Damn Car

Then I got it!

Miss Jones, Debbie that is, came strolling out onto the stage in what I then recognised as her schoolmistress outfit, all prim and proper. She strolled round the stage glancing at the men stood there over the top of her obviously false spectacles, and appearing to tick off names on the pad she held as if taking the class register.

"Right!" She announced after a while, and the whole club seemed to go quiet. "You all seem to be here boys, so we'll start the lesson."

I noted that she had everyone's attention to a level that would have done any real class a credit.

"OK boys," Debbie went on. "What's the square root of twelve thousand six hundred and forty seven? To the nearest three decimal places, please."

When nobody answered, she just shook her head and tried another virtually impossible mathematical question.

"OK boys," She announced, frowning at everyone. "This really isn't good enough. I'll try another question and if the boy I choose gets it right, then he'll get to select what item of clothing I take off."

Debbie kept her frown on, even though by then everyone else was grinning happily.

"Right, you boy," she called out, pointing at some forty year old with a group of his mates. "What's two plus two?"

"Four!" Cried out the contented punter. "Please take your blouse off Miss."

Tutting away, Debbie slowly undid her blouse and discarded it, revealing one of her old prim and proper white bras. I hadn't seen any of them for some time, and wondered where they'd gone.

"You boy ---- In the green shirt," she restarted. "Where's your school cap?"

"Left it at home Miss," shouted back the hapless guy with a laugh, who was then refused a chance for being improperly dressed.

The bald boy at the back there," carried on my wife. "What's five times two?"

"Ten Miss Jones," he roared back. "Get your skirt off."

Say please you naughty boy," Debbie retorted with a mock angry look. "Don't be so cheeky in class."

"Sorry Miss," he came back immediately. "Please would you take your skirt off next?"

"Certainly boy," she smiled at him, and seductively unzipped her modest skirt that I also suddenly recognised from before, slid it down her shapely legs and threw it aside.

By this time I was a bit of a basket case, not knowing whether to be angry or just sit back and enjoy it. My Debbie wasn't simply a stripper ---- She was an entertainer, and was so obviously loving what she was doing.

"Best stripper in the place," my friend alongside me informed me. "Wait till you see her lovely little tits. They're bloody gorgeous."

"Told you so," he went on when another pupil managed somehow to calculate three minus one, and Debbie added her bra to the small pile of clothes behind her, her bare breasts out on display for everyone to admire, her nipples so obviously rock hard, even from that distance.

"Right boys, now concentrate," Debbie instructed the enraptured class of 'boys' gathered round the stage. "Whoever gets the next question right first will get to come up here and help me take these off," snapping the elastic of her thong panties. The whole lot of them seeming to lean forward to hear the question better.

"The square root of thirty six, times the square of five?" Debbie cried out to them.

"Hundred and fifty," I mumbled to the guy alongside me, amused as he tried to count on his fingers.

"Rubbish," he said. "It's ..... It's ...."

"A hundred and fifty Miss," shouted out some flash looking guy above the rabble around him a minute or so later.

"Correct boy," Debbie beamed at him. "Now come up here and collect your reward.

The flash git leapt up onto the stage, the bouncers stiffening to attention to make sure nobody followed him up there, and Debbie, the cheeky bitch, took his hand and led him to the centre of the stage, brushing up against him suggestively as she did so.

Till then, to be honest, I'd been a bit carried along in the swing of the whole thing. Taken in by Debbie's great act, and enjoying the sight of a beautiful young women taking her clothes off as all the other guys were doing. If I'm forced to admit it then the fact that it was my wife made it even more intense. But what she'd said about some guy helping her off with her panties, suddenly struck home.

Suddenly I didn't want to be there anymore.

"Blimey," my friend commented loudly. "Can you imagine yourself up there sliding that piece of crumpet's knickers off. Can you imagine it?"

"Yes I can actually," I mumbled, feeling my chest tighten as I recalled how many times I had done that since we'd known one another. Not that anyone took any notice, too interested in watching as the lucky git up on the stage, got to slide his fingers inside her tiny panties and slide them down her legs. My insides churning as he leant his face forward, planting a kiss on her now naked pussy.

"Naughty boy," my stripper wife admonished him. "Do that again and I'll have to give you the cane."

But all that did was to encourage him to lean forward again and take a long lick between her legs.

"Six of the best for you boy," Debbie groaned, and not even I was sure if she was pretending or not. "I'll see you in the headmaster's study later."

Despite his attempts to prolong the encounter, the bouncers moved in and gently but firmly removed his hands from my wife's bare body, and propelled him back to where he had been sitting.

Debbie never gave him a second look.

That didn't however prevent me from feeling sick!

I'd seen enough!

All I wanted to do was get out of there. I'd known what she had been doing in theory, but the reality was more than I could stomach.

Worst of all ---- Yes by far the worst, was that Debbie so obviously enjoyed it!

What the hell had happened to my sweet little wife?

----------------------

I never admitted that I had been to watch her act, and other than her less modest clothes, there was little to suggest that she was anything other than she had always been.

My loving wife.

It came to a head however when I was teaching a group of elder kids one afternoon and was having great difficulty keeping their attention. They were all really young adults rather than kids and I'd always had a good report with that class. But that day they simply weren't with me, and were all sniggering over something that they were passing round between them.

"What's this?" I shouted out, grabbing the paper from one of them as he passed it across the aisle.

"Do you recognise her sir?" Nick Jones, one of the lads asked me. "We all thought she looked familiar."

My heart dropped as I looked at the sheet, which was a computor printout, and discovered to my humiliation that it featured my wife, spread-eagled naked over the bonnet of a car. There was no doubt in my mind from the moment I saw it. Not sure why, but I just knew.

"It is your missus isn't it sir, another of the boys asked. "We found it on the internet."

"Of course it's not her," I blustered. "Looks a bit like her, but ....."

"But it is her sir," Jones insisted. "Look that's the Porsche that you used to own."

"WHAT!"

"Yes look sir, one of the others went on. "It is your old Porsche as we recognise the registration number with GAD. Why hasn't your wife got any clothes on sir?"

I couldn't answer.

"Is your wife an escort girl sir?" Asked David, one of the shyer boys. "She's very pretty and has got gorgeous tits sir. If you don't mind me saying so sir."

"What's an escort girl?" another of the lads asked the class at large. "Why is Mr. Adams' wife posing like that with no clothes on?"

"That's enough boys," I told them, trying to take back control.

"An escort girl is like an upmarket prostitute," butted in Jones, the 'know all' little bastard. "Mr Adams' wife looks like she might be one."

"How much does she charge sir?" Asked a boy at the back.

"More than I would," Angie Thomas butted in before I could respond, the girls in the class having been quiet up till then. "I'd do Mr. Adams for nothing."

"You'd do anything with trousers on for nothing," Jones yelled out.

"Not you I wouldn't you idiot," she shot back at him, standing up and sticking her tits out. "But if Mr. Adams wanted me to, then I'd strip off and give you all a show like his wife has."

"Behave yourself Angie," I shouted at her, acutely aware of how she had been flirting with me all year, and disturbed by my own reaction at the thought of her carrying out the act that she'd just threatened.

"Well she's got bigger tits than your wife has sir," another girl Natalie butted in. "Nice bod though."

"Shut up the lot of you," I screamed, having lost my temper in front of a class for the first time ever, knowing that they'd lost all respect for me.

"Is it really your wife sir?" Amie, the shyest girl in the class piped up in the silence that followed my outburst. "Why would she do that sir? Why would she put photos of herself in the nude on the internet?"

"I don't know ----- I don't bloody well know!" By which time I'd had enough. I charged from the room, my face red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, not stopping till I reached the sanctuary of the staff common room, where I sat close to tears for the rest of the lesson.

It got worse!

"Hey Jim," called out Tony, the geography teacher as he entered the staff room, unaware that I was huddled at the back out of view. "Have you seen those photos of George's wife going round the school?"

"Seen them," retorted Jim, the sports master. "I've been confiscating them half the bloody morning."

"Can I have one," Tony shot back hopefully.

"Me to if there's any to spare," added the new Chemistry assistant. "I don't even know the girl, but from what I've seen she's a cracking piece of crumpet."

"Lovely pair of tits," agreed Tony. "Would never have expected it of her though, I've met her a few times and she always seemed rather conservative."

"Not any more," laughed Jim. "From what I've heard there's a rumour that she's a stripper down at some club nearby."

"Maybe we should all go down one night and take a gander," Tony chuckled.

"We'll ask George if he can get us some tickets," giggled the new chemistry guy.

"I don't know if he even knows what his missus is up to," was the last comment I heard as the three of them walked back out of the room, on their way to their next lesson, all laughing their heads off at my expense.

My stomach was churning ---- Damn them!

--------------------

The upshot was that the assistant Head master eventually found me curled up in an armchair in the common room when I should have been taking the next class.

"You'd better take the rest of the day off George," he instructed me. Those photos are all over and everyone will give you a hard time."

In fact I ended up asking for the week off, and I guess they were more than happy to see the back of me.

And so to home!

I was staggered when I found the Porsche of all things, parked outside our house when I got home.

Things were getting totally out of hand.

With a heavy heart, I got my key out and entered my home.

-----------------

My mouth gaped open in shock as the first thing I registered upon entering our lounge, was that thug Ted, the bastard, slumped out on our sofa as if he owned the damn place. He looked up when he saw me and grinned.

"Long time no see George," he smirked at me, leaving me speechless.

"What was that you said honey," Debbie asked as she breezed into the room from the kitchen, totally missing the fact that I was standing there behind her.

"Nothing that matters gorgeous," Ted responded, holding his arms out to her, and pulling her onto his lap when she went to him, his great paw of a hand, closing round and totally encompassing her left breast.

Her action was bad enough.

It wasn't that she was wearing those ridiculously elevated CFM high heels, so much as that was all she was wearing.

Starkers --- Naked ------ Nude ------ It was all hanging out for Christ's sake.

"We'd better be going Debbie," Ted told her when he emerged from the passionate kiss that she bestowed upon him. "We've got a long way to go."

"Oh come on Ted," my wife replied, snuggling up to him. "We've got time to enjoy ourselves a bit surely."

"Not sure your husband George would be too happy with that Debbie," he told her, giving me a huge wink over the top of her bare shoulder.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him sweetheart," Debbie whispered to him.

"Maybe Debbie," the bugger teased the pair of us. "But since he's stood behind you, that could be difficult."

"What?" She cried out looking up at him, but all he did was grin and nod his head at her in confirmation, before turning his head towards me, and greeting me yet again. "Hi George!"

Debbie's body went stiff and rigid in an instant, till she at last turned her head slowly to look round at me.

"Oh my God noooo," she cried out, her face a picture of desolation. "George ---- I didn't .... That is I wouldn't .... Oh God no!"

Stand-off!

"Come on girl, get some clothes on," Ted broke the silence with. "We've got a ferry to catch."

"But Ted ....." Debbie started to protest, only to find herself dispatched towards our bedroom with a smart smack on her bare backside.

"Now don't be doing anything stupid George," Ted grunted at me as he stood up and towered over me. "So I've been fucking your wife, but there's no need for you to get upset. I'm the only one that's been getting her pussy."

"I'm supposed to feel good about that," I spat out.

"Why not?" he replied casually. "Most of the girls at the club are up for fucking anything with trousers on and some money in their pockets."

My mouth opened, but no words come out. Was I supposed to be grateful that he was the only one that was fucking her????

At that point Debbie came rushing back into the room, still pulling a skimpy top on over her bare tits.

"Please don't get too upset George," she appealed to me, trying to take me in her arms as I backed away. "It's all been for you honey."

She was still looking back at me as Ted led her off out of the door.

"We're just off to the South of France for a few days honey," she called back to me. "I'll only be gone a few days and then everything will be OK. We can go back to how things were before."

"Fat chance," laughed Ted as he propelled her towards the Porsche, giving me, the loser, a look of derision.

-------------------

The next day was worse than a bad dream, and the equal of any nightmare that I could remember. I heard nothing from Debbie, and her mobile didn't even give me the option to leave a message.

Not that I was at all sure that I even wanted to.

After two days of hearing nothing, I even plucked up courage on the to ring the club were she worked, but the whole place seemed to be in turmoil from the answers I was given. Early the following evening I drove over there, not knowing what else to do.

One minute I was all for divorcing the bitch and the next close to tears worrying about where she was. Worrying whether she was all right.

The club wasn't open when I got there which surprised me, so I settled down to wait in my car. Over the next hour or so any number of cars turned up, waited a while then drove off again. By ten, it was obvious that the club simply wasn't going to open that night, and for some reason that made me feel bad, and even more cut off from Debbie.

What was I to do?

I drove slowly home, pulled over in front of my house, and wearily started up the pathway.

"Mr. Adams?" A deep voice by the side of me surprised me with. "Mr. George Adams?"

My heart dropped, remembering the last time that had happened and dreading what was coming next.

"Your wife is Mrs. Debbie Adams?" the large man in a suit carried on after I'd confirmed my identity.

"Yes," I reacted automatically. "Where is she? What's happened to her?"

"That's what we'd like to know," the voice carried on. "Would you like to continue this conversation inside sir, or would you like to accompany us down to the station?"

For the first time I looked up at the large man who had hold of my arm by then, and for the first time noticed the uniformed police officer stood alongside him.

Oh Bloody hell! ------- What now?

----------------------

I chose my own living room, not wishing to be dragged down to the local nick. I was in big enough trouble with the school already without having to explain that away if anyone spotted me being taken in by the local coppers.

WRONG!

Not the local Bobbies by a long chalk!

"Do you know where your wife is at the moment sir?" They asked me, and I'm being polite when I use the term asked.

"Do you have any idea at all where she might be?" They demanded more forcibly when I told them that I didn't.

"Do you know when she is due back?" He carried on when I mentioned the South of France, which didn't seem to surprise him.

"She said a couple of days," I mumbled feeling inadequate that I had no idea where my own wife was.

The guy looked at me almost angrily for some moments, and then turned to his colleague.

"Take him in Norman," he instructed the uniformed man. "I don't think Mr. Adams is telling us everything he knows."

Despite my protests, I was dragged from my house and ushered into a squad car, and whisked off. But not to the local nick as I'd expected, but much further, where they plonked me in a cell to await my fate.

It took two hours of questioning till I at last convinced them that I knew nothing more, and even then they refused to give me a lift back and I had to find my own way home. The one thing that I did discover that my Debbie was involved in something serious.

Drugs!

Serious drugs!

But I knew no more.

That night when the phone call came, I wasn't expecting it.

"George? Is that you?"

"Yes Debbie," I responded immediately recognising her voice. "Where the hell are you? What's going on?"

"No time honey," she sobbed back, half breaking my heart despite what she'd done to me. "Listen ---- You have to do something."

"Collect the Porsche and put it in the garage," she instructed me, after refusing to explain anything, except to tell me where it was, the other side of London, and where she'd put the spare key. "I'll be back in touch as soon as I can."

"But where are you?" I insisted on knowing, or refusing to carry out her wishes.

"Jimbo and me are at a friend of his in Tottenham," was all she'd tell me, bursting into tears when I asked her for some reason, where Ted was.

Then she was gone!

The next day I caught the train down to London, and the tube out to the suburbs and picked up the Porsche, which was exactly where she'd said it would be, and drove it home. Couldn't put it in the garage as it was too full of stuff, so I left it outside as we usually did with our cars.

-------------

"See the Porsche has re-appeared Mr Adams," DI Jenkins of the drug squad as I now knew him to be, greeted me as I opened the door early the next morning. "I've got a search warrant for the house, so we'll take a look at the car as well while we're here."

In fact they weren't really too thorough with the search. Didn't seem to be over-interested. Almost as if they knew they wouldn't find anything. They loosened some dog they had with them through the house, but he didn't seem any more worried about the place than they did.

"Try the car," Jenkins told the dog handler, but that didn't evoke any more spark from the dog, and with a shake of his shoulders, the handler cleared up and left.

"Heard from the missus?" the DI demanded, albeit somewhat more friendlily than the last time.

I simply looked at him, wondering what the hell to say.

"The car didn't get here by it's own accord sir," he pointed out patiently.

I guess at that point something inside me snapped. Maybe it should have done so long before, but ..... Well it hadn't. Not till then.