Chapter 1

 

"Does he do everything?"

"Anything and more."

"And his wife approves?"

"She positively encouraged it. Her only stipulation is that the session be filmed."

The larger woman looked across to where a discreet camera, connected to a laptop, whirred quietly on a side table. He, for his part, stood in the middle of the room trying to fight down his rising anger. They were discussing him as though he were a commodity to be accepted or rejected as they saw fit.

Just a few short weeks ago he could have bought and sold them several times over but, for the time being, he was vulnerable and, galling as it was, he was going to have to go along with whatever they wanted.

Corrine gave the slightest of smiles.

"Get yourself undressed."

He looked at her and bit back the expletive that nearly sprang to his lips. He guessed that she was probably only a year or two older than himself, maybe forty-five at most, which must have made her one of the youngest directors of the bank in many years. In days gone by she had been quite a beauty and, if he were churlish, he would say that she had used it to her advantage, but the truth was that she was a tireless worker who had even sacrificed her marriage for the sake of her career. The long hours had taken their toll. Her once perfect complexion now needed more makeup to disguise the crows' feet around her eyes and her hair was more salt than pepper. She still had a good, but not exceptional, figure suggesting that she was very much a part of the company gym generation.

The other woman was a complete contrast. He had not been introduced to her but he guessed that she was Turkish. He knew from the financial press that Corrine's bank was in takeover talks with the Ottoman Bank of Istanbul and he surmised that this was one of the executives that had been flown over as part of the courtship ritual. She spoke flawless English, albeit with a slight American accent and, although she appeared to be only in her late twenties, she had about her the air of someone who was used to having her own way.

She had a round face with a dark complexion and a slightly large mouth in which her bottom lip hung lazily but her dark eyes, immaculately outlined in kohl, bespoke a shrewd intelligence. She was big bodied but just how big he could not tell. She was wearing an iridescent embroidered silk shawl over a full-length dress in shades of aquamarine velvet. It appeared to be a variation of a national costume but he suspected that the original design did not incorporate the scooped neckline that displayed a more than impressive cleavage.

"Come on! We haven't got all night."

He stood frozen, trying to come to terms with the surreal situation in which he found himself. Surely any moment now Ellen would burst into the room and confirm that it had all been a joke, but the door remained stubbornly closed. The Turkish woman looked towards Corrine, whose patience was being stretched.

"If you are not naked inside the next ten seconds I will make the phone call."

To illustrate her point she picked up her mobile phone and switched it on. He felt his body tremble in frustration, but he told himself that if he could just get through this one ordeal, he could buy himself enough time to get things sorted out.

He started to undress perfunctorily - he was damned if he was going to put on more of a show than he had to - and threw his clothes onto the armchair. He was not as trim as he was when he had given up vets football a little over three years earlier, but he got to the gym as often as he could and stayed in reasonably good shape. He had just the makings of a paunch but he still had his holiday tan and knew that he could attract more than the occasional admiring glance. As he slipped off his boxer shorts he cast an eye in the direction of the camera. Was she watching? Dare he speak? These were professional people, in the same mould as him, surely they could see the absurdity of the situation; if he could only reason with them he might yet escape his fate but Ellen had made it absolutely clear, if he spoke out of turn, without invitation, it was all over.

When he was finally naked Corrine pointedly looked him up and down.

"You know, over the years, I've often imagined you naked somehow I thought you would be ...bigger ..."

He was shocked, not so much by the jibe about his size, he knew that he was lucky enough to be on the right side of average, but by the idea that women could have such thoughts. He had the impression that undressing with the mind was very much a male prerogative.

"... I guess that I've been spoiled by the agency."

Now it was the Turkish woman's turn to look puzzled. Corrine smiled at her and patted her on the leg.

"When I broke up with my husband I just didn't seem to find the time or the inclination to form new relationships, but I still had needs. A friend of mine introduced me to the agency. Nice, clean-cut, good looking young men all well-endowed and with stamina to match. The prices are reasonable too. I treat myself to two at once from time to time."

He looked at her, aghast. This woman, who had acted as his financial right arm for such a long time, a paragon of professionalism, stood revealed as some kind of sex maniac who, worse still, was happy to pay for it! He looked at the Turkish woman, expecting to see his own disgust mirrored in her face but all that he found was an enigmatic smile.

"You're not going to be much use to us like that. Put a bit of life into it."

He was unsure whether or not he had heard correctly and, taken with her earlier remarks, he was now worried. She had spoken as though there were more to it than mere humiliation. He could understand Ellen's anger, he could even understand her involving Corrine, but now that he had taken his medicine and had been appropriately "shamed" surely that was an end to the matter. It had come as something of an embarrassing surprise to find Corrine in the company of a complete stranger but in some ways that had helped. His biggest fear was that he would find himself with an uncontrollable erection and dreaded the message that that might have sent out to Ellen, but the presence of the Turkish woman had put paid to that.

Corrine's finger hovered over the telephone keypad.

"I won't say it again. I want to see you erect."

It was as if he was hearing a totally different woman. In the long years of their professional relationship Corrine had always been a model of propriety and that was what he admired about her. Her mind was always focused on the job in hand. Whenever idle chat, or even casual flirting, threatened to take a meeting off track, it was always Corrine who moved quickly to focus minds and bring things back to the agenda. Just to hear her use the word "erect' struck a horrible discord.

"This has gone far enough. You've had your fun and Ellen has proved her point. I'm leaving."

"As you wish."

Corrine punched out a series of numbers on the keypad.

"Chief Inspector Cavendish please, it's Corrine Ducksworth ... thanks, I'll hold."

"Look, there's no need for that!"

Corrine pressed the mute button.

"It's your choice. Let me see that erection."

"For God's sake, you know that's not what Ellen intended!"

"I think that she was very specific. You were told to come here and do what you were told and not speak out of turn."

"She just wanted to embarrass me a little! You know her philosophy "make the punishment fit the crime". When it comes down to it I'm still a married man!"

Corrine's mouth turned up in the slightest of smiles.

"But for how long?...Thanks, I'll carry on holding."

For a few seconds he was overcome by shock. He had dug himself into a deep hole, but he had never entertained the possibility that his marriage might ultimately be in jeopardy.

"If I do as you ask my marriage will be bloody over."

"Have you thought that it might be over if you don't do as I tell you?"

He could see that her smile had disappeared and that she had spoken in all seriousness. For the first time he began to consider just how strong the bond between his wife and his banker had become. He had introduced them a little over two years previously and notwithstanding the age gap they had gelled from the outset but now there was a suggestion that it had developed into one of those candid feminine relationships that seemed to work to the exclusion of men and even, it seemed, husbands.

"I'll make it easy for you. Either do as you're told or I'll tell my good friend the Chief Inspector all that I know."

"If you do that, Ellen will be implicated."

For the first time since he entered the room he felt that the balance of power had shifted slightly in his favour, but Corrine replied coldly.

"So be it. You seem to forget what I've got to lose."

He felt perspiration prickling at the nape of his neck. Was she serious? Was she prepared to sacrifice Ellen as well as him in order to protect herself?

"Ah, Good morning Chief Inspector ..."

"I'll do it!"

"Look, I'm sorry, Chief Inspector, something's just come up - can I get back to you? Thanks!"

His heart thumped in his chest even as he blurted the words out but he could not take the chance. He had already done enough damage and he dare not run the risk that Ellen would be made to pay the price.

Now that the decision was made he steeled himself to get it over with. He took hold of his flaccid manhood and tried to stroke it into life, but it refused to be roused.

"I hope you are not going to disappoint us."

He found himself with conflicting emotions. On the one hand his inability to achieve an erection suggested that he found the two women unexciting in a sexual context and so, by implication, he remained loyal to Ellen but there was also a more primal instinct at work: with every useless stroke he found it more and more embarrassing that he could not prove his manhood.

"Well he's going to be no use to us like that. Perhaps we ought to start exploring other possibilities."

The Turkish woman's words, with their hint of sarcasm, only served to rub salt into the wound.

"Come here and kneel in front of me."

Corrine spoke perfunctorily and it rankled not least because, until very recently, they had observed the usual protocols of a banker client relationship and, notwithstanding their friendship, Corrine had always shown due deference where necessary. He put his hands by his side and did as he was asked but he knelt with his back ramrod straight. In this way his eyes were level with hers and he tried to impart some measure of dignity. He looked into her steely blue gray eyes but she met his stare unflinchingly. He prided himself on his ability to stare people down but Corrine had played the same game over many years and over many different negotiating tables and he was the first to twitch. She took this as her signal and, with the slightest of smiles, she slowly rose to her feet. He now found himself just inches from her skirt, but he could not back away and show yet another sign of weakness.

He knelt, frozen, with the blood pounding at his temples as, with calm deliberation, she unfastened the button at the side of her skirt and began to unwind it from her hips. He wanted to look across to see how the Turkish woman was reacting to this aberrant behaviour, forgetting for a moment that his own nakedness had already taken the situation beyond the rational norms, but he could not avert his eyes. Corrine allowed her skirt to drop to the floor and he was shocked to see that, not only was she wearing stockings and suspenders, but also a very expensive pair of pale blue silk Perla panties. It was as though he were seeing two women at once. Above the waist Corrine still wore her dark blue business jacket over a plain, crisp, white blouse, the model of the efficient businesswoman, whilst below, her revealed shapely legs, of which many a younger woman would be envious, sent out an altogether different message.

In the years that he had known her he had, of course, had passing thoughts about getting her into bed but, good looking as she was, he had her marked down as a cold fish and could not imagine the sex being very exciting. In just the last few seconds, he had been given cause to review and perhaps even rue his decision. There was something about the way she now stood with one leg slightly at an angle to the other; her pose had a knowing arrogance about it and she exuded a different sort of confidence which, when he came to examine it, he found disturbing.

After a moment's pause she began to unfasten the suspender clips from her dark stockings but he was only aware of the sure movements of her immaculately manicured fingers at the periphery of his vision. His eyes were fixed on the crotch of her panties and, more particularly, a tiny dark spot which, having suddenly appeared, grew even as he watched. She slipped her hands up under her blouse and then down over her hips inside her panties, stretching them momentarily over her mound. She allowed him a couple of seconds to take in the details of her sex, highlighted by the tight silk, then slowly slipped them down her legs.

Her pubis was covered by a closely trimmed frizz of auburn hair shot through with gray and, even as he stared, she rasped a single fingernail down through the distinct, moisture darkened, centre line.

"Let's see if you can do something useful with that tongue of yours for a change."

He looked up at her in disbelief. Even now he had thought that she was just looking for a cheap fuck and this almost offhand suggestion that she was seeking a coupling of an altogether more intimate nature came as a rude shock.

"I can't do it."

Corrine raised an eyebrow and looked genuinely surprised.

"You mean you can't or you won't?"

"I just don't do that."

"How curious. Ellen always led me to believe that she liked nothing better. In fact, at University, men who didn't live up to her high expectations got very short shrift by all accounts."

Her words cut through him like a knife. He knew that his wife had had other lovers but, in his own mind, he had dismissed them as young men of little experience or consequence. He had never pressed Ellen to talk about any of them and she had never volunteered any information. He had remained happy in the knowledge that there had been no single meaningful relationship before she met him but now, not only was there the suggestion that she had been promiscuous, but, worse still, she had been prepared to discuss the details.

Corrine had to be lying. It was just another attempt to bait him. Ellen understood; after all, she was the only one to whom he had confided his secret. He knew that it was a disappointment to her, he suspected that it even made her angry on occasions, but she had never pressed the issue. Even now, knowing that he could overcome both women with brute force, he still felt panic rising just on account of Corrine's intimate proximity.

He had been just eighteen at the time and, following his father's remarriage, his stepmother had been living with them for a little over four months. They had originally planned to wait until he took up his RAF apprenticeship and his stepsister started university. In this way they would have begun married life alone together in a single house but once Gemma had started at Warwick they could wait no longer. He liked his prospective stepmother and he could see how happy she made his father and so when they told him that they wanted to bring the wedding forward he did not object. It would mean the three of them sharing the house for a short time, but he was sure that they would get along.

Things went well except that he did not get the time alone in the house that he had grown accustomed to. He had very little experience with girls and used to look forward to his leisurely masturbation sessions armed with one of the smutty books that his father believed he kept so well hidden but now, it seemed, there was always someone around. It was with anticipation, therefore, that he looked forward to the fateful weekend. His father and stepmother had booked an overnight stay in Paris and he had barely waved goodbye before he rushed up into the attic. He returned to the living room with his father's Super Eight cine-projector and screen. He set them up and then went back upstairs. He was not interested in the many reels of film stored in the attic cataloguing family holidays; instead, he directed his attention to his father's divan bed. He pulled out the heavy drawer, full of guest bedding and then, slipping the safety catch, he removed it altogether.

Lying inside the bed, in neat array, were six well-thumbed paperbacks. He had often wished that his father was not so in love with the written word, a few magazines would not have gone amiss, but there was one other treasure. Next to the books, in its original tin case, was a cine film. He found himself wondering what his stepmother would make of it if she only knew what lay just inches beneath her as she slept but he put the thought from his mind as, with shaking hands, he took it downstairs.

He took the film from its case and lovingly threaded it onto the projector. He had discovered it two years previously and had watched it a dozen times, as circumstances permitted, and knew it almost frame for frame. When he had it set up he went and drew the curtains. With the room in semi darkness he hastily undressed, flicked on the projector and sat down on the sofa. The film was silent and grainy, but the titles betrayed its German origins and he suspected that his father had picked it up whilst on National Service. By current standards the film was fairly tame but, to an impressionable eighteen-year-old what was implied rather than shown only added fuel to his furtive imagination.

The film ran for exactly fourteen minutes and twenty seconds and he tried to tease himself to reach his climax at just the right moment but, more often than not, with limited success. The greater part of the film was taken up by a single coupling. A handsome manual labourer of some description comes to the bedroom of a young girl. He removes his overalls and quickly strips the girl. She is young, reasonably good-looking and almost theatrically enthusiastic. There is no build up. He lays her down on the bed and then he ruts at her with a seemingly impossible vigour. The close ups of the girl's excited features but, more particularly, the shots of her quivering breasts almost threatened to bring him to another premature conclusion but with a supreme effort of will he stopped stroking himself and tried to steady his thumping heart.

The couple have changed positions. The man lies on his back, with a broad smile and the girl, petite in comparison with his muscular frame, kneels astride his manhood, presumably with it deep inside her. At this point another woman enters the room. She is older and he likes to think of her as the girl's mother. On seeing them she appears shocked but then, with a knowing smile, she begins to undress. Her body is heavier than her daughter's, but it has about it a maturity that he finds inexplicably exciting. The camera pans in ready to present the image that will take him beyond the point of no return. The man can no longer be seen but the older woman is obviously getting on to the bed and she settles herself down so that the screen frames mother and daughter face to face. Every time he sees it his heart lurches. He longs for the camera to move back out to confirm what his imagination is telling him, but he knows it will not happen. He stroked himself more purposefully as a beatific smile begins to light the mother's face but then his world caved in.