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Size Definitely Matters Ch. 01

By: mrnicerguy



It had been nearly six months since the split and I was starting to recover my sanity. I was fifty two and single again, but for the first time in a while I was starting to see a future -- a way forward, maybe even a new relationship. Still, the memory of that final night with her remained vivid and painful. 

With both our kids through university and living miles away, our relationship had changed fast. Being together so much with none of the usual distractions had revealed how little we really had in common and we had grown apart. Jen had compensated by throwing herself into her own pursuits -- her job, her friends, her entire social life. Meanwhile I had become more withdrawn -- not unhappy exactly, but I missed having the kids around. I worked from home as a freelance architect and the house seemed suddenly too big, too empty. Over the months leading up to that night I'd also had virtually no work on and we were feeling the pinch financially.

I'd had my suspicions about Jen for a while -- the late finishes at work, the growing number of 'girls nights out', the immediate dash for the shower whenever she got home. And our sex life had all but ended. She never actually feigned a headache but would happily engineer an argument if I showed any interest. On the increasingly rare occasions when she was drunk enough to respond, she would invariably end up coming as one of us used a dildo on her -- a somewhat oversized, nasty looking thing we'd bought for fun years back and which had suddenly come out of hiding again. 

As I say, I had reasons to be suspicious... But in the final few weeks I began to really check up on her -- I noted that her cell-phone call/text history was constantly deleted and that she'd opened a new email account. She'd also started generally dressing better and wearing more make-up, and there was always new underwear tucked away at the back of her drawer -- thongs and frilly things that weren't her usual style. 

Then, on that Friday night I found myself getting, bitter and angry. She hadn't even told me she'd be late, her phone was off and none of her immediate friends seemed to know where she was. One of them -- Celia -- had been particularly evasive.

"Hi Bill... what can I do for you at this hour?"

"Sorry Celia -- lost track... is it late then?"

"Not really -- just gone eleven... I just decided Frank's out for a late one and I was off to bed. No problem though -- what can I do for you?"

"It's nothing really... I was wondering if you'd seen Jenny tonight... can't seem to get hold of her..."

There was a pause and I heard her sigh quietly. 

"Sorry Bill... haven't seen her in a couple of weeks. She texted me a while back -- said she'd been... well, working a lot I guess, y'know... yeah... pretty busy it seems. Just like Frank -- the guy's never home!"

Celia was a couple of years older than any of Jenny's friends and pretty much the only one I could stand. She was honest, direct, unpretentious. And of all of them, despite the others' expensive attempts to hang on to their looks and figures, she was the only one that always struck me as genuinely, naturally attractive. She was tall and narrow-waisted with a classic hour-glass figure that she knew how to accentuate with simple, fitted clothes and tailored suits. She had poise. I knew that right this second, in an empty house with no one to impress, she would be looking elegant, feminine, gorgeous. 

I could never quite understand the way Frank played around when he had her at home. But he had a real reputation with 'the guys' for being a bit of a stud -- a big guy with a big dick who liked to share his good fortune with the ladies. Jenny had told me that Celia knew all about his infidelities but had decided to tolerate it -- at the time Frank was already bringing home well over a hundred and fifty grand a year.

"Yeah... well thanks anyway Celia. Looks like we both had a crap Friday night!"

"Got that right... Give my... my love to Jenny... when you see her. Yeah, tell her Celia says to take care and sends her love OK? You take care too, Bill."

I frowned at the phone as I hung up. Celia knew more than she was saying.

Another three hours went by and I drank way too much scotch. I ended up rooting through Jen's drawers looking for evidence, flicking through her notebooks, checking receipts. Then, in the spare room she now used for dressing, I turned out the waste paper bin under a desk to find the screwed up wrapping from a pair of stockings -- black, sheer, expensive. She hadn't worn stockings since our honeymoon and swore she hated them. Fucking bitch...

By the time I heard the front door click quietly shut and the sound of her coming up the stairs, I was feeling just a little bit crazy. I met her on the landing, flicking on the lights and blocking her path to the bathroom. She was flustered, squinting in the sudden glare, her dark, shoulder-length hair a mess, her make-up smeared, her clothes rumpled. Even as a smoker and drinker I could smell the booze and tobacco on her. Standing there with her heels dangling from her hand, drunk, off guard and exposed, she looked all of her 45 years. As I glanced down at her black-stockinged feet she tried to move past me but I grabbed her forearm, turning her and forcing her to look into my face. 

"What the fuck, Jen? It's after three in the fucking morning!"

She'd given me that patronising smile -- the 'oh here he goes again' smile she used when about to lie through her teeth and end up proving that this is all, as usual, my fault anyway.

"Jesus Bill, don't start! Just had a few drinks with the girls -- it is Friday night y'know? Remember Friday nights at the end of a shit week do you Bill? Oh no... I guess you don't..."

"What girls?"

"The girls! -- Jesus Bill, what is this?"

"Just wondering what girls you mean, Jen... cos it wasn't Sally, or Pam or Andrea was it? Or Celia or Jude? Cos you see, none of them have seen you in ages have they? So I was just wondering... what girls?"

She sighed theatrically. "Girls from work... you don't know them, they're... new. New girls OK?"

"Ah, of course... new girls. I bet the people your firm laid off in the summer are going to be pissed off about that. So what are their names, these new girls?"

The smile faltered and failed. She looked down to where my hand still gripped her forearm and shook it free. 

"You know what? I've had enough of this..."

She stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Within seconds the shower was hissing and I headed downstairs for the drinks cabinet. Her handbag was on the hall table -- a massive thing that seemed to hold most of her possessions. Having poured one more oversized scotch I grabbed it and emptied the contents onto a brightly lit kitchen counter. 

There was the usual -- purse, keys, make-up bag, cigarettes, lighter, letters, medications, receipts for coffees and snacks, her little (and pretty much empty) notebook of 'thoughts and ideas' plus all manner of bits and pieces. I checked each item without knowing what I was looking for and finding nothing, then began to put them back. It was then that I noticed something glinting at the bottom -- a small plastic bag balled up and stuck in the corner of the bag.

Inside was a tiny ball of sheer, black nylon. I picked it up and instinctively brought it to my face, breathing in. The scent was familiar, amazing, overpowering -- the scent of Jenny's pussy at its most aroused: sharp, musky and strong. I was suddenly stiffening under my jeans, pressing the material closer to my nose. And yes, there was another scent there too...

I unravelled the damp nylon ball to reveal the tiniest of thongs, holding it up close to a bright downlighter to examine it. I was simultaneously devastated and stimulated, to find what I was looking for. The inside of the thong was coated in viscous semen, loads of it, still soaking wet. I caught sight of my own reflection in the cupboard door, my face red and angry as its pungent, bleach-like smell left no doubt whatsoever. 

I replaced the bag in the hall, counted to ten to calm myself, then jogged quietly upstairs and placed the thong in the middle of our bed, arranging it so that its contents shone clearly in the overhead light. I turned off the light, went back downstairs, grabbed my drink and sat at the kitchen table just as the shower was turned off. I waited and sipped, hearing Jen's footsteps above, the slide of the bathroom lock, more steps across the landing, the soft flick of the bedroom light switch... then silence. Two, three minutes passed.

She appeared in the doorway in her robe, a towel wrapped round her head and staring intently at me. She had actually managed to make herself look angry. I shook my head and gave her a silent, humourless smile.

"How dare you... how fucking dare you! Don't you ever go through my things again you pathetic fuck!" she hissed, her face reddening with rage. 

I sat back and smiled at her. "Oh dear, Jen... is that it? Your best shot? You honestly think a little righteous indignation is going to work this time do you? You better have more to offer than that you lying, deceitful little bitch..."

She came at me fast, but I was up faster and caught her with a stinging slap across her cheek. Then she grabbed at the whisky bottle on the table and this time it earned her a straight punch to her jaw. She went straight down, the bottle flying from her grip to smash on the tiles next to her. Her robe fell open revealing a tight group of love bites on her left breast and she quickly pulled it closed.

I stood over her as she began to sob and spoke without drama. "You're a cheating, lying, faithless cunt, Jen. You've taken me for a fool long enough and now it's over. You want another man? Go ahead... have him all you want... it really doesn't matter any more."

As I walked away the sobbing stopped as abruptly as it began. "Another man?" She began to laugh. "You fucking idiot! You think one man can make up for all that I've missed out on being with you? Well let me tell you, it takes more than one..."

I stopped and turned back to find her eyes filled with pure hatred, her hand rubbing her jaw. "Yes, that's right... lots of them. God you really are so naïve! In fact tonight was a first for me..." she got up slowly and straightened her robe, her shoulders back, defiant, "...I had two together, both under forty and soooo energetic... in the sort of hotel room you couldn't even afford!"

I wanted to get away -- far away and quickly before she drove me any further, but as I headed for the front door her voice just went on, still a low hiss but its tone increasingly intense.

"Actually I let one of them film us for a while -- maybe I could get you a copy hmmm? Then you'll have all the proof you need won't you? No need to go sniffing my knickers like some fucking dog!"

She opened her handbag to find a cigarette and lit it, hands trembling with rage. And then she giggled like a teenager.

"Oh yes... and you'll be able to see how amazingly well hung they both were, cos I know you'd never believe me... oh no. cos I'm such a liar aren't I? Well, you sad old man... they made yours look like the sad, pathetic little thing it is... And they couldn't get enough of me... fucked me for four hours straight... both at once most of the time... I never came so many times in one night... non-stop... thought I'd actually pass out at one point. And you... you can't even make me come with your slimy little tongue any more can you, you useless... "

I slammed the front door behind me and took a long, deep breath of cold night air. She continued to rant from inside, now shrieking at the top of her voice. The whole street must have been listening. Suddenly desperate to pee I walked round to the side of the house and unzipped, instantly letting a stream hit the wall. 

I looked down at my dick, pale in the moonlight, and smiled -- the source of so much pleasure and yet so much anxiety in my life. Of the thirty or so women I had slept with, around half had -- at some point -- agreed it was on the small side. But I'd made the most of what I had -- there had been several long-term relationships where I had used it to deliver more than a fair share of good, old-fashioned vaginal orgasms. It was just a little depressing, being the guy with the disappointing dick, however understanding women tried to be.

And now Jen, his soon to be ex-wife of twenty years, had chosen to turn it on me in her big speech. Thanks for that Jen.

Size Definitely Matters Ch. 02-03



Part 2

So now here I was, nearly six months later. We hadn't got round to divorce yet but were permanently separated -- both living in apartments far enough apart to ensure we needn't see each other any time soon. 

I got up that Saturday morning feeling better than I had in years and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror with approval. I'd managed to give up smoking, cut way back on the booze, I'd lost thirty pounds and started cycling to work. I had all my own hair and teeth and I was looking... well, OK for an older guy. I felt relaxed and calm. I even felt a little optimistic.

Finding nothing interesting to wear I decided on a trip to the mall -- maybe pick up a few shirts, some shoes, a new jacket. It was time to start being me again, not some sad, damaged recluse. 

The stores were busy but I found what I wanted quickly, got it all bagged up and with time on my hands grabbed a coffee and settled down with a newspaper at a pavement table outside a small café. Twenty minutes later, as I folded the paper and threw a tip onto the table, a familiar voice came my way.

"Hi Bill... how's it going?"

I looked up to see Celia. We hadn't spoken since the pointless call I'd made to her that terrible night.

"Celia. Hey... good to see you. You're looking well!"

And she was. She was a couple of years older than Jen but looked younger than his ex. The wrinkles were there, sure, but they were more a product of sunshine and laughter than the frown lines that Jen wore. The two of them hadn't really got on that well even though they considered themselves close friends. With Jen and 'the girls' it was a group mentality thing -- all solidarity when they were together but plenty of bitching behind backs. Jen had always wanted to be the group's Queen Bee but she tried way too hard. Celia always got that job with the most minimal of effort.

"I saw you across the street -- thought I might join you but I guess you're just leaving..."

"Yeah I... well no. I mean I'm not in any hurry. Come and sit down -- be good to catch up."

We were still there an hour later having covered work, the election, house prices, kids and the usual fare. Then I asked her how Frank was and she looked down at her lap, suddenly tense. She glanced at her watch. 

"Listen, if you're not especially busy, well... guess what... nor am I. What do you say we get a bit of lunch somewhere?"

She was smiling again, despite the stress behind her eyes, and it was an honest smile. She clearly had more to say and I realised I was truly enjoying -- for the first time in years -- the company of a beautiful, grown-up woman. 

"Yeah sure... why not?"

I led her to a busy tapas bar I knew, overlooking a crowded square and we found a quiet table on one of the terraces. As we finished ordering she asked if I wanted wine. I opted for water.

As the waiter left she looked at me squarely. "So, you were asking about Frank."

"Yes. And you evaded the question. I take it things aren't so good..."

"You could say that. It's over basically... time to move on. We're getting separated too... like you guys."

"I see... can't say I'm surprised... What does Frank feel about it?"

"He doesn't know... not yet. Apart from my lawyer you're the first person I've told."

"Really? Why me?"

"Because you've been here... where I am right now. I honestly felt sorry for you when it all caved in with you and Jen. She treated you like dirt and I happen to think you didn't deserve that."

I stared at her and smiled. I was moved by what she'd said, having assumed all these years that Jen and her friends were much tighter than that, despite their backbiting. 

She looked down at the table, toying with a napkin. "You do know she was screwing Frank don't you?"

I paled. "What? No... Jesus... I had no idea... fucking bitch... When was this?"

"Oh, ages ago. And not for long. It was that time she did a bunch of design work for him -- he had some new venture needed websites and such. Remember? He paid her well over the going rate -- 'mates' rates' he called it... said he knew you guys could do with the money." 

"Christ... about eighteen months ago, yes. You're sure? How did you find out?"

"Frank told me. He wanted me to know -- everything. I'd made it clear that I was ready to turn a blind eye to his cheating but that wasn't enough for Frank. You need to understand how much he enjoys humiliating people, Bill..." 

"Well then... I guess him and Jen had plenty in common..."

Celia looked around briefly then leaned across the table, her voice lowered.

"Thing is, he still always wanted me... You know, in twenty-odd years of marriage we've made love virtually every day. Well, I say 'made love'... For the past ten years we've just 'had sex'... But Frank wanted me most of all when he'd been with some slut, especially just after in fact. He'd come in drunk and wake me up, stinking of booze and cheap perfume. Then one time he... oh."

She flushed and looked away as the waiter arrived with a basket of bread and my water. I looked at her staring out over the bustling square and wondered how much more she had to tell. I called the waiter back.

"Hey -- I think we'll change our minds about the wine. A bottle of house white right away... thanks..."

Celia sighed as he disappeared. "I'm sorry Bill... this isn't fair. I'm dumping all this on you too fast..."

"It's all right Celia... I can see you need to talk. And it seems I need to listen. I want to know what the fuck happened to me."

She nodded slowly, satisfied. "You're right, Bill. It's the only way. It's just a bit surreal I guess... we're sitting here in the sunshine on a Saturday afternoon. Everyone's chatting about work, friends, sport... and we're dealing with pain, betrayal, lust... It's a pretty... well, sordid story I'm afraid. And detailed..."

The wine appeared and was poured in silence. Celia pretty much drained her first glass in one go and I refilled it for her.

"Better?"

She nodded, straightening her tight skirt over long legs.

"Good. Go on..."

"Thing about Frank... I don't know how much of this you already know... is that he's actually clinically obsessed with sex. It's a sickness... a compulsion. Did you know that?"

"I sort of guessed. And some of the guys used to talk, but to be honest, most of them sort of envied him. And I hear he's one of the 'big' guys... if you get my drift."

Celia looked back at me. Nodding slowly and emphatically. She lowered her voice.

"Unnaturally... ridiculously in fact. It's not as if I haven't seen others... and I've seen plenty of porn... but nothing like him."

She chuckled, looking into the depths of her wine. "I remember the first time -- couldn't believe my luck back then. But I found out he could use that thing like a weapon -- like a gift to womankind that could only be given with force. He would actually hurt me sometimes -- without even noticing. To be fair, when I found out a few years back that he was screwing other women I was a little relieved. Not that it made much difference."

"So what was Jen to him? Just another fuck buddy or more?"

"Oh... bit of both. I knew how interested he was... he was always asking me questions, wanting to know about her likes and dislikes... things about her marriage with you and so on."

I was suddenly angry with her. "Oh I see... and so you told him... everything you knew... I'd say the three of you were pretty much complicit wouldn't you?" 

Celia blushed. I hadn't asked a question but made a statement. I knew what Jen was like -- that she was quite happy to give anyone's secrets away if it made for a good gossip, especially when she was out drinking with the girls.

"Bill... women talk. You know that. I knew you and Jen weren't having the easiest ride of a marriage. And she made it known that she was sometimes... well... dissatisfied, shall we say..."

"Yeah, sounds like the same Jen all right. And you of course told her all about Frank's distinguishing features, right?"

Celia leaned forward, lowering her voice still further. 

"Bill... I told you this was a sordid little tale, but it's also finished... over. You make me sound like I was pimping him out but it wasn't like that... Look, maybe we should stop now... I can see you might get upset if we go any further..."

I reluctantly agreed, but there was no way I was not going to get the entire story from her. I needed every last detail she had if I was going to straighten out my life and understand Jen for what she really was. We finished the food and wine in relative silence -- I had managed just the one glass as she steadily tipped the rest back. With the bill paid we headed for the car park. She was all ready to get into her BMW and drive off.

"Celia, things are going to be difficult enough for you as it is without a drink/drive case to fight. Come on -- I can make an easy enough detour past your place."

She quickly agreed and within ten minutes we had pulled up outside her large home in my old Ford. 

"Thanks Bill. Look, I'm sorry I clammed up at the restaurant. It just didn't feel right to be talking such stuff in public. Maybe we can meet up some other time... or maybe you'd rather just let sleeping dogs lie..."

I gazed past the immaculate lawns towards the detached house, newly painted and gleaming in the sun, its white shutters closed. Celia and Frank had never had kids and it seemed a huge place for two. 

"What's wrong with right now? I've got the time if you have."

She smiled and stared across at me. "Poor Bill. It's not a very nice story... and it won't be easy to tell either. Just so you know..."

"And Frank? Where's good ol', big ol', cocky ol' Frank today?"

She laughed briefly. "As far as I know he's with clients in Rotterdam and back tomorrow night. But who can say?"

I switched off the engine.

The house had a 'lower ground floor' arrangements -- turned out they have a pool down there - so there was a flight of steps up to the front door. I fell in behind her as she climbed them slowly, rummaging for her keys. As I followed I found my face just inches from her very round, very broad and beautifully clothed backside. Celia must have been in her mid forties, but she looked after herself and that generous ass was made all the more enticing by a naturally narrow waist above it. 

I had to admit, for a guy who hadn't even thought much about sex these past months, it was a pretty inspiring sight. She was wearing a tight, knee-length skirt that required a kind of swaying waddle to get her up the steps. The material was stretched to breaking point, with the 'V' of some kind of thong clearly outlined above her cheeks. I felt an old, very welcome stirring as I pictured what lay beneath that skirt. But then this was Frank's woman... I suddenly pictured his oversized cock ploughing into her from behind and my optimism vanished... Still, it was a great view. As she reached the door she looked at me over her shoulder, smiling.

"You OK there Bill?"

I smiled back. She knew exactly what I'd been staring at.

"Oh yeah... fine thanks..."

The house was incredible -- a little over the top for my taste maybe, but nicely done. If Celia was about to ditch her cheating husband, she was almost certainly going to get this place and then some. I sprawled onto a monster of a white leather corner unit as she tossed her bag into an armchair and went in search of drinks. 

She was back in minutes with two glasses and a bottle of chilled Sancerre on a tray. As she set it down I noticed a DVD box. She asked me to pour as she took the disk out and walked over to a media unit, slotting it into a player and grabbing a couple of remotes before settling down beside me.

We toasted each other silently and sipped. The wine was superb and I felt utterly relaxed, despite the fact that I was on the point of learning much about my wife's less pleasant secrets.

Celia took a deep breath. "So then... I've been wondering where to start with this... Like I said, Frank has become more and more abusive about the way he treats me and the way he just has to tell me the gory details of his little conquests."

"Why haven't you left him before?"

She smiled and looked briefly around the huge, lavishly furnished room, one hand subconsciously smoothing the sofa's thick, white hide. 

"I think you probably know that."

"So he's in for a pretty rough divorce, right?"

"Oh yes. As you'll see. As Jen will see. There's really no easy way to tell you how I found out about Jen, so maybe it's best that you see it the same way I did."

She raised one of the remotes towards the huge picture window facing the street and the heavy drapes were drawn with a soft whirring sound. The gloom was lit up as she pointed the other remote at the immense plasma TV screen across from us and it flickered into life.

"Frank came home this one night, drunk as usual. He decided to... Bill, do you mind if I'm just very straightforward about this? I dunno... I'm good with facts, but... well, I'm not very good with euphemisms..."

"It's fine Celia, just tell it whatever way feels easiest. I know what Jen was like and I'm starting to realise what an asshole your husband is too, so don't worry."

"OK... but... well, just stop me if it gets too gruesome. I've not shared any of this with anyone, like I said. It's probably gonna be hard for both of us..." 

Celia's voice became suddenly low and intense, I noted the slightest of trembles. 

"So yeah, he came home...I'd been asleep for hours... and he decides to wake me up. Not by shouting and swearing or just shaking me like he usually does... I was used to that. But this time he... he'd stripped off and climbed on the bed... I woke up and he was right over me, wiping his stupid great cock over my face, laughing and sneering at me and shouting at the top of his voice. He stank something awful... disgusting... I just wanted to get away from him, but he followed me... he was slapping my face with it, forcing it into my... into my mouth. I was gagging... terrified... and he just kept laughing. He looked insane... kept on and on saying 'There you frigid bitch -- know what that is? Any idea what that is you spoiled, uptight cunt?"

She stopped abruptly, apparently surprised that she had just filled this elegant room with such filth... and in front of a man she only half knew. Now she was staring intently at me -- trying to gauge my reaction. 

"Christ Celia..."

I was shocked by the picture she'd just drawn and felt a wave of sympathy for her. I was also starting to dread finding out how these events would unfold as far as Jen was involved. But as I would later identify, there was something else...

As I looked into the green eyes of this very attractive and emotionally charged woman I felt privileged -- the voyeuristic thrill of being the only one ever to hear this deeply intimate account.

"I'm sorry to speak so bluntly Bill -- I just want you to know how truly foul he was that night. You need to know how hurt and utterly shocked I was. Then maybe you'll understand how much I really do empathise with you... and how much I grew to hate your ex wife."

She sat back and flicked the remote at the TV.

"You couldn't hate her as much as me, Celia, believe me. And sadly she won't be my ex for a few more weeks yet. But fuck her. Like I said -- I'm OK with the uncut version of this... so let's have it."

I turned to the screen. Celia had paused the DVD at the start. The image was virtually abstract -- a grainy, motion-blurred still from some low-res camera on the move. As she pushed back into the sofa she gently lifted each leg one at a time, pushing off her heels. In the silence after they clattered to the wooden floor, she took another deep breath.

"He stood there naked, actually rubbing his cock... telling me I was boring... unimaginative, selfish, stupid... you name it. Told me he was tired of me, tired of my conservative values... the way I keep the house... that I was prissy, hung up, repressed... I thought he was about to leave me, I really did... "

"Celia, I don't know you that well, but well enough to know you're none of those things. Fuck's sake... what's wrong with the guy -- what the hell gets him wound up that tight?"

She sighed deeply. She had been looking down at the manicured hands folded in her lap, but now she deliberately raised those emerald eyes to stare into mine. 

"Anal sex."

I can't remember exactly, but I'm pretty sure I did one of those comic 'double-takes'. I hope not. But that's what she said. I really hadn't bargained on this turning into such an interesting afternoon.

I busied myself pouring more wine, the words 'anal sex' just hanging there in the otherwise scented air of Celia's perfect home. She hadn't taken her eyes off me.

"It's an obsession with him. Literally. He watches endless porn -- all anal stuff, all of it. I didn't mind to be honest. And anyway... seems it's the same for a lot of guys..."

She let this last observation sink in and I could tell she was fishing for a reaction. Sure I looked at porn -- including the ever-present variety she was talking about. It seemed a lot of people were indulging in anal sex but I'd never had a woman invite me to play it out for real. One very drunken night on vacation with Jen I had given it a try, but she'd turned me down. She had always seemed to enjoy a toy there now and then and I was surprised given that I would have been easier to accommodate. 

"I guess... not really my thing but... yeah, it's kind of everywhere online... have to say..."

"Right... but, so you and Jen never... I mean you weren't like into..." She was fishing again.

"No." I shrugged apologetically.

Looking mildly surprised she continued.

"Well Frank thought of little else... I mean, when we met... well it was sort of OK back then I guess. Things were different -- we had some pretty wild times, lots of booze, weed, a little coke now and then, poppers and such... you know... we did the whole student thing for a couple of years."

I didn't know. I'd had my share of partying back then too, but it wasn't easy imagining this mature, perfectly groomed and serene woman bending over a mirror with a rolled up note up her nose. 

"And yeah... a few times we did it... everyone was. It hurt like hell with him of course, but he was gentle back then... and loving.... He was a lovely guy believe it or not. But things change. The partying stops... work took over big time for both of us... you get older, more tired, less relaxed. I suddenly realised it wasn't something I could do any more. Not because I hated it... cos I didn't... I really didn't... I know some women do and a lot more pretend to... But the thing was just that I couldn't do it any more and it was because Frank was just too big! He actually really hurt me a couple of times after I'd already refused him and the second time, that was it -- I told him never again. That was when things started to go downhill -- fast."

I had a bad feeling that I knew where this was going. There were only two players in the next part -- Frank and Jen. And the topic had quite definitely been set. I wanted Celia to quit the long intro and cut to the chase. 

"I'm sorry it's all been such a mess for you Celia, I really am. So where did Jen fit into it all?"

"It was on that night after he'd practically choked me. After he finished laughing and telling me how pathetic I was he grabbed his cell-phone, tossed it onto the bed and said 'there you go -- have a good, long look at that... see what you'll be missing from now on... and see how much your fantastic fucking friends really think of you! And then he locked himself in the shower for about an hour. He doesn't even know I've got this and you'll be the only other person that ever sees it..."

By the time I turned to face the screen the clip was already running, but still indistinct. The camera was simply being carried across a dimly lit room -- flashes of a cramped, tiled bathroom, then a doorway, a stretch of gaudy carpet, a small TV mounted on a wall. It looked like a downmarket hotel room. The sound was scratchy, the microphone possibly obscured by the carrier's hand.