0 comments/ 39461 views/ 2 favorites Civil Enforcement - Seema's Lesson By: CyranoAndersson I had only been intimate with one woman in the last five years. A combination of a lack of opportunities to meet women of ANY kind with a loss of appetite for sex as my appetites for alcohol and fast food had taken over. But then came my health kick: - I shunned Burger Bars, massively reduced my alcohol intake, and shed the weight. Within months I had definitely pulled my belt in well over an inch, and had to buy trousers another size down. My libido was returning with a vengeance as I got my sexual confidence back. The question was: How to get some pussy. My job involves a heck of a lot of walking. I am a Civil Enforcement Officer in central London, which means basically moving drivers on who are badly parked or loitering on Single Yellow or Double Yellow Lines or other such places, helping customers pay for parking in PBP and P&D bays, and so on. I have done the job over two years. Most of our work is customer focussed - advising members of public and motorists rather than slapping tickets on windscreens but certainly we do that as well. Naturally a few bad apples give the rest of us a bad reputation but on the whole, we do an honest and decent job in the interests of the motorist. The work requires a certain amount of what the English call BOTTLE - or courage. It also requires what we call NOUS (pronounced nouse) or common sense. Threats are common, verbal abuse is to be expected and occasionally violent confrontations occur. Needless to say most of us are men and few women do the work, partly (at the risk of sounding chauvinistic), because of the emotional stability you need, the thick-skinned insensitivity to verbal abuse, and the ability to take control. A common greeting amongst us had become, "How's yer sex life?". The Bangladeshi and Indian boys tended to see prostitutes or were married, or both; the Africans varied from being morally upright and married, to shagging anything that moved; the European guys generally had a girlfriend or a wife at home that they would not talk about, keeping their private lives private. On the rare occasions a woman passed through among us she would generally pick up a clique of followers who would huddle at break times in one corner. This seemed to always tend to be ethnically determined. A black, British girl would attract the black, British boys, an Indian girl would attract all the Indian boys around her. The possible exception was the Polish girls. They tended to get on with everyone and be more socially aware and universally friendly. They certainly handled themselves more professionally when faced with risque banter. But generally none of them lasted very long. Then along came Seema. Five-foot six of attitude and sassiness. I hated her almost instantly. I initially made the effort until I realised she was never going to give me more than a cursory "good morning" in response to my warm greetings each day. So I learned to tap other people for info or gossip and learned who got on with her and who did not. All I knew was she was engaged, but very friendly with the Asian boys at base. Over time I built a dossier of evidence against her: Bad tickets she had issued, some which I had learned of as I had had to deal with the angry drivers on street who had received the Penalty Notices. Then there were the indiscretions with one lad at work. I say "lad" as he is twenty-one but looks seventeen and I am late thirties. I had caught them kissing in the locker room and even had a camera phone snap they did not know about. The final icing on the cake was when I looked into a Mews off a main road, one day, to see her at a distance snapping photos of a car on a Single Yellow Line and then proceed to write the ticket on her Hand-held computer. The driver ran back to the car screaming that he was just leaving. She began printing the ticket. They argued, too far for me to hear their exact conversation. She must have insisted she had the photos already and he lashed out, slapping her. The autopilot kicked in as it always does in this job. I flew at him like a stealth-sprinter from behind, utterly silent, but she looked over his shoulder to see me running towards them and her eyes widened. This tipped him off someone was behind him. I judged the distance and slowed myself down so that as he spun around anti-clockwise to swing a right fist at me I was able to throw my weight to my left and hook my right arm up and around his right forearm, then expertly clamping his left arm as well and pulling him into an arm lock. I held my fists hard above my own shoulders to hold him and yelled at Seema to call Code Red. She panicked, fumbled her radio and did so without much in the way of style or professionalism. She seemed to have a brain fart when calling the location. "Conduit Mews, junction Craven Road!" I growled. She repeated what I said down the radio. The Radio Controller confirmed Police ETA was five minutes and a Supervisor would be there in one minute from around the corner. I held the driver, a big white guy, and asked him why he needed to hit a woman. "The fucking bitch took the photos before writing the ticket. That's not right!" I knew she had done a dodgy on him but I pretended to act horrified and let go of him, glaring at her. "Is this true?" I demanded. "No!" she pleaded, "I fired off two snaps as the ticket printed!" I demanded to check her camera and hand-held computer and took a test photo of her DAP screen. Her time and date stamp showed the camera was one minute ahead of the DAP's date and time. "The Dodgy Little CUNT!" I thought. She looked at me guiltily but stony-faced, almost defiant in fact. I winked at her whilst the driver was not looking. I deleted the test photo I had taken and showed the driver the photos of his car and the time on the ticket. They matched. He held the PCN and then I calmly said, "Now here is the deal. I cannot confirm or deny that my colleague has done anything wrong but I do know if you are arrested then we all waste a day down the Police station and I do not want that, so I have a proposition." The man looked at me like a child ready to obey his father (and here was a guy over a foot taller than me and ten years my senior!). "Before that Supervisor over there reaches us," I pointed, "We need to agree that she declares the ticket as a HANDED TO DRIVER, and you agree to pay it, and she agrees not to charge you with assault, and I agree not to accuse you of attempted assault on me." Then I turned to Seema, "And we downgrade this from Code Red to Supervisor Assistance." Seema looked at me amazed. She even smiled a little. "Fucking cunt!" He growled at me, "Yeah, okay! You're a tough lil bastard tho' incha?" I shrugged at the compliment, "Being my size you learn to duck." He was a proper hard man. I could tell by the Resident's badge on his windscreen, he was from East London, and a particularly rough part of it. Old school Gangster type. Maybe his dad went to school with Ron and Reggie Kray or something? - That sort of bloke. So then the Police screeched up in a marked unit seconds after our big, fat bastard Supervisor got our story about what had happened. The driver meekly told the Supervisor "Yeah, I'll pay the ticket." So we shrugged and told the Coppers that we were grateful but the problem was resolved. I explained that Officer 'seven-six did not wish to press charges as no real harm was done and the customer was going to pay the sixty quid fine for leaving a car on a SYL unattended. The Police Officers left without batting an eyelid. It saved them paperwork. The marked unit crackled and popped over the cobbles and then roared off down the main tarmac'd road. "Their Starbucks must be getting cold." Said Seema, thinking she was the wittiest person on planet Earth all of a sudden. I glared at her, whilst saying for Wahid's benefit, "Yo boss, thanks for coming, but d'ya think maybe with colleagues as dumb as this in future I should let the Police enjoy their Starbucks and I should have left you in peace to finish your donuts and milkshake?" "What really happened?" He asked, suddenly curious. "I do not want to go on record with it. But if ANYTHING comes back on us after today I will have to decide on whether to save my own arse or cover for her cute little butt instead." Wahid was a wise old Supervisor, he knew what I meant but was discreet enough to keep his mouth shut. Seema gave me a look, a flash of anger, then settled down again. I still held her camera in my hand. We returned to base and I formulated a plan. As she freshened up in the Ladies' washroom I made some phone calls and scribbled some notes. She entered the room and scanned the empty tables and chairs. She had to do her paperwork and it had to match my report. Would she sit near me or not? She strolled to my table and sat right next to me. "Okay, so I admit I owe you one." she conceded. I shook my head, "You owe me a lot more than one!" and passed the scribbled notes. It was a list of dodgy tickets I knew she had issued, and details of where I had mediated with drivers in some instances and knew they were being appealed at present and, others I knew of that may or may not have paid but were wrongly issued. Dates, approx times, exact locations... "Shit!" she whispered. "Oh," I said, and there is this too." I showed her my camera phone with the picture of her and Sanjay kissing. Her face went ashen. I pulled her camera out of my pocket, flipped the dial to SET UP and changed the time back one minute. She looked at me hopefully. "I cannot afford to lose this job!" She whispered. "No." I said, "But you cannot risk your safety pulling dodgy tickets just to pass probation. You will get your cute little arse killed." She knew what I was saying was true. The papers were full of stabbings and of Our Uniforms being run over. Most of us worked alone on street whilst the PCSOs and City Guardians worked in pairs, as did the Police and the Special Constables. We were especially vulnerable. "What do you want from me?" She whispered, now trembling a little. I placed one hand on the inside of her thigh, the other under her left hand to look at her engagement ring. "I am still a virgin so you cannot jeopardise my marriage, I would be better off dead if I do not get to marry my fiance." I nodded to show understanding, took my hand off her thigh and asked her about him. She ran through the basics. British-Asian guy called Chetan. Tall, muscular, and very rich. But wanting a virgin to marry and that was her ticket to a British Passport as her student visa had run out and she had been working with us using false documents. Her confession of all this was like a gift. It was too beautiful. Too easy for me. "What about Sanjay?" I asked. She pointed the obvious out to me that once married she could fuck Sanjay as well and if she got pregnant it did not matter as the baby would look normal. Similar features and skin colouring. Of course, she argued, I am white so if she produced a paler skinned baby the game would be up. Sanjay had his own reasons why he was not staying long in London, and therefore was not marriage material. I grinned and said there were plenty of ways to skin a cat. I asked her if she knew what a sixty-eight was. She slipped into Work Mode and absentmindedly recited some obscure traffic contravention I had never heard of. I laughed. "It's not a contravention code!" I grinned. "You mean a sixty-nine?" she asked, perplexed. I replied that a sixty-eight was similar but meant she went down on me and I owed her one. She was not laughing. "But I have never..." she trailled off, the thought utterly appalled her. I looked up to see a Supervisor had returned, we were no longer able to talk quietly enough to be sure of not being overheard. I wrote a name and address of a hotel and whispered that if anything happened to me then it was game over, her life in pieces. I wrote the time and date to meet at the hotel as I knew we both had the same day off, next Monday. I also wrote a phone number - one of many I have as pay-as-you-go offers and free simcards seem to accumulate. I made sure she knew the number was not registered to me and was seldom used. I also told her the handset was not registered to me either but had been found on a bus - this last part was a lie, I was bluffing. In fact the one flaw in my plan was if I had to text or call from a handset that WAS registered to me in the event of another handset going dead then I could be convicted on that shred of evidence. Next Monday came. Our text messages had been frequent over the weekend but I had not prepared myself for how fast the weekend would zip past. A friend of mine had arranged for Sanjay to have a little accident on street Monday morning as I had wanted to make sure Seema had no lifelines or emergency back up plans to out-smart me. Human nature was such that she would have probably blabbed to him so whether she actually did or not was irrelevant... I had to have him out of the way. A motorcyclist apparently hit a pot hole and lost control, skidding off and smacking into him. The biker was a pro stunt rider and came out without a scratch but Sanjay broke his left hip and ankle. The biker got back on and sped off. No witnesses; perfect. Monday afternoon Seema met me at the hotel in the lobby. I had chosen the place for three reasons: ONE, it is convenient for both of us to reach here from where we each lived across town from each other. TWO, it has the bare minimum CCTV around it. A huge consideration. THREE, it is cheap. She looked truly terrified. Not at all pleased to see me. "What have you done with Sanjay?" She murmurred. "Huh?" I gave her a startled look and acted innocently. She told me he was in hospital. I looked genuinely shocked, this is because I could not believe how smoothly my friend had pulled it off. I tried to look offended, like: "And you think I had something to do with it???" She apologised, and said, "Guess not." "If you are hungry or thirsty, we can order room service?" I suggested as an attempt at helping her to relax. "Oh, ok." she said brightly, not expecting such courtesy. We went up to the room. I had paid cash in advance and called us, "Mister and Missus Duff." As soon as we walked in the room I gave her a room service menu and told her to order whatever she wanted. Whilst she browsed through that, I lay down on the big, hard, double bed and began to unzip myself. She turned her head, her eyes widened. "Oh my GOD." She said. Then she lost it and shouted: "Do you not understand? I do not love you! Making me do dirty stuff with you is WRONG." "Hush!" I breathed. "We live in a world of wrongs and injustice. All we can do is make our own luck and hope to keep our dignity and integrity along the way." "Yeah, and you are lying there with your cock out on that bed. Very dignified." She spat. Then she pulled out her camera phone. I leapt up and snatched it from her, twisting it out of her grasp and then body-slamming her onto the bed. She is taller than me but I am stronger and faster. I zipped myself up. "Ok, do we have to do things the hard way then?" I taunted her. "I can tie you up and fuck you and make you take the morning after pill and then LIE to your future husband and simply say your hymen broke whilst horse riding or something!" She began to cry and say she was sorry. I told her to get up and wipe her tears, holding out a box of tissues for her. She took a tissue and wiped her face. Then I ordered her to look through the room service menu and warned this was the last chance she had to eat and drink as we would be here a while. She began frantically perusing the Menu. I began nosing through her camera phone, bluetoothing the more interesting snaps to my main phone. There were some self portraits in sexy outfits, snaps with her girlfriends out clubbing, and a few pics of Sanjay...then one of him nude. "Oh!" I gasped. I took a photograph of her camera phone in my hand with the pic showing, to prove the photo had been on her screen, and to suggest she herself had taken it - which I knew she had not. "I was sent that by him. Men are so peurile!" She said plainly. "So you know he has a good-size dick but you have never seen it up close?" I enquired. "Well, no, I had not seen any man's dick before, yours is the first!" I was surprised and got a kick out of this fact. Seema picked up the phone and gave me a questioning glance, I nodded permission; she ordered onion rings with sweet chilli sauce and salad and, a bottle of Italian white wine. I asked her to order me a chicken salad sandwich on wholemeal. She repeated my words precisely. As soon as she put the phone down I ordered her to kneel on the floor and lean forward over the bed. The bed was exactly the right height for her to do this. Without warning I smacked her butt as hard as I could and growled, "BAD Girl!" She gasped, but remained in position. I lectured her, punctuating my points with a smack each time: "You are so ARROGANT, treating people like they are beneath you, when you yourself are a NOBODY!" (Two smacks). "You are WICKED, plotting to marry for all the WRONG reasons whilst planning to take a lover without your husband ever KNOWING!" (Three smacks). "You are DISHONEST, doing dodgy tickets and causing un-necessary aggravation." (One smack). "You are UNJUST." (One smack). "You are a NASTY... BITCH!" (Two Smacks). She had the good sense to not scream or even do more than whimper. I ordered her to take her clothes off. She stood up shakily and did as I told her. Her shoulders were broad for a woman but her hips were narrow, her breasts were small but with the tastiest-looking bulbous dark nipples, and a beautifully flat tummy. Her underwear had a damp patch on the crotch. I stood alongside her and gently slid a hand into her knickers and felt the wetness. There was not much pubic hair, so my middle finger almost slid straight into her gash. "Wow," I said brightly, "You seem to be enjoying this after all." "YOU DISGUST ME!" she spat. "Wrong answer!" I shouted, and licked my fingers. Her juices tasted so fresh and clean, no mustiness. Just sweet and yummy. She frowned. I looked at her as if an idea had just struck me, "Ahhh! you ordered onion rings? I had better kiss you before you eat onions. I don't want your onion breath!" She looked horrified as I pulled her to me and pressed my lips onto hers, then slipped a tongue in her mouth. She struggled at first and then settled into it. After a few minutes snogging she was actually grinning. "Ahem," she said politely as I released her. She was blushing. "Never tasted yourself either?" I enquired. "I have actually, just never through kissing." "So you do masturbate?" I demanded. "I have done occasionally." She confessed. "Great!" I said, "So maybe you can masturbate for me?" She looked at my groin, the lump was not as hard as before but was still rather prominent. "Ummm, okayyy" she said nervously. There was a knock at the door, "Room Service!" I grabbed my wallet and went for the door. Seema hid in the bathroom and freshened up. I took in the tray and paid cash. Naturally I had to say "Keep the change" so as not to be interrupted half an hour later. I found the DO NOT DISTURB sign and placed it on the outside door handle. I commented on the fact that in Spanish it read, "NO MOLESTAR," and that it was a pity, "...coz no one on Earth could stop me molesting you this evening." She looked at me carefully. "What do you want from me?" "Gratification. Your submission, your humility, your obedience." Civil Enforcement - Seema's Lesson "You are not a rapist, and you don't suit the whole Domination thing, so can we just be honest with each other?" "We ARE being honest with each other." I assured her. "I showed you my dick, having already asked you for a blowjob. I didn't bullshit you with candlelit dinners and trips to the Opera." "Sure, but you think Sanjay will let you get away with it? I cannot tell Chetan but I sure as hell can tell Sanjay and he will have you killed." "Wrong answer!" I chuckled. Then I sussed her out. I snatched her cell-phone out of her hands again and this time I saw she had hit the record button, she was trying to record our conversation to give as evidence to the Police. With her phone in my hand still recording I continued, "Sanjay was hit by a mate of mine on a bike. The dude is a pro. He can use a Honda 500cc like Slash can play a guitar, or like Fats Waller can ride a piano. "OKAY, quit playing! SUCK MY DICK, BITCH!" I almost screamed. To my surprise she obeyed me. She dropped to her knees in front of me and took me in her mouth, semi-hard, and worked me to full hardness with her lips. I kept the phone recording our noises. I made a point of asking her to tell me she loved my cock. Meekly she said "I love your cock!" I told her to say it louder, then still louder again. Finally she really got into it and cheered loudly and with determination: "I love your cock!" "Good! I said, "Now don't talk with your mouthful!" I laughed. She carried on sucking me, like she actually knew what to do. Her gorgeous full lips massaged me and clamped me with natural skill, only once did her teeth graze me, and that only managed to prolong my pleasure as it brought me back down just a notch. When I finally blew my load my knees almost buckled. She struggled to swallow it all. "Well done!" I admonished, she had either had cock in her mouth before or was a very quick study. I bluetoothed the audio recording to my phone and deleted the AMR file from her phone. Then I ordered her to pour two glasses of wine and she brought one over for me. I offered a toast - "...to honesty, and making your own luck!" We clinked glasses. She swilled the Italian plonk around her mouth to rinse away the taste of me and then swallowed. Neither of us had touched our food yet so I gave her permission to eat. She asked if I wanted to make her eat her onion rings off my dick, I told her I didn't want her putting chilli sauce on me. I realised my flies were still open so I zipped up and adjusted my clothing whilst insisting she remain naked. I enjoyed my sandwich and poured us both another glass of wine each. A second bottle stood in an ice bucket giving me an idea. I boiled the kettle and made a cup of tea. She looked at me like I was totally nuts. I began to explain to her my idea. "No way!" she said. "I sucked your ugly white cock, deal done, I leave!" "No!" I told her in my best authoritative tone. "This is about me having one over on you and using it against you to my advantage. If I want to I can demand you meet me once a week right up until when you start preparing for the wedding, the only reason I would not do such a thing is for fear of getting caught out, so this is a one-off deal but you will stay here until I am satisfied and have had my fun with you!" "Then we are going to need more than two bottles of Soave to get through the evening!" she demanded. I conceded the point and rang room service. I ordered four double vodkas but asked them to deliver in half an hour or more and to leave them outside. I was asked for my credit card details over the phone to pay for them. I politely refused and said that I will pay cash at the door then. I ordered Seema to lie on the bed. The room was very warm so her prominent nipples at least had to be partly a sign of arousal. She drained her third glass of wine and then settled down on the bed, lying flat on her back. I prepared a glass of wine with ice cubes in it, next to the cup of tea. I proceeded to take a mouthful of tea and suck my lips in to bathe them in the scorching hot liquid. Then I swallowed hard just as I pressed my lips onto her mouth and pushed my tongue into her. Her eyes widened and she pulled away for air, then gasped, "That's burning hot!" I then silently took a swig of iced wine and swilled that around and then swallowed just as I pressed my lips onto hers, massaging her lips with mine, and sliding a now icy tongue into her gob. Her eyes widened again and this time she just lay back and let me kiss her, even kissing me back it seemed. I pulled away for air and she said, "Wow!" I told her I would do that all over her body and she looked at me, terrified. She asked me if I had done this sort of thing before. I told her truthfully I had never blackmailed anyone into getting naked but certainly the hot and cold kissing thing was a regular thing for me, having developed it with one long-term girlfriend and having introduced other partners to it. I judged her sensitivity level and figured I should do more cold than hot, so I took an ice cube in my mouth and proceeded to kiss her neck, left shoulder, then left breast, then her left nipple. I used the ice cube between my lips and rubbed it around her nipple, then pulled away to crunch the ice cube, washing it down with a little hot tea, then with my mouth warmer but, not too hot, I clamped my lips around her left nipple, and sucked and clamped and pulled between my lips as hard as I could. She cried out in ecstasy. I carried on kneading her nipple and breast with my mouth, using my hands to keep my weight off her, holding me in position over her. I kissed her mouth again and this time she kissed me back passionately. I then repeated the routine with the right hand side of her neck, shoulder, breast and nipple. I methodically and skillfully worked down her body in this fashion, checking the time so that after at least ten minutes I figured the tea would be lukewarm and the ice had certainly all melted in the wine. I now went for the thighs. My victim was enjoying my attentions so much she was already dripping wet between her legs. I took one last sip of cool wine and kissed her around the hips, then worked around to the pelvic bone. She was so damn close to orgasm it was torture for her. I took a last sip of tea and ran my tongue up her slit lightly, and flicked her clit ever so delicately... she spasmed and cried out and shook violently. She ejaculated and spurted several times as I kept on going. Her moans of delight were like music to my ears. I was rock hard and ready to fuck her brains out but knew I couldn't do that to her. The sight of her naked and quivering body was enough entertainment for me for a few minutes. I caught my breath and rested my lips as she muttered to herself in delirium. I realised our vodkas were due and grabbed the DO NOT DISTURB sign from the door handle. The Porter turned into the corridor just as I was about to shut the door again. I called to him and handed over the cash for the drinks, quickly pulling the tray in and kicking the door closed with my foot. I had nowhere to put the tray except the floor. I opened the second bottle of wine and told Seema to get up. She obeyed me with a stretch and a yawn. She smiled at me. "You enjoyed that?" I said, more as an observation than a question. "Hell yes. Do I have to do that to you now?" She said in a husky voice. "No!" I said plainly, "I always enjoy doing that to women but never really got off on women doing that to me, besides, if I have to get naked then you can describe my birthmarks, moles and any tattoos or scars to prove you and I really did stuff together. I cannot risk that." She looked genuinely disappointed. "Drink these!" I demanded, pointing to the tray of vodkas. There was a jug of orange juice as well, and Seema merely poured the glasses of vodka into the jug and then drank the jug down in one go. I laughed. She laughed too. "I am so0o0o0o0 drunnnnkkk!" I nodded and said she needed to be for the next bit. I ordered her to take a shower. She complied with a casual, "Oh, okay!" As she washed herself I looked around for something I could use as a lubricant. No tubs of margarine, nothing. I should have thought of that. I would have to use my tongue. She stepped out in a white bathrobe looking totally adorable and very merry. "You look sozzled!" I told her. "I feel totally off my face!" she laughed. I reminded her we still had the second bottle of wine to finish as well. She flopped on the bed, letting the bathrobe fall open. This was a sexier look than seeing her fully naked. The robe accentuated the form of her legs, and the tone of her skin, contrasting with her warm flesh beautifully. "Lie on your front" I ordered. She obeyed. I told her I was going to fuck her up the arse as she did not have a hymen up there. She looked around and shot me a glance over her shoulder. "OH MY GOD!" You really are a sicko!" "Maybe I am doing you a favour, girl, coz your future hubby may want to fuck when you do not and it is the safest way to avoid pregnancy!" She buried her face into the pillow and muttered something to herself. I kissed the back of her neck and then climbed on the bed with her. I ran a finger down the length of her spine through the fluffy cotton and then lifted the bathrobe and ran my tongue down her arse crack. She had the most gorgeous pear-shaped arse. Meaty enough, and with perfectly smooth skin. I had never done analingus before so I was a bit unsure of myself. I worked gently and opened up her butt hole with my mouth organ, slowly, with gentle thrusts. After what seemed like an age I began to get most of my huge tongue into her arsehole without her whimpering too much. She was mostly silent and just bit the pillow. I then placed two fingers gently up her back passage and tried to seperate them to test the tightness. She cried out in pain. I withdrew. She was wet enough but it would hurt. Not wishing to be a total monster I washed my mouth out with a glass of wine and then performed cunnilingus on her from behind, and used her juices from there to lube her anus more. She had another clitoral orgasm as I gave her a reach around but at the exact point of climax I gently pushed my cock into her rear. I expected her to scream but she pressed her own face into the pillow to muffle herself. I used my right hand to rub her clit and lube my cock and my left hand to hold me up over the bed, and repeatedly pushed my cock into her butt crevace and slid it into her hole. She seemed to brace herself and just clutched the pillow, face buried. She let me start pumping away. I fucked her for what seemed like a long time and occasionally pulled out to use my tongue ensuring that I would not climax too fast because of the interruptions. Finally I shot my load into her, spunking up her arse and filling her with my juice. She lay there trembling. A different kind of trembling. She felt truly violated now. There were tears in her eyes as she turned to face me. "You bastard!" She whispered, sobbing. I felt guilty for the first time all evening. I told her we were done here and she could finish the wine if she wanted. Or leave, or even sleepover as the room was paid for. It was nearly 8pm. I locked myself in the bathroom and showered, and dressed in the same clothes. I stepped out to see she had gotten into the bed and wrapped herself in the duvet. Her eyes were closed. I placed twenty pounds cash by the bedside and told her to get a cab home as I figured the night buses were not that safe around here. Then I walked to the train station and went three stops to get to my place. Eight weeks later Sanjay cornered me in a cul-de-sac after finding out what beat I was on that day. I felt my heart race. I was trying to act cool but I don't know if I showed any fear. All he said was that he knew the score and that he thought I was a sick fucker but thanks for breaking Seema in. He was enjoying the anal sex and the blow-jobs and had me to thank for that. I nodded, unable to say anything intelligent. He walked away, with a slight limp as the hip was going to hurt like hell for a while. I had had the good sense to stash all my pictures, audio clips and other evidence in a safe place. The Police never raided my flat, the Company never investigated why I had declined to give testimony against my female colleague after a few customer complaints, everything got swept under the mat. Seema did well for herself, passing probation and then applying for a Supervisor's position soon after that. She did go on to marry Chetan but she broke up with Sanjay who had decided to leave the country anyway. So please tell me, honestly. Does all this make me a bad person?