EXTRACT FOR
Take My Wife
(Anna Mann)

George Harper opened his eyes slowly, his head hurt like hell just like the mother of all hangovers was abusing him. He didn't remember drinking so much, in fact he didn't remember drinking at all. I had a beer in the restaurant but after that we had an early night he recalled painfully.

Darkness surrounded him, but not just darkness, there was something else, something that had muddled his thinking.

Fucking hell, I'm tied up he suddenly realised. Both arms were behind his back, his wrists tightly bound to the tubular chair back. One of the kitchen chairs he realised, they were typical rental furniture, stylish enough but cheap and easily replaceable... chrome tubes and black faux leather padded seat and back.

"What the hell?" he said quietly as he realised that not only were his hands tied, so were both his ankles and knees... and he appeared to be naked.

Frantically he tried to piece together the events leading up to that moment. He had left the rented villa just after lunch, bound for the beach he remembered, then a stroll along the sea-front, a few soft drinks in a cafe overlooking the beach. It had begun to get dark, not middle of the night kind of dark, late evening dark with just a faint glow on the horizon indicating where the sun had recently set. We had a meal on the way back to the villa... and after that? He struggled to find any recollection, and then it suddenly struck him, not what had happened, a single word that had passed through his mind... we!

"Ruth?" he suddenly cried out into the darkness. "Ruth?" he called again.

Ruth, his new wife. Some said she was no more than a gold digging trophy, but George knew differently, the detractors didn't know her like he did. So what, that he was almost thirty years her senior, and maybe he had met her when she was working for an escort agency, but those things didn't matter. He knew love, and he knew that she loved him. Okay, she liked to spend money, but what was the difference between a twenty five year old spending, and a fifty five year old woman doing the same. His previous wife had let it run through her fingers like water, and that was seen as acceptable, but if Ruth bought a dress or shoes or a bag tongues wagged and heads shook in dismay.

Age is just a number, it was their credo. She didn't care that his hair was thinning, she didn't care that middle-age spread was gradually winning the battle between itself and the gym... she loved him for more than just his platinum card, she loved him because he had never seen her as a whore, even though that was the opinion she had always held of herself.

Now panic cleared George's head as he struggled against the restraints holding his hands and legs.

"There's no point struggling, those are cable ties just like the type the cops use."

The voice came so suddenly that George gasped aloud, so great his surprise. 

"You'll never break them, struggle and all you'll do is fuck up your wrists... I suggest you just relax and enjoy the show Georgie boy."