It took me a week to edit the footage into a twenty-minute film I was happy with. The so-called easy-to-use software was not. On first viewing, the raw footage was a turn on, but repeated editing dulled the senses until I was just watching two people I knew fucking. I bet the only people who don’t watch porn for entertainment are the people who make it for a living. I invited Annabelle to my place for a meal and to debut our performance. She turned up in a simple white tee shirt and jeans and a cardigan. Her face wore just a smidge of lipstick. I pulled her in the door and kissed her passionately.

“Wow, I expected that when I’m done up like the whore of Babylon, but not when I’m got up to take the dog for a walk. Not that I’m complaining, Max.”

“I’ve seen every angle of the whore of Babylon this week, but what I’ve missed is the genuine woman. This is the real Annabelle, isn’t it?” I held her at arm’s length, looking at her face. She searched mine. She could see I loved her, and her reaction was a mix of joy and fear. I hugged her.

Annabelle held me at arm’s length. “God, what am I doing? I thought we would just be a bit of fun. But it’s more important than that, isn’t it?” She looked worried.

“It is for me, Annabelle, but then I’ve got nothing to lose, have I? I don’t expect the same from you. Let’s just see how the cards fall for the moment, shall we?”

She looked up. “How can I argue with you when you are being so reasonable? Clive and I are more than just a marriage, we are the business. We are so entangled.”

I cooked while she gave me a quick history lesson. Clive and her first husband Richard were pals from university. They got bored working for big accountancy firms and struck out for themselves, a partnership offering personal investment advice to rich people. All the big banks now offered the wealth management and private client banking Saunders-Hart Investment Management pioneered. She met Richard when he was pitching services to her father. Richard was dynamic, charming and very persuasive, and they married within a year. Clive was more calculating and strategic, making sure they delivered on what Richard promised. They were an excellent team; business prospered for six years, by which time Clive had married Sarah. But the creative tension that drove the business forward became a strain, and Richard confessed to Annabelle he wanted to end their partnership.  They had many rows and after a particularly bad one, Richard stormed out of the office and drove off. He had a fatal accident, veering off the road and hitting a tree. He had been drunk driving. I paused mid taste and looked at her.

“It could have been a man like Richard who knocked you down Max. Just a regular man who lost his head and made a stupid mistake. That is why I felt I had to help you.”

I’d never considered my assailant could have other victims, too. Members of his family who had to live with the consequences of his actions. I went over to the couch and held Annabelle. I kissed her.

“Thank you, Max.” She licked her lips. “That sauce needs salt.”

Richard’s death threw the business into a crisis. They’d expanded, but Richard was the figurehead of the firm. Clive was heartbroken, begging Annabelle to help him reassure clients, worried about their money. About a year later, Clive persuaded Annabelle to take a job with the firm as Head of Investor Relations. Not long after, Clive and Sarah divorced. Things had not been right between them for a long time. When Clive proposed to Annabelle eighteen months later, she accepted without too much thought. ‘I knew him so well, Max. I saw him every day. I didn’t feel passionate about him, but losing Richard scared me so much. Clive made me feel safe.’

“Dinner is ready, Annabelle. I understand why you married him. Sounds like you didn’t get a chance to look elsewhere. Safe is good sometimes. But you don’t feel so safe now, do you? What you’ve discovered about his interests makes you question how well you know him?” I didn’t mean to hurt her, but it stung all the same. I put the plates down.

“I will complain to the management if there is too much salt in this.” Annabelle sniffed a tear.

“I’ll get our head of customer services to see you after the meal. There’s ice cream for dessert.  It's vanilla, you like vanilla.”

“I’ll be the judge of that thank you, sir.” She would not forgive me in a hurry.

“Plus, we have a film premier. A coming attraction, and I promise you will.”
She rolled her eyes at my smutty talk.

It was a first for me. Siting on the couch eating ice cream with a lover and watching yourselves fucking on the big screen, but I would recommend it if you get the chance. Annabelle pretended to take it all in her stride, but her face was flushed and she fidgeted. “I see the boys like it?” I said. She looked puzzled, I nodded down at her nipples straining her tee shirt. She covered them, but it did not take long before she was absent-mindedly caressing them. I shuffled over on the couch and kissed her neck. “Are you going to take those jeans off now? You don’t want them to get as wet as your knickers, do you?” She was transfixed to the screen as I stripped her. We lay like spoons and I was fucking her from behind before she noticed.

“You’ve done a splendid job, Max. So much better than those films Clive has on his computer. All those different angles, you dirty sod. I like the shots from the chest camera, it’s like the viewer is between my legs.” She made other comments as she played with her clit and I thrust from behind. “Do you think I’ve overdone it, speaking into the camera? Look how big you cock is in my arse. No wonder it stung afterwards.” She bucked back. We finished doggie style on the floor as I slammed into her hips and gave her a big load. My week of editing had been foreplay. ‘Max, there’s so much cum. I’m full of it and it's running down my legs.’

We went to my bed and made love once more before she had to leave. She was adamant about keeping her words to camera in, but agreed that it would be better to blur my face so as not to over provoke Clive. I’d already made a version with my head pixilated, so it was just a case of loading it onto the USB drive. She planned to load it onto Clive’s PC and wait for his reaction. I was not so sure it was a good idea to surprise him like that.

“Clive is so calculating, so measured. I want to break through that reserve and see what he feels. Because if he doesn’t feel, then what have we got left? I got angry because you were right, Max. I never had time to choose after Richard died. Clive took charge, and I did what was best for him and for the business. Now it’s my turn to do what is good for me.” She kissed me and for the first time I thought my feelings had been reciprocated. “Give me a few days, Max. I’ll contact you when things are clearer.”

*** 

It was almost a week before Annabelle called me. My worried texts and a final threat to come to her house forced her response. “I’m okay now, Max. Clive was angry, but he was also turned on by getting what he thought he wanted. He was more demonstrative than I have ever seen him. I thought that was what I wanted from him, but it’s not enough. It is not like it is with you. I thought the sex on the side was supposed to be the cheap thrill, but what we have, what you feel for me, is more honest than Clive has ever been?”

“What does this mean, Annabelle?”

“I told him I would not give you up Max, and that if he wanted me to continue being a part of the company, he would have to accept that. I’d put my life on hold when he asked me and now it was his turn to repay the favour. He does not like being out of options, but he agreed for the sake of his precious company.”

“Come and see me now, Annabelle, or I’ll come there.”

We met in a West End coffee shop. The bruise around her eye was not quite hidden by concealer. I clenched my fist on the table. “He just lashed out in anger. He was full of apologies afterwards.” My look said I didn’t believe her. “You were right. My bits talking into the camera set him off. He didn’t even rant about who you were. What annoyed him was that I’d taken control, done it on my terms. He’s not the wimpy cuckold. He’s like the other type you described. He needs to be in control of his wife’s lover, even though the other man is taking what is his. Its contradictory, but it is Clive to a tee. He came in as I was leaving earlier, I told him I was going to see you.”

“Give me your phone, Annabelle. I will not make a scene.” She handed it over and I found his number and dialled. “You know who this is, Clive. You recognise the voice. Annabelle is staying with me tonight. I can understand you were angry. I said it might provoke you. But if you ever hit her again, you will have me to answer to, and there will be no excuses. Do we understand each other?”

His voice was much deeper than I’d imagined, and he was not in the least intimidated. Annabelle was right, he was no wimp. “I know who you are. I regret what I did and it will not happen again. It is good that my wife had found someone worthy of her affection, but Annabelle is still my wife. I think we should meet when tempers have calmed. I’ll give Annabelle the details.” Then the fucker rung off on me. “I see what you mean about having to be in control. He wants us to meet a time of his convenience. If we were married and you were carrying on with him on the sly, I’d be going round to his house right now to sort him out.”

“That’s because I’m more important to you than anything else, Max. It’s not the same for Clive.” Annabelle looked dejected. If she ever doubted her marriage was over in that moment, she was certain of it. We finished our coffees and left.

She took the top of my pyjamas, which were comically large on her, but neither of us were laughing. I held her while she wept. There was no point in words, she just needed the reassurance of my arm around her body. I fell asleep, but I woke by her mouth on mine. Her eyes were sad, but she gave me a slight smile. “I want you to make love to me now, Max. You make me feel good and I need that. I’ve made a start for you.” She squeezed my erection in her fist. “I’ve made a bit of a start on me too.” I felt between her legs, and her pussy was puffy and open. Her clit a hard little button that made her squirm as my finger circled it.

I slid on top. There was no finesse. She wanted to come as soon as possible and so did I. I kissed her bruised cheek and the mark on her neck I had not noticed before and her painful arm. His loss of control had been more than either of them admitted. I looked in her eyes. “I love you, Annabelle. If that makes you feel awkward, I don’t care.  I have to hear myself say it.”

“I would have felt awkward last week, but now I feel wonderful. I love you too, Max. I had to see how little is left between me and Clive to recognise how much this means to me. That is why I refused to give you up despite his fists and the vile things he said.”

 ***

Clive chose the Saunders-Hart annual charity auction as the place we should meet. He could show off his power and status. He and Annabelle were the hosts auctioning off unwanted donations from their rich clients. The charities benefited, clients got to show off their generosity, and I’m sure Clive had a dodge that made the whole exercise tax deductible. Clive was in his pomp. He was the centre of attention whipping up the bidding while Annabelle, looking lovely in an emerald green shoulder-less evening dress acted as hostess, displaying the items. I looked at the faces of the crowd. You could see desire in the faces of the men who spent as much time ogling Annabelle as what she was presenting. The wives subconsciously touched their necks and arms, wondering how she kept her skin so supple. I noticed Clive’s expression, pleased at the attention Annabelle was getting because it reflected well on his choice of partner. I looked smug myself, pleased I was the one fucking Annabelle, and they weren’t.

Clive was a conundrum. I put him at my height, six-two. He was in decent shape, but I was more thick set. I would back myself if it came to trading blows. But then I would say that, wouldn’t I? His performance on the rostrum was polished and professional rather than personable. I could imagine the contrast between Clive and her first husband, Richard. From how she described him, I could see than they would have made a formidable team.

I’m glad I’d put on my dinner jacket for the hotel do, because everyone in the hundred strong gathering was in their finery. I hadn’t worn a DJ since the fine dining club events I used to attend with my wife Angela a lifetime ago. After several unsuccessful bids, I won a signed football shirt, which I’d raffle at work. As I held up my bidding number to confirm I was the winner, I caught Annabelle’s eye for the first time that evening. She smiled, and Clive followed her stare. Soon we’d locked eyes across the room and his professional smile slipped for a moment before he recovered. Guests mingled after the auction, gossiping about how their money was doing. Annabelle came through a crowd, exchanging hellos along the way. It took all my effort not to grab her and kiss her as she stood in front of me.

She smiled at my torment. “So glad you could make it Max,” she said for the benefit of any bystanders.

“I’m always happy to give to charity Annabelle. As a matter of fact, I would like to give some more now if you know of a suitable opportunity.”

She flushed and leaned closer. “Stop it, Max. Seeing you got up like James Bond, I’m already wet.” We talked for a few minutes, but the words were not what we wanted to say. My eyes searched hers. “No Max, I can’t, not here tonight.” She bit her lip pensively, and I thought I might persuade her if I persisted, but I did not get the opportunity.

Clive appeared from nowhere. “Max, isn’t it? So glad we’ve met at last. I hope Annabelle has kept you entertained?” He was pumping my hand but not crushing it when he felt me return his firm grip. “Darling, can you give us a few moments to chat?” Annabelle looked nervously between our faces.

“It’s okay Annabelle, were all friends here. I’ll see you in a while,” I reassured. Her warm smile for me was lost by the time she looked at her husband. Her look told him to behave. We strolled a few feet away from the crowd and his smile dropped. “I’m very impressed, Clive. All this, the money, the influence, I get the point you are trying to make. But she’s not happy with you and your interests. Annabelle may be your wife, but she is not your property. You need to give that some thought before you threaten me.” I’d taken the initiative, and he was wrong-footed for a moment.

“I had visions of a bloke who worked on a building site,” he said.

“I still do sometimes. But you know what, some of us have brains.”

“Well, use those brains to think about this. Ask her about St Kits and Caracas and Bahrain. Ask her about those holidays and then see if you’re still wearing those rose-tinted blinkers. I think I can find you a copy of those films if you’re interested. You’re not the first Max, and you won’t be the last. She led you to believe my interests are a complete surprise to her and you want to believe that, don’t you? Well, good luck deluding yourself.”

He scored a hit, but I had a counterpunch of my own. “I got you wrong too, Clive. I thought from those films you were cuckolded, getting off on the humiliation. The man who is so outwardly successful is inwardly weak. But you are not like that at all. Are you?”

He had to ask. “What am I about then, Max?”

“You are a voyeur naturally, but you are all about control, Clive. You control the wife; you control the bull. You dispense or withhold pleasure. That’s where you get your jollies. You were incensed at Annabelle taking the initiative and you lost control and hit her. You want to hit me now.”

Clive clenched his fists and breathed to regain his composure. “Goodbye, Max. I don’t think we’ll be meeting again.”

I found the bar and downed two double whiskeys, but they could not burn my mind the way they burned my throat. His insinuation that I was just the latest victim in their sick game had shaken me. Whatever the truth, I felt foolish that I had been so open in my feelings for her. Annabelle found me at the bar. I greeted her smile with hardness in my eyes, and she looked shocked.

“What did he say, Max? What lies has he told you about me?”

“Are St Kits and Caracas and Bahrain lies? He did not go into details, preferring to let me guess the worse.”

Tears formed in her eyes. “That bastard. He saw how you feel for me and he had to destroy it. Those places he mentioned. There were parties. Wild parties. Couples came to meet other couples. It all got out of hand. Clive liked to watch more than take part. I told him I didn’t want to do it anymore. They ended years ago. This is not a game we play, if that is what you are thinking. I would never do that to you, Max. You must believe me.” She went to caress my face, and I caught her hand.

“Did you know what was on those films before I accessed his computer?”

Her shoulders slumped. “I could have guessed, but thought it was worse, honestly. But when you looked at me, like no man has looked at me since I was a teenager. I felt so good. So pure. I didn’t want that tainted by having to tell you I knew all about that stuff. That I’d done things to please him. I’m sorry I lied to you, Max.”

“I’m going home now, Annabelle. We need some breathing space. You should go find your husband. The man is a sick voyeur. You need to be careful.”

“Don’t do this, Max, please.”

“Just give me a few days, Annabelle.”

 ***

A few days turned into three weeks and here we are where I started the story I will never publish. Why did I make such a big deal about the swinging she and Clive had got up to? What we did was hardly chaste. I had my qualms about the filming. It did not feel right, but I was in love with her. Besides, if you had seen her coming out of that hotel bathroom, even a priest would have given up his vows.

Well, like Annabelle, I had not given her the full story of my life. My marriage to Angela ended because of parties like those Annabelle and Clive attended. In my case, my wife was keen to go. She said it would spice up our love life. I didn’t see the need myself. I didn’t understand she was auditioning for my replacement because she was so unhappy with our life. Perhaps I worked too hard and drank too much in those days. Perhaps I didn’t take her complaints seriously. Anyway, it’s all water under the bridge now.

I felt stupid because I’d been considerate to Annabelle and honest with my feeling for her to prevent my earlier mistakes from happening again. It never occurred to me she might not be honest in return. Because I loved her, I was naïve. Just like I’d been with Angela. More fool me. I would not do that again.

Postscript.

Why are you reading this now, when I had no intention of publishing? Because this bit is written a few weeks after what you have already read, and everything has changed. I didn’t edit what has gone before because I wanted you to experience events as I did and share my surprise.

One evening after a long day at work, I trudged to my garden gate, fumbling in my pocket for my door keys. An unexpected visitor opened the window of a car parked in front of my house.

“Max, Max, it’s me. You won’t take my calls or answer my messages. I did not want to come to your office. Please look at me.”

I turned around. Annabelle was at the wheel of a white Audi A3. She looked awful. Hollow-eyed, blotchy skin. “I know I look like shit, Max. I’m not doing so well. How are you?”

“I feel like shit too, Annabelle.”

“Max, there is no one else I can turn to. I need your help. If you help me with this, I promise I will leave you alone. Perhaps if we said goodbye properly, we would both feel better?”

“Isn’t this where we started, with you needing my help?” I wanted to be nasty, but I could not find the words. “You’d better come in.” She got out of the car quickly before I changed my mind. Then she dragged a big tote bag off the back seat. “You’ve brought an overnight bag?”

“No, Max. It contains what I want to show you. It is heavy. Can you give me a hand?”

We sat on my couch with coffees, the huge holdall between us like the Berlin wall.

“Listen Annabelle, I owe you an explanation. There are things I had not told you about my life. Things I didn’t want to taint the way I thought about you. One of them was that my wife divorced me to go off with a guy she met at a swinging party. Angela said we needed to pep up our marriage. It was her reaction when we found out she could not conceive. I think she was looking for a magic cock. We went to a few of those events until we lost interest. At least, I thought we’d lost interest. Apparently, it was just me who had. I did not want to know anything about that lifestyle again.”

Annabelle instinctively put her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry, Max. Sorry that what happened between me and Clive must have brought up so many painful memories for you.”

I didn’t want to admit to myself how good her touch felt. “You weren’t to know. Anyway, what’s in the bag?”

“DVD’s, dozens of them going back years. You are right, Clive’s main kink is being a voyeur. He’s got a secret CCTV system covering the whole house.”

“Then he must have known about us before you gave him that film?”

“No, he didn’t and I’ve worked out why. You remember when you came to the house the cleaner was apologetic about blowing the fuse?” I nodded. “You reset everything right, including the Wi-Fi, so I could print? Clive came in that evening and I showed off that I could print from my phone. He got his phone out and said he couldn’t because the network was down. I didn’t bother to argue, but next day I saw I had printed. I forgot about the incident, but your warning about his voyeur sickness, the last thing you said to me, got me thinking. I started searching and I found tiny cameras with aerials hidden in every room.”

She had my interest. “So, he’s got another Wi-Fi network, with a hidden ID.”

“Exactly. And his router, is that right, didn’t restart after the power cut, so he didn’t get any film of us.”

“That is very smart, Annabelle. Considering you’re a technophobe.” She smiled and feelings I had been suppressing unravelled. My phone ringing saved me and I retreated into the kitchen to answer it. I spoke softly, but I knew Annabelle was listening.

“Sorry if I’m keeping you from someone, Max?” Her face scoured mine for answers as I re-entered the living room.

“She’s just a friend concerned for my welfare.”

Annabelle’s face dropped. “Sounds like she would like to be more. Have you moved on, Max?”

Here was the crux of it. I pondered my answer. “No, I haven’t Annabelle. I can’t even lie to you yet.”

“I don’t want to move on Max. I’m not ready. I think what is in the bag might have some bearing on that.”

“Well, we’d better have a look for both our sakes.”

There were over forty recordable DVD’s, all used. A permanent marker date was the only note on them. “Where did you find these Annabelle?”

“Once I’d found the cameras, I knew they would have to go to a control unit somewhere. There were no secret cupboards, but Clive would not have to go to those lengths because I’m stupid with technology, aren’t I?”

I smiled at her. “You’re not anymore, Annabelle.” I was having a hard job not liking her again.

“Clive’s got this fancy wine cellar with temperature-controlled cabinets. I looked at the machinery and just Googled the names. One came up as CCTV maker. I found the false front on the unit below it and the stash of DVD’s inside.”

“So why are you here Sherlock?”

“I can’t open the files, Watson.”

I downloaded the correct media player onto my PC, but our next problem was the files were password protected. Annabelle suggested a few passwords they’d used for Amazon and other services, but nothing worked. I counted the asterisks and smiled. It turned to a frown when my guess didn’t work. Then I tried again, and we were in. Annabelle gasped and grabbed my arm in surprise, then thought better of it and let go. “You can leave it there if you want to,” I said.

She looked at me. Neither of us was ready to risk a kiss yet. She put my arm across her shoulders.

“I don’t know. You invite a woman in for a coffee and just like that she’s trying it on.”

“Shut up. Anyway, what’s the password smart arse?”

“You are, or rather transposing, some letters of your name for their numerical lookalikes. You know a zero for an oh, a one for an l. Annabelle comes out as 5nn563113.”

“If you say so, Brains. Let’s start at the beginning.”

The first film was over ten years old and showed a sizeable dinner party at their house. I got to meet Richard on screen. He was a natural people person and the centre of the conversation. Clive took a back seat, watching what was going on.

Annabelle became tearful. “You would have liked him, Max.”

“Once I’d got over my jealousy. I like your hair like that.”

“It could be like that again, if you wanted it to be?” Annabelle snuggled into me. We weren’t kidding anybody that things were over between us.

Once we’d worked out the story, we rushed through the disks, but it still took us until four in the morning to get it all right, by which time she was in floods of tears and my fist ached from clenching so hard.

“He’s such a cold, calculating, fucking bastard Max. I will kill him.”

“No Annabelle, you will get even with him and I will get you out of there and what’s more he will be happy to let you go because he will know what the alternative is.”

“What are you going to do, Max?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning. Let’s go to bed.”

We were lying like spoons in our underwear. “Will you just hold me, Max? That’s all I want.” I felt guilty at my stirrings, given the upsetting scenes we’d witnessed. I tried to hold her at arm’s length, keeping my erection out of the equation. In less than a minute, she turned to face me. Her nipples were hard. “That’s not what I want, Max. Not what I want at all.” She launched at me and after a frantic tussle we were out of our clothes, Annabelle pulled me into her. We both sighed.

“Promise me we will never do that again. Hurt each other. We will tell the truth no matter the consequences.” She nodded through her tears.

I’ve never made love like that before. Such a complete emotional release. Yes, our bodies were connected, but we were united on another level and when we came, it bathed us in tears of joy. Purifying tears of joy.

 ***

Two days later.

“Hello Clive, can I pour you a drink, we will have another. Same again, Annabelle?” I took her glass while he took stock of the scene. Me making myself at home in his lounge, drinking his whiskey, smiling at his wife, whose look of post coital contentment needed no explanation. That ticked all the boxes in my Guide to Cuckolding.

“What the fuck is he doing here? I thought I’d made myself clear, Annabelle?”

“You did, Clive. As crystal clear as these glasses. But why don’t you sit down? You’ve had a busy day, and it’s not over yet.” He sat down and I handed him a glass of his own excellent single malt.” Sláinte mhaith as my Irish grandmother would say. Good health, Clive.”

He downed his in one. “Get on with it, then. I know a shakedown when I see it. What do you think you’ve got?”

“I think I’ve got you by the balls, but I am here to make you a deal. I’ll let you keep all of this on condition you let Annabelle go. I’m prepared to loan her to you for the good of the business, if she is willing that is? But from here on you have no other claims on her.”

Clive laughed. “You are a comedian, Max. Last time I looked I owned it all, her included. Isn’t that right, darling?”

Annabelle’s face hardened. “That was before the world changed for you, Clive. I’ve been catching up on films since you saw me last. Watched dozens of DVD’s. Here’s a bag full. But I think you already know their story.”

Clive looked at the bag, realisation swept over him.

“You fucking pervert, Clive. You film everything. Every room in this house has one of your fucking spy cameras in it. Is that what you do all day, sit in your office spying on me taking a piss?” Annabelle was fuming. “We’ve seen them all, Clive. We know.”

All he could do was brazen it out. “What do you think you know? So, I’ve got a bit of a voyeur fetish in my own home, it’s not the crime of the century.”

I stood over his chair. “Here is a film you might remember, Clive. Two guys start a business. They are very successful, one is a quiet wizard with the books, the other is good at selling their ideas to clients, and everyone makes money. But it’s not a happy ending, is it Clive? Mr Personality is bored and wants out. But the wizard does not want him to go. He loves the company more than anything else. More than his wife who he persuades to be nice to Mr Personality. He does not care about their affair; in fact, he films it endlessly without their knowledge.”

“Annabelle, he’s got it wrong. We were both victims of Richard’s inability to keep his dick in his pants. I wanted to confront him. Put him back on the straight and narrow.” Clive was spinning a tale of his own.

I cut him off. “During the year you were filming their affair, two unexpected things happened. Sarah fell in love with Richard and she fell pregnant. You knew Annabelle could not have children, and Richard adored them. Now you had double blackmail. Richard’s infidelity and a child which you would claim as your own. Sadly, Sarah lost the baby at seven months and they resolved to tell Annabelle the truth. The three of you sat in this very room. You trying to persuade them to see sense and avoid upsetting Annabelle needlessly. You all drank a lot, then Richard left. He did not see the fury with which you beat Sarah afterwards. I can only imagine it was like that when you hit Annabelle after she showed you, our film.”

“She’s, my wife. You had no fucking right without my say so!” Spittle flew out of his mouth. Clive saw his world falling apart.

“Yes, your say so. Like St Kitts and Caracas and Bahrain? Where a drunk wife is encouraged to fuck other men to please her husband. Did you film those too? Anyway, you know how this one ends. A BMW wrapped around a tree on the A3 in the early hours of the morning. An abused wife is kicked to the curb as soon as possible, and a grieving widow manipulated into becoming her replacement. A happy ending for the wizard.” I’d laid it out quicker than I’d intended.

Annabelle rounded on him. “Except it isn’t, Clive. Your happy days are over. I don’t care about this fucking company, but I care about some people who invested money in you and Richard. They should not have to suffer for your actions, but they will if you don’t take Max’s offer. If I walk out on you publically, people will ask questions and I might just have to hint at what Max has described. I don’t think they’d be happy to have their money in the hands of such a devious bastard. We’ve got our own copies so you can have your DVD’s back.” Annabelle kicked the bag and glared at him. I hope I am never the subject of such a hateful look.

“Okay Annabelle, okay. Just give me a while to think it over, will you?” Clive raised his hands in surrender while his mind raced to find an angle.

“Take the weekend to think about it Clive. You’ll have the place to yourself. “

“Where are you going, Annabelle?”

“Max is taking me to Capri. They say it’s an island for lovers. We’ll let you know if that’s true.”

I took Annabelle’s hand and we walked out leaving Clive staring at the floor.