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Stein um Stein

Martin Stein sat in his car, impatiently waiting for some movement. Eventually he heard the metallic sound signifying the release of the hydraulic rams holding the ferry doors closed then accompanied by creaks and whines he saw a crack appear in the bow bulkhead before him. He watched the bow open and the ramp lower and extend into place, he then had to wait his turn to drive onto dry land, then the long trail through customs before he could honestly say he was back in England.

He pulled into the customs area and wound down his window, the cold night air slapping him around the face.

"Anything to declare?" Asked the uniformed man, as he took Martins Passport.

"I've got some fags and booze." Martin replied. "But I've only been to Holland, bought it there."

"Could you pull over to that spot there Mr Stein, we would like to examine your vehicle." The customs officer pointed at an empty bay as he spoke.

Martin Stein couldn't believe it, he had made the trip many times, and never been stopped before. Annoyed at the inconvenience, grumbling to himself he pulled over to the designated bay, closed his window and waited.

Almost fifteen minutes went by as Martin pondered his wisdom of using the ferry and road system as opposed to the much quicker and easier option of flying. Booze and Fags, simply that. He could make money from the booze and fags, but if customs appropriated this load then that wiped his profit for the last three months.

"Bugger." he mumbled to himself. "Bugger, bugger, bugger."

His personal admonishments were interrupted by a tap on his window.

"Mr Stein, would you follow me." A tall man in a slightly wrinkled brown suit spoke. Martin knew it wasn't a request. He got out of his car, locked it and turned to follow the man.

He was led inside a large building, and through some corridors and up two flights of stairs before eventually he was shown into a room.

"Would you mind waiting here for a moment sir." Again, not a question. Martin entered the room. It was furnished with a metal framed table, its Formica covered top showing scars from years of abuse. Two chairs of matching framework stood, one either side, Martin sat in the one furthest from, and facing the door.

Eventually the door opened and the man that had led him there returned. He carried with him a large file and a laptop case.

"Mr Stein, may I call you Martin?" before Martin could answer he said "Good. You have just returned from Holland, have you not?" Again not waiting for an answer he continued. " There you travelled to Amsterdam, where you met with Mr Eric van der Zwart, to whom you delivered two million pounds worth of blood diamonds." He watched Martin intently as he spoke, the colour had started draining from him at the mention of Amsterdam, his face was completely ashen at the precise mention of the diamonds.

Martin kept quiet, trying to work out what was going on. He knew he had been doing something dodgy, he had always assumed that he could say he had been unaware he was a courier for illegal diamonds. Although now it was spelled out for him, it couldn't really have been anything else. He would have had to have been stupid to not know what he was carrying. He had suspected that first time, it was the second that he first cracked the combination lock on the case he had carried. He did it every time after that, mostly to keep him occupied on the long ferry crossings, dreaming of the day he would have the balls to cut and run.

He dismissed that for now, and weighed up his current situation. He hadn't been arrested, he hadn't been cautioned and this bloke in the suit hadn't given his name. Martin had enough nous to understand something was not normal about this, so he just sat and waited for the other man to speak again.

As the colour was returning to Martin Stein, Inspector Grey watched him.

"Now Mr Stein, Martin. I think we are in a position to help one another." He stared at Martin, measuring the bewilderment that appeared on his face.

"As you may have guessed by now, I am investigating your employer, and no, before you make yourself look ridiculous. I do not mean Charles and Curtis Chiswick for whom you work as an accountant. I of course Mean Mr Francois Grimard, dear old Mr Grimm himself. The one that you run errands for, the one whom your employers farm you out to."

Martin had regained his former white complexion and now his head drooped in defeat.

"If you are, as I expect, able to enlighten me and help me with my enquiries, I have been authorised to give you an out."

Martin raised his head and looked at the inspector, and was surprised to see concern on his face.

"I am offering you witness protection, if you turn Queens evidence."

"Yeah like you did to Derek Bennet, that did him a lot of good didn't it?" Spat out Martin, the first time he had spoken since he got inside the building. Why don't you just beat me to a pulp and chop me up for the pigs yourself?"

"We were actually thinking of blowing you up." Offered the policeman.

If Martin had looked bewildered before, then now his visage could only be called dumbfounded.

"Of course if you refuse, we will pick you up on your next trip, on your way to Amsterdam of course, or even worse for you, ehm, your replacement."

Martin physically shuddered at the thought. He knew he was in trouble. If he said nothing the best thing he had to look forward to was being picked up and done for smuggling, then when the next shipment went over and was intercepted, word would be out he was a grass. If he went to Grimm, he would probably just "silence" him, and again when the next guy was picked up, who would blame Grimm for offing him? That left two choices, take their offer or run. Running would be difficult. He would have to convince Angie to run with him. They would need new identities. That was do-able he had done enough for the Grimm to know who the documents could be purchased from, but what would be the point. Grimm could easily find out from those that supplied the ID his new name. Martin slumped in his chair, he had no room to move, no escape. He was deep up the proverbial shit creek and no paddle to be seen.

Seeing his defeat the Inspector continued. He outlined the procedure of witness protection and Martin listened carefully. Martin asked a few questions and was disappointed with the answers, he was not convinced things would go the way he was being told, but every question he threw out, the Inspector had an answer for, then Martin asked the question that changed his attitude to the whole experience.

"So where would Angie and I be going?" he asked innocently.

The Inspector looked at him in surprise.

"Before I agree to this I have to talk it over with her, and we will have to agree as to where we will go. I know you said we could have no knowledge of where we could go, but still I have to make sure she is okay with it." Martin spoke carefully.

"You can't be serious, she is the last person you need to know where you are." exclaimed Grey.

Martin looked at him incredulously.

"You don't know?" The inspector asked.

Martin looked at him slowly shaking his head.

"Wait here." said Grey as he left the room. He returned carrying some printed sheets of paper, he handed them to Martin.

"Sign these and then I will show you something."

Martin carefully read through the documents, signed one and passed the other back without signing.

"The dates wrong, by over three months, it's dated last January." he explained.

The inspector looked annoyed. "Just fucking sign it will you."

Martin made no move to comply.

"Listen up, we have got court orders for phone taps and bugs on nearly every house, building and business that Mr Francois fucking Grimard has anything to do with. In all of these, we have been unable to get any information of any value. In fact everything we find out from these, shows him to be a fine upstanding citizen. I know he's paying off someone to keep him informed about the investigation."

Martin said nothing.

"We became aware that he was using you to do more than keep books, and I had just started to fill in the paperwork to request a court order to bug your house. When I realised that I needed another way to get information." His voice lowered to a whisper. "I broke the law, I got a shady P.I. to bug your house from the date on the form. I thought if he didn't know it was bugged he might say something. I was right, he is all but running his illicit business dealings from yours, and two other stupid bitches houses."

Martin became both interested and fearful about what he was going to hear. "Go on."

"I need you to sign this contract, it just about makes things legal." Grey said, sliding the papers over to him.

Martin made no move to sign them.

"We, or rather I have found out many things, things about Francois, his business, your wife and of course you Martin."

Martins face had turned scarlet, he was both angry and ashamed. Angry because of the intrusion into his personal life, ashamed as he knew what had happened over the last six months in his marriage.

"When was the last time you made love with your wife Martin?"

"It seems you already know. He replied indignantly. A week last Monday, the last time I returned from a trip abroad."

"You made love, or you went down on her and she gave you a handjob?"

Martin said nothing and squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

"In fact, that has been the norm for your lovelife since we have been monitoring your house. You return home, eat your wife out, and sometimes get a handjob in return. Why is that do you think?"

Martin mumbled." She thinks I am shagging whores."

"Who do you think told her that?"

Martin shrugged and mumbled again. "Dunno, some stupid idea she got into her head."

"You really don't have a clue do you?" Grey slammed his hand on the unsigned documents. "Just fucking sign them."

Martin jumped at the sudden noise, but still made no move to sign.

"You wife has been fucking Mr Francois fucking big cock Grimm before you get home, every time you have been away. Why do you think she has always been so wet when you go down on her?"

As realisation hit Martin about what he had just been told, the colour drained from his face again and he bent over and threw up. Inspector Grey looked at him, the vomit sprayed over the table and floor ruining the documents, he didn't have it in him to be disgusted at him or the scene. Martin retched and retched until he had nothing left and his stomach spasms kept on coming.

Grey left him to finish and pull himself together, returning with a bucket and mop and cleaned up the mess, he left and returned again with cloths and disinfectant, he helped Martin clean himself off. He left again and returned with a beaker of water and some duplicate forms, Martin took both and after drinking some water signed the forms.

"What time are you expected home tonight?" Asked Grey as he did something on his laptop. Voices started coming from it.

Looking at his watch, Martin replied. "About half an hour."

"Here is live feed from your house, I can only say I am sorry." said Grey as he turned his laptop around and placed it on the table in front of Martin. "You can point the camera with the mouse pad and zoom with the plus and minus keys."

On the screen Martin recognised his bedroom, and the two occupants, One was Francois Grimard, the other was his darling wife Angie.

Martins stomach again started to convulse, but he couldn't take his eyes from the screen. On another day, with a different subject, Martin would have been impressed by the clarity of the HD picture. Today all he felt was revulsion.

His beloved wife had just started cleaning the huge flaccid cock of the Grimm as he stood by her head, It became obvious that he had just fucked her arsehole. What he had thought were brown veins disappeared as she took his cock into her mouth. His stomach convulsed again as he realised there was shit on his cock and she was sucking it off of his cock, like the chocolate off a Mars bar. He then noticed something between her legs and using the pad moved the camera.

She had a plate underneath her bottom, he could see her anus was leaking sperm onto the plate. His curiosity replaced the disgust, the hurt he felt.

"So little dick hasn't fucked you for what is it now, nearly a year?" Francois voice came over the speaker.

"It'll be eight months next Tuesday, but he has been slurping you out of me for nearly a year. Angie said with a giggle after she took his cock from her mouth.

"No, he's not like you, all the blood rushes from his brain when he has an erection, he is just glad to get the odd handjob now and again, he doesn't even get that very often now."

Francois moved from her and began to get dressed, "I'll send him back to Amsterdam a week Friday, I'll make sure he is gone all weekend, I would like you to entertain a few friends of mine while he is gone." There was no emotion in his voice as he spoke.

Angie didn't answer immediately. "But Franky, what I feel for you is special, I thought you only wanted you to be inside me. That's why you told me to stop sleeping with Marty."

"I said I would like you to entertain my friends." This time when he spoke there was an air of menace.

"Anything for you Franky, you know that, it's just tha..."

"Thats all good then, you had better get more syringes." he said with a laugh as he tied his tie. With that he turned and left. Martin noticed a small window open up in the top left corner of the screen and "Franky's" exit was followed out by other cameras. The look on his wife's face showed him that she was not happy with her orders.

Angie farted, more spunk splattered from her arsehole and she lay back and rubbed her sex, bringing herself to orgasm. She lay enjoying her bliss for a while, then pulling herself together she took a syringe from the bedside cabinet and sucked up most of the liquid on the plate.

As Martin wondered what she was going to do with it she moved from the bed.

"You do seem to like your salad dressing." she giggled to herself as she picked up the plate and headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

The system automatically followed her movement, switching camera's and rooms as she walked down the stairs to the kitchen naked.

He watched her chop the vegetables to make a mixed salad add some herbs then scrape her lovers leavings from the plate over the bowl of salad, he watched with disgust and anger as she tossed it, spreading the faecal stained ejaculate uniformly over his food. She then arranged it on the same plate, nibbling morsels from it, a look of glee on her face as she did so.

"I am really sorry about that." said Inspector Grey. "No man deserves that, but as you have just seen his cock is not much different in size to yours."

Why he added that, he didn't really know.

Martin understood he was trying to bolster up his feelings. "Anything."Martin choked out. "Anything you want, just get me the fuck away from her."

Grey understood, he felt bad about showing him the truth, but he needed him on board, he needed him to take Francois Grimard down.

Martin was shaking with anger, he had loved Angie, he had loved her until he saw those events unfolding before him. Now that love had been replaced with hate, a hate like he had never felt for anyone before.

"I have to ask, I know I will regret it but what is the syringe about."

"Grey looked at him with sorrow, he really wished he hadn't asked, he tried several times to answer him, but the words would not come.He took the laptop and clicked on a file and handed it back to him.

It was a video feed again, it was from the last time Martin had got home, Grey had run it forward to see Martin tucking into a salad. As he watched Martin felt sick again but his stomach had no more to give.

"I wish you would stay away from those whores, I really want that big cock of yours inside me again." Angie said to him.

"But I don't go near them babe, why won't you believe me?" Martin gasped he had no idea until them at how pitiful he sounded.

He watched her face, he hadn't noticed the evil smile on her face as she had accused him yet again, of sleeping with whores. He would have known then, had he not already have been aware that she was doing it purely to keep her unfaithful body for her lover, now her pimp. If she walked into the room now, he would have ripped her faithless heart from her chest, pulled her adulterous head from her neck.

"That was lovely dear." he heard himself saying, it was even worse because he had meant it, it had been a lovely meal, but he knew in his heart he would never be able to look at a lettuce ever again.

"You go freshen up darling and get ready for me, I'll be up in a minute." He had clicked to another camera feed and rewound, she had her back to him as she spoke that evil smile was on her face as she said it.

The small window followed Martin up the stairs and into the bathroom, he watched as he showered himself thinking, "Little dick what do they mean? Yes a little bit smaller than big black cock Grimard, but really?" He watched himself towel himself dry, go into his bedroom and lay on his bed. Embarrassed at his actions he watched as he absent mindedly stroked himself erect. Angie grabbed a handbag and came up the stairs. Standing outside the bedroom door she took out the syringe and squirted it deep into herself. Martin watched as she put it back into her bag and came into the bedroom. In a flash she was sitting astride his head.

"Lick me you bastard, lick me like one of your whores." she was saying. Martin had heard her speaking at the time, infact whenever she sat on his face recently, but he had never been sure of what she had said, her hands had covered his ears as she pulled his mouth to her. "Suck me, suck me hard, suck his come. Swallow it, suck more, suck harder, harder." He watched her as she came, again and again, until that moment he had been proud of his oral skills. Proud that he was able to get her off so many times. Now he knew it wasn't him getting her off, it was his degradation. He closed the laptop and pushed it to the policeman.

"I have seen enough." he spat, showing his rage. "What do you need me to do?"

"First I need to know that you can go home and act naturally, as if nothing is wrong." Grey said.

"After what I have just seen, no fucking way, but no I won't mention our little chat, I won't give anything away."

"You know your life probably depends on it don't you?" he stated then asked. "you don't have to report back do you?"

Shaking his head Martin said. "Don't worry about me, right now I don't care if I live or die, what I do care about is getting my own back on that cunt and that fucking slag I married."

"Well, as long as you can keep that to yourself, you will apparently be killed trying to escape in Holland, you will then be held in protective custody until after the court case, then you will be set up with your new life."

Martin nodded and asked, "Can I go now?"

Inspector Grey thought for a minute. "Yes but you need to have a believable excuse for being late." he said as he nodded and walked to the door.

"Yes, I thought being stopped by customs would do it." Martin replied as they left the room.

"Yes, such a lengthy stop," he paused for effect. "and yet you come through it with all your booze and fags." the Inspector said, his suggestion not being missed by Martin.

Martin stopped dead in his tracks, "What? You delay me for two hours, kill my marriage and generally destroy my life and now you want to steal my perfectly legal goods." He shouted.

"All for the greater good I assure you." Grey smiled the smile of a predator as he spoke. The rest of the journey back to Martins car was spent in silence.
Martin was shocked to find his car had been emptied, his clothes and other sundries were stacked none too neatly near the boot. His "contraband" stacked with care on a trolley next to them.

"Sorry, all for appearances, we don't think you have a chaperone but still we can't be sure." Grey explained.

Martin picked up his clothes threw them into his suitcase and opened the boot and put it in.

"See you soon." Offered the Inspector.

"Fuck off." replied Martin and got in his car. He didn't even light a cigarette before pulling off.

"We will be watching you at home, but we can't be with you everywhere, good luck." said Grey, trying to show some support, he knew the next week and a half was going to be very difficult for the man.

Martin drove off, he was pissed off. He was pissed off with everything, his life, his wife, the delay, Mr Franky not so big dick Grimm, and as he saw it, that thieving bastard copper.

He didn't pay much attention to speed on his way home, what was the point? he would be dead in ten days time.

An hour later he pulled into his driveway, the usually reassuring crunch of the gravel under his wheels only served to fuel his anger. He stopped the engine and sat for a few moments to gather himself before getting out and retrieving his suitcase. He locked the car and with a deep breath he headed inside.

"Hello dear, you're later than I expected." her voice was frosty.

Martin glared at her, remembering Greys instruction, behave normally he said.

"I said you are late." she said her voice taking on the manner of a school mistress chastising a pupil.

"Yes I fucking heard you, thanks for stating the fucking obvious." he spat back. "I've been stuck with fucking customs if you must know, and the bastards robbed me."

"There's no need to take that tone with me."

"Isn't there? Well let me tell you now Missy, I have had it up to here." he was almost shouting now as he held his hand above his head. "I am pissed off with all this travelling, fucking customs and what's more, I have had enough of all this bullshit you keep giving me about everything, you keep accusing me of fucking whores well you fucking listen and you fucking listen good. The last whore I fucked was you, and it was a fucking long time ago, now what have you got for me to eat?"

Angie's eyes were wide open with shock, Martin had never shouted at her, never raised his voice, he very rarely swore and never before had he sworn at her.

"Th' theres a salad in the fridge fo..."

"That's another thing I have had enough of," he shouted walking into the kitchen. He slammed open the fridge door and pulled out the salad, then dumping it in the bin still on the plate. He turned to her. "Now fucking cook me something proper."

"I will not." She shouted back angrily. In fact I will do nothing for you until you apologi..."

The sound of the slap echoed through the house.

"Now bitch, get me something to eat, or you can fuck off out of my house now. I told you I am pissed off, and one of the things I am pissed off with is your fucking attitude towards me."

Still rubbing her cheek she knew he was serious and began bustling around, looking in the freezer, she found very little that leant itself to a fast meal.

"Would bacon eggs and some of your black pudding be alright?"she sobbed, now frightened of this man. Her husband that had walked through the door fifteen minutes earlier, the man she thought she knew, the man she suddenly found herself liking a little more than she had earlier.

"Yes but no fucking salad okay."

Angie nodded wiping tears with her wrist.

Martin poured himself a large scotch and walked back into the kitchen, Angie had a pack of bacon thawing in water. "Chips maybe some grilled tomato?" she asked.

"That'll be lovely." he replied and sat down with the daily paper."Apart from the tomatoes, I'll have beans"

Angie said nothing to him, trying not to cry. Normally he would be eating his way through his spunk dressed salad and she would be getting him worked up ready to eat her semen filled snatch. Today she knew it would not be like that, and part of her was glad, part of her liked this new side to Martin. She turned on the fryer and as it warmed, she started peeling the potatoes for chips.

Soon Martin was tucking into his breakfast and, twice fried chips, two thick slabs of bread covered in a generous amount of butter. The black pudding he loved, he had learned to make it from his father, a butcher. He didn't like the mass produced stuff so he still made his own, he had a few regular customers too. He bought a gallon of fresh blood about every five weeks from his old schoolmate Graham, who owned a pig farm.

"Thankyou dear, that is probably the best meal you have cooked me for well over six months." he said as he placed his knife and fork on the plate. "Now toddle off upstairs and have a shower, it's time you started behaving like my wife again." he said cheerily, any sign of anger now gone from his voice. He noticed her eyes dart to her handbag and a flush in her cheeks, he also noticed she made no move to pick it up as she left him.

I should have done this months ago he thought as he checked the syringe was still in her handbag, before following her upstairs twenty minutes later.

She was laying on the bed waiting for him he walked over to where he had seen "Franky" stand earlier and pulled her head to his groin. Without a word of protest she took him into her mouth, he responded to her touch and grew erect, he watched her and could see the surprise on her face, He wondered whether she had started to believe this tripe about his little dick. He held her tightly, until she swallowed his length down her throat.

She did that easier than I remember, she must have been practising, he mused. Then he moved from her and climbed between her legs, pulling them up and placing them over his shoulders.

"You don't seem as wet as you normally are when I get home from Europe, but you don't seem as tight as I remember, so it's probably for the best." he observed as he pounded into her.

She knew he was lying, there was nothing between them size wise. But his words tonight had cut her, the crack about the best meal in six months, her wetness or lack of it, they hurt because she knew it was the truth. Now her husband is just taking her as the slut she is, her juices started to flow and her excitement grew as she headed to an orgasm. He watched as he pounded her, oddly devoid of pleasure. He felt nothing for her and when he saw she was responding to him he pulled out, and then slammed into her arse. He bottomed out in one push.

"Funny I thought arseholes were supposed to be tight, yours feels looser than your fanny, what have you been sticking up there?" he said, a caustic edge to his voiceas she gasped at the sudden, unexpected invasion.

"N' nothing." spluttered Angie again the words cut through her.

Martin didn't reply, he knew that if there was any lubrication it came from Francois fucking Grimard, but he resolved he was going to dry hump her arse every day till he died, which was about nine by his reckoning.

Eventually he came, pumping two weeks of semen into her bowels. Once he finished discharging, he held her in place. Taking a small amount of pleasure from her discomfort till he slipped from her.

"Go clean yourself up, then you can get me ready for round two." he told her She surprised him by complying without a word of protest and moved to the bathroom.

As she started to wash herself she wondered what had just happened. He had been so different. She had to admit she had been pleasantly surprised, if not shocked at the size of her husbands member. It wasn't small. Why had she thought it was?

She began to wonder why she had become involved with Francois, he used her like meat, he didn't make love to her, he used her body to masturbate with. Yes those first few couplings had been exciting, the rule breaking, the subterfuge, the sneaking, and the danger, yes the danger. That had been the draw of Francois Grimard, and she would be a liar if she didn't admit his blackness added to the experience, but she had been a fool. He was too dangerous, and for the first time, in nearly a year she knew she was in over her head. What had started as an fling, and for her at least, had turned into an affair. An affair that had now doomed her. She was only just realising, not only had she been a whore for her lover. He was about to turn her into a real whore. "How long?" She wondered, before she would literally be working the streets?

When her mind moved forward to the things Franky had got her to do to her husband, she froze, the horror and vindictiveness of her actions filling her with shame as she looked at her face in the mirror.

She looked at the face in the mirror, age had been treating her kindly, she had thought herself still beautiful. Now the face that stared back at her looked ugly and depraved.

She wasn't aware how long she stayed in the bathroom, only that she had moved her bowels and washed for a second time before returning to bed.

She found her husband asleep on his back, and obediently as he had told her, she moved her head to him and sucked his cock clean, she sucked him to completion and swallowed. She was unsure whether he had woken, as not a word, not a sound did he utter, as she worked his erection and again sucked it dry.

The following morning he bent her over the arm of the sofa, and again flooded her bowels with his seed. The pair of them wishing he had been treating her in this manner all their married life. Both understanding in their own way, that they mightn't not be making the decisions they were being forced to make now.

Martin left for work, physically satisfied for the first time in nearly a year, as he all but ran out to his car, he remembered he had to restrain himself. He had to give his usual air of depression that had governed his thinking for so long. He had to maintain the appearance of a downtrodden husband, doing what he needs to make a life for himself. As he drove to work he thought of what he once thought he had, how it had been destroyed by his unfaithful wife and that scheming, manipulative bastard Francois Grimard.

Chapter 2

By the time he arrived in his office the anger he had felt last night had returned etching a despondent glower on his face. The weight of his actions, for the near future amassed heavily on his shoulders. Only those that knew him well, would notice any difference, all they would see is the usual sad angry man, stooped over trying to hide from his own insignificance.

Just before noon he was quizzed by Charles Chiswick about his delay at the port. Had Martin not known the things he knew now, he would have wondered both why he was interested, and how he knew. He still wondered how he knew. After returning to his office Martin pondered on this, as he saw it, there were several possibilities. The first and most likely was that his beloved wife had told her darling Franky. The second and third, either his car and or his house were fitted with electronic surveillance, other than he already knew about.He, or his house was being watched or that fucking copper had a mole in his department.

His blood ran cold at the last idea, if that were the case then he was as good as dead. Once that thought hit him it wouldn't go away, why hadn't he got a number to contact that copper. "Fuck me a name might have helped." He thought to himself. He managed to come up with some ideas to put his mind at rest for some, but the mole idea was something that he would be unable to resolve. It didn't matter if it were the case or not.

Every time a door banged, every loud noise or voice caused Martin to jump. As he drove home in the evening he expected a gunman to jump out at every traffic light, to see a gun in every car that passed. He was not even reassured when that car was a police car.

He got home without incident, but was still full of trepidation as he crossed the threshold and closed his door behind him.

For the first time in many years Angie greeted him with passion. She ran to him, and wrapped her arms around him. Lifting her mouth to his, sucking hard on his lips as if she wanted to devour him. She ground her body against him, giggling softly as she moved her hand to rub him through his trousers as he responded. With a well practised hand she deftly unzipped him. As she held him in her hand and expertly manipulated him, he wondered where she had learned to do that. Certainly not with him. Was this how she greeted Franky? How many times? He wondered, had the cow fed him her lovers spunk?"

The thought pulled the blood from his tumescent organ, and he said, "Something smells nice, what's for tea?"

He looked at her, she seemed disappointed and confused her mouth fluttered as she struggled to answer. "Wha'...? ..why di...? er...Steak and ale pudding, mash veg and gravy." He caught a glimpse of her eyes watering up before she let go of him and dashed upstairs. Martin felt a tear forming as well. He also felt confusion, was she having second thoughts? Had she come back to him? Should he try and take her with him on his next, his final trip to Europe?

He looked up the stairs, thinking about going to her, but the thought of her with Grimard sprang back, bringing with it memories of the many times she had pushed him away, the knowledge of what she had made him do, he shuddered at the thought remembering the syringe full of spunk. He looked for, and found her handbag, he looked through its contents, the syringe was gone. His stomach heaved at the thought, but he managed to swallow it back down. The cooking food smelled good, but he now had lost his appetite. He moved through to the lounge and poured himself a scotch and flipped on the television. He heard her come back down the stairs and busy herself in the kitchen.

He sat in front of the TV, not so much watching it, but having a visible focus, he knew his rejection had been a bad move, he also know it was instinctive, and not so much rejection as revulsion. He lit a fag and went over the things he had been told, how he should behave normally at home, how he should have last night chomped down the soiled salad and said thankyou, he also thought about the change in her attitude, was it the slap? or was it because he just fucked her like a street whore? Either way, he liked the change, he also liked the greeting he received. He mulled it over until she called him through to eat.

He poured himself another scotch before joining her in the kitchen.

One of his favourite meals, one she had not prepared for him for at least two years, he felt sorrow as he looked down at the meal before him. He felt anger as he realised it had been that long, the rot in his marriage must have been there a long time. Putting the idea out of his head that the feast on his plate could contain an ingredient he did not want to eat he tentatively took a fork full to his mouth.

His tastebuds exploded with pleasure as he chewed his first morsel, it was better than he remembered, either she had excelled herself, or shitty spunk added something. His stomach churned at the thought, he struggled to keep himself under control.

"Everything all right darling?" she asked, seeing the discomfort on his face.

He finished chewing and swallowed before he answered. "Really good love, seems like ages since you cooked this for us. Sorry about earlier, didn't mean to reject you, just a bit of a shock. It's been a long while since you welcomed me home from work like that. No, not a shock, er , just caught me by surprise, er perhaps we could try again after tea?"

Her face beamed. Again Martin thought sadly, it has been a while since I saw "that" smile from her. She didn't wait, in seconds she was under the table trying to suck her way back into his life.

Tonight has surely reminded me of some of the reasons I married her. as he chomped down another morsel and she chomped down on his. But I don't remember her getting all of me down like that before.

Last night when she had, "followed her orders" and sucked him to completion, she had done just that, wanked him off with her mouth. Today, she made love to his cock. She sucked, she nibbled, she teased. She used her tongue, her teeth and her lips, she brought him close and backed off, time and time again, keeping him on the verge of fulfilment, maintaining both his erection and pleasure. She too had forgotten the pleasure she got from giving him pleasure, his whimpers and groans keeping her already full lips smiling.

Martin had given up trying to eat, her ministrations prevented him from coordinating his arm to feed himself, but all good things come to an end, and eventually she took him over the edge and as he came she took him all the way down, swallowing instinctively with each spasm of his penis. Heightening his pleasure, many degrees past all he had known before. In the first time for forever, he experienced true rapture.

It took time for him to come down from the pinnacle of pleasure she had taken him to, time before he was conscious of anything other than a warm pleasurable glow stemming from deep within himself. After a while, he saw her looking at him, smiling both at him, and with her pride in herself. She sat quietly waiting for him to break his silence.

Eventually he spoke.

"Wow!"

With that, he reached for his glass, puzzled for a second until he realised she had refilled it, he raised it to her, and spoke again.

"Thankyou."

For a second Martin wanted to dive over the table, take her in his arms and kiss her, but he remembered the things he had seen last night. He knew where she had practiced those skills and with whom. He felt the anger rising again, he knew he had to control it, with difficulty he forced himself to think of something else.

"Done anything today?" he asked her.

"Nothing much, bit of shopping. Housework, cooked dinner." she replied.

"That it, didn't you go see someone, no one came round." he pressed.

"No, oh, I talked to Charlotte on the phone." she said.

Ah! Martin thought to himself, Charlotte worked for the Grimm, he didn't know her official capacity but suspected she was one of the Grimm's whores, most if not all women that worked for him were. It was probably her that informed the Grimm of his delay.

"She told me that, that man she works for Frank... Francois Grimard has a position going, I thought I might apply, she said she would put a word in for me."

Martins mind raced, on the one hand he did not want his wife to work for that bastard, on the other she deserved everything she got. Then again why should that bastard get his own way.

Making a decision he spoke, careful not to say anything to slate the Grimms character that might get back to him. "We don't really need you to work, we manage well enough. I would rather things stay as they are, you looking after the house and me, while I go out and work, it fulfils the primaeval man in me."

Her smile didn't falter, if anything he saw a brief flash of relief flicker across her face.

"It's just Charlotte said he pays well and he is a good man to work for." she explained. "You would be able to stop the travelling, we could have more time together, get our relationship back to where it used to be."

"I doubt it." he growled, losing his control for a second. Regaining it, he continued and lied. "I mean, It would take months for me to train someone in all the intricacies of what I do when I am over in Europe, besides I have been waiting until it was official, but there may be a little promotion coming up."

"Oooohh" she squealed, as she ran around the table. "My man, my clever man, come on, lets go upstairs and I will congratulate you properly."

He nodded and followed her upstairs to their bedroom, once there she attacked him again. She all but ripped his clothes from him and dropped to her knees, once again taking him into her mouth.
As she worked she undressed herself, by the time she had all her clothes off he had a full erection, throbbing as she held his full length inside her mouth and throat. Without taking him from her, she pushed him backwards towards the bed. Staying on her knees she walked him backwards until the back of his knees touched the bed frame and mattress. Reaching up to his chest she pushed him back and he allowed himself to lay back on the bed, still with him in her mouth she moved herself to follow, encouraging him with a slight gentle nip of her teeth to move further onto the bed. She released the gentle grip her teeth had on him and still with him fully inside her she circled him to a sixty nine position, it was only when she tried to lower herself to his face that he resisted.

He held her, his hands at the top of her thighs, cupping her buttocks, spreading her open before him. Unperturbed she began to move her head up and down, her mouth repeating the devotions she had focused on under the dining table. He examined her opening, pulling her lips apart with his thumbs, before releasing her and delving deep within her with his index fingers. Then he again held her open to peer deep inside.

Satisfied she was clean, he allowed her descent, guiding her onto his mouth. Tentatively at first, he licked around her opening. Working his way around her hole, then spending time, teasing around, but not touching her clitoris. His hands now touching only her buttocks, still spreading her open as he began to tongue along her lips, gently stimulating her clitoris with a flat soft tongue. Softly as he penetrated her, licking at her inner lips, he stroked a finger across her anus. He noted it opened slightly in response, hinting at its readiness for access. He stroked across again and as it dilated he paused, watching in fascination as it opened further as her kept his finger stationary. He felt her lift her head, and she jerked herself backwards, impaling herself on his finger.

It was a new sensation for Martin, his finger explored her unknown recess, astonished at how different the reality was from his imagination. He had expected the to feel a tight tube beyond the sphincter, which in itself caught him out. Instead of a deep tightness gripping his finger, it was shallow maybe only 7mm before opening wide, loose and warm. One of its many names was the back door, he mused. Who knew there was a whole room behind it?

As he smiled at his silent joke Angie spoke to him. "I thought you might like to do me there again, I made sure it was clean for you." her voice breaking his concentration. "I would like it if you did."

He didn't need her to repeat her offer, removing his finger he pushed her forwards and moved to his knees. "Wait let me get some lube." she asked as he pushed inside. He noticed she felt tighter than she had yesterday and didn't bottom out until he had made several strokes. "Please let me use some lube, it hurts." she pleaded.

"Didn't hurt you yesterday and you were a virgin then." he snarled.

His words shook her, he was right, as far as he knew, she was a virgin, she thought. As far as he knew she was dry yesterday not slick with her lovers discharge. Silently she bore the pain of his onslaught as he pounded into her. Silently she regretted the day she had allowed Francois Grimard into her bed.

After he was spent he rolled away from her, his cock felt as if it were glowing, the friction from their unlubricated anal sex had a toll for both of them. Angie moved and headed to the bathroom, cooling her sore ring with cold water and a flannel, flinching as water and salty semen flowed into the tears that her husbands assault had caused. She sobbed silently to herself not from the physical pain, nor from the act of violation her normally gentle husband had just subjected her to. She sobbed because of the guilt she felt.

What has gotten in to him she wondered as she looked in the cabinet for some soothing ointment. After tending to herself she returned to bed finding Martin snoring away merrily. She lie down next to him and began to sob again, sleep did not come easily for her.

Angie stirred briefly as Martin shut the alarm off. He looked at her sleeping form, from her position and the occasional grimaces that contorted her face he could see her slumber was anything but peaceful. "Good" he thought as he swung his legs out of bed.

He buried himself into his work, trying to ignore the unwelcome thoughts that bombarded his mind. Occasionally he would give up fighting them and sit back trying to rationalise it all, weighing up the pros and cons of his situation. His problem was he could see very few pro's, and a huge list of cons. He had thought they had a good life, he'd thought she was as devoted to him, as he was to her. He had loved her, possibly still did. He definitely loved the woman he had thought he had, but he hated what she had become. He could even think about forgiving her infidelity, especially if the new improved version was what he had to look forward to, what he couldn't forgive was her disgusting actions. He hated the disgusting trollop she had become for another man, that wasn't the woman he had fallen in love with, the woman he had married.

Nausea overcame him as he remembered watching his wife, contaminating both his food and herself, he vomited into his waste basket. He was still heaving when Curtis came into his room.

"Feeling rough Martin?" he asked, without concern. "Someone you ate?"

If Martin had not had his face in the basket he would have seen the odious smirk on the face of his employer, and he would have known he was privy to Martin's dishonour. However the meaning of his comment was not lost by the object of his ridicule. Martin heaved again, resolving that just dying was not enough.

"Sorry, not feeling too good." said Martin wondering why he was apologising. "Excuse me, back in a moment."

Martin left Curtis and headed to the toilet. He cleaned himself up, and as he flushed the vomit from his mouth he decided to leave. He would take the rest of the week off, he had no reason to worry about keeping his job now, he was going to be officially dead in a week.

"Feeling better?" Curtis enquired as Martin entered his office.

"Not really, I think I will head home for the day. I will either be in tomorrow or I will phone."

Curtis did not answer, he was not used to Martin being assertive in any way, especially when he was under the weather.

As he drove home Angie was trying to break up with her lover, she was not doing very well.

"Listen bitch, you belong to me now, you will do what I want, when I want. If you want your hubby not to know what you have been doing with me, or to him." The calmness in his voice unnerved Angie, she was glad this conversation was happening over the phone and not face to face. "And don't be stupid enough to try and throw yourself on his mercy and confess, not if you want him to remain in good health."

"But Frank, I shouldn't have been with you, it was wrong and it is unthinkable that you are wanting to share me with your friends, leave me be." she pleaded.

"Bitch I ain't going to fuck you anymore anyway. Now you work for me, and you will fuck anyone and everyone I tell you too." Still his voice remained calm. "Now stop bitching or I won't send your pansy husband away and I'll make him watch.

"Noooo, you can't. Angie stared at the phone after Franky had hung up. If she had regretted her involvement before, now she understood what she had gotten herself into she was terrified, both for herself and Martin. When she heard his car pull up outside she wanted to die.

3

Martin had been thinking as he drove home, an idea had hit him on his way out of his office. Now he was working out what he needed to implement it. He pulled up outside his house, and sat for a while, going over the last details in his mind. He smiled to himself, it was ingenious in it's simplicity with only one complication, if it worked he was home free if not he would have to go with the plan laid out to him by his anonymous copper.

He heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs as he slid his key into the lock, when he entered he could hear the shower start to run. "Have I just missed a visit from Franky" he wondered.

He was brewing tea when she came down, he looked at her and asked. "Your eyes are red, been crying?"

"No" she cried defensively, "I got soap in my eyes."

"Bit late to be taking a shower." A statement not a question, his voice had an edge to it, an edge he didn't want.

"I had a rough night, slept in, er, I haven't been up long. Er, why are you home?" she replied.

"I was chucking up, came home sick." he said as he checked around the room, looking for signs that she had had company. He could see none.

"I think I will go and lie down for a while." As he spoke he watched for signs of guilt, signs that she didn't want him to see a freshly used bed. He saw both guilt and fear, a little more of the love he once had, slipped from his grasp.

He was pleased to find that although the bed was unmade, but there were no signs of fresh infidelity. He pulled the quilt straight and lay down upon it.

He lay upstairs for an hour or so trying to iron out the one complication in his plan. It was easy if he didn't have a "chaperone" as the cop with no name had called it. Try as he might, he could not see a way past that. The only thing he could think of required a change to his normal routine, and he had a viable excuse for that. He clapped his hands together with glee and jumping up from the bed pulled out two suitcases and began packing.

After he closed the second case he walked down to his wife, he could see she had been crying some more.

"You have been crying darling, it is because I treated you so roughly last night isn't it?"

Grateful of the excuse he offered she agreed that it was.

"I think we should go away for a few days." he told her. "Try to sort ourselves out, we seem to be getting it all wrong, when I want you, you don't want me and vice versa, I hope after a short break we will be back in sync."

Her eyes lit up for a second, then the fear returned. "H'how long for?"

"I'll call Charles in a while, if he says no then we will leave tomorrow night as soon as I get home and come back late Sunday, or I could phone in sick tomorrow and we could leave right now, but if he says yes, I will try for all next week." He gave her a couple of seconds to ingest what he had just said. "So up to you, do we take a definite three days, or do we risk that for a possibility of a good ten days, that could well be only two."

As she answered, she knew it wouldn't be ten days, at the most it would be seven but the idea of being away from any prospect of Frank fucking Grimard turning up on her doorstep demanding she fuck him or some other bastard, getting away from that, for any time was to be jumped at. "Yes, oh, yes please, where shall we go."

"Lets decide that when we know how long I can take off." He smiled. "I made a pot of tea earlier, I doubt it's still drinkable."

"I'll make a fresh one." She offered reaching for the kettle.

Over a cup of tea they chatted weighing up possible destinations things they would like to do or see, both remembering how this was how it used to be between them, both covering up their own secrets, their own agendas.

Martin waited till just after half past three before he called Charles Chiswick.

"Hello Charles, Martin here."

"Curtis said you went home ill, are you feeling better?"

"Somewhat, still feeling a little queasy, I think it's best if I take tomorrow off too, er, but I er, was er, wondering could I take next week off as holiday, Angie and I have been talking and we would like to get away for a few days."

"That would be alright with me hang on I will check with Curtis to make sure he has nothing planned for you."

Martin could hear a mumbled conversation, he assumed Charles had covered the mouthpiece. After a couple of minutes Charles spoke to him.

"We will need you back at the end of next week, so we will see you Thursday goodbye."

Martin had never gotten used to the way both Charles and Curtis ended a call, goodbye and hangup, no chance for whoever was on the end to say cheerio. Martin turned to Angie, "We are coming home Wednesday."

Angie forced a smile, she had hoped for a while there would be a way out of her predicament.

"I suppose that means you will be heading over to Europe again?" she proffered.

"He didn't say?" he answered, both of them knew he hadn't needed to.

Martin fetched the suitcases down from the bedroom and locked them in the boot.

"I didn't realise you had already packed, do you want to get going immediately?" said Angie.

"Ready when you are" he replied.

"Um um, I'll just use the loo."

As soon as she was out of sight he looked in her handbag, he was pleased to see no syringe. He took her phone out and kicked it under a chair, closing her handbag he took it out to the car. He was returning inside when she met him at the door.

"Have you seen my handbag?" she asked.

"Yes, I just put it in the car, come here, we might as well start as we mean to continue." He grabbed her and pulled her close, he kissed her passionately, running his hands over her body, or as far as he was concerned, her pockets, he was still checking for a syringe.

Martin loved to drive, he is one of those people that holds an atlas in his head, perhaps it was the numbers, he held them in his head too. As he picked his way north and west until he connected with the A1 at Retford. From there they headed north for another couple of hours, before finding a hotel for the night. Conversation had been sparse, both of them thinking about their own situation. Angie could think of nothing other than ways of getting herself out of her predicament. Hopefully, without her husband finding out. She had in the last few days, either remembered her love for him, or fallen back in love with him.

Martin had his own thoughts, he was still angry with her for the betrayal and the sheer bloody disrespect she had shown him, and he needed to pay her back, however he did not want the woman he had loved to be used as a whore for the man he now hated.

She ravaged him once the door to their room was shut, but she did ask that he give her arsehole a rest. She was still sore from the pounding he gave her last night. Tonight he did not just fuck her and feign sleep, he made love to her, doing to her everything he could, to keep her in ecstasy. His devotions giving her orgasm after orgasm. When he finally let her rest she was asleep in seconds. He made sure she was asleep and dressed quietly, then he left the room and went to his car.

They showered and put on clean clothes before an early breakfast, Martin wanted to get a few miles under their belts before the traffic thickened. As Angie had repacked their suitcases putting their dirty clothes in a plastic bag she was puzzled at how dirty Martins clothes had seemed to get over night.

Their next stop was to be Rosslyn chapel, a place they had visited years before Dan Brown had made it famous. They agreed it looked better now the roof had been restored, and the protective covering over it that had made it look like a Dutch barn had now gone. Later that afternoon they headed into Edinburgh. Martin took no notice when the oil warning light came on. They took a hotel in Edinburgh, a very late lunch followed by more sightseeing, they did the castle and the ghost walk (Royal mile ghost tour) before returning to the hotel for a late dinner. Martin sampled many of the single and double malt nectars on offer. So many, Angie had to get assistance helping him to their room. Needless to say, no ones toes were curled that night, and there was no early start in the morning.

They only just made the ten thirty checkout time, and Martin insisted on going for another walk around the city. She thought it was so he could sober up, he however had other plans. They wandered around, and Angie found herself looking at the displayed work of an upmarket hair salon, Martin told her to go in and see if they could fit her in, they could. While she had her hair done he hit the local branch of his bank and drew out a substantial sum. He also paid for the months accommodation that he had arranged yesterday. He bought himself a scotch pie and a bottle of pop before meeting back with Angie. After retrieving the car, they continued heading north. Martin continued to ignore the oil warning light and when Angie mentioned how noisy the engine was, he assured her it was nothing to worry about. They got almost to junction 2 on the M90 when the engine screamed and died accompanied by a cloud of black oily smoke. It was only then that Angie discovered she had no phone.

Martin called for roadside assistance as they waited to be rescued, Angie complained to him about not picking up her phone.

"But it's always in your handbag, are you sure you haven't lost it somewhere? Besides I have mine, you can use that if you want." he retorted. "I doubt there will be much of a service anyway, once we get where we are going."

She had no answer, she didn't really need her own phone, the only time it was used was to talk to her girlfriends and when she was told to get ready because Frank was on his way.

The AA man came and told them the engine was dry, no oil, it had seized. Martin was silently impressed that it had lasted so long since he "doctored" it that first night.

"No matter it's a company car." Martin assured her as they were transported to a suitable repair place. "We will hire a car, and get reimbursed for it when we get back.

Less than four hours later they were again heading up the M90 in an almost new Toyota Auris. Less than three hours after that they pulled up outside a small croft with no other sign of anything resembling civilization in sight. They had seen no other habitation for over half an hour as Martin had driven along the maze of lanes.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Somewhere in the middle of the Grampians, at least twenty miles from anyone else that I know of." he said as he went round the side of the croft, finding a stack of dried peat he fumbled around."

"Ah, here it is." he said.

"What?"

"The key, got to love their sense of security up here." he said grinning.

"You planned this without telling me, how?"

He didn't answer her. They explored the croft, finding it adequately furnished, but still sparse in places, they were both amazed at the thickness of the stone walls. They found the larder, fridge and freezer well stocked, for two people it would last well over a month.

In the secluded location, aside from walking or stargazing, there was little to do other than getting reacquainted with each others bodies. Over the next few days they did just that Fucking, sucking, licking and fingering every inch, every hole, of each other with passions that would put newly married teenagers to shame.

The reminder Martin had set on his phone told him it was Wednesday morning. As he shut off the alert he gulped. Now was time to have the confrontation, time to tell her what he knew.

He made a pot of tea and took them to the bedroom where she lay, the flush of a well fucked woman glowed from her cheeks.

"Oooh, sweetie, thankyou." she mewed.

"Angie, I have something I must say, must tell you." he blurted out, she looked at him. Seeing the discomfort on his face, she asked."Whats wrong sweetie?"

"I know Angie." he replied.

"You know what Darling." she asked. Fearful of the answer.

"All of it Angie, everything, what you have been doing with that black bastard, and what he had planned for you this weekend." He chocked back a sob. "And what makes it even worse is what you have been doing to me."
"Oh god, I am so sorry, I have been trying to break it off with him, but he said he wants me to..." she curled up on the bed crying."

"I am going to leave you here. He won't be able to find you, you have plenty of food, I will be back sometime after the weekend, maybe a few days longer. In the meantime." he stated "You have decisions to make, whether you want to stay married to me, or not. While I am gone you can write a full confession. I want the why's, the what's and the when's. I will read it when I come to fetch you, then I will decide if I want to stay with you." he turned to leave her, as he got to the door he said, curtly. "Don't try going anywhere, you will get lost and die. Goodbye."

Martin got up and left her crying on the bed, it was dark before she moved.

While she berated herself, Martin solemnly headed south, as soon as his phone got a signal it began chirping as text after text was received. He pulled over and checked through them. One told him his car was repaired and ready to pick up, two were from the brothers "reminding" him he was due back on Thursday. The one from Curtis asking how I was enjoying Dunfermline. Martin smiled all the way to Dunfermline to pick up his car. He now knew it was fitted with a tracker, so a chaperone was unlikely.

He picked up his car and paid for it on his credit card, apparently the sump had cracked. It looked almost as if somebody had deliberately done it using a jack, the man told him as he moved a suitcase and a heavy bag from the Auris and put them into his car. He then drove the Auris to the place he had hired it from, getting there just before closing. One of their staff took him back to his car after he again paid with a credit card.

Soon he was heading back south, stopping only once more at services for a break, coffee and to use the facilities. He arrived home just after ten thirty, having stopped off at his local chippy for some fish and chips to take and eat at home.

He washed down his meal with a beer, a fag and a second beer sufficed for dessert. He crumpled up the paper he had eaten his dinner from, remembering her phone as he did so. He dug under the chair for it. Several missed calls from Charlotte, more from an unrecognised number. Unrecognised by her phone, but one Martin knew. It was the number that called him usually about two hours before he set off to Europe, sometimes the day before. Several more were calls from her friends. There were several texts from Charlotte, all asking her either where she was, or wanting her to ring. Several more from other friends, all asking the same, and one from a number neither her phone or Martin recognised. It said [FRI 7pm 4 guests make dinner no pork]

"Bastard" he thought angrily. Then he smirked knowing he had upset those plans, he then wondered if there were some way of upsetting Franky fucking Grimard some more. He had an idea and went to sleep with a smile on his face.

Angie had cried from the moment Martin left her till she had no tears left. Now all she had for companions were her own regret and desolation.

4

Martin got up at six, an hour early, at six thirty he made a call.

"Hello mate hope it's not too early." said Martin.

Hello mate, yes you're early, about two weeks to my reckoning." The voice on the phone replied. Got someone to get rid of."

"Martin smiled at his friends joke, and as always wondered what his reaction would be if he said yes.

" Er no, not just yet, maybe soon, but in the mean time I am doing something for some friends of Angies, how soon can I have some?"

" Today if you want, usual?"

"Any chance of er.." he thought for a second. "fuck it two gallons."

"Really?"

"Really"

"Can do, when will you be over?

"Tonight, might be a bit later than usual, that okay."

"Cos' it is, see you later."

"Yes mate see you tonight."

Martin hung up and showered he left in good time to catch a DIY shop on his way in. He found what he needed easily, so arrived early to work, he was happy and made sure all knew.

"You seem happy today Martin." observed Curtis when he came into Martins office.

"Yes, Angie and I have had a great few days, we haven't been getting on so well recently but we seem to have sorted things out now. Thanks for asking." He said cheerfully, "In fact come tomorrow night we are going away again for the weekend."

"Er well that's good." said Curtis. "er have you heard from Mr Grimard this week?"

"No, why? Has he said anything to you?"

"Er no."

"That's a shame, I could have taken her with me, she'd love to see Amsterdam or Brussels."

Curtis left without uttering any of his normal condescending remarks. Five minutes later Martins phone rang.

"Martin, I need you to go to Brussels tomorrow morning. This one is a little different, after you have made your normal delivery, I need you to wait over the weekend and bring a package back with you on Monday. I am afraid it needs to be extra hush hush, so no taking the good lady with you for a dirty weekend okay." The voice on the phone speaking quickly, offering no chance of any interruption.

"Yes Mr Grimard, usual time and place for the pick up this end." Martin asked.

"No, can you pick up early, six o'clock in the morning, you will be telephoned with the details for the other job." Mr Grimard informed Martin, then hung up.

Martin looked at the receiver as the dial tone emitted from it. The rudeness of the Grimm still infuriated him after all these years. "I wonder if the guests tomorrow are my employers, no matter, whoever they are they will not be happy five minutes after gaining entry to my house." Without physically putting the phone down he booked himself a crossing for him with his car on the Eurostar, leaving at 09:15 from Folkestone. Then he began looking for a reasonably priced B&B to stay for the weekend.

He left work early at four o'clock, driving to a large chain toy store, from there, he drove to Graham the pig farmer. Once he had finished his business with Graham he loaded the two gallon containers of pigs blood into the boot of his car and set off down the lane to get back to the road.

Halfway to the road a car appeared in Martins headlights, it had no lights on and was sat blocking the lane. Martin became fearful, sweat began pouring from his skin. Slowly he moved closer, looking hard to see if there was any chance of getting by. There was none. Martin peered to see if there was anyone with the car, it seemed unoccupied, cursing he selected reverse just as his door was flung open.

"Mr Stein, we meet again." Although all he could see was a silhouette, Martin recognised the voice.

"Inspector" he exclaimed with relief.

"Apologies for the cloak and dagger way of contacting you but we observed something the other day. There are now more bugs in your house and office than we put in." The inspector told him.

"What about the car?" Asked Martin.

"We checked that while it was being fixed, there's a tracker, but nothing else. What have you done with your wife, by the way?" Asked the policeman.

"She's relaxing in Scotland, reflecting on her mistakes. I was hoping you will send someone to find her after my er, demise." Answered Martin. "She has ample provisions for at least another fortnight, probably over a month. She is safe where she is for now."

"Mmmm, you're a good man, better than me." opined the inspector. Part of him had hoped the pigs were feasting on her traitorous loins, although most of him didn't want the paperwork.

"Tomorrow you will travel along the A16 and E40 to Nieuwe Stallestraat in Sint-Pieters-Leeuw, België. Take exit 18-Ruisbroek from E19 at some point you will be pulled over and a tragic accident will happen, okay." The French and Belgian names tripped off the inspectors tongue like he was a native of both countries. Martin nodded in agreement.

"Umm, I was wondering, er, I think, er, I mean I am worried someone will break into my house tomorrow, would you be able to make sure the er, culprits are arrested. For some reason I think the burglary might happen a little after seven." Martin asked hesitantly. Adding "Don't let any officers enter until they have heard a big bang though."

"That won't be a problem, see you on the flip side." said the inspector as he returned to his car.

The inspector backed his car to a passing place and Martin drove past, reassured at the meeting.

Once home Martin brought in his purchases and began preparing a surprise for his wife's guests.

First he emptied the rat poison and blitzed it to pulp in the liquidiser, he added it to the pigs blood.

"Hopefully that will slow down or at least prevent some clotting." He thought as he shook each container to mix it in.

He then unrolled some light plastic tubing. Affixing one end to the compressor in his garage, and running it through an air vent in his kitchen through into the living room. He then fitted a switch that would be tripped when his front door was opened, he checked the set up with several dummy runs, before adding the final pieces and retiring to bed.

He awoke in the morning to the alarm at five, he dressed and after a coffee, he set about making the final necessary adjustments for his plan to work. After double checking all was as it should be, he kicked his front door in, breaking the lock. After wedging it closed from the inside he set the trap and left via the back door. He drove over to pick up his package.

At eight thirty he was queuing to drive onto his train. He took out his wife's phone and sent a text [ let urslf in mite have 2 pop out 4 hlf hr ] then he removed the battery. Fifteen minutes later he was sitting in his car on one of the Eurostar carriages. He checked behind him, and then lifted the briefcase from the footwell next to him. If he was correct, this would be one of four identical cases, each one he had learned the combination to, on previous trips. It was something to occupy his mind for part of the boring ferry crossings. His third attempt was rewarded with success and the valise popped open.

Martin took a breath after each lock popped open, then furtively he checked around him, making sure the occupants of the cars directly in front and behind were not watching him. He looked inside, finding the expected bag he removed it and closed the case. Sweating profusely he again checked fore and aft before returning the case to the adjacent footwell.

He waited for his trembling hands to still, before he looked inside the small velvet bag he exhaled sharply when he saw it's glittering contents. His heart racing he felt in his jacket for his wallet, he pulled it out, trying to calm himself. He took deep breaths until he felt able to open his wallet and take out a small foil package. A few minutes later, hands still trembling, he tore open the packet and removed the condom contained within. He unrolled a couple of inches, and again had to pause to calm himself. One by one Martin transferred the contents of the velvet pouch to the condom, then after tying a knot in it, he tore off the excess rubber. With the aid of a pouch of juice he managed to swallow the condom.

Just over an hour after he drove onto the train, he was driving off. Twenty minutes after that, he was through customs and heading toward Belgium on the main A16. About two hours later he was pulled over.

"Monsieur, vite, er quickly." A man with a French accent said urgently, almost pulling him from his car to a waiting van. Martin was flung through the side door and the van pulled away rapidly. He estimated they had moved no more than 200 yards when he heard the sickening hollow impact of a car being hit by something large and heavy followed thirty seconds later by a distant thump of igniting fuel.

"Monsieur, vive le morte non?" The Frenchmen smiled at him covering him with acrid garlic breath.

Martins journey was uneventful, save for changing vehicles twice, both times undercover. There were no attempts at conversation from any of his brief travelling companions. Just over a three hours later he was being bundled through a door in a back street. He didn't know where he was.

He was pushed toward some stairs, he climbed them obediently, there was one door at the top, it opened as he neared it.

"Come in Martin." A familiar voice greeted him.

Martin said nothing, he was more than a little overwhelmed with the events that had occurred to him since being pulled over.

"You were pulled over for a routine traffic stop, one of your brake lights was faulty, unfortunately you were hit by a large lorry hauling steel, I am afraid you were killed outright, your body is only identifiable from DNA and dental records, I am afraid your wife is a widow." His voice was full of pride as he spoke.

Martin sat quietly, only now truly comprehending his past life was over, all he had known prior to this morning was gone.

There was a knock at the door, a man came in, spoke to the policeman in hushed tones and left.

"It seems we got to you in time, the case you picked up this morning had nothing in it, nothing worthwhile, we also found out there has been a contract taken out on you, we don't think you were supposed to return from this trip."

Martin was aghast. "You, you mean if..."

"If you were not already dead, then you soon would be." The inspector confirmed.

Martins face lost all its pallor, he began to shake. The inspector pulled a hip flask from his pocket and after twisting off the top passed it to Martin. "Here, take it."

Martin took the flask and sniffed it then took a deep draught of the brandy contained within. The warmth flowed from his mouth and through his chest helping to numb the shock from the news he had just received. Inside he was rejoicing, they thought the case was empty when he left.

His loyalty to Angie had made him want to take her with him, but his anger wanted her to suffer. He had been torn, wanting both to happen. No, what he really wanted, was that none of it had happened. Eventually he concluded that at least she will suffer by mourning his death, possibly blaming herself or her pimp. That would be her punishment and it would have to be enough.

Martin was given a file and told that was who he is now, he just stared at it."You need to learn most, if not all that is contained inside that folder." said the policeman.

He then spent some time telling Martin what was going to happen over the next couple of weeks, before he was moved into his new life. He then pulled out a laptop. "I thought you might like to monitor your old house, it is almost seven now back home. Martin pulled his wife's phone out and reinserted the battery.

The laptop screen flickered to life, the inspector made a couple of clicks and several windows appeared on the screen, each one held a different view from in or outside Martins former home. In one window a black Bentley pulled up, four men exited the car, Frank, Curtis and two unknown black men. They moved toward the door, dropping off the bottom of the screen. Martin clicked on the window showing his front door from the inside, he heard the doorbell, saw shadows through the glass. The door flew open, Martin heard the expected hum start up and smiled. He heard Frank speak in an unknown language, he knew Franks family was from Senegal he assumed it was their native tongue. He heard Curtis say, "fuck me Frank you don't know your own strength, you've broke the door in."

"Nah, not me man." he heard Franks reply. "That bitch should be here, she's not answered her phone all day, we'll make her pay later, c'mon." Frank led then through to the living room oblivious to the subtle hum from the garage.

They entered the lounge, the electronic voyeur switched view, all three black men took seats and Curtis moved toward the drinks stocked on the side. How all of them failed to notice the expanding orange balloon in the corner nearest the door will go down as one of life's unexplained mysteries. Curtis saw it first as he was bringing drinks over to his African associates.

"What the fuck is..."

"BANG!" it was a very loud bang, anyone outside the house could be forgiven if they thought it was gunfire or an explosion.

It was all Martin had wished for, the space hopper already having two gallons of pigs blood pumped in it had been summarily pumped with air till bursting, covering the house occupants and living room in red. Curtis was far from happy, but the three muslim men were cursing every white man ever borne.

Martin sent a text to Frank from his wifes phone. [ PIG BLOOD]

If Franky had been pissed off before reading that text he was livid after reading it. He screamed something unintelligible before the door flew open again and six armed policemen ran in, threw all four on the floor at gunpoint and arrested them.

Both Martin and his companion laughed heartily at the spectacle unfolding on the screen.

What the fuck was that?" masked the policeman.

"Pigs blood, nice touch eh!"

"Ha ha ha if you weren't already dead ha ha he'd kill you now for sure. Ha ha ha "

"Ha ha ha ha he will think it was my wife. Ha ha ha ha"

"And I thought you let her off too easily. Ha ha ha ha"

The thought cut through Martin like a knife. If Frank thought Angie responsible he would do anything to get revenge, she was as dead as himself. The realisation tempered his mood, he lost the urge to laugh.

"I didn't think it through, I don't want her harmed." his voice almost pleading as the possible consequences of his joke flipped through his mind.

"No matter, we can't do anything to help her." stated the inspector.

"Can't or won't? Asked Martin, fixing him with a cold stare, "Perhaps, I can't testify."

The glare he received in reply told Martin, for the moment at least, he had no bargaining power. The reality that both he and his wife were imprisoned, admittedly for their own protection but prisoners all the same, struck home.

5.

Several hundred miles away Angie had been busy, thinking, writing, crossing out rethinking and rewriting her "confession"

My Darling Husband I am sorry for the things I have done both with Franky Grimm and to you I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am or how I can ask you to forgive me.

As you no doubt have guessed, it was all because of Charlotte. About a year ago you were away and Charlotte told me she had a double date with Marie and Frank and another man. She told me Marie had to drop out and asked if I could make up the number. I said no, but she told me she was desperate, she assured me nothing would be expected sex wise, like a fool I believed her.

The date was dinner and dancing, I was paired off with Frank. I don't know really how we went from the club to his bed, I have tried to understand, I tried to understand for weeks after that first time and again since you left me up here. All I know is I can't explain it. I have to admit I found him attractive when I first met him. There is something about powerful men. I can't explain it, but even you have to admit he is powerful, but he was just too difficult to refuse. I felt so guilty that I had betrayed you

The next time you were away, Charlotte told me he wanted to see me again. I told her no, I did, honest. You have to believe me. He came round the house, uninvited, late at night, I didn't want to let him in. He said he just wanted to talk about what had happened the last time, so I invited him in for a drink and to talk, just talk, really that was the only reason I let him through the door. I shouldn't have, maybe we could have recovered what we had. That was the first night I let him do me at home, when first soiled our marital bed.

When he left I cried myself to sleep.

The next time you were away, the same happened, the time after that was when he took my last virginity.

I would like to say I wished it was you but by then I was hooked, at the time I was glad he had me there first, it was only when you took it by force did I begin to see it was you that should have been using me like he did. That the only reason you had not used me like a whore was because you loved me, you respected me and you treated me as an equal.
Now as I face my lust, my lack of respect and the fact I treated you like a pet I realise I couldn't have any more regrets about what I had been doing with him.

I am sorry my love, but infatuation doesn't begin to describe what I felt, the desires he brought out in me.

When he told me he didn't want to share me anymore, I had a pang of guilt, so he told me I can give you hand jobs. But he insisted that you had to eat my pussy while I did it, he then started to come around and fuck me just before you came home.

I am sorry my love but for a while I got caught up with the idea. We worked out between us the disgusting things I did to your food, much to my shame I think it may have been my suggestion. I am sorry but I just got caught up with him, enamoured by his potency, his authority.

I have just read through what I have written and am even more disgusted with myself than I was before I wrote it. I realise there is no way you can forgive me for the things I have done to you, how can you forgive me when I can't forgive myself.

I have no right to ask and you should not even entertain the idea.

If there is a hell I will rightly burn forevermore.

Goodbye my love Angie XX

She folded the notepaper and put it on the table, resting her handbag on top. Taking a sharp knife from the drawer, crying she walked to the bathroom, stripped off her clothes and ran herself a hot bath.

6.

For a week Martin was kept in that small flat, dining on carry outs, either being quizzed on his knowledge of the Grimms business, coached on his court appearance or his new life as Eric Williams. Almost daily he had to wash and swallow that valuable condom.

He was moved a week later to a more comfortable and secluded location when he was settled Grey paid him a visit. Eric knew something was amiss as soon as Grey entered the cottage. His two guards made themselves scarce.

Grey looked at him, there was a sadness in his eyes.

"Martin, Eric. I have some news, it is not good. We sent someone to retrieve your wife. There's no easy way to say this, she had... has committed suicide. She was found in the bath, she had cut her wrists."

Eric fell to the floor in shock and wept.

Grey looked at him feeling helpless. He wanted to say something, but had no words. The only thing he could think of was the prescribed and insincere "I am sorry for your loss." churned out in American crime TV series. Eventually he managed to say, "You shouldn't blame yourself."

Eric looked up to him from the floor, his face flushed with anger.

"Blame myself? Why would you think I would do that? I blame that fucking cunt and that fucking slag I married. Blaming myself doesn't come into it. To be honest, in a way I am glad, but that don't mean I am not sorry, for fucks sake I loved the bitch for long enough."

Grey studied him and reaching into his jacket passed over his hip flask. "I have two bottles in the car.

"Shit you stole from me no doubt, bring it in I need a drink." Eric snapped.

"Eric, there was a note to you, I have a fax copy, I assume you want to read it. I really don't know whether you should, I am not sure it will help." Grey fished a folded piece of paper from his jacket and passed it to Eric as he spoke.

Eric looked at the paper, weighing up whether he wanted to read her last goodbye. He nodded, more to himself than the inspector, before taking it from the extended hand. Grey watched him as he opened it before leaving him to read it alone. He paused at the door and looked at him, before turning away and going to his car to fetch the booze.

"The fucking cow, the bitch did those things to me and she's taken the easy way out, I wish now I had let her suffer as that cunt's whore." Those were his words, but inside was regret.

He regretted leaving her up there all alone, he regretted getting himself in the situation that led to her being such easy prey, he regretted the whole situation but most of all he now regretted he was never going to hold her in his arms again.

He and Grey got drunk together. Eric talked about his life as Martin, the early happy days with Angie. Grey finally told him his name.

Eric's mood kept changing at one point getting so morose Grey began to wonder if he was going to be able to pull him back. Then he remembered as far as he knew no one had yet told Eric about the repercussions of his booby trap.

"You know the surprise you left for dear old Francois and friends." said Grey, he was rewarded by a smile coming from the tear stained face in front of him.

"Well, these muslim types don't like anything to do with pigs, ha-ram I think they call it, The two blokes from Senegal are pretty devout and er,well it's a bit of a grey area as to whether we should have allowed them a shower. Now, some might say, that we told them that we wouldn't allow them to shower unless they talked, others, might say they were offered a shower if they talked. The official version says they were happy to talk, without legal council, and they sang their socks off.

We should be able to lock Mr Grimard away for a long time on their confessions alone.

Messrs Chiswick were also a great help, you probably won't even have to give evidence." He let that sink in. "That gave us reason to get warrants to search their and his premises. It seems your bosses, the brothers Chiswick had encoded books, and Mr Francois Grimard had the key. Between them, we were able to access all his records, a lot of people are going down. Your little act of revenge has paid dividends, you have been more help than we could have even thought."

Eric smiled at the news, he had not been looking forward to being in court, allowing Franky boy to know he was alive.

"Also, and I wasn't going to tell you this, but the two men are white slavers, your wife was destined for a whorehouse in Tehran, I don't think we could have prevented that for long, even though those bastards will be safely locked up others would have come for her..." Grey fell silent, perhaps he should have kept that information from him.

"I am fucking angry, angry about what he did, she did and the whole fucking fucked up situation." he ranted. "I am fucking angry she can't be punished for what she did...The things she did to me. I'm fucking angry that she's dead and angry she is not here with me, and I am fucking dead. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? A dead man has no friends, no family, no fucking one. I am all alone." He wailed, tears again flowing readily from his eyes.

Grey watched him, feeling impotent, inadequate and useless, he found his eyes misting with empathy.

"You will have support," he offered realising as he spoke how lame it sounded.

"Whoop de fucking do, well that's all right then isn't it?" Eric lashed out with his tongue.

Inspector Grey said nothing, he knew he had said too much, no doubt because he had drunk too much. He looked to the bottles, one was empty, the other wasn't far behind.

Eric stumbled to his feet, swaying wildly he flew at the policeman.

"It's your fault she's dead, you dragged me into this" he raged.

Eric landed on the Inspector before he could rise from his seat and defend himself. He managed to get a couple of blows in before the noise brought the two guards into the room. They separated the two men and restrained Eric. Grey spoke to the two men in French and after sitting Eric back in his chair they returned to their nest.

"Sorry, I shouldn't blame you." Said Eric as he regained his sanity.

"It's okay, I understand. These last few weeks can't have been easy." Grey meant it, he couldn't imagine what this poor man was feeling. He knew the facts, but knowing the facts can't explain the mixture of emotions he must be going through.

"How about we finish this and hit the hay" he suggested.

Eric said nothing and searching the floor he found his overturned glass, he offered it to Grey. Grey poured him the better half and then drained the bottle into his own, raising it he said. "To a new and better life."

"A new life." said Eric in reply, raising his glass.

7.

Martins funeral was quiet, with only a handful of mourners, Angies was destitute, not even her friend Charlotte bothered to attend. Eric wanted to, but was advised against it.

Eric Williams took up residence in Gloucester the Saturday after the funerals, he began working as a data entry clerk, just over a week later.

Francois Grimard was sentenced to fifteen years each for the crimes of human trafficking, living from immoral earnings, exploitation, rape, making threats to facilitate prostitution, conspiracy to commit murder. Ten years for smuggling, another ten for dealing in restricted goods and twenty years for twelve counts of bribing or attempting to bribe a public official. Two more for threatening behaviour and to cap it all a further six months for breaking and entering. All to be served consecutively, he wouldn't be seeing freedom again.

Curtis got a total of seventy years

Charles got forty seven

The two traffickers got twenty years apiece

Many of the Grimm's employees were prosecuted, most were detained with sentences ranging from two to eighteen years, Charlotte got a total of five for procurement and living from immoral earnings.

Eric worked as a data entry clerk until he was sure he was not being watched by Interpol or the British police. He kept vigil until he was sure there had been no surveillance on him for over a year. He took a fortnights holiday driving across Europe, for some reason he only stopped in Brussels for a few hours.

Some months later, he retired to the Algarve, had anyone ever asked about his riches, his story was he had invested well.
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