20 comments/ 47762 views/ 3 favorites The Whore, Her Husband And Me By: Cromagnonman I had been following her for a month now and I was getting the picture, she was a whore. not your common garden type whore, standing on the street waiting for passing trade, or working the clubs, or even an escort agency, no, she was class, she had style and she was discreet. Her targets were all rich attractive men who either had money of their own or who had married money. The common denominator of her trade was that her lovers stood to lose it all if their wives found out about the affair. Her husband hired me a month ago to get the evidence he needed to divorce his wife. He was certain that she had been cheating on him but couldn't prove it. He it was, that put forward the suggestion of her client group. The one thing that he was certain of was that she wasn't carrying out the affairs in the evenings because these were spent together. "I know this sounds strange, but I know that my wife is being unfaithful, but I have no proof. She goes out several times a day and refuses to tell me where she goes. At first I thought that she might be working for an agency, you know one that would call her when they have a wealthy client that needs to be 'entertained', but again I have no proof. I then thought that she might be freelancing but where would she get the contacts? I can't prove anything but still I'm sure that she is on the game." "How do you know that it's prostitution and that she's just not having an affair with one man?" "I have been able to keep track of her movements to some extent because we live in a gated community and she has to swipe her key card each time she passed through the gate. The gate log also kept a record of anyone who was allowed in by a resident. She has passed through the gate several times each day but always on her own and she never stayed out more than an hour each time. I've checked with our male friends and none of them have been available at the times that she was out of the house." He was still certain that she was up to something. At first I put it down to jealous paranoia, but now I'm not so sure. Robert Bryce Farncombe was born into wealth, as was his father and his father. He worked for his father in the family banking company and believed that by right he would inherit the company when his father retired. His marriage to Phileda Forrest was a merger in more ways than one. Her family also had banking interests and, although they were not as wealthy as the Farncombes they lived as if they were, and this was the problem that caused them to seek out this marital merger. Phileda had graduated from Harvard Law with a degree in Business Law and worked in the family business, so it came as no surprise to her when the merger was proposed. Thus far the union was not blessed with children, something that did not trouble either partner. After a month of checking and re-checking gate logs, listening to the voice activated bugs that I managed to plant around the house, (Robert had driven me in one day when he knew that she would not be home) I had come to the conclusion that I would have to follow her to find out where she went on her many forays out of the community. Placing a homing device on her car hardly seemed necessary because her bright yellow Lamborghini Gallardo stood out in the crowd. Her first stop was at the shopping mall where she had coffee with friends (female and attractive) then some retail therapy (designer dress D&G) shoes, a clutch bag to match the shoes, and some jewellery to compete the ensemble. I figured that in the space of half an hour she had spent in the vicinity of 20,000 dollars and that was more than my car had cost. Then she drove home. Some three hours later she went out again, this time to a gym where she exercised for close to an hour, her personal trainer was a woman, before hitting the showers and emerging fresh and gorgeous to drive home again. This time she only stayed home for two hours before leaving once more. This trip was much more mundane, to the local markets where she picked up a variety of gourmet foods, fruit and vegetables, some meat from the butcher, several different cheeses from a delicatessen and some freshly roasted coffee beans. They must be having a dinner party tonight. It was going to be a long night for me, eavesdropping on the dinner party, listening to the idle chatter hoping for a clue to what was happening, so I settled down with a thermos of coffee. It was boring right up until the guests had gone and then a domestic started. "Where the fuck were you all day?" "Where do you think I was? You wanted to impress your guests and who did you want to provide the good impression? Me! And I had to prepare for this evening, I had to buy food and prepare it to your standard. I had to glam myself up to your standard. I had to suck up to them so that you wouldn't be embarrassed by my feeble efforts at being the perfect wife, just so that you can con them out of their money." "You didn't have to go as far as you did." "What do you mean?" "Slipping John some tongue when you kissed him goodnight." "Oh, so it's all right for you to play tonsil hockey with that fat tart of a wife of his but I can't return tongue. Talk about double standards!" I heard a door slam and then silence, and that was it for the rest of the night. I was tired and nodding off when she came through the gate. I was parked in my usual position in a side street some fifty metres from the gate and I wasn't paying all that much attention to her until the Lambo swung into the street and parked in front of my car. The door swung up and her shapely leg emerged, its black stockinged perfection a precursor to what was to follow. She tapped on my window and waited for me to lower it. "I know that you're just going to follow me so I thought that I'd save you the trouble. Come with me." She opened my door so I got out and followed her. It was much harder than I thought it would be to get into one of those things but soon I was strapped in and we were off. I was surprised when we turned into the gateway and she placed her card over the scanner and the huge wrought iron gates swung open. She caught my puzzled expression. "I want you to help me with something I have to do today, do you think you can do that?" "Sure, anything." I was curious. We arrived back at the house and the garage door slid up and she drove inside and parked beside the Bentley and a large SUV. We got out and walked inside the house as the garage door closed. "I know that you know who I am, who are you?" "Roger Delany. Your husband hired me to keep an eye on you." "To get evidence against me that he can use, you mean." The first thing that we did was to go to his walk-in wardrobe and take all of his clothes and dump them into a couple of large cardboard removalist boxes. Then we went to his office and she cranked up his computer and searched through the files, downloading those that she wanted onto an external hard drive and then accessing the operating system and setting it to reformat the hard drive, effectively wiping it clean of all programs and files. She then opened his file drawers and emptied his files into another packing case. Then she opened his safe and took out his passport and threw it into the case as well. It was around then that the front gate buzzer announced someone's arrival. "Good, can you let them in for me?" "What's going on here?" I had a fair idea but I just needed confirmation. "Later, I'll fill you in on all of the details later." The first arrivals were a couple of men from a local charity store who came to collect his clothes. "I love the clothes but they're not the style that we usually handle." One of them said as he took some out to look at them. "I can't imagine some of our regulars sleeping rough in these." "Well if you don't want them." Phileda said. "Oh no, we'll take them, we have other clients." I helped them load the boxes into their van and watched as they drove off. I walked back inside hoping for some answers, but the buzzer interrupted before I had a chance to ask. This time it was a recycling company come to take away all the papers to be passed through the shredder in their van. "Is there anything else?" I asked as the van left and the gate closed behind it. "What story did my husband give when he hired you? Was it the one where he told you that he thought that I was being unfaithful but needed proof so that he wouldn't lose everything when he divorced me?" "Something like that, yes." "I thought as much. This isn't the first time he's pulled that particular stunt, but let me tell you that it is the last time. If you have an hour or two, of course you have, you're watching me right? Let me tell you the real story." "When I first met Robert Bryce Farncombe he was the spoilt brat son of a wealthy family who thought that their shit didn't stink, but it did. Talk about robber barons, they would do anything legal or otherwise to make money and they screwed my family's business and then offered us an out clause, they would write off the debt if I would marry the little shit. I was forced to agree and that began the worst time of my life, putting up with his tantrums, his petty jealousy, his manipulation and the way that he humiliated me whenever he thought he could get away with it. I've put up with it because I had to, up until now. I no longer have to put up with his shit and believe me revenge will be long and painful." "What he knows about the banking business you could write on the head of a pin. Oh he has a degree in Business Management but it comes from one of those Weeties packet universities and he only got that because Daddy donated a new Library to the school. He swans around chatting to whoever his father wants him to chat with in order to gain new business and he thinks that he's great at it." "Unfortunately for him and the business, he's been listening to the wrong people and pulling some deals that haven't been very kosher, and he's been fiddling the company books to cover his losses. It looks like he's been bringing lots of new business for the company when in fact the new business is bleeding them dry. He's involved with hedge funds that have been buying up loans that have no hope of surviving. The people that have borrowed the money have a snowball's chance in hell of servicing the loan and some eighty percent of them will default and my darling husband has been buying up these bad loans, what a dickhead." "So how will you get out of this?" "I've been doing my own investing, but I've been investing in lower yield lower risk stocks and, while they may fluctuate a little, when push comes to shove they will be the ones to survive, and make a profit. What I've also done is invest in some profitable real estate ventures, like this community for instance. I own the land, it's been in my family for years, I own the construction company that provided the infrastructure and built the houses. These were then sold and we made a huge profit on our investment. Once sold we had no further involvement in the financial side of things, so if an owner is unable to service his mortgage it's not us that gets hurt. Many of the houses were sold on Robert's recommendation to his friends, many of whom are in the banking and finance industry and many of them are now unable to service their mortgages. By looking at this development you wouldn't realise that over half of the houses are on the market. There will be no sign-boards up around here, all houses will be sold by private treaty, otherwise if the world at large knew what was going on the value would drop into the cellar. And if the world at large were to investigate a little deeper they would wonder that if the banking sector hot shots were going down the tubes what hope has the rest of the world." "I assume that because you're telling me this you want me to help in some way." "You assume right. What I want you to do is to string Robert along for another couple of weeks, tell him that you think that you might have discovered who I'm having my affair with. I need a little extra time to set things up. Do you think you can do that? Oh, and by the way, I hope you aren't expecting to get paid when you finish his job." "I was assured of payment but now I suppose that you're going to tell me otherwise." "I don't know what you charge but a quick calculation of the time that you've already spent on this job would tell me that if you charge any more than twenty cents and hour he doesn't have enough in his account to cover the cost." This was certainly news that I didn't want to hear. "But not to worry, if you help me in this I'll see to it that you're adequately compensated." "In that case I guess that I'm no longer working for your husband, unofficially of course." I didn't like changing horses mid-stream but common sense tells me that if the horse you're on his heading for deep water with insufficient floatation it's time to bail. "A quick question, if you've gotten rid of all his clothes and papers, won't he notice them missing when he gets home?" "Of course he will, but he's obviously forgotten to tell you that he's gone away for two weeks. You'll probably have an email waiting for you that explains that business has called him away and that any information should be forwarded by email. He thinks that you'll assume that he's actually overseas and won't bother tracking him down, but the truth is that he is shacked up with his girlfriend, working on conning her out of her money." "How do you know all this?" "I know my husband and it's not the first time that he's pulled this stunt, but it will be the last time. I don't suppose that you're interested in doing a hit on him" "No, castration I'll do, facial modifications are something of a specialty but I draw the line at actual termination." "A girl can hope. Ah well, back to plan A." This was one weird family. The husband, and my initial client, was accusing his wife, who now seems to be also my client, of infidelity while he is himself involved in a relationship outside the marriage. It also seems that, if his wife is to be believed, that he is seeking to gain from the dissolution of his current marriage while turning a profit from his new relationship. Methinks I should investigate both sides of this family. My first port of call was to a friend from my police days. Freddie was one of the pioneers of computer hacking, back when it was an amusing diversion for geeks and before it became a serious criminal matter. We had busted him for borrowing funds from the banking system without their knowledge. He avoided jail time by volunteering to teach the banks how naive and vulnerable they were and how to be more security conscious. He also helped the police from time to time to track some of the more professional computer criminals. The police looked the other way when he indulged in a little profitable research. If anyone knew how to follow an individual's banking paper trail it was Freddie. The last time that Freddie had seen the light of day must have been a decade ago, around the same time that he had his last home cooked meal if the empty pizza boxes and Chinese take away cartons that littered what I supposed was his kitchen were anything to go by, He was drinking coffee from an instant coffee jar probably because it was easier to pour hot water into the jar than to find a cup. I explained that I wanted the banking records of both Robert and Phileda Farncombe. He took another sip of coffee and his face contorted in disgust at its taste. "Piece of piss, I don't know why these banking types bother trying to hide their records, it could be because they think that they are smarter than us. When they find out they're not they'll shit themselves. Tomorrow." He waved a dismissive hand in my general direction so I left it to him and went home at, for the first time in a month, a reasonable hour even after stopping by Hakim's rent-a-curry for a beef vindaloo. I watched the crap on TV for as long as I could stand it, which wasn't long, before hitting the sheets with the first of Stieg Larsson's Millennium trilogy that I'd bought some time ago and hadn't found the time to read. Sorry Stieg, it's not you or your book, but tiredness caught up with me and I fell asleep at about page twenty. There was an email waiting on my computer in the morning from Robert advising that he had been called away unexpectedly on business and could I forward any findings to his email address. He superfluously included his email address, obviously having not reached the 'reply' button section of the instruction manual. I composed a carefully worded reply telling him that I might at last have the evidence that he wanted, but that it would take some time because, to get the information meant either doing something illegal, which I had no intention of doing, or following correct and legal processes, something that could not be rushed. This led to a flurry of correspondence, the first message being from him authorising me to proceed with the illegal but quicker method. I responded by pointing out that any evidence gained could not be used without implicating me, something that I was not about to let happen. His response was a message re-iterating his instruction and guaranteeing that I would be in no way implicated. To which I replied that he was in no position to make such a guarantee and that if he wanted me to proceed he would have to place in a trust account, from which I alone could draw, sufficient funds that would allow me to live until such times as I could find suitable alternate employment because I would have my license revoked and be unable to continue in my present industry. I added that all work for him would cease until either I had confirmation of the funds placed in the trust account or his instruction to continue my investigations using legal methods. Instructions to proceed followed. It was mid afternoon before I found myself once more in the dark bat's cave that Freddie inhabited. "These are very strange people." "In what way?" I already knew that there was something odd happening. "There's money travelling all over the world, from here to the Cayman Islands, from the Caymans back to here and then off to the Caymans again before returning here, and at each step of the journey there is a cut out making it difficult to trace." "But you managed to trace it. Tell me all." "It seems that Phileda Farncombe has money of her own and a lot of it. Some of this money of her own is transferred to an account in a Cayman Island bank. From that bank regular payments are made to his bank here. Some of this money is transferred back to a different account in the Caymans and some funds from that account are transferred back here to an account that she knows nothing about. The money that is not transferred from his account here to the Caymans goes through his company books as legitimate income and it is this money, little that it is, that is taken into consideration in the advent of a divorce." "I can understand her having an account that he knows nothing of, she doesn't want him getting his sticky fingers on in the case of divorce, but these funds that bounce back and forth between her and him, that's something worth looking into." I thanked him, left an envelope with the agreed fee on his desk and left. I had people to see and questions to ask. I rang Phileda to set up a meeting. "We have to talk." "You sound angry. What have I done to upset you?" "It's not something that I can discuss over the phone, you never know who might be listening." "You think Robert has hired someone to keep an eye on you do you?" "I wouldn't put it past him. Now here's what I want you to do, drive to the underground car park at the Central Mall, in the corner furthest away from the entrance you'll see a small silver coloured hatch, one of those little Korean buzz boxes, taped to the driver's side rear wheel arch you'll find the keys. Drive it out of the car park, you'll find a parking ticket on the front seat, and turn left, follow that road until you reach the Parkview Motel, I'll be waiting for you in room 26. Have you got all that?" The Whore, Her Husband And Me "It all sounds very mysterious, are you sure that you're not over-reacting?" "It pays not to take chances. Speaking of which, if you think that you're being followed there's a pre-paid mobile phone in the centre console of the car, just press re-dial, it's programmed to dial my pre-paid phone and we'll make other arrangements." Some thirty minutes later I heard a car pull up out front of my motel room followed by a soft tap on the front door. I hadn't forgotten how beautiful this woman was, it's just that each time I see her I'm reminded of that fact, this time was no different. She breezed into the room wearing tight white slacks, a blue blouse the top three buttons of which were un-done, and long black high-heeled boots completed her ensemble. I just stood there with my mouth open. "Incoming fly, you'd better shut your mouth." There was laughter in her voice. "Now what is the mystery that you couldn't tell me about over the phone?" "Is your husband blackmailing you?" "You don't beat about the bush do you? I know it's a girl thing so I'll answer your question with a question; what makes you think that he's blackmailing me?" "I'm having a hard time figuring if there was any other reason that you would be transferring funds to him via a Cayman Island bank account if he wasn't, that's all." "Haven't you been a clever little detective?" There was a condescending tone to her voice that I was just about to complain about when she changed her tone completely. "Let me tell you a story that will explain everything. When I first met Robert I couldn't stand him, he was a drunken fool living off his parent's wealth. He and his cronies would troll the nightclubs picking up trailer trash and fucking them and laughing about it afterwards, they thought it a great joke to lead these girls into thinking that they cared for them and then dumping them. His father was forever paying girls to have an abortion and keep quiet about it, but Robert absolutely refused to use a condom. He had several visits to private clinics to be treated for STD's, but he never learned." "At first I absolutely refused it when my father proposed that it would be in the family's best interests for me to marry Robert. All their arguments failed until he showed me the balance sheets that told me that the only way to save the bank was to comply. It was only after the event that I discovered the reason for our financial situation was caused by the Farncombe bank." "The marriage was never a real marriage, it was an expedience for him and a lot of humiliation for me. I had to entertain his business associates and give the appearance of being the devoted wife, I was encouraged to flirt with the men, and that meant that I was forever having to put up with the hatred of their wives and partners, and when we were alone he had no hesitation in putting me through the most painful abuse imaginable. Let me tell you that he knew where to hit people so that there was never any visible bruising unless I was either naked or wearing one of those skimpy bikinis that he insisted that I wear when we had pool parties, I might just as well have been wearing nothing." "So why didn't you leave him?" "You have to understand that I love my parents and I would gladly suffer the humiliation of this sham marriage to Robert than see my parents hurt, and hurt they will be if I divorce him, he has made that very obvious." "There must be some way out for you." "That's exactly what I'm working on, and I would appreciate some help from you. I don't know whether it was you or someone that you hired to do it that tapped into my banking records, I'm certain that it wasn't Robert but you never know. Whoever it was is brilliant at covering tracks because I was unable to identify who did it. So I'm offering you a job. What I want you to do is to get into his banking records and see if we can cause some mayhem. Are you up for it?" "As long as what you are planning isn't illegal, and before you say it, I know that accessing someone's banking details isn't exactly legal, I see no problem if all it is used for is information gathering as long as the use of that information isn't illegal." Even I was confused by that statement. "I know what you mean and I can assure you that I'm not planning to rob him, all that I want is evidence of some business transactions that he has made so that I can assess his vulnerability to financial trends. I want to see if there is some way to use that vulnerability to free my parents from his financial clutches, if I can do that then I'll divorce him, and with the evidence that I have I think he'll regret having ever met me." "I'll see what I can find out. As soon as I have something I'll be in touch." I thought that would be the end of this conversation but I, who take great pride in my ability to read a person, have to admit that with Phileda I have been totally wrong. All the time that I'd been talking to her I was working under the assumption that she was a rich snob who only deigned to talk to the common man, that's me by the way, if it was necessary for their future well being. I was expecting her dismissive tone as she left. How wrong I was. I had failed to pick op on the non-verbal clues that were going on around me. She was sitting on the bed resting her back on the headboard her hand on the inside of her thigh and her fingers caressing herself through the fabric of her slacks. Her legs had opened up giving me an uninterrupted view as her finger massaged the seam between her legs. I crossed my legs so that she couldn't see the effect that she was having on me. I don't like to brag about these things but crossing my legs wasn't enough to hide him from her. Phileda reached across and took my hand and placed it between her legs. "This is going to sound impossible to you who've been trailing me trying to find out if I've been having affairs, I know that's why he hired you, but I haven't had sex for something like three years, not even with Robert because he still refuses to use a condom and I told him that I wasn't going to have a dick in me that I knew had been treated for infections, he was angry but he didn't press the issue, he could always troll the clubs for it. But look at it this way, we have a perfectly good motel room for rest of the day, and we won't be doing anything that he doesn't already expect me to be doing and I can see that you're up for it, at least a part of you is, so I say let's do it." She quickly un-buttoned her blouse, revealing that she had no need for a bra to support her tits, her perfect tits. I just had to reach out and touch them and she wasn't about to stop me. While I caressed her she was working on me, my shirt joined her blouse and she ran her fingers through my chest curls and tweaked my nipples. Her lips approached mine and my lips did not retreat, deciding to stand and wait for whatever fate awaited them, let me tell you that whenever you're in a position like this, listen to your lips and enjoy your fate. "I don't know about you." She said into my lips, "but I feel just a little over-dressed, what do you think we should do about this deplorable situation?" "Allow me." I reached down and un-zipped her boots and pulled them from her, then I reached for that other zipper and her slacks joined the increasing pile of clothes. There were no panties or thong or any hindrance to my exploration of her waiting pussy. My finger probed deep inside her as the tip of my tongue searched for her clit. An intake of breath from above me told me that I had found the mark. She reached for me but I pushed her hand away. "If you haven't had sex for years I feel that it is my duty to make sure that you remember this." "I am in your capable hands, proceed sir, at your own pace." I proceeded as instructed, at my pace, which started out very slowly indeed. It wasn't long before she was moaning and convulsing and dripping and sobbing for me to hurry up and fuck her, but I held back and teased her instead. I felt almost as if I was taking some sort of sadistic pleasure in keeping her in the verge of orgasm for so long. It reminded me of the joke; 'What's the difference between a masochist and a sadist? The masochist cries 'whip me, beat me, abuse my body! And the Sadist says 'No.' I felt like that sadist and I was enjoying the feeling. Then I decided to put her out of her misery and knelt over her and inserted him deep inside her. The reaction was spectacular, her hips reared up taking me with them. "Oh god! God please don't stop, I'm coming." She didn't have to tell me that, what with the convulsing and the flooding my cock and balls with her juices, I got the picture, she was coming, and coming, and coming, she was still coming when I came, pouring spurt after spurt of me inside her. When she eventually regained her breath she looked at me and sighed, "That was perfect. I hope that you have no other plans for today because I want more of him, I want all of him, and I want all of you." "I guess work will have to wait then." "Work? What work?" "The work you want me to do for you." "That can wait, I can't." She said this just before her mouth closed over my still flaccid cock. It didn't stay that way for long and before you could say 'the customer is always right', he was rising to the occasion. She straddled me and manoeuvred him onto her still moist pussy. She proceeded to do to me what I did to her, bringing me to the point of orgasm and then stopping for several minutes before starting once more. She kept this up for at least half an hour and then leaned forward and kissed me deeply at the same time as she pushed herself down as far as she could onto my shaft, then, as she slowly withdrew, she tightened her pussy muscles and literally milked my cum from me. "Let me tell you about the money." We were stretched out on the bed in recovery mode. "That money that you thought I was paying Robert as blackmail was part of a plan that he had to milk money from his friends. He would invite them, one at a time, to dinner with their wives. He would flirt outrageously with the wife while I was to flirt with the man. Then I was supposed to make a date to meet the man for sex and after the act I was to tell the man that unless he paid up I would tell his wife. It was a stupid plan and it would never have worked so I didn't bother having sex with any of them, instead I paid money from my own account into the account that he had set up for the purpose so that he thought that I was doing as he asked. That's why he's certain that I'm having an affair or several and he has asked you to find out which of them I'm fucking so that he can hit them for more money. And he's going to need as much as he can get shortly, I think, I hope." "And that's where I come in, right?" "Yes, that's where you come in. He has been syphoning money out of the bank's account and investing it in high risk ventures that he hopes will pay off. I'm sure that they won't and I want to position myself to take full advantage when they fail." "Let me make a phone call and get started." I took out my pre-paid phone and dialled a familiar number. "Freddie, that account that I asked you to investigate the other day, can you dig a little deeper, I want to know everything about it." There was excited chatter from the other end. "You've what? You've already done it and there is an email waiting for me with all the information, Freddie you're a genius!" Phileda rolled on top of me and kissed me. "One more time and then we go and check out your friend's information." Why did I get the feeling that I was being used? I didn't mind her using me to satisfy her sexual needs, God knows I have my own needs that have been neglected for far too long, but to use me to gain information that she has been unable to get herself I wasn't so happy about. I didn't have time to dwell on this situation because she had started without me and I had some catching up to do. I opened the door to my office and turned on the light. I could see the flashing light on my computer that told me that I had emails waiting so I booted it up and checked through them. There was a couple from Robert asking for information, each getting increasingly desperate, then there was Freddie's and there were pages of it as attachments. I printed them off and Phileda and I sat down to sift through the information. It was dynamite. Robert had used over 8 million dollars of bank funds to finance his scheme and it had become obvious to even him that he was in trouble. He had resorted to a Ponzi scheme to attempt to recoup his losses but this was about to blow up in his face because one of the investors had called in the Fraud Squad. While we were reading through this the computer beeped indicating another email, Robert again and this time he was really desperate; 'What the fuck is going on!!!!! I've contacted one of the men that you told me that Phileda has been fucking with the view to touching him for more money and the bastard has denied having sex with her. He even went so far as to tell me that if I went public with the accusation he'd see me in court. What stunt are you pulling?' "We have to prepare for our next move and I think that it'll happen within hours. Once the police are involved the stock market will get the jitters and when that happens everyone will bail and want to pull their money from the bank. There isn't enough money so they'll have to file for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. As soon as administrators have been appointed I'll make an offer for the bank's assets. It will not be refused, and they have no choice but to accept. Then I can divorce him without him being able to hurt my parents." "You must love them to take such risks." "I haven't taken any risks, I have used what I learned at college, I have used what I know of Robert and how he operates and I have planned every minute detail of this operation so that it cannot fail." "Even down to my involvement?" "No. I have to admit that your participation wasn't planned. It was a spur of the moment decision and I have not regretted having made it, not for one second. Don't ask me why because I don't know, it's just that when I first met you there was something in you that told me that I wanted you, I needed you, and it had nothing to do with getting you to work for me, although that was a fringe benefit that I'm sure that I can live with, unless of course you're not interested in a permanent involvement with me." The look on her face said it all, she would be devastated if I refused her. Either she is a very good actress and I'm going to regret what I'm about to say, or she really means it, in which case I'm about to have one of my dreams realised, the love of a beautiful woman. The money has not entered into the equation. I took her face in my hands and kissed her like I had never kissed anyone before, ever. I didn't need to say anything, the kiss told her in the best possible way that I was involved. One hundred percent involved. We drove to Phileda's house and she led me to her bedroom, I was just about to comment on how comfortable the bed looked when she led me through a connecting door into the next room that had been set up as her home office. "Robert doesn't know about this little set up, I have a computer link to the stock market, I have several different phone lines to brokers around the world and a direct line to my broker here. She picked up a phone while she waited for the computer to complete booting. "Stephen, yes it's me and no I haven't forgotten that I was supposed to check in with you this afternoon but I have been otherwise occupied. Now listen carefully and don't even think of asking where I got this information from, but the Farncombe Bank is just about to go under. They'll ask for Chapter 11 but I don't think they'll get it. As soon as the market opens I want you buy every Farncombe share that you can lay your hands on. Then what I want you to do is, as soon as an administrator is appointed, dragging the shares even lower, approach them and offer ten cents in the dollar for the bank's assets, we don't want their debts so avoid any discussion on that without first checking with me. Have you got all of that?" The voice on the other end said 'yes'. "I'll crank up the coffee machine, we are going to be in for a long night and I don't want to miss one second of it, unless of course you have other plans." I had no other plans and told her so. The coffee was good and always available, and she was right, it was a long night. By morning it had been announced that the Fraud Squad were investigating irregularities in the Farncombe Bank's operations, this caused a flurry of activity on the Stock Market which saw the value of Farncombe shares plummet, what was only yesterday a seemingly solid institution was suddenly on the skids and no-one wanted to be on that particular ride. By 10.00 o'clock the announcement of the Chapter 11 application sent even more tremors through the market and when the application was refused Farncombe stocks were in freefall. Phileda moved and moved quickly. Within minutes of the announcement of the appointment of an administrator she had her offer before them, major share holders were consulted and the decision was made to accept the offer. The only dissenting voice came from Robert, even his father had seen the wisdom of acceptance. It had just gone 12.00 when we heard a car pull up out the front of the house. "It's Robert, quick, into the office." From inside the room I could hear him storming through the house. "Where are you, you fucking whore?" The bedroom door crashed open and he was in her room. "There you are! I suppose that you think you've been clever, but you haven't been clever enough. I know that you've been getting money from your lovers, they've denied it of course, in fact, based on the information that I got from that Private Dickhead, Henry's wife got her lawyer to file for divorce, now he's threatened to sue her for libel if she uses that as grounds for divorce and because I used the same information to threaten him he's decided to do the same to me, and, he's suing his wife for divorce and naming me as her lover, can you believe that?" "Yes I can." Phileda's voice was calm but firm. "Shut the fuck up bitch! When I want a pig I'll rattle the bucket. And the big surprise is I know about your offer to buy the bank's assets but you'll fail, and do you know why? I'll have my friend Glock here tell you!" He had a gun. I had eased the door open and he stood in front of a scared Phileda, the pistol pointed at her forehead. I grabbed a paperweight from her desk and opened the door even further. He caught a glimpse of me in her mirror and spun to face me. I didn't tell you that I was the first string pitcher in my college baseball team did I? My fast ball was as fast as any in the league and the paperweight went just as fast and it hit him right between the eyes. He was going to have some bruise when he woke up. At the same time as the paperweight bounced off his forehead there was the flash and bang of his gun discharging and I felt a searing pain in my left shoulder, fuck it hurt. Phileda had dialled 911 and told them what had happened just before she launched herself across the room at me. In between the tears and the thanking me for saving her life she told me that she loved me and wanted to marry me as soon as all of this was over and she could get her divorce and "Oh my god you're hurt, let me look at it." She gingerly pulled my shirt off and touched the area around the wound. Fuck it hurt. I flinched at the touch so she went to get her first aid kit. It gave me a chance to think about what had just happened and what she had just said. At first I wasn't sure but the more that I thought about it the more I became convinced that I could live with it, and her. The Whore, Her Husband And Me When things had eventually calmed down, the police had been and we had both made statements, the medics had cleaned up my wound and declared that nothing important had been hit, so I'm not important, huh! They advised that I should seek treatment as soon as possible to prevent infection and that I should make sure that my tetanus booster was up to date. They had just left and taken a still unconscious Robert, complete with police escort, off to hospital, leaving us to take stock of what had just happened. Another cup of coffee was almost finished when the gate buzzer buzzed. It was her parents. "What's happening around here, first we here that the Farncombe Bank has gone broke, then we hear that you have offered to buy their assets and then we hear that there has been an incident in your own home and that Robert has been taken to hospital under a police guard. What is going on?" Phileda told them everything, from what Robert had wanted her to do, to her working towards a takeover of the Farncombe bank so that Robert had no further hold over them. She told them of my involvement in everything and about us. This shook them a bit until she explained that I wasn't a banker and that she was in love with me. They accepted both statements and congratulated us. Eventually we had the house to ourselves. Her parents stayed for dinner, takeout pizza and lots of red wine, and they left around 9.00pm. Phileda smoothed her way into my arms and kissed me. "Did what happened today really happen?" "I think so." "Did you almost kill my soon to be ex-husband with a paperweight?" "Yes I did." "My hero." That was all she said for the rest of the night, unless you count moans and groans of pleasure and sighs of contentment that is. As for me, my cock said everything that I needed to say, and most eloquently if I may say so.