never ever went out without her bra these days. Her boobs were too big and it was uncomfortable for her.

"Where's your bra?"

What a stupid bloody question, and one that I wished I could have held back.

"Where do you think Dick?"

It was all she had to say, and I saw my otherwise pleasant life disintegrating before my eyes.

"Nothing to say honey?" Becky asked nervously when the silence dragged out too long.

"Not much," I replied despondently.

"Sorry honey," she mumbled. "I'm really, honestly sorry."

I have to say, that no stirring of my loins at the thought of some guy playing with Beck's tits occurred.

I just felt sick!

------------------

Life just sort of drifted after that, neither of us prepared to give into the other, but equally neither having the willpower, or was it sufficient hate, to finish it.

But it couldn't go on of course, and when Becky came home at seven o'clock one morning just as I was getting ready for work I laid into her.

"Do you hate me that much to torture me this way?" I demanded, upset, but calmly, not loosing my temper.

"I don't hate you Dick. I still love as much as I ever did," Becky responded equally calmly as me.

"Funny way of showing it."

"I guess you're right ---- Sorry honey."

"Who have you been with tonight then?" I carried on for want of anything else to say.

"Peter," she replied. Peter Martin."

"You didn't say you were seeing him again," I remarked genuinely surprised.

"You didn't ask," was the only answer I got.

"But you told me he was a boring old fart Becky."

"I exaggerated honey," she said, tears in her eyes as she looked sadly up at me. "There were a lot of things I didn't tell you. A lot of things I lied about."

"But why Becky why." I pleaded with her. "We had such a good thing going. Why did you have to ......."

My speech petered out as I ran out of steam.

"It was the life and adventure Dick," she told me. "Going out with new guys all the time like when I was so much younger and never knowing for sure what it was going to end up with.. Except that this time they were rich and powerful men. Men who took what they wanted without asking, and took me out to places that I could never have imagined. Took me to meet famous people. Took me out in Ferraris and Aston Martins, Dick."

"There's a lot you haven't told me then Becky," I stated solemnly. "I don't suppose I really know the half of it."

Becky sobbed!

I think it was genuine.

"Two weeks ends ago when I told you I spent the week end with my Aunt up in Durham. I was actually on a yacht in the South of France Dick. Peter invited me and I met all the members of his old rock group."

"And I was a fan of theirs," I reminisced sadly. "I played one of their old records that week end, and I suppose you were fucking the bloody lot of them."

"Not all of them honey," Becky sobbed openly at me. "Me and the other four girls spent most of the week end sunbathing in the nude, and there was a lot of touching and things, but the only one that had sex with me was Peter."

"Not for the first time I suppose," I continued to torture myself.

She simply shrugged her shoulders.

-----------

We eat breakfast together as if the previous conversation had never taken place, both deep in our thoughts, both wondering what to say, and what we each wanted to do.

"We could still make it work between us Dick," the woman who was still for the time being my wife said, in little more than a whisper. "I don't love Peter at all. I like him a lot, and I'm excited by his life style, but not like I love you."

"Can you give it up then?"

I was clutching at straws, confused, but even at that moment not prepared to capitulate.

"I don't know Dick," Becky whimpered. "I could try."

"Well it's your decision Becky," I went on. "I simply won't put up with it any more. I should have put my foot down weeks ago and now realise what a damn fool I've been. I've got to go to work now, so you may as well spend the day thinking about it, and when I come back this evening I need your decision. You go back to being my wife and we try to work it out, or we're finished. But either way, we are selling this damn house!"

With that statement, I made to leave the house. Becky leapt up to throw her arms around me, but I held her at bay.

"Not until you've given me your decision Becky. Then we'll see."

--------

The day was awful ----- Well, I hardly have to tell you that do I. I pondered all day about whether I was doing the right thing. Should I follow my heart and give it another try, or follow my head and throw her out on her ear? Either way, Becky had to make her mind up first, and till she did it gave me the dubious luxury of not having to make a final decision. Five thirty seemed to take ages to come, but in many ways I dreaded it arriving.

The drive home was no better, and every set of traffic lights just seemed to mock me. Pulling up outside my house, I took a big breath and walked quietly in, hearing Becky humming to herself happily in the kitchen.

My heart soared on hearing her, and her humming could mean only one thing. She was in a good mood --- happy even, and that could only mean that she'd decided to pack her other life in and had accepted my ultimatum.

Even though I realised that there would be hard times ahead, and even though I well knew that I wasn't at all sure whether I could accept what she'd done, I was happy. At the very least we would be giving it a try.

With a spring in my step for the first time for a while, I walked into the kitchen and greeted my wife.

"Hi sweetheart --- Good to be home --- What's cooking?"

"Hi Dick," came the reply. "Lamb --- I think it's your favourite."

Think it's my favourite????

"What are you doing here Angie," I asked, once I'd got over the shock. "Where's Becky"

"She asked me to come over and cook dinner for you Dick," Angie informed me. "Becky's had to pop out for something."

"Popped out for something," I repeated, puzzled. "Where to? When will she be back?"

"Somewhere out in the middle of the Mediterranean by now," Angie told me. "And I don't think she's planning on coming back."

------------

Ok ----- Yes I know ---- You don't have to tell me!

It was the best thing that could have happened to me and all that. I'd been too soft on her and let her get away with too much. She'd never change, and maybe never had changed from her university days.

I was better off without her.

Angie stayed the night and consoled me on my loss. She actually started to cry before I did.

We ended up spending the night cuddled up together on the sofa, but other than a chaste goodnight kiss, nothing happened.

The next day we talked long and in depth, and Angie told me a handful of other things about my wife, that I may have suspected but never knew for sure. She told me that Becky had told her to tell me that she loved me so much, that she couldn't bare to risk hurting me so deeply again. Her only option was to leave so that I could start my life again with someone else.

Bloody good of her!

"Start my life off again," I mumbled. "Who the hell with?"

"How about me," Angie whispered, hardly audibly, looking down at her feet.

Well ----- Never even thought about that, and Angie had been there all the time. Angie had been the one that I'd fancied the most when we'd first met them.

Crazy I know, but .....?

Why not indeed, and we started our courtship. It was really awkward at first seeing as she had been my wife's best friend and that we had previously, a long time ago, been lovers. We didn't actually kiss passionately till our third or fourth date, and it was another two till I reacquainted myself with her beautiful, tight, little breasts.

It was breathtaking, and as I caressed them and sucked them and played with her lovely erect nipples, I began to wonder what I had seen in Becky's oversized boobs.

Dressed or naked, Angie truly had the most amazing body.

Matter of choice I suppose, and as I'd said earlier; I'd always been a leg-man, and if that was what I wanted then there simply wasn't any better legs around than the two that kept Angie on the move.

We eventually had sex. No sorry --- We made love. Wonderful, wonderful love. I won't bore you with the details, as it makes little difference to this tale. Just use your imagination ---- Believe me ----- It's better that way.

Though I knew that she'd got another job with another Insurance company by then, I did ask her about her involvement with the escort agency. You know --- once bitten, twice shy and all that.

"Only did it twice," Angie informed me. "The pair of them were all over me, pawing at me and I hated it. I've no idea how Becky put up with it."

"Trying to save her beloved damn house I suppose," I commented sarcastically.

"Guess you're right," Angie agreed giggling. "What are you going to do with it now?"

"Sell it," I replied. "I hate the damn place.

"Want to move in with me," she offered, and I agreed, most heartily.

------------

And then ...........

It was only when I put it on the market and talked to the solicitor, that I discovered that Peter Martin had paid the whole damn mortgage off. Sort of a down payment on my wife maybe.

Bless him!

And believe it or not, I really mean that. The relationship between Angie and I has blossomed out of all recognition. She told me that she'd held a candle for me ever since university, and had often rued the day all those years back when she had allowed my mate Nigel to seduce her when I was out at tennis practice.

I truly believe that I've now ended up with the best of the pair in all manner of ways, and I've happily traded in Becky's huge tits for Angie's tight body and the best pair of legs in the world.

By the way, she's a lovely girl as well, and we'll soon be finding out what sort of mother she'll be.

I have no worries!

And Becky?

Yes, what about her.

I don't wish her badly, but things could have gone better. Peter Martin kept her stringing along for a few months, then the newspapers caught him coming out of a nightclub with a seventeen year old.

Wouldn't have been so bad if it had been a girl.

Wrecked his hell raiser reputation, and we'll have to see if he ever recovers from it.

As far as I know Becky's back working at the agency, though I suppose she's now considered a full working girl.

If Angie knows, then she doesn't discuss it with me and I'm happy with that.

I suppose my now ex wife is making a lot of money, but is she happy?

I don't know, but I am, and I no longer really care.

[Brainmetal]

Leopard's Spots

By Britease ©

I had a smile on my face ---- A big one!

Not surprising really as I was sat there looking at my beautiful young wife Wendy. Twenty-seven years of lovely womanhood, average height, slim, but with jutting breasts that couldn't easily be hidden.

Quite recently they hadn't been of course, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

No doubt about it she was gorgeous.

So why would I be smiling, when she was crying, you may ask?

Well I'll tell you. I was smiling, 'because' she was crying, and I'll be happy to explain to you all exactly why.

Listen carefully.

It all started less than six months ago or at least that's when I first felt the wind of change. Wendy and I were living in North London, where I worked for a local firm of solicitors, having been recently made a partner.

Ashley Birks and Scrummings.

Old man Scrummings was on the point of retiring and Ashley and Birks were long gone. There were three other partners, and they like me were just waiting for Scrummings to go, so that we could move into the Twentieth Century. How long further it would then take to move up to the Twenty-First was anybody's guess.

Yes our firm were, to say the least, a traditional old-fashioned outfit.

Wendy and I were very happy together, with a nice house, two new cars, a Jaguar and a Porsche and membership of the local country club.

Sex was good. No --- it was very good, and after seven years of marriage appeared to me to be reasonably frequent.

So nothing wrong there was there?

Wrong! --- Though I didn't know it till one Thursday night.

"Derek," Wendy said to me as we were finishing the last dregs of wine. "Do you ever feel we need a bit more variation?"

"Why?" I answered right back, holding up the empty bottle. "I thought you liked this Cote de Rhone as much as I do."

It was one of our favourite wines, but boy, did I misunderstand what she was on about.

"I'm talking about sex not wine you bloody fool," she giggled at me.

Now that really was about the last thing that I expected.

"What's wrong with our sex life?" I managed to ask, after my initial shock had died down.

"Oh I don't Know Derek," she replied wistfully. "Sometimes --- well sometimes I just wonder."

Having got me that far, she refused to speak about it any further that night, and left me wondering what type of sex she wanted us to explore. What position hadn't we yet tried?

Actually it sounded quite promising to me at the time.

Two nights later she was at it again. But this time we were in bed, and she had hold of my cock, the crafty cow. Well you know how difficult it is to concentrate in those circumstances.

"Have you ever thought about making love to another woman?" Wendy dreamily demanded, giving my little man an extra squeeze.

"Yes."

That was all I said, and of course it was true, but the real reason for my brevity was not wishing to put her off from what she was doing to my wots-it.

"Anyone in particular?"

Oh God woman, shut up and get on with it. That's what I thought, but of course that's not what I said to her.

"Your friend Gail --- Mick's wife --- Halle Berry. I could have gone on. But I didn't mean it of course.

Well .... Maybe I did mean it and maybe I didn't, but we were only joking weren't we?

"What about if you really could," she carried on. "Not Halle Berry of course, and Gail is a real tight nut. But what if you could?"

I suddenly came to my senses a bit. What was my wife angling at?

"You mean Mick's wife?" I asked incredulously. Now there was a thought. Christ, what a thought, and if you'd seen Mick's wife then you would know what I mean. Mick's wife was sex in high heels, and had the most fantastic pair of long slim legs you could ever imagine. She made the most of them as well, wearing skirts so short that they left little to the imagination.

And her boobs? Well ---- less said about more, the better.

This was getting very interesting.

"No silly," Wendy laughed back at me, spoiling my fantasy. "I don't mean anyone in particular. Just if the possibility opened up."

Bloody hell!

What was my lovely, hitherto sweet little wife getting at?

Did she fancy a threesome or something?

Me, her and who knows what other gorgeous creature.

Bloody hell!

Pity about Mick's wife, but let's ride with the flow.

"Anybody in mind then?" I asked as casually as I could, desperately trying to erase Mick's wife's legs from my imagination.

"Not really," she came back. "Maybe a couple we could swap with or something."

I was so taken up with my dreams that I hardly noticed what she had said. Besides, what Wendy was doing to my private parts by then quite threw me.

Before I knew it Wendy had rolled on top of me and started to slide her hot wet slit slowly up and down against my prick.

It felt great!

Like --- better than just great!

I lay there happily leaving her to it, and a few moments later I found my erection sliding easily inside her.

That first penetration always felt so fantastic!

Well, it always does, doesn't it?

Nothing more was mentioned that night as we screwed the night away. In fact, I don't think we talked about anything.

A good three evenings later, we were sat watching the telly. East Enders --- She liked it, but I wasn't so sure. I wasn't really concentrating to tell you the truth.

"Have you thought about it?" she asked out of the blue.

"I think Ricky will get the girl," I responded, trying to remember what was happening on the screen in front of us.

"No silly," she giggled. "Not this program. About sharing. Us and another couple. What do you call it?"

"You mean swinging?" I replied, astonished at the turn our conversation had suddenly taken.

"Oh, so you have been thinking about it then Derek!"

Dammit! How in damnation did I fall for that one?

"Well if you really want to," she said quite seriously. "I might think about it. I might, but I'm not too sure."

Hang on!

Just hang on a minute. Who was leading who, here?

"Where did you get these ideas from Wendy?" I queried.

"Wasn't me that started it," she claimed. "I'm not saying I'm not intrigued by the idea, but ... well .... I don't really know."

At that point, I really, honestly, wished that I hadn't had so much to drink earlier on. I really shouldn't have finished that second bottle. Where the hell was this going and did I want to go there?

"There's one of my clients from work who's into swinging."

Damn it to hell --- was this really my wife speaking?

Stop it! Shut up! Close the subject!

But fool that I am, what did I actually say?

"Who's that then Wendy?"

Bloody stupid, and in any case, what I really meant of course, was what was his wife like.

No I didn't! I didn't mean that.

Bugger it --- Yes I did.

I felt ashamed.

Wendy saw through me and guessed what I was thinking.

"His wife is very pretty I think," Wendy went on fairly casually. "But I wasn't thinking of them --- but --- well --- maybe, I don't really know."

I got my brain in gear!

NO!

I thought about it for a few seconds more.

"No Wendy," I said firmly. "Fantasise about it all you want, but I really don't think we should go down that path!"

"That's all I was doing honey, just fantasizing."

Dammit --- I knew from experience, that every time she called me honey, then she was up to something.

-------------------

One thing led to another!

I haven't explained that though I was a solicitor, my wife was a barrister-at-law, and as such spent her life in court twisting people round to her way of thinking. She had a very analytical brain and was very good at her job, and usually got the better of me in an argument. Where Wendy wasn't so good was long term planning or strategy, and if it wasn't for me, then we'd probably never book a summer holiday.

No -- My wife lived for the here and now, and had always been that way. When we'd first met nearly nine years ago, Wendy had been a bit of a girl, with a reputation to match. Not that she went with just anyone, but when she set her sights on some unsuspecting chap, then he was more or less doomed, yes doomed to end up in her bed whether he'd planned to or not.

Believe you me; I can vouch for it, and for the fact that it was no awful fate to suffer. However I never actually took part in any of the multiple partner sex sessions that Wendy had been known to take part in, and that was one thing in her past that I preferred not to dwell on too much.

I knew she'd done them but I didn't want to know how many, and in any case that was all in her past, before we'd even met.

I sometimes wondered if it was pure coincidence that I was her main boyfriend when she finished university, because it was then that she changed completely.

Maybe she suddenly grew up, or perhaps she realised that the career she had chosen, simply wouldn't accept such rash behaviour.

Either way, I benefited, she settled down, and become the perfect, faithful wife, never once giving me any reason to doubt her.

Didn't mean that I never thought about it though.

----------------------

Two weeks later found the two of us sitting in a swish bar in town, waiting for James 'bloody' Perry to turn up with his wife.

Yes, she'd talked me into at least talking to this couple about it.

James apparently had his own business making Christmas cards and things, and though not a big business at all, it must have given him a comfortable living. But his wife --- well I knew nothing about her, and Wendy hadn't been very forthcoming.

Let's make it clear --- We weren't swapping that night --- no bloody way!

We were simply meeting them for a drink. We might talk about the subject, and even ask questions. But that was all!

That didn't mean that I wasn't nervous! Equally it didn't mean that I wasn't intrigued myself. I'd played the field quite a bit before I met Wendy, certainly not as much as she had, but even so, the thought of a bit of 'strange' didn't exactly give me a raging headache.

My mind was by then in a bit of turmoil to be honest. As far as Wendy was concerned, could a leopard change its spots?

Was this her way of telling me that she missed her old ways, but didn't want to cheat on me? What was I going to do if it was?

I couldn't help but think that I was in a spot.

A bit damned if I did and damned if I didn't.

Pity the poor leopard.

"Here they come," cried out Wendy, jumping to her feet and kissing some hunk of a guy who had just come in on the cheek.

We introduced ourselves.

Wendy, Derek ----- James and Tania.

Christ almighty --- Tania!

James was I suppose about thirty, maybe the same age as me. Tania was ---- well ---- about ---- maybe ---- Dammit she was fucking beautiful.

She couldn't have been more than early twenties, with a face to dream about, and a body to launch a thousand erections.

This couple swapped???

Why the hell would the bloody fool want to swap a woman that looked like her?

----------------

The evening passed pleasantly enough, though I found myself somewhat tongue tied when I tried to talk to Tania. I discovered that James supported Spurs, and as an Arsenal supporter that didn't exactly endear me any more towards him. However, we parted friends, and promised to meet up again shortly.

"You fancied her didn't you?"

Coming from my wife that seemed a stupid question. Not that I hadn't noticed the interaction between her and James.

Oh Golly, the next few days were difficult.

Wendy gently pushed and encouraged, suggested and hinted, till at last the question was on the table.

Were we, or were not going to do it?

"NO!" That was my answer, tempting though the delicious Tania was.

"OK," she responded. " Forget it."

But she didn't, and in fairness, neither did I entirely.

The following Tuesday saw us at the same bar waiting for the same beautiful couple. Nothing was decided, but the possibility, vague though it was, was indeed there.

We had agreed to take our time. To talk, to explore, ask questions and go away and think about it - whatever. In my mind this was just another meeting, though I have to admit I was tempted. When I saw Tania again I was really very tempted indeed.

She had long dark lustrous hair, big dark dreamy brown eyes and a cute little turned up nose. I found myself getting hot round the collar when I speculated whether her pretty little breasts turned up in the same way. Tania stood about five foot three, and with her gorgeous vaguely half Asian appearance, could easily have been some magazine model. With the short blue mini dress that she had on, her shapely tanned legs seemed to go on and on forever.

Yes, OK, I've got a thing about long slim legs

The first time we'd met I hadn't really taken too much notice of James, and it was only this time that I recognised how attractive he would be to a woman like my wife.

A bit taller than me, a little broader in the shoulders than me, and likely some women would find him a bit better looking than me.

Bastard!

If this bugger thought he was going to get inside my wife's knickers, then he had another think coming.

We had a second drink then a third and I began to relax and feel more and more comfortable chatting to the delightful Tania. I heard my wife giggle and I looked over at the other couple, surprised to note how close they were sat together, and how comfy the looked.

I thought about saying something, but it seemed a little churlish, as they weren't actually doing anything that I would have complained about if it had been any other friend.

A few moments later and Tania casually put her hand on my leg while telling me some story about when she'd been at school. A quite innocent gesture except perhaps that her hand was actually more than half way up my thigh.

I rather liked it! Well of course I bloody well did, but the thumping in my heart and the dryness in my throat warned me to be careful.

I glanced over at the other two, to see if Wendy had noticed.

I didn't want to ask Tania to take her hand away, but I didn't want to give the other two any encouragement.

I didn't have to!

My mouth fell open as I noted the changes since I had last checked them out, and saw that they were even closer than before.

Not only that but bloody James had his hand on my wife's thigh, at least as high up as Tania was holding me. The difference perhaps was that Wendy had a short skirt on and her legs were bare. The bugger had his hand on her bare skin, not six or seven inches from her panties.

It was only then that I realised where his other hand was. James's elbow was propped on the back of the bench they were sat on, which left his hand hanging loosely out towards Wendy. As they talked he was slowly stroking the back of his hand up and down against the side of my wife's lightly covered breast.

Hang on --- NO! Too fast --- much too fast and I wasn't ready for that. His hand on her bare leg was bad enough, but he was actually caressing her left tit right there in front of me.

"Wendy, James," I cried out, trying to keep my anger in check. "I'm not sure about all this."

The two of them looked over at me in surprise, and Tania took her hand away from my leg.

"What's up Derek?" asked my wife, the huskiness of her voice only confirming that she had been enjoying what James had been doing to her.

"What's up?" I copied her. "He's been feeling your tits Wendy. Damn it, he's still doing it as we talk."

Wendy looked down to where James's hand was still slowly stroking her breast despite my intervention and smiled. She deliberately stuck her breast out, pushing it against his hand, and then reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"So what Derek?" She said, looking back round at me. "I don't mind at all. In fact I'm enjoying it."

"For Christ's sake Wendy," I spat out at her. "You can't let him do that to you."

"Why not?" She asked flippantly.

Why not?

Wasn't it bloody obvious why not?

We hadn't agreed to go through with this, and I hadn't agreed that he could feel up her breasts.

"We're in a public bar Wendy," I reminded her, trying to keep my voice in check. "This is not the place to be arguing about this."

The two of them glanced at one another quickly, and then Wendy looked back, staring intently straight at me, as if daring me to contradict her.

"You're right Derek," she said at last. "This isn't the place."

I felt the tension drain out of me, thinking that she'd come to her senses.

It was short lived.

"Come on then James," my wife said to the other man, smiling warmly at him. "Let's take this somewhere else."

"We'll see you in the morning then," declared James, standing up and taking Wendy's arm.

Pardon!

What!

"You and Tania can have our place," added Wendy, smiling at me as if everything was agreed. "We'll go back to James's place."

Hang on --- I haven't agreed. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't know what I wanted.

Wendy kissed me on the cheek and left me standing there like a fool. My brain would hardly accept what I was hearing and I must have been standing there with my mouth gaping open in shock. Then Tania stood up and moulded her lovely lithe body against mine, and blow it, my treacherous resolve dissolved.

It was there and then that I lost it.

I should have reacted differently and then maybe, just maybe things would have worked out differently.

But maybe not!

Either way I just stood there like an idiot, unable to do anything to stop this all happening.

I watched as my wife collected her things, linked arms with James, and turned to leave.

"Enjoy yourself Derek," she lightly commented. "See you in the morning."

I still wasn't sure that this was all happening, and events simply washed over me. I watched in silence as my wife of seven years walked out of the bar, chatting and giggling to bloody James as she clung like a limpet to his arm.

Oh what the hell had I done? ---- Or not done?

He was taking my wife away to fuck her!

I wasn't doing anything to stop it.

"Are you ready to go then Derek?" Asked a sweet sounding voice beside me, as Tania cuddled up even closer to me.

Confusion!

Wendy and James disappeared from sight as they rounded the corner.

I looked down at Tania for some sort of guidance.

I really shouldn't have done that!

It was my final undoing, stupid sod that I was.

How could I turn down a girl that looked like Tania did? My eyes focussed on her chest, on the gap down the front of her dress, which left half her cute, little but full rounded breasts exposed to my gaze. The thin material clung seductively to her curves, the little peaks of her nipples sticking out and suggesting that she did not have a bra on.

I had to know whether those nipples turned up cheekily like her cute nose did.

I had to know.

I had to know that very night.

I had lost!

I smiled at Tania intent on expressing how uncertain I was about all this.

She smiled back up at me, her deep brown eyes promising so much.

But golly wasn't she so damned beautiful and sexy?

That bastard James even left me to pay the bloody bill for the drinks.

-------------------

An hour later found the two of us back at my house in bed, and really what can I say? When she'd slipped out of her slinky dress, to reveal no more than a tiny pair of thong panties underneath, then my heart had stopped beating for a moment.

There are lovely bodies, and perfect bodies, and I'd thought Wendy was in the latter group till I saw Tania.

Her skin was a light olive colour, as if it had a light tan, and there wasn't so much as a blemish anywhere.

Her breasts were somewhat smaller than Wendy's, but none the less wonderful, pert and firm and standing up proudly on their own as if daring me to take them, her small but hard dark nipples offering untold delights.

And yes, with the curve of her breasts her nipples did point upwards cheekily, even more alluring than I could have imagined.

They say that sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. In this case reality was even more beautiful than imagination!

As I took her in my arms and ran my hands over her silky naked skin, I began to wonder just who might regret this exchange the most in the weeks to come.

Sex with Wendy was to my mind fantastic, but Tania, young though she was, took me to another level.

How in hell would I ever face Wendy again, knowing what I'd done, and how good it had been? Then again, how would I face her, knowing what she had done?

It worried me how good it had been for Wendy with that James, and whether it could ever be the same for us again. Though in fairness, I didn't think about that at the time.

Tania left at nine in the morning, giving me a kiss and saying she hoped we might meet again soon, and Wendy returned at nine thirty. Couldn't have timed it better if they had planned it.

I wonder why I didn't think more about that at the time?

I was simply embarrassed when she walked in. Upset with her that she'd manoeuvred me so, but ashamed that I had so willingly gone along with it, and not a little confused at how much I had enjoyed the experience.

"How was your night?" Wendy asked me hesitantly.

"OK --- How was yours'?"

"OK," she replied with a grin.

Within moments the pair of us were grinning and laughing, and I realised with very mixed feelings indeed, that our life would never be the same again.

-------------------

I tried not to sound too eager when Wendy told me she had made a tentative arrangement to meet the couple again a week later. When the day approached my wife told me that she had arranged with James to go out for dinner with him, and that she would meet up with him at the restaurant. I was to meet Tania at the bar we had first met at.

That was fine with me, as though I was certainly looking forward to my time with the lovely Tania, I really wasn't too miffed about not having to spend time with the guy who was banging my wife.

"We'll have our place tonight Derek, and this time you can go to their house."

Well that seemed fair enough as well.

Watching Wendy getting ready for her date, gave me second thoughts.

"Do you think James will like these white panties Derek, or shouldn't I bother with any?"

Not really a question that I wanted to be asked in the circumstances. But I'd agreed to carry on with this thing, so I had to just accept it.

Try to think of Tania getting ready at that moment, and wonder what she would be wearing.

Mmmmm! Now there was a thought.

"The white ones are fine dear," I replied trying to keep my feelings in check.

Just had to grin and bear it, and I'd never been terribly keen on the white ones anyway.

I admit to having a lump in my throat as Wendy kissed me briefly on the lips as she left.

What the hell were we doing?

With a sigh, I closed the door behind me, and left for my own date with the beautiful Tania. Life was tough maybe, but it could be worse couldn't it?

Half an hour later I found myself sat at the bar sipping my beer and waiting for my date. Looking forward to seeing Tania drift in, and enjoy the moment as every male eye in the place would take her in and be jealous of me. Wondering what skimpy creation she would be clad in that evening, and looking forward a little later to removing it.

I had to admit that after seven years of marriage, dating another beautiful girl was exciting.

The time of our meeting arrived and passed.

Then another half hour, and I started to get agitated.

My mobile phone rang and I relaxed, assuming it was Tania to tell me she was running a bit late.

"Hi honey!" Ouch! It was Wendy on the phone, calling me honey. "Bad news I'm afraid Derek. Tania's come home from work this evening not feeling well, and won't be able to make it tonight."

Oh shit!

"Where are you then Wendy?" I asked her, trying my best to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

"I'm with James," she replied. "He left before Tania got home, and she's just rang him to let you know that she won't be able to make it."

"Damn it," I responded. "What are you going to do then Wendy? Are you coming home?"

There was an ominous silence at the other end. So silent that I could hear my heart beating wildly.

"Well Wendy, what are you going to do?" I repeated.

"Well actually Derek, I was sort of planning on still going ahead with my date with James. If that's OK with you honey?"

It wasn't! It really, really wasn't Ok with me at all!

A swap is a swap, but ..... well ..... Bloody hell! It just wasn't fair, and I told her so.

"Please Derek, be reasonable about this. I know it must be disappointing for you, but James has just bought me dinner, and we were having such a nice time."

"Well I'm not Wendy," I retorted. "I was never too keen on all this in the first place, and now I've had enough."

"Oh please Derek, just this one night."

"No Wendy," I shot back at her. "It's time we bought this to an end."

"Look Derek. What about if I don't spend the night with him? What about if I just stay the evening with him. I can't just stand up now and walk out on him."

I hadn't thought that one out too clearly, and what she said was reasonable. I guess she at least had to stay and finish the meal.

"OK," I replied reluctantly. "But I'll expect you home by eleven."

"Oh come on Derek. I was thinking more around two or three O'clock."

"No way Wendy!"

"How about one o'clock then?" She suggested.

"Twelve at the latest," I heard myself saying.

"Split the difference and call it twelve thirty."

Oh damn it what difference did it make?

"Ok, I'll expect you home by half past midnight then," I reluctantly conceded.

"No Derek," Wendy corrected me. "I'll expect you back sometime after that time. Don't forget we had our house this time."

The bloody cheek!

"Go to his bloody house," I shouted down the phone.

"Then there's no way I'll be back by twelve thirty honey."

God that bloody woman! I told you she could twist me round her finger in an argument. No wonder she won so many of her cases in court.

"OK go to his damn house then," I replied back angrily. There was no way that I was going to hang around bars until it was safe to go back to my own house.

"See you about two then honey," Wendy got in quickly, and rang off.

The cow! The bloody bitch!

She'd conned me into that, and I could imagine her sitting there grinning all over her face.

I could have rang her back, but didn't see the point. So she was going to get fucked by another man again tonight, and I was going home on my own.

It wasn't fair!

What upset me the most?

That my wife was going to bed with someone else, or that I wasn't getting Tania in exchange?

Difficult question, and I didn't really know the answer. Perhaps the most upsetting fact was that Wendy preferred to be with James that night rather than with me.

That hurt.

Left me feeling empty inside.

------------------

OK, so I have no idea what time she actually got in as I was fast asleep. It certainly wasn't the time she had promised though, but at least she was there beside me in bed when I woke up.

"What time did you get in last night?" I asked her when she came to.

"Oh don't ask," was all she managed. "I'm worn out."

"And why would that be?" As if I didn't know.

"Oh, you better not ask about that either," Wendy giggled mischievously.

She thought it amusing, but I couldn't say that I thought the same thing.

I was truly pissed off.

I simply didn't know why I had let myself be dragged down this path of swapping and swinging. All right, I had truly enjoyed my time with Tania, and it had been like a wet dream come true.

But to risk our precious marriage?

To risk spoiling the special relationship that I thought I had with my wife?

No! It really wasn't worth it at all.

This had to be the last time.

I got up and got dressed, while Wendy turned back over and fell asleep. I didn't see her again till early afternoon when she came bouncing downstairs like a teenager.

"What a lovely day," she sung, as she skipped up to me, threw her arms around me and kissed me full on the lips.

She was in a good mood, and I decided the time was ripe to suggest that our swinging adventure should perhaps come to an end.

"I've arranged to meet up with James again next Tuesday," Wendy informed me happily, beating me to it.

"Oh really," was all I managed, my temper rising.

"Afraid Tania's still not feeling too well, but maybe the next time."

"NO!"

"What do you mean no?" My wife asked me, looking up in surprise.

"No means no Wendy," I insisted. "I'm not putting up with it."

"But you agreed to it Derek," she almost spat at me. "It was you that suggested it."

I breathed in deeply several times, not wishing to reply with something that I might regret.

"You will not be going out and fucking bloody James whatever his name is, and that's final."

"And how will you stop me?" She asked, her temper rising to match mine.

Good question!

How could I, short of locking her up or standing guard over her twenty-four hours a day?

"I can't, but if you do, then don't expect me to be here when you get back."

Seemed a measured response to me, but Wendy looked at me as if I'd declared war on France or something.

"You don't mean that do you?"

"Try me," I replied.

Wendy stood her ground, but I refused to back down, so we stood and stared daggers at one another for some while.

At last she realised that maybe she had pushed me too far, and she relaxed, trying to put me at ease.

"OK," she said. "I can see your point. I don't suppose it is very fair on you."

With that, she shrugged her shoulders and went off to make herself something to eat. But the point was, she hadn't seen my point at all. All she'd seen was that it wasn't fair on me if she was off having sex and I wasn't. It apparently hadn't dawned on her that I simply wasn't happy with our new marital arrangements.

I'd maybe won the battle, but I hadn't yet won the war it seemed.

Not the one with France you understand --- This was much more serious.

The rest of the day saw little contact between us, but in bed that night, she cuddled up to me and rubbed herself sexily against me.

She was naked, and that usually meant just one thing.

"You're not worried about me not giving you enough attention are you honey?" She asked silkily.

"What do you mean?"

"Well you know Derek," she went on. "Not enough sex, just because I'm going with someone else."

"What do you think Wendy?"

"Well there's nothing to worry about honey," she cooed. "I will always love you and you're still my favourite in the sack."

"Is that why we haven't made love since the first time you went with that bastard James?" I demanded forcibly. "Is that what you mean?"

She gasped!

"But Derek .... I mean .... Is it .... Oh shit! I'm so sorry my love."

Wendy proceeded to make amends as enthusiastically as she could, and we spent the next hour or so sucking and fucking like a pair of rabbits.

I couldn't help but compare Wendy's big full breasts with Tania's small pert ones. Which were best? The only decision that I could come to was that whoever's tits I was feeling would seem to be the best at the time.

At last she sighed, thanked me for such a wonderful night and rolled over and went to sleep.

For my part, I lay there for some time thinking.

I was wondering if for the first time in my marriage, whether I had just been supplied with a mercy fuck.

It hadn't been bad, but that's what it felt like it.

It really and truly wasn't what I expected from a marriage of love, and I already was beginning to wonder whether our marriage would survive.

------------------

"Tania's feeling better now Derek," my wife informed me a few days later.

I waited for her to add something to that statement, but she simply carried on with what she was doing.

I did the same! Nothing.

How did I know that she wouldn't leave it like that?

"How about if I arrange for something next Tuesday?" She asked, trying to sound casual.

"Such as what," I replied, acting dumb. Not that it fooled her of course.

"You can have our house again if you want," she continued, as if that generous offer really made any difference.

"Is this what you really want Wendy?" I demanded, managing to keep my voice under control.

"It's what we both want isn't it honey," she responded immediately. "We enjoyed it the last time, so why not?"

I thought about reminding her that I hadn't enjoyed it the last time at all. In fact the last time I had sat at home on my own while she was off having the time of her life. But what was the point?

"How about Wednesday instead of Tuesday," I threw in, for no particular reason other than to be awkward.

"No," she answered. "It can only be Tuesday --- It's got to be Tuesday."

Odd ---- very odd, but I chose not to argue and got up and walked away.

-----------------

Something wasn't right here!

I didn't know what, but there was something that just didn't add up.

Why was Wendy suddenly so desperate to have extramarital sex after seven years when we had been so happy?

Why was she so willing to risk our marriage when she knew full well that I wasn't at all committed?

Why were our meetings always on a Tuesday?

How did that bugger James get to marry a beautiful young woman like Tania?

Having done so, why did the idiot feel the need to swap?

No, something just didn't add up, and I was determined to find out just what.

With my connections I was easily able to find out where James Perry lived, and discovering that it was just a few miles away, I made my way over there the following afternoon. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, and in the end I found myself sitting in my Jag a few doors down from their house.

It was a detached house in it's own grounds and must have cost a pretty penny, so he wasn't short of a bob or two.

For nearly an hour, nobody arrived or left and I began to feel a bit of a fool.

Then the front door opened and out spilled two children about eight or nine years old.

They played around in the garden for a bit, and then one shouted 'see you tomorrow' and disappeared up the road, while the other went back inside.

Quite normal you may think, but not for me.

How on earth would a girl of Tania's age have a child of that age?

Good question eh?

While I was pondering this, a Ford Focus pulled up and a nurse in uniform got out. I didn't notice whether she locked the car, but she went straight up to the house and went in.

What the hell was happening here?

I hung around for a little longer but nothing else happened, so I went back to work still puzzled.

There had to be an answer.

Why would the nurse be there, and where did the kid come from?

I was so confused that I could hardly concentrate on my work, and I wandered rather aimlessly round the outer office annoying everyone for no reason.

I was being stupid, but couldn't get that bad feeling from eating away at my insides.

At last I decided that I was being too silly, and went back to my own office to try to finish off a few loose ends.

With great difficulty I started to flip though the pages of a divorce case I was working on. A marriage break up which both parties wanted, but they were arguing over custody of the kids.

Then it came to me --- Simple really.

The kid must have been James's by a previous marriage ---- that was it!

He must have been divorced and then remarried Tania, and the kid was living with them. Didn't even have to be living with them and the boy could just have been visiting.

But the nurse ---- who the hell might she be?

It was a good hour later that I came up with the answer to that one as well. Tania was ill wasn't she? Or had been.

Maybe the nurse was doing a house visit to give her some treatment. Bit thin, but it was as good as I could come up with.

Maybe I was worrying about nothing after all, but not surprising when my wife was acting so oddly.

So that was OK, wasn't it?

But if so, why was something inside me telling me that not all was well?

Just one more check, then I promised myself that I'd relax and get on with my life. I rang Tom Black. Tom was a private detective that our company used from time to time, and nobody thought it odd that I should ask him to do a simple check for me.

He told me that he would have the information I sought by the next day, and I tried to forget it and get on with my work with a little more success than before.

Tom was as good as his word, and the following morning he e-mailed me what he had found, simply from checking public records.

So easy!

James Perry ---- age thirty-four ------ businessman.

Phillip Perry ---- age nine ----- Schoolboy.

Mary Perry ----- age thirty-two ---- Nurse.

And that was it!

That was everyone who was registered as living at that address.

Damn it!

What happened to Tania? Unwell or not, the nurse certainly wasn't going there to look after her. The bloody nurse lived there, and she was James's wife.

Bloody hell!

------------------

By the time Tuesday evening arrived my mind was going round in circles, unable to come to any sensible conclusion. Several times I thought about confronting Wendy with what I had found out, but if there was a sensible explanation, then I would look some sort of fool in everyone's eyes. Besides, the trust between us was already stretched somewhat, and if she found out that I had been checking up on her, then it could be the final straw.

No, I'd decided to go through with the date and see what I could find out from Tania herself before I had it out with Wendy.

I couldn't think of any other way of dealing with it.

Always assuming that Tania turned up of course, and the way things were going that didn't seem too sure.

--------------

"Hi Derek. Nice to see you again."

I looked up and there, standing with a hand on her hip, was Tania, perhaps even more stunning than I had remembered her. I quickly glanced round the bar and took in the jealous looks from all the other guys in the bar, and for that moment at least I felt just fine.

Tania had on high heel sandals and tight black leggings that were all the fashion, with a skimpy little flared skirt that was little more than a token. Her legs looked absolutely fantastic and I felt the urgent need to simply touch them. She looked beautiful, and was giving me a smile that melted my heart.

It was those eyes.

No it was her legs, or maybe the suggestive swell of those lovely little breasts.

No --- No it was her smile --- Damn it, it was all of her. She was a dream come true.

She looked a little surprised when I suggested we stay for a little something to eat, but readily agreed and we went to the table that I had booked.

I needed to ask some questions, and I wanted answers before this evening was going much further.

"Who are you?" I asked her quite pointedly once we had settled.

"Tania," she laughed at me. "After our last evening together you surely haven't really forgotten me already."

"Yes Tania," I went on. "I know what your name is, but you sure as hell aren't James Perry's wife are you?"

Tania lost her smile, dropped her confident gaze, and she visibly swallowed hard. I had really and truly caught her on the hop with that comment.

"What do you mean Derek?" Was all she could manage. Pretty poor really.

"What I mean is Tania, if that's really your name, is how come bugger lugs James is swapping you for my wife when you're not even married to him?"

Got her!

Tania tried to grin at me, but thought better of it when she saw the look on my face. She looked round to see if she could slip away maybe, but I had positioned her so she was trapped.

"I guess I'd better come clean," she offered nervously at last.

"That might be best," I replied and waited to find out what the hell was going on. Was Tania his girl friend? His sister in law maybe? Their next-door neighbour?

I had no idea!

"Look Derek," she started. "You're a really nice guy, and I'm sorry if I've been part of tricking you a bit."

I nodded and waited for her to carry on as she took a huge breath.

"They paid me to do it," Tania mumbled at last.

"They paid you!" I nearly screamed at her. "They paid you to go out with me --- To have sex with me! What sort of woman are you for Christ's sake?"

"The sort who gets paid for having sex with strange men," she whispered back, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm sorry Derek -- really sorry."

Oh bugger me!

Now she'd caught me on the hop.

"You're a bleeding prostitute!" I shouted at her eventually, forgetting that we were in a public place.

"Not so loud please Derek," Tania pleaded with me looking around with a frightened expression. "I prefer escort to prostitute, but it's all the same thing really."

It suddenly hit me like a train. James had paid this bloody prostitute to play the part of his wife so that he could fuck mine.

The bastard!

"What the hell is Wendy going to say when she finds out what he's done?" I demanded.

Silly question --- I still wasn't thinking straight was I?

It was even worse than I thought.

"I think she already knows all about it Derek," Tania told me uncertainly. "It was her who rang me to arrange the times."

Oh no!

There must be some mistake surely. But I knew right then that there wasn't.

"Well I hope it wasn't her that paid you," I muttered pathetically, lost for anything else to say.

"No Derek," Tania tried to assure me. "It was the guys that paid both times."

I was so bloody upset, that I nearly missed what she had said, and when I looked up at her she had her hand to her mouth, having realised her mistake. She'd let something else slip.

"Guys," I queried. "Is that guys as in the plural sense?"

Tania simply nodded, keeping her mouth tight shut.

I breathed in slowly and deeply to calm myself down before I did something that I might regret. I wasn't going to hit her or anything, but I needed to think straight.

"Explain!"

I thought that was enough and waited.

"There are three of them Derek," she went on. "James, Mike and Terry. Terry was a client of mine once, so that's how they knew me."

I sat there in silence, shaking my head.

"Sorry," Tania piped up.

"Thanks for nothing."

"I really enjoyed the first time Derek," Tania carried on. "You're a really nice guy and it wasn't like the other 'dates' I normally have. You took so much care to make sure I enjoyed it as well, but when they asked me to do it again the following Tuesday I refused, as once I'd met you I didn't like cheating you."

Well that explained why she hadn't turned up for the second date didn't it. Why I'd sat there all night, my stomach churning as I was thinking about some other guy screwing my wife. Turned down by a bloody prostitute!

Then I turned cold as it dawned on me. It wasn't some other guy that had been fucking her. It was three of them. My sweet wife had taken part in a gang bang behind my back.

I felt vaguely sick as it occurred to me that she was doing the same thing again at that very moment. An image of her soft naked body spread-eagled, wide legged on some bed somewhere taunted my brain. The smile on her face as she took one huge cock up her pussy, another in her mouth and the third Lord knows where.

They would all have huge cocks twice the size of mine wouldn't they?

Well they always do, don't they?

Putting my head in my hands, I fought back the need to break into tears; hardly able to control the way my arms were shaking; hardly able to control my reaction.

"I'm really sorry," whispered Tania, gently stroking the back of my head. I should have shrugged her off of course, but it felt reassuring, and relaxed me a little.

"So why are you here this time?" I managed, pushing the awful vision from my mind.

"They offered me extra money Derek," Tania replied. "Besides, when I thought about it, I quite liked the idea of seeing you again."

Ah! So I wasn't turned down by a prostitute. Not sure how that helped though.

We talked on for some time, as Tania willingly told me everything she knew. I couldn't believe I was sitting there quite calmly taking it all in, though my eyes misted up several times, and I didn't resist when Tania took my hand in hers and squeezed it.

Wendy had gone back to her old ways and was hosting a gangbang, using the swinging scene as a way to hopefully lure me eventually into the way of things.

That's what she was doing right at that moment while I sat there and talked to Tania.

Did I really know my wife?

Had I ever really known her?

Does a leopard ever change its spots?

The cow had played me for a fool, and I would get my own back. I didn't know how, but I would work on it.

Meanwhile as far as I was concerned my marriage was over ---- as dead as a doornail.

But I couldn't do much about it at that moment, so what was I to do?

Then I looked at Tania.

By God she was so beautiful!

Why not?

I always was a bit of a pragmatist.

"Back to my place then?" I suggested.

"Love to Derek," she smiled back at me.

So we did!

It helped.

It helped a lot.

-------------------

Wendy came back early the next morning looking tired, but full of the joys of spring again. Now I could understand why of course. I didn't just want a divorce though, an easy split. I wanted revenge, and I wanted it on all four of them.

When she went to kiss me I turned my cheek just enough to unsettle her, but not enough to worry her too much. She'd have time for that later.

She looked at me waiting for me to say something. Maybe to tell her what a good time I'd had, or to ask her the same question. I just looked away --- said nothing.

Let the bitch sort out herself what was going through my brain.

I already had the seed of an idea, but to see it through I'd have to find out where they all met up. It obviously wasn't at James's house as I doubt that his wife would go along with that, and I'd worked out that it always had to be Tuesday, as the three of them must have an excuse for being out that night. Bowling, drinking, whatever. It didn't really matter.

I needed someone to help me as well. Someone who knew them and could find out the information I needed.

Who better than Tania?

Besides, I'd really enjoyed both my evenings with her, and the feelings had been mutual. I'd found out quite a lot about her and her situation, and that she'd only been working as an escort for about three months. How many liaisons, or dates as she called them that represented I didn't know, and didn't care to enquire about.

Tania had been half way through her university course, studying fashion design when she had run seriously out of money.

Not a new situation, but when one is as attractive as she undoubtedly was, then the first bar where she sought work was more than pleased to take her on. That soon led to working behind the bar in a nightclub where the pay was better, and the skimpier and more revealing her outfit, then the more tips she got.

She'd laughed when she admitted to me quite how much she found she enjoyed it, as she'd teased the men who tried to peer down her increasingly outrageous little tops.

One thing led to another, and she was soon persuaded to try her hand at pole dancing at which she was an immediate success, and believe you me, I could see why. It wasn't long before clients started to ask her out, and she discovered how much money she could really make for an evening's work.

She managed to rationalise her behaviour, but still ended up dropping out from her studies, which by the time we got to know one another she was beginning to regret in a big way.

So!

There we were the two of us, and when we parted it was Tania who had asked me when we could go out again, and no payment was ever mentioned.

I wondered whether I was on the brink of jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire?

Tania was only too pleased to help me, and within a couple of days I knew that the four of them, Wendy and her three lovers met on Tuesday evenings at the Paramour hotel the other side of town.

Well at least her lovers weren't skinflints, as that hotel was the most expensive for miles. Though the cost of hiring Tania should have already told me that.

Not only that, but I even had the room number they always used, and that it was a corner room on the second floor alongside the fire escape. Perhaps they expected me to break in and confront them and left them an escape route. Well that wasn't going to happen, but it didn't mean they weren't in for a surprise, and I could hardly wait for the next Tuesday to come along.

I wouldn't need Tania that night for what I had planned, so I simply told Wendy that I would be out of town that night on business.

"What will you do sweetheart while I'm away?" I asked her innocently.

"Oh I'll probably stay at home," she replied. "Or I might go out to the pictures with one of the girls from work."

Oh Yer!

I bet!

The look in the bitch's eye told me otherwise.

----------------------

Eight-thirty on the dot and I was in the lobby of the Paramour hotel, newspaper in hand in case I needed to hide myself. I was on my second beer by the time I spotted Wendy sauntering down towards the grand winding staircase, sporting high heels, a fashionably short tight skirt, expensive looking blouse and as far as I could make out very little else.

Very classy indeed!

I have to say that she did look good, and a lump formed in my throat at the thought of how she was cheating on me.

Of how she had been deceiving me for I knew not how long.

If all went to plan that night, then it was unlikely that we'd ever share a bed again, and for just a moment I regretted that we hadn't made love together much in the last few weeks.

Oh well!

"Wendy," I heard someone call and she turned round and smiled radiantly at some guy I'd never seen before. I guessed that this had to be either Mike or Terry.

"Hi Terry," Wendy called back to him, confirming my thoughts. "Aren't Mike and James with you?"

"They're already up there," he informed her, lowering his voice as he approached her. Then he took her in his arms and pulled her close. Wendy responded and wrapped her arms round his neck, pulling his lips down to hers, and honouring him with a long smouldering kiss.

Only sex eh?

If that was only sex, then I'd like to see what affection was all about.

If there had been anything left in my heart, then it would have snapped.

He broke off the embrace, circled her slender waist with his arm and led her off up the staircase, his hand casually sliding down to cup her lovely round bottom.

My eyes were far from the only ones that followed them as she went with him, giggling girlishly at something he said.

I would think most of the men looking on couldn't help but feel a tingle of jealousy knowing full well what they were off to do.

I just felt an emptiness in the pit of my stomach.

The cow! The bitch! My cheating bloody wife!

There were however other eyes that I hoped were looking on at the affectionate embrace, though as much as I glanced around I couldn't detect who they might be.

Another ten minutes or so and they gave the game away, even if I was the only one who noticed. Three men, all a bit on the large size, detached themselves from where they had been sitting and approached the reception. They were joined there by a woman who came from the other direction and if anything seemed to be in charge.

I peered intently over the top of my newspaper and watched as the woman showed the pretty girl behind the desk something she withdrew from her jacket, causing the girl to look startled. A few words from the woman and the pretty young thing disappeared through a doorway behind the counter, only to return almost immediately with an older quite distinguished looking chap.

The Manager perhaps? That or his number two maybe.

A few more words and the Manager quite clearly handed over a key, and nodded to the woman.

To me this was all played out very clearly in front of me, though I seriously doubt if anybody else in the Hotel so much as noticed what game was being played out.

Only when two uniformed police offices appeared from outside and stationed themselves at the entrance did a few people start to look up, and then their interest didn't last that long. Little did they know how much their interest was about to take a leap. For that matter even I never imagined quite how much it would leap.

The four plain clothed police officers casually made their way to the grand staircase, trying not to attract too much attention.

They easily bounded up the steps and disappeared from view.

I sat there with bated breath wondering quite how this would pan out, and pondering whether I'd maybe gone too far and could end up in trouble myself.

Then ---- Silence.

Then ----- A commotion!

The police had been given a tip off about a drugs party that regularly took place at the hotel, and that prostitution was also involved. The police had been particularly interested when the names of two of the participants were mentioned, one of them in particular being no great friend of theirs.

Quite who actually phoned the police I honestly and truly don't know, though I have to confess to knowing in advance what was said.

Handy being a solicitor and having connections in such low places!

I relished the thought of watching as my cheating wife was bought through the hotel, hopefully handcuffed and under arrest. Though I realised I would be lucky to actually get that wish, and that any charges would be unlikely to be up held, it was her humiliation that I sought as my revenge.

I really wanted to confront her with her cheating infidelity.

It didn't happen that way of course.

It never does.

But what did happen was bloody marvellous and beyond all my wildest dreams!

Unknown to me, or Tania for that matter, the group of them rented not just one room but two. Whether that was to give some of them another room to rest in between sessions, or to prevent the noise of their fuckfest from disturbing other guests I didn't know, though intimately knowing how noisy Wendy could be when aroused, then I would plump for the latter.

When the police entered the room surprising the four miscreants, then apparently two of them panicked. One of the men was quickly bought down, but Wendy bless her little white cotton socks, managed to slip out into the other room before they could catch her. From there she shot out into the corridor and out of the fire escape to get away. It was only when she was half way across the car park and felt the sharp stones under her bare feet that it must have dawned on her that she was still completely naked.

What a laugh!

Everyone in the reception area watched in astonishment as this beautiful naked young blonde streaked past the large windows, her breasts flopping about all over the place. The two uniformed police automatically took chase, but Wendy shuddered to a halt as she realised her predicament.

I couldn't help but smile as I stood there watching as my cheating wife was marched back into the hotel, her hands handcuffed behind her, her captors making no effort to help cover up her modesty.

She hung her head down in shame and embarrassment, unable to cover up her naked body, flinching visibly at the flashes as various members of the public took the opportunity to photograph the incredible almost unbelievable scene.

Thank you to whoever it was that invented the camera on the mobile phone.

Wendy staggered right by me, not more than ten feet from me, so upset that she was totally unaware of my presence, as she cried her heart out.

As they urged her forcibly back up the staircase, Wendy's rather delicious bare bottom was I supposed, to be the last part of her anatomy that I was likely to see uncovered.

It was time for me to disappear.

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever expect it to work out so well.

------------------------

THE UPSHOT

Of course Wendy never got charged with anything, though Terry was found to have a small quantity of proscribed substances on him, and eventually was given a suspended sentence. He didn't go to prison, but since he was a candidate to be the local Member of Parliament, it certainly ended his plans for the future and his career. I suspect it may also have ended his marriage.

James's wife sued for divorce and took him to the cleaners. It appears that he was the junior one in the set up, bought in by the other two to do the dirty work of conning me face to face. No more to be said.

But Mike!

Well it turned out that Mike was probably the ringleader. It turned out in fact that he and Wendy had likely been having an affair for some months previously. It was he who had introduced his two pals to Wendy and he who had the idea of tricking me into sharing my wife with them.

So how did he get on then you're probably wondering.

Well Mike, that is Circuit Judge, Michael St. John Milesworth, came off rather badly as it happened.

The press made a meal of it to say the least. Several of the people at the hotel who were taking photos must have contacted the newspapers, and though I hadn't stopped to see it, there were photos of him being led complaining from the hotel, his hands cuffed behind him, and they appeared on the front page of just about every rag in the country.

The fact that my lovely wife was assisting a Silk from her chambers in a court case at that very time, and that it was Milesworth who was presiding, helped to push the boat out somewhat, and the story ran for days and days.

Questions were asked 'in the house', and the prime minister himself became involved in the scandal, demanding the resignation of the eminent Judge on a television show a few days later.

He was finished, and though he hadn't maybe actually broken any laws as such, Mike would never be able to work in the legal profession again.

I'm not sure what happened to him, but he just seemed to drop out of sight.

Poor sod!

I think not.

So that was about it really!

Oh no --- I forgot about my wonderful wife didn't I.

------------------------

"HI sweetheart," I greeted her on the phone when I rang her the day after the 'incident'.

"Hello Derek," answered Wendy, sounding rather depressed, though I pretended not to notice. "Where are you?"

"I'm still over in Paris sweetheart," I lied, since I was sitting in a pub not five miles from our home. "Sorry but I'll be stuck here for a couple of more days."

"Can't you come straight home honey?" She pleaded, but I told her it was impossible. That she'd have to wait a little longer.

"Have you read the newspapers honey?" She asked, her voice distinctly wavering.

"Haven't seen any English newspapers for sale where I am," I lied again. "Why?"

"Oh nothing honey," Wendy went on. "What about the TV?"

"No Wendy," I continued to tease her. "Been far to busy. Why has something interesting happened at home?"

"No Derek, nothing special. Well that is .... Well ..... Oh can't you please come straight home? ----Please honey, we need to talk."

"Soon as I've finished what I'm here to do sweetheart," I promised.

"OK," she went on. "Please Derek don't forget that I love you will you. Whatever you hear, don't forget you're the only one I love."

I could detect that Wendy was close to tears, but I chose to pretend I hadn't noticed. However I did pick up on her odd remark.

"Well if you love me that much sweetheart, don't be tempted to get together with that scumbag James while I'm away, will you."

All I heard was a sort of choking sound on the other end of the line.

"I really meant to talk to you before I left sweetheart," I went on. "I'm really not happy with this swapping and swinging thing you've got us into, and I think we ought to stop before it ruins our marriage."

"Ok," she gagged back. "If that's what you want."

"I've never said, but I've been worried sick that you might be tempted to carry the thing on further Wendy, and I simply couldn't stand that. It would be the end of our marriage."

"Oh Derek," she cried down the line, and this time I could hear her sobbing.

"Love you Wendy," I ended our little talk with a promise that I had no intention of keeping to. "See you in a couple of days when I get back."

I heard a sob, which I chose to ignore.

---------------------

I sat there thinking about our conversation for a few moments, then picked up my pint and took a sip. I couldn't resist reaching for the newspaper that I had been reading before I had rang Wendy.

There on the front page was a pretty clear photo of my wife, tears streaming down her face as the policemen led her through the hotel foyer.

In deference to public decency, they had added a well placed star right at the junction of her shapely thighs, but her fine breasts were out on full display for all to see and admire. Wendy had great tits, and they were about to become the most famous pair of bare knockers in the whole of the UK.

The photos would have made it to the papers anyway, but when it featured a pretty young barrister at law, caught naked with a top Judge, then that really was top news. As I said it ran for days and days, and for almost the whole week pictures of my bare, naked wife were splattered everywhere. Once one publication risked leaving off the discrete star, then all the others followed, and that gave them the encouragement to run the whole series of photos once again.

Someone had even managed to snap one of her as she'd streaked across the car park.

Everyone in the world got to know that my wife shaved her pussy bare, except for a small 'landing' strip.

The Internet people made a meal of it.

I believe she got an offer from Playboy to pose, but then again that could have been just a tale, and I never had it confirmed, as we never actually met up again to have any friendly little chats.

She lost her job of course, and ended up working as a legal assistant in some obscure firm of solicitors up North. I arranged our divorce myself, and that's where I watched her crying in court as the Judge, not Mike that is of course, ripped into her.

The judgement went seriously against her.

Well that's the end of my little tale, which I hope you appreciated. Got to go now as I've a hot date with a very attractive young woman who is about to graduate from her university having finished her studies in the world of fashion design. They say she has a great future in that industry, and has long since given up her other career. Whether Tania and I will make it in the long term is anyone's guess.

I sort of hope so.

Glutton for punishment though aren't I?

++++++++++++

I'd like to think they lived happily ever after.

By all means, please let me know what you think.

[Brainmetal]

American Dream

By Britease ©

Jodie and I spent our honeymoon in America, the jolly old US of A.

Actually I had wanted to go to the West Indies, maybe Martinique, but of course I was out-voted, and as frequently happens I didn't regret it at all.

We flew British Airways out of Heathrow, and landed at JFK several hours later, having tried but failed miserably to join the mile high club on the way. That didn't matter as we soon made up for it, as we toured the East coast, taking in New England and the surrounding area.

Coming from Huntingdon in Cambridgeshire, near to Cambridge University, we especially enjoyed our visit to Yale and Harvard, but the biggest surprise was quite how wonderful and rural New York State was. Not at all how we expected it to be.

Three weeks later Jodie and I had no doubt made love in more motels than the average American would manage in a lifetime.

We loved every minute of it, and vowed to one another on the aeroplane back, that it would not be long before we returned.

Great plan ----- great idea ---- but of course real life and our careers just got in the way.

Nine years on, and I, Dave Martin, and my wife Jodie, found ourselves in our early thirties, happily married, no children, and a lovely house mortgaged to the hilt, as most of the people in our position would be at that time --- but living life to the full. I had recently been made a junior director of Alscans Ltd., who specialised in high tech incinerator plants, in which in our narrow sector, we led the world. We were a small company but growing, and I had managed to grow with it. Under my boss George, who virtually owned the company, I guess I was about number four or five in line.

Jodie had done quite well, but as a schoolteacher her progression was a matter of length of service as well as ability, and just occasionally she got frustrated that I had shot ahead of her. I later wondered whether it was this sort of jealous undercurrent that made her act in the way that she did.

I would say without doubt that we were still in love, not perhaps with the passion that we had when we'd first got married, but that was to be expected. Our love life was not bad at all, with the odd week or two of abstinence when we were both under pressure, made up for by the more frequent flurry of sexual activity when we were both in the mood.

Our story starts when we were in the middle of a particularly long spell of the former, but looking forward to a well-deserved period of the latter.

We hadn't actually taken a holiday of any sort for almost a year, but Jodie had broken up from school the week before, and we were due to go off on a well deserved break to the Beaches of Spain just the next day.

Jodie dragged me out to buy some new holiday clothes for the pair of us, though as expected, I ended up with one pair of shorts. No surprise that Jodie ended up with four or five new outfits, and each one more revealing than the last.

It was the last one she chose that started her off.

Jodie tended to be rather adventurous and headstrong on holiday, and wore and did things that she would perhaps not normally do at home. I suppose that day, that she had already entered into the holiday spirit, and the blouse that she picked out seemed to reflect that fact exactly.

"Do you like it?" She asked, as she held it up for my approval.

"It's a bit see-thru," I noted, not with any genuine disapproval.

"Then it's just what I'm looking for then," Jodie told me. "I'd better try it on I suppose."

She disappeared out of my sight into the changing room with the filmy, black wisp of satin, leaving me stood there with six or seven other guys all waiting, like me, for their wives or girlfriends.

I wondered whether Jodie would decide herself, or whether she would come out and model it for me, to see what I thought. I thought that she had put on a fairly skimpy bra that morning, so if she did come out, then a few guys could be in for a minor treat.

She did come out. Right out into the waiting area --- no peeping round the corner for me to come and look like some girls do.

I did get one thing wrong though, and that was the bra. It probably had been the skimpy one that she'd put on that morning, but since she'd removed it to model the blouse, then it didn't make much difference.

Male eyes, including my own, popped open in surprise as Jodie spun around showing the new blouse off to me. Well, nominally to me.

It was black.

It was flimsy.

Other than that, what could I say?

It covered her ---- well sort of I guess.

It covered her up adequately --- well I couldn't really go along with that.

What was the word or phrase I was looking for?

Hid her --- no.

Protected her assets --- certainly not.

Covered her breasts --- well not really.

Guarded her modesty --- hardly at all.

Could me and the other guys make out the shape of her tits --- You bet we could.

Could we see her erect nipples ___ bet your bloody life we all could.

Bloody hell, my missus Jodie was flashing her boobs off at all the guys there as if she was topless. The thin material of the blouse hardly camouflaged what was underneath, and her nipples stuck out like thimbles, every detail plainly on view.

It would have been less erotic if she had been bare to the waist.

And she was loving it!

I couldn't honestly claim that I was that upset, but she was loving it --- the cheeky cow!

Jodie bought the blouse, and we moved on to the next shop.

Then we got the new bikini!

If you could describe it as such.

She disappeared into the changing room, and seemed to take her time. Eventually she pulled the curtain back and stood there for me to admire.

Bloody hell!

I found my heart pounding as I stood there looking at her, aware that at least a couple of other chaps waiting around were also getting an eyeful. Jodie I should explain is a rather attractive young woman, about five foot three, reasonably slim and with boobs that though not more than a "B" cup, thrust out firmly as if issuing a challenge.

"Where's the top?" I asked her when I managed to recover my powers of speech.

"We're going to Spain," Jodie proclaimed gleefully. "Who needs a bikini top there?"

True as it happened. We'd been there the year before, and after the first hour or two, my wife had discarded her bikini top and joined the many other women who were topless. To my knowledge she never bothered with it again the whole time we were there.

But a department store in Cambridge was hardly a beach in Spain.

"Do you like it then?" She demanded, arching her back slightly, emphasizing even more just how stunning her bare breasts were.

"Love it," answered at least two of the admirers looking on, before I could so much as utter a word either way.

Jodie giggled at the attention she was getting, and twisted around to offer a different angle.

"Can I have it then?" She asked me, while I stood there, not sure whether I should be embarrassed or turned on by her show.

"I'd give her one," said one of the guys cheekily, and the others all laughed.

"Ok, you can have it," I told her before the whole thing got out of hand.

--------------------

On the way home in the car, I got to thinking.

Jodie wouldn't normally have acted quite like that, so something was up.

My wife Jodie was one of those women who was strong willed, and when I did something to upset her she felt she had to get her own back. Four months previously she had flirted with one of her colleagues in front of me and it ended up with her kissing him out on the dance floor, while I had to stand there watching them. I wasn't too sure where his hands were either for that matter.

We had a blinding row afterwards at how she had humiliated me in front of everyone, and all she had to say was that it was all my fault. Apparently I had forgotten that it was the anniversary of our first date a few days before, and she had decided to make me pay.

The anniversary of our first date??

When the hell had we last celebrated that for Christ's sake?

Then about a month after that I got home late when we were supposed to be going out for dinner. It was only half an hour or so because I got held up in the traffic coming home from a meeting with a client up North. Four hours on the road, and an accident on the motorway that had happened earlier in the day had delayed me. I'd even rang to say I'd be late but that didn't help.

By the time I got home she'd already gone out, and left me a note to say that she'd cancelled the dinner reservation. No idea where she'd gone, just that she'd ring me in a bit so that I could join her.

A 'bit' turned out to be over three hours later, and it wasn't so much an invitation to join her as a demand that I went to pick her up to give her a lift home.

I told her what I thought of her, and that she could make her own bloody way home. She'd gone out on her own, so she could come home on her own.

"Plenty of guys here would be more than happy to bring me home Dave. I just don't know how I would be able to pay them back for their kindness."

They were her exact words!

When I got to the club I was fuming. It wasn't helped when I found Jodie surrounded by a group of young men, most of them five years younger than her, and so obviously hoping for a special ending to the evening.

The skimpy dress that she almost had on did nothing to dissuade them that they had chosen well, or to calm me down. As I walked up to the group, at least three of them actually had their hands on her, round her waist, on her exposed shoulder, and another perilously close to her breast.

"Excuse me lads," I said as I carefully eased my way through to her, somewhat cautiously pushing their hands away from her body. "Time this little lady was going home."

"Piss off mate," one of them retorted, trying to barge me away. "We got her first. Go find your own bit of crumpet."

"It's OK boys," broke in Jodie. "It's my husband come to save me. Sorry to break up the evening, but I'm afraid I'll have to go home with him."

Oh dear!

It looked as if it would turn nasty, and there was no way that I would stand a chance against the group of them.

They weren't happy!

It was obvious that they thought Jodie had been leading them on, and that by pre arrangement I had arrived to take their fun thing away, and two of them including the stroppy one started to push me.

It had been some years since I had been involved in any sort of fight; not since I'd been at school. But I'm not the sort of guy who backs down too easily, so I pushed back.

It started to get out of hand, until Jodie interrupted again.

"Come on you guys," she scolded them. "Leave him alone will you."

It quietened them down just a little, but the atmosphere was still very threatening.

"Come on then," Jodie carried on, as if she was enjoying the situation. "I'll give you all a nice kiss goodnight, and then me and hubby have got to be going."

That may have placated them, but it infuriated me.

"You kiss one of them Jodie," I shouted at her. "And don't bloody well bother to come home tonight."

Stand off!

People round us started to move away, and the barman started to clear glasses from in front of us. Most of the bunch of young men seemed happy enough to back off and leave it, but the two trouble makers were as riled up as I was.

There was going to be trouble, and I was in the thick of it.

Suddenly two huge bouncers arrived and started to push us apart. I can't say that I wasn't relieved, even though I was pumped up and would have gone for it.

"You lot stay there," one of the bouncers said to the group of young men, pushing them back, before turning to us.

"I suggest you get out mate while you're still in one piece," he said to me. "And take that trouble making bitch with you."

There are times when you make a stand when your wife is insulted, and times when discretion is the better part of valour. I took the second and easier option, and dragged Jodie out behind me. Besides, at that moment I agreed with his judgement.

The drive home was in silence, but when we got home we had another screaming row. We hardly talked to one another for three days or so, and I warned her that if she ever did anything like that again, that the consequences would be dire.

-----------------------

So back to the incidents in the changing rooms, and what caused them?

"Just a warning shot," she informed me. "You know I'm not happy that you're working tomorrow morning when we're going away, so it was just a warning."

Well in my book, crazy cow that she was, there's a big difference between flashing her boobs off at strangers and actually leading them on with her flirting as she had done previously.

Truth was, it had actually turned me on quite a lot, and the thought of Jodie wearing her revealing clothes and going topless in her bikini in front of other guys on holiday got me rather excited.

All a matter of degree really. I've never minded other guys looking, but touching was something else altogether.

That night we screwed one another senseless, breaking our period of no sex. When I eventually regained my senses, I wondered how many other wives or girl friends had enjoyed such a night of passion, due to their men-folk remembering how wonderful Jodie's breasts had looked, and imagined that they were fucking her.

------------------------

The next day, I had just one appointment with Butch. Butch was one of those more real than real sort of guys who was over from America to look at our products. My boss George had been out visiting them a couple of weeks previously, and he was on the return trip, to see how we operated. My job was to run him quickly through the manufacturing process, and then take him out to see a plant in operation.

I planned to have a quick lunch with him then leave, giving me plenty of time to get back home, get changed, and drive to Stansted Airport in time to catch our late afternoon flight.

Jodie had been furious when I told her what I would be doing, demanding that I cancel my meeting with Butch and get someone else to cover for me.

I tried to explain how important the meeting was for our company, and how a foothold into the huge American market could lead to expansion for us, and even greater prospects for me.

She hadn't been happy, and that no doubt, was what had led to the display the day before.

"You think more of your bloody job than you do of me," she screamed at me when I refused to go along with her idea. I declined to remind her of the numerous times we had cancelled arrangements because of her commitments at her school, knowing that all would be fine between us once we were on the plane.

I knew that Jodie could sometimes be a bit self-centred and righteous, but I'd known that when I married her, so I could hardly complain.

I patted her on the bottom as I went out, pecked her on the cheek, and confirmed that she had to be ready and packed when I got back home in a few hours time.

"You be one minute late and you'll regret it," Jodie spat at me with a touch more venom than I thought appropriate.

---------------------

The meeting went well, in fact extremely well indeed. I found I got on really well with Butch, only having met him very briefly on his previous visit a few months before.

He came up with some extremely searching questions, but I acquitted myself well, and as the morning came to a close I was pretty sure that we would soon be confirming the order.

"Where we going for lunch then?" he asked me at about eleven thirty, and I suggested a local pub where we could get a quick bite to eat and a beer.

"No," he came back to me. "Let's go to that place Mario's where we can sit down a bit more quietly. I've still got a number of things that I need to go through with you."

I glanced at the time, realised I had a bit of time to spare, and agreed.

An hour later we were only half way through our meal, and he was grilling me with questions that I could hardly believe. How much did he want to know about our company and our product, and for that matter about me?

"I'd better just ring my wife and warn her I might be a bit late," I explained to him as I made my way to the toilet, not wanting him to hear the explosion that would no doubt result. I decided to then give it another ten minutes or so before I would reluctantly interrupt him and explain why I had to split. You think twice before deserting such a potentially important client, but I still had a little time to spare.

"You what?" Jodie screamed at me over the phone when I told her, unprepared to listen to my protestations that we still had time to spare. "I warned you Dave that if you were late, then you'd regret it. I'm not missing this holiday even if I have to go without you."

I tried to calm her down but with no luck. By the time I rang off we were both angry at one another, and she had stopped listening what I had to say. I decided to just go back to Butch and explain my problem, and ask him if he could make his own way back to our plant. That would save me twenty minutes or so, and I'd be back at my house maybe just five minutes later than planned. Butch was a married man himself, and would no doubt understand.

"Well Dave," he greeted me on my return to the table. "It's time I came clean with you, because I know you're in a rush and have a plane to catch."

Oh shit!

What was this all about? How did he know that? What was he about to hit me with?

I sat down and waited for the axe to drop, convinced that he was about to pull the plug on the new big order that I had thought was in the bag. How did he know that I was in such a rush? I'd obviously blown it by trying to rush things through.

Why oh why hadn't I simply told him at the beginning of our meeting that I had a tight schedule to follow?

"I want you to come and work for me Dave," Butch said confidently. "How do you fancy coming over to live in the States?"

I had one of those moments when you just can't seem to get your chin to come back up and meet the rest of your face.

"Say that again please," I demanded when I recovered.

"All these questions Dave, I've been checking you out. George hasn't told you but we are going to take a license to manufacture your plants in the US, and we need someone with your knowledge to help us set it up."

"But ---- but.... " Was all I could manage, before Butch carried on.

"George suggested you Dave, as the best man. He doesn't want to lose you of course, but this deal could make Alscans a fortune over the next decade or so, and he says you're the man to make it work."

"George knows?" I asked limply.

"Of course he does Dave, but didn't want to say too much till I met you and decided that you were the man I wanted."

I collapsed back in my chair with the most incredible warm feeling running through me. Going to live and work in America as an executive of a large company. Jodie would go crazy with delight when I told her, as we both still talked about what a great time we'd had there, and how much we would like to go back. But never in a million years had I ever expected to be going back on terms like these.

I listened in astonishment, as he quickly outlined the package they were offering me, a salary that I could hardly comprehend, share options, company BMW, an apartment till we found one for ourselves .... It just went on and on.

"Well you have a plane to catch young man," he finished with. "Perhaps you'll give me your decision when you come back from holiday and had time to discuss it with your wife."

"I'll give it to you now," I found myself spluttering. "I accept, and I'm absolutely sure that my wife will agree."

We both stood up and shook hands on it, and Butch shooed me off to go pick up my wife and catch my plane.

I walked off with my head in the clouds, checking to see that I still had time. It would be tight, but I took out my mobile phone while I was walking out to the car park, and dialled my home number.

It rang --- well it would wouldn't it?

But then it rang and rang and rang.

No answer. I checked the time, and found that it was two minutes after the time I had originally said I would get back home.

By then I had reached my car, and as I stuck the key in the ignition, I auto dialled Jodie's mobile. I hadn't even put the car in gear when she answered.

"Where the fuck are you?" She shouted down the phone.

"On my way home sweetheart," I replied. "And wait till you hear what I've got to tell you."

"Bugger you Dave you bastard," she interrupted me. "You don't care a damn about me do you?"

I was lost for words for a moment, but unfortunately she wasn't.

"Your bloody job --- that's all that you think about. You don't care shit about me. I've had to ring up Terry to give me a lift to the airport because I knew you wouldn't turn up on time."

Terry? --- Ah yes that would be Terry Jones, the art teacher that she works with. Flash bastard who thinks he knows it all.

The fact that it had been him that Jodie had traded kisses with when I'd pissed her off before, hardly endeared him to me.

"Jodie," I implored her. "I'm virtually on our road now, and I'm only three or four minutes later than I said."

"Tough Dave," Jodie replied. "I'm already half way to the airport. If you're not here then I'm going without you."

She cut the connection, and despite me attempting to ring her back, there was no response.

I checked the time and thought how stupid all this was. I still had plenty of time to get to the airport and book in, so I turned the car round and headed off towards Standsted, arriving there much as I had predicted with at least half an hour to spare.

I parked, took my parking ticket and made my way through to the departure terminal, hoping that at least Jodie had thought to take my case with her.

I looked; I searched, but could not find her, and by then time was getting short. Eventually I went to the departure desk and asked if my wife had already registered.

"Oh yes here it is," the pretty blonde said after searching her list. She booked in about fifteen minutes ago --- a Mrs. Martin and a Mr. Jones. They've got seats numbers 24 b and c."

WHAT!

My initial reaction frightened the poor girl, and I had to apologise for my outburst.

"There must be some mistake," I claimed. "Mrs. Martin, but not Mr. Jones."

The girl could see that I was pretty upset about something, and double-checked everything for me.

"No, that's correct," she confirmed to me at last. "The tickets were booked in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Martin, but Mrs. Martin changed one of them to Mr. Jones."

"Can she do that?" I mumbled unable to believe what I'd heard.

"Yes," replied the girl, beginning to take pity on me, realising that some odd event was taking place. "There would be a forty pound charge for doing so, but she apparently paid that."

I stood there like some refugee or something, not knowing what to say, or what to do.

"He had his passport with him Mr. Martin," She added apologetically. "So everything seemed above board."

I thanked her for her trouble, and shambled unhappily away from the desk.

What was going on? What the hell was she up to? This had beyond a joke.

Looking at the departures board, it immediately became apparent that the plane hadn't taken off yet, and for that matter they hadn't even boarded. I rushed along to try to get to the boarding gate, but couldn't get passed the counter into the departure lounge.

No boarding ticket --- no entry. That was clear.

I argued and cajoled, but when it became obvious that they were going to call security, I gave up, went to the bar, and sat there with my head in my hands.

I couldn't believe it --- I just couldn't believe it ---- my world had been turned upside down in the space of half an hour.

Jodie couldn't --- no she couldn't really be going to Spain with that bloody Terry Jones in my place.

It wasn't possible.

Please some one tell me that it just wasn't possible, and that I was having a dream.

Then I had an idea. Not a good one as it turned out, but it seemed so at the time.

Rushing over to the other side of the airport, I eventually arrived at the observation lounge. In years gone by it would maybe have been an open terrace, but in these days of terrorism, we had to look out at the planes through huge plate glass windows.

To my complete surprise I spotted her. My wife, my Jodie, making her way across the tarmac towards a waiting Boeing 737. I couldn't miss her of course, few women having flowing blonde hair, and such a trim figure as she did.

Then I saw bloody Jones get out of the courtesy bus behind her, and follow her towards the waiting plane.

When he caught up with her I totally lost my rag, as even at that distance I could hardly miss it as he put his arm around her slim waist, any more than I could miss her, as she leant back and kissed him on the cheek.

----------------------

The security guards were, I suppose, just doing their job.

I know I shouldn't have hammered like a crazy man on the glass window, and I shouldn't have shouted the way that I did.

There was absolutely no chance that they could have heard me anyway at the distance they were, and in any case Jodie never so much as glanced back.

They eventually released me from the detention centre with no charges when they decided that I was no longer any potential threat to other passengers, and I sullenly made my way back to my car.

I tried Jodie's mobile, but of course it was a waste of time.

What a mess --- what a bloody mess!

--------------------

I think I cried that night, but I'm not sure because I was so drunk by the time I staggered home from the local pub, that I couldn't be sure of anything.

I couldn't even ring her in Spain as I had no number and her mobile wouldn't work in a foreign country.

About midday the next day, I came to my senses, the phone ringing loudly by my side. I realised that I had fell asleep on the sofa, cuddling the phone close up to me.

Why? --- I have no idea.

"Hello," I mumbled into the mouthpiece, not knowing what to expect.

"Is that you John?" Came the strident tones of my wife, sounding just like the schoolteacher that she was.

"Yes," I answered simply.

"Well?"

"Well what?" I replied.

"No apologies then you bastard," Jodie spat out at me. "Don't you care that you've let me down again?"

"I've let you down?" Came my query, but she went on and on about how I didn't care for her feelings, and thought more about my work than I did for her.

"What about when you didn't turn up for dinner with our new neighbours because of some silly problem at your school," I reminded her rather pointlessly. "And anyway I got to the airport on time."

"That's different Dave, and you know it," she shouted down the line at me, though from my point of view it certainly wasn't.

I realised that we were just screaming at one another to no purpose, and tried to change my tack. Having just woken up I hadn't fully regained all my senses, and forgotten half of what had happened the evening before, and tried to tell her about the offer from Butch.

"Jodie," I said more levelly. "There's something I have to tell you about my job. I've been offered ....."

"There you go again," Jodie set off again. "Your job --- your bloody job --- that's all you ever think about. What about me, here on my own in Spain?"

It was only then that it all came flooding back to me, and suddenly my love for Jodie felt as if it was beginning to dissolve.

"On your own Jodie?" I queried. "And what about Terry bloody Jones?"

She went quiet at the other end, obviously stunned that I knew he was with her.

"What about him?" She asked in a quieter tone.

"Are you still in bed with him then?" I went on.

There was another period of silence, and then she answered.

"What if I am? You deserve it you bastard. It's all your fault."

"Good fuck was he then?" I asked spitefully.

"Better than you Dave," Jodie answered back nastily. "So eat your heart out Mr. Nobody."

The line cut as she replaced the phone, or more likely as it happened slammed it down.

If my marriage wasn't already dead, then maybe, just maybe that last comment finished it.

------------------------

The following morning, though not too early, found me in George's office discussing the new job. He was a bit surprised that I wasn't in Spain, but I avoided giving him a direct answer.

"Why didn't you mention it?" I demanded.

"I couldn't," he protested. "Not before he had met you properly and decided that you were the man."

"Thanks a lot," I went on. "Perhaps that has cost me my marriage."

I proceeded to tell him my tale of woe, but to my surprise he didn't express any great surprise.

"The husband is always the last one to know Dave," George at last managed to inform me.

"What's that meant to mean?"

"Nothing too specific Dave," he expanded. "But the last couple of company events, your wife Jodie has been ---- well let's say putting herself around."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

But he just shrugged his shoulders and I slowly came to my own conclusions.

God damn it! Who was this woman that I'd loved and been married to for all those years?

"Wait till you see Mai-Lin," George remarked with a smile on his face, trying to change the subject.

"May who?" I asked, not taking too much interest with the other problems I had.

"Mai-Lin, she's every men's wet dream."

"Wet dream?" I queried, totally lost.

"She's your new secretary --- sorry, personal assistant," he delighted in informing me. "An Asian-American, I met her the other month when I was out there."

I just stared at him.

"Lucky bastard," he said wistfully. "You wait till you see her. You lose one you gain one."

------------------

The next few days passed in a bit of a haze, partly because of my marital problems, and also at the speed that my transfer was taking place. As keen as the one was to get me out there and working for him, then the other was also pushing, so that the license could be formalised. I felt as if my feet were hardly touching the floor.

Then Jodie rang again. I knew she would, and somehow I knew it would be mid morning.

"Hi lover," she greeted me. "Thought I'd ring you to let you know how wonderful it is here."

"I have something to tell you Jodie... " I started as before.

"Never mind that lover," she interrupted me yet again. "Are you ready to apologise yet for your attitude sweetie-pie."

"Look Jodie," I tried to say, ignoring her stupid comments. "I really have something to tell ..."

"Sorry lover," Jodie broke in, though I made no great effort to over ride her. "I still love you dearly, and when you're ready to say sorry, then we'll get on with our lives, but meanwhile I've got someone else to keep happy."

I simply put the phone down, though I'm not sure whether she beat me to it.

Jodie had sounded drunk. Not like pissed out of her mind drunk, but beyond trying to get anything sensible out of her. If she thought screwing the art teacher was more important than a chance of us having a future together, then that was her problem, not mine.

The week continued --- the most extraordinary week of my life. On the one hand the most exciting, and the other the saddest. Where would it end up?

The next call from Jodie was more of a surprise, coming in the early hours of the morning.

"Hello Dave," she mumbled. "I've been thinking. How did you know Terry was here with me?"

"I saw you together getting on the plane," I told her, trying to gather my sleep infected brain into shape, astonished that she should ring me at that hour to ask me such a question.

"You were there Dave -- you were really there?"

"Of course I was there Jodie," I told her my temper beginning to rise. "How the bloody hell do you think I knew that that creep Jones was with you?"

"Why didn't you stop us Dave? Why didn't you do something?"

"Do what," I said, nearly shouting down the phone. "I got there in time for the flight but you'd already taken the tickets and gone through with your bloody boyfriend, and they wouldn't let me through. I ended up getting arrested!"

"But I thought you weren't coming Dave. Terry gave me a lift to the airport, and in a fit of temper I asked him to come with me. Honestly, I didn't know you were there honey."

"And your damn friend Terry just happened by chance to have his luggage and passport with him did he?" I stung her with.

"Oh shit --- oh Dave I ...." But I put the phone down on her before she could continue.

I think she rang me several times more, but I either wasn't in, being far too busy making arrangements, or perhaps just didn't answer.

Eventually a few days later, I picked up.

"Hi, is that you Dave?" I heard.

"Yes Jodie, it's me," I replied. "What do you want?"

"You Dave, I want you. Terry has been such a bastard and I need you."

I mumbled something incoherent.

"I got back to my room last night, and he had some floozy in there with him," Jodie cried.

"Well how awful for you."

"Can you imagine that," she went on, missing the sarcasm in my remark. "How could someone do something like that Dave?"

"Difficult to imagine," I replied, trying not to laugh.

"To go off with someone else like that behind my back though," she mumbled, and I realised that she was a bit drunk yet again. "How could he?"

"No accounting for folk," I responded in the most sympathetic tone that I could muster.

"Dave, I'm coming home early. I can't stand it here anymore. I get back to Heathrow tomorrow at four o'clock. It was the only flight I could get --- can you pick me up?"

I started to say no, when it suddenly occurred to me that I could.

Of course I could.

"See you at four o'clock," I said curtly.

"Were you trying to tell me something the other day when I phoned Dave," she surprised me with. "Something about your job was it?"

"Oh nothing important Jodie," I told her. "I don't want to bother you with my work."

She'd find out anyway in due course.

--------------------------

I was ready for her by two thirty, and a bit pissed off when her plane landed twenty minutes late. When she came through the arrivals gate I was waiting there like a dutiful husband. I'm quite sure I even had a smile on my face.

"Hi Dave my sweetie, it's so great to see you," she called out as she saw me there, and dropping her case wrapped her arms around me and kissed me with all the vigour she could manage.

I have to say, she did look fantastic. A suntan always suited Jodie, and her blonde hair set it off. The thought that her breasts were probably also brown ran through my mind, and despite myself I felt myself rising to the occasion.

"Let's get home sweetie," Jodie whispered to me." I've missed you so much, and can't wait to get you into bed and make up with you."

All thoughts of an apology from me seemed to have gone by the board. She loved me again so it seemed.

"Let's have a coffee or a cup of tea first," I suggested.

"No let's get straight home," my wife urged.

"No a drink first," I insisted, and guided her to a café nearby.

---------------------

"Good holiday Jodie?" I enquired, having got a coffee for her and a tea for myself.

"Started ok," she replied quietly. "Sorry if I over reacted a bit."

"Terry not as good in the sack as you thought he would be then?"

Jodie looked up at me sadly, and a single tear rolled slowly down her cheek.

"Not really," she started to tell me. "Then I caught the bastard in bed with one of the maids. In my bed ---- in my room."

I neglected to point out that they had been sharing the room in question, and that in any case, strictly speaking, it had been our bed and our room. It was me who had paid for the damn holiday.

"Can you believe that Dave?" she went on. "We were supposed to be on holiday together and he went off and fucked someone else and left me on my own."

"That must have been difficult for you my dear," I sympathised. After all, I knew how she felt.

"Any way, bugger him. He'll get what he deserves. Can we go home now please Dave? I'm desperate to make it up to you."

I attempted to tell her that I had tried several times to inform her of my news, but that each time she had cut me off.

"That can wait Dave," she interrupted yet again. "Let's get home and you can tell me on the way."

I didn't have to think about it really. My mind was already long since made up.

"Here's the keys to the car Jodie," I told her, having come in her old car, my company car having gone back to Alscans the day before. "And here's the keys to the house. They're all yours."

"Ours' you mean Dave, don't you?"

"No just yours' Jodie, just yours'," I explained to her. "The titles have all been made over to you and the bills are all paid till the end of the month. If you decide to sell it, then there should just about be enough money left over to pay for another couple of weeks in Spain."

Jodie looked at me blankly, not understanding what I was telling her.

"And by the way, I noticed that one of your tyres is almost bald, and there's a funny noise coming from the gear box."

Jodie continued to look at me blankly.

"What I was trying to tell you Jodie," I went on. "Is that I've been offered a fantastic job in America. Great salary, superb benefits -- everything I've ever dreamed of."

A huge smile came to Jodie's face, as she took in the news.

It saddened me somewhat.

"When do we go out there?" she asked enthusiastically, forgetting our conversation of a few moments earlier.

"I'm leaving on a BA flight in forty minutes Jodie," I told her.

"Have you got a ticket for me as well?" She asked excitedly.

"No" I replied.

"When will I follow you out then?" Jodie went on.

"You don't Jodie," I told her. "I'm sorry, but you don't."

Ten minutes later, I passed into the departure lounge on my own, leaving Jodie, crying her heart out at the counter, beyond which the authorities would not let her pass.

My last sight of ---- ever! ---- Was her tear stained face as she stood there watching me walk out of her life.

Ironically, it was a sense of 'deja-vue', except that the tables were turned completely. Only ten days or so before it had been me stood at the desk and barred from following the person that I had loved.

Different airport and different destination, but I'm sure the heartbreak was at least as bad.

-------------------

FORWARD NINE YEARS, THREE MONTHS AND SIX DAYS.

I was back at Heathrow, in the very same terminal that I had left from all those years before.

Not by any means the first time I had been back, but this time I had been there for two weeks, and was planning to stay much longer.

The licensing agreement with Butch's company in Huntingdon, USA, had been an unmitigated success, and I rose through the ranks to be the Coe of that division of his company, and the holder of a large block of shares.

Butch had long since become a personal friend, and in yet another twist of fate, it had been through him that George had approached me to go back to the UK and take over as managing Director of Alscans.

He was retiring, the company had grown hugely since I had left, much of it due to the relationship with us in America, who had been able to open their products to a much larger market. It made sense for everyone, and especially me, as along with the post I would eventually be acquiring a substantial chunk of that company as well.

I waited at the arrivals area for an old colleague from Butch's company who had helped me tremendously from the very beginning. Though no longer actually working there, it was a joy to know that they would be joining me in the UK.

Even before I spotted her myself, I sensed her arrival, as virtually every man in the waiting crowd, perked up as they saw her and probably drew their tummies in.

Mai-Lin was as beautiful as the day when I first saw her, probably more, and her smile seemed to light up the entire terminal when she spotted me waiting for her.

Leaning over to her two travelling companions, she pointed me out to them, and they both rushed over towards me.

"Daddy --- Daddy --- I've missed you so much," cried out Maddy, our five-year-old daughter, as she leapt into my arms. She was a miniature version of her mother and had already left several broken hearted young boys behind when she had left to come and live in the UK.

"Hi Dad," greeted my eight year old son a little less spontaneously, but the smile on his face said it all. He was already tall for his age, and I couldn't wait to see how he made the change from the American style of football, to the European version, soccer.

Maybe one day he'd play for the Arsenal!

"First day of the rest of our life," greeted my lovely wife as she reached up to kiss me.

Indeed --- how true!