61 comments/ 96937 views/ 5 favorites Damn House By: Britease Another story, a little on the long side so make sure you're comfortable. Sorry no explicit sex. Sorry no wives get burnt at the stake. Sorry, the guy acts a bit wimpy from time to time, but it all works out in the end. If any of this doesn't appeal to you, then please pass on to another story. Please vote and please comment --- I love it! ============ 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. Damn House 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." Damn House "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. Damn House "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. ========== That's it! Hope you enjoyed it, and please tell me what you think. Life goes on (Yes, that's meant as a compliment D. F.!)