Fifty Pound Friend

Half an hour later I was outside the Golden Flower wondering whether I was being stupid or something, but determined to carry on.

Another five minutes and I was ordering a beer from the barman. It was the very same one that I'd talked to before, and I'd waited till it was him who was available.

"Seen Corrine and her redhead pal in here lately," I asked him, staring him straight in the eye.

It took him perhaps five or six seconds to place who I was, but only another couple to spot the tenner that I held up in my hand.

"No Mate," he replied, reaching over to take my money. "Honestly, I haven't seen them for quite a while."

That figured.

Maybe I was on a wild goose chase after all, but I settled down to enjoy my pint anyway, quite happy to admire all the talent.

Didn't get offered any change though, so I reckon he was telling the truth.

I finished my pint and went to the toilet.

Hey --- come on ---- that's what a man does.

I came out from the loo, and -------- Dammit!

Bloody hell!

I almost bumped into Corrine and Judy!

Bugger!

Not in fairness that I would have even recognised them immediately, and if they hadn't been so wrapped up in the four or five guys surrounding them, then we would have walked straight into one another.

You're wondering why I didn't recognise them straight away aren't you?

Go on ---- admit it!

Well when your wife leaves the house dressed sort of --- well nicely, then when you see her shortly afterwards done up the Corrine was ........ well ........ Maybe I should explain.

Corrine had on ---- well sort of had on ----- well no, let's start again!

It was a dress!

I can't really think of what else to call it, except that dresses traditionally cover up a reasonable proportion of the woman wearing it.

This one didn't seem to!

Ok ---- So that's my opinion, but it was sort of backless, so short that it hardly counted as a skirt, and her tits were so bloody obvious that I didn't need to describe them.

Come on!

I'm maybe exaggerating a bit. But even so, never having seen my loving wife dressed that way before, and it was a shock!

I didn't know she owned a dress like that, and Judy, the bitch was matching her. Corrine must have got changed somewhere since leaving our house. I wondered how she would be dressed when she came back home.

The guys were all over the pair of them, and even though they were making a token effort to keep them at bay, it was obvious that they were loving the attention.

"Great to see you back sexy," I heard one man say.

"Where the two of you been," said another.

"Come and join us at our table," offered a third, by which time I was well pissed off.

I sat in the background while a succession of different suitors approached them, took them onto the dance floor and proceeded to try to undress them.

They nearly succeeded. Well maybe not really, but all the time Corrine and Judy laughed and giggled, enjoying it all as various bits of their bodies were shown off to the other men watching.

I didn't!

Let's make this clear, OK ----- I didn't laugh and I didn't giggle. I didn't enjoy it at all!

I sat there fuming while my wife and her friend, flirted with anyone who came near them, and there was no lack of attention.

The cow!

The bitch!

This was the loving wife who had kissed me goodbye this morning and smiled at me lovingly as she had left earlier that night.

A friend's birthday? Where was the bloody friend?

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

"Have one on the house."

I looked up and there stood the barman. You know the one!

"Sorry mate," he went on. "But I was telling the truth. Haven't seen the pair of them for some time till tonight."

"I know," I told him. "I believe you."

"What went wrong?" he asked, looking at me with a degree of compassion.

"She did!" I said, and we both nodded in agreement.

I watched in disgust as my so-called wife flitted from man to man. Teasing them outrageously as she disported her half covered body with no regard to her married status.

I watched as a succession of otherwise ordinary sort of chaps took advantage of the two of them, groping their breasts, their asses, and yes, even trying to get their hands up under their skirts, even though they did fend that off.

I felt sick and just wanted to escape, but I had a better idea.

Threading my way through the eager throng, I made my way towards Judy, ignoring what my wife was getting up to. Eventually she pushed some guy away with a laugh, and I slipped in rather neatly, to take his place.

"Hi handsome," she said to me somewhat slurred due to the drink that all and sundry had poured down her. "What are you after?"

As expected she had no idea who I was, having hardly bothered to look up at me, more interested in what sort of package I had to rub against her.

I grabbed her arse with one hand and a handful of her breast with the other, as she ground her hot pussy hard up against my thigh. She groaned in appreciation, and we were not far from having sex right there on the floor.

"Hi Judy," I said calmly. "Having a nice night at the restaurant?"

It took a few moments.

It was amusing to watch as it dawned on her.

"Rich!" It was all she said, as she stared up at me with a shocked expression.

"Nice tits," I answered as I squeezed one of them a little harder, and slipped my hand inside the elastic of her panties.

"Get off me you bastard," she squealed when she realised quite who was mauling her body. "What the hell do you think you are doing to me?"

"Just taking advantage of the available market," I informed her, sliding a finger inside her knickers. "No more than the other guys here are doing."

Get off me! Get off me you bastard," she screamed aloud, pushing me away in panic.

"Do you think my wife might be more available to me tonight than you Judy."

With that I stood back, only to find myself surrounded by a group of stroppy men, chaps, guys, whatever you wanted to call them.

They all wanted to make the most of my wife and her friend, and as a group were happy to sort me out. Beat me in to oblivion if they wanted, and at that moment I would have happily taken the bleeding lot of them on.

It was the barman.

Turns out his name was Gerry, and perhaps my fifty and the other money was the best investment I'd ever made.

"Back off you lot," I heard him shouting. "Leave him alone or you'll have me to answer to."

What a mate?

What a friend?

Even though he was only a fifty-pound friend, I needed him at that moment as I was about to be pounded to hell.

Gerry cleverly separated me from the motley group and guided me over towards the exit.

"Fuck off mate while you're still in one piece," he wisely advised me, directing me out of the door.

And me?

I glimpsed Judy urgently grabbing Corrine, pulling her out of the clutches of some other lothario, and shouting at her. As she looked over towards me, our eyes locked for just a short, stunning, small moment.

I saw the shock.

I saw the disappointment.

I saw the shame on her face!

Then I was gone.

Even as I started to guide my car carefully out of the car park, I saw Corrine come charging out from the club. There was some guy hanging onto her, trying to hold her back, and even as I watched she swung and smacked him full on the face, almost knocking him to his knees

She saw my car and came running after me, no hope of catching me, but not willing to give in. Only after a hundreds yards or so, did I see her fall to the ground in the middle of the road, and as I drove away I left her there crumpled up on the tarmac.

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

Not an easy situation!

Not for me and not for her.

She didn't come home that night, but around twelve o'clock I got a call from Neil.

"Hi Rich," he started. "I've got Corrine here at our place."

"So what," I retorted.

"She wants to know if she can come home," he went on.

"Tell her to fuck off," I screamed down the phone and cut the line. I left the phone off the hook.

Not a nice situation eh?

What to do?

I didn't care.

Friday evening I came home from work and discovered Corrine's car in the drive. She'd come home.

But to who's home?

If things had been bad before then ..... Well you can imagine.

She claimed that she hadn't been fucking anyone else, and it was probably true, but she just didn't understand.

Why is life so difficult?

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

It got worse.

Within days I found myself hating her, despite the fact that I still loved her. I really didn't know what to do, except that I knew she'd betrayed me not once but twice and I couldn't accept it. I could no longer trust her.

I needed to talk to someone ---- but who?

I didn't have any brothers or sisters, any close uncles or even special friends.

For the last few years since we'd moved to the area, it had been me and ....... And her ---- Corrine.

Stupid?

Maybe.

I found myself wandering back to the bloody club. Don't ask me why because I couldn't give you an answer. All I knew was that all my troubles seemed to originate from there, and it was there that I had my own personal fifty-pound friend.

Stupid?

Definitely, but it worked for me.

"You wouldn't be the first husband to find himself in this situation," he informed me. "It happens all the time."

"But what do I do about it?" I asked despondently.

He shrugged his shoulders in that uncertain way and shook his head. He didn't seem to have any more idea than I did.

He went off and cleaned a few glasses, but ten minutes later sidled back up.

"Rich," he started, us being on first name terms by then. "Why not give her bit of her own medicine?"

As he spoke to me he nodded his head towards the other end of the bar, and I noticed what looked like a very attractive young woman sitting there on her own.

"She wouldn't want to know me," I commented. "She can't be more than mid twenties or so."

"In my experience Gerry informed me solemnly. "That wouldn't be a problem. Besides, I would guess she's late twenties, maybe even thirty."

"You think she's looking to get picked up?" I asked uncertainly. I hadn't done any chatting up for a very long time.

"I'm sure she is Rich," he went on. "Just waiting for someone like you."

"Maybe she's married," I said almost looking for an excuse, though I had to admit that I was very tempted.

"I'm sure of that as well," Gerry confirmed.

"Maybe she's waiting for her husband," I still hedged.

"I very much doubt it Rich," Gerry grinned at me. "Because I'm pretty sure that the guy sat over in that booth in the blue top, is her husband."

"What????"

"You heard me," he answered. "He came in about twenty minutes ago and sat over there, and she came in about quarter of an hour later. She keeps glancing over at him, and his eyes are glued onto her."

"You're kidding me Gerry," I stuttered. "What are they up to?"

"Just getting their kicks. I haven't seen these two before, but it happens all the time. Couple come in and pretend they don't know one another, and the guy gets his rocks off watching other blokes hitting on his wife."

"But what happens?" I asked astonished at what he was telling me.

"Not much usually. The punter gets a few close up dances maybe and might even cop a feel. Maybe a kiss or two but seldom much more. Just occasionally the guy might get the woman to go outside with him. Depends on the couple, and how far they want to let it go."

I looked over at the young, dark haired woman, hardly able to avoid noticing that she was certainly dressed for the chase. Short black cocktail dress with a scooped front, and sexy high heels. On the slim side maybe but with a nice pair of tits. Good legs, and she was showing a lot of them as she perched on the barstool.

"How far do you think she'd go then," I questioned my host.

"Not far," he estimated. "She's too nervous. Could be the first time they've done it. I reckon you'd be safe enough there Rich. Have a bit of fun, but you wouldn't have to get too far involved."

I looked at Gerry, marvelling at how well he had read my mood. I did fancy a bit of romancing, but didn't want it to go too far.

Then again ----- That's why he was such a good barman.

"Think she'd go for me then?"

I was still uncertain, still nervous about approaching a strange woman.

"Well that young guy over there just tried to chat her up and got nowhere," he told me. "She looked over at the guy in blue and he shook his head. Didn't like the look of him maybe, but I think he was just too young. Maybe you'd get lucky."

Bloody hell!

Was all this going on under my nose?

"Look Gerry. I can't just go over and say hello to her. She might tell me to bugger off."

Gerry laughed, then told me to leave it to him. That he'd go over and give her a drink and say it was from me.

"How do you know what she wants to drink?" I asked.

"I'm a barman," he replied with a smile. "That's my job."

Silly question!

I continued to sit there while he made some concoction that I didn't recognise, and then wandered up the other end of the bar. He offered the girl the drink, and she looked down towards me, so I nodded my head in a friendly gesture.

The girl took the drink, glanced quickly over towards 'blue shirt', and nodded back to me, raising the glass in salute.

I was in!

Bloody hell, my heart was pounding, not at all sure what I was getting myself into.

Careful not to make a damn fool of myself as I hopped off my stool, I strode up the bar and said hello.

"Hi," she replied. "Thanks for the drink."

"My name's Rich," I told her ---- Pretty original line of chat, what?

"Hello Rich," the girl answered back. "I'm Cindy."

So far so good, and I noticed Gerry giving the thumbs up discretely from behind the bar.

It was only then that I also noticed quite how nervous the girl was. She wasn't actually shaking, but she wasn't far off it.

We chatted about this and that for some time, and she gradually relaxed, and for that matter so did I.

We were getting on fine, so I asked her to dance. Now I'm no Fred Astaire or anything but I do have a reasonable grasp of the rudimentaries, and she followed my simple steps quite happily. A little stiff in my arms to begin with, she soon softened up and by the second dance she was wonderfully moulded up against me.

Not too close you understand --- Just nicely so.

By golly she felt good.

I wanted to kiss her, but the opportunity didn't arise, so I just enjoyed the feeling of a beautiful young woman in my arms.

After the third dance she suggested we should go back to our seats, and once there she excused herself to go to the ladies.

It was only when 'blue shirt' picked up his mobile phone that I cottoned on. She'd gone to the loo to phone him.

To ask if he approved maybe? I really didn't know, though everything so far seemed to indicate that she did, so I hoped he would to.

This was confirmed when Cindy came back out, smiled at me and came back over, climbing up onto her stool. Whether by accident or design, her already short skirt rode up even higher than before, giving me a clear view of an awful long expanse of her long bare legs.

"What are you grinning about," she asked me, when I could no longer keep my mirth at the situation in check.

"What do you think," I answered somewhat unkindly. Pretty as she was, I had no intention of being made a complete fool of by the two of them.

To my surprise, Cindy slumped on her stool a little, and I felt that I could detect a tear in her eye, and I regretted the way that I had spoken to her.

"Sorry Cindy," I said at last. "I don't want to upset you, but it's all a bit obvious you know."

Listen to me!

Talking like a sophisticated know-all, man about town.

Half an hour before Gerry had explained it all to me, then I'd been a complete innocent.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cindy mumbled unhappily.

"You mean you don't know who 'blue shirt' over there is then," I responded, but a little gentler.

Oh God!

Why did I say that?

I'd made her cry.

What does a man do in circumstances like that?

Well of course I reached over and put my arm around her.

"Sorry Cindy," I found myself consoling her. "I didn't mean to be nasty to you."

"You're just like my damn husband," she sobbed into my shoulder.

Before long I found myself kissing her on her brow, consoling her, saying sweet little nothings to her, to try to make her feel better.

'Let's dance again," I suggested, pulling her up, aware that sooner or later blue shirt would realise that something was up with her.

Once on the dance floor she moulded her soft body up against mine again, and sobbed quietly away for the whole of the first dance.

"What's up Cindy," I demanded when I sensed her settling down. "I'm not going to do anything that you don't want me to."

It's not you Rich," she informed me unhappily. "It's that bastard Tom that I'm married to."

Over the next few minutes, I gradually prised the information out of her; that what she was doing that evening was very much against her will. Her husband Tom had been cajoling her for six months to go along with his fantasy of seeing her in bed with another man. She'd been disgusted with the whole idea, and utterly refused, and then one night Tom had come home rather drunk with a couple of his friends.

"Oh no!" I reacted immediately. "Don't tell me he forced you to have sex with them."

"No," she cried into my shoulder. "But after he teased and taunted me for a while, I told him to piss off and stood up to go up to my bedroom."

"Good for you," I congratulated her.

"But he grabbed me and pulled me down onto the sofa," she wept. "Then he held me down and undid my blouse while the other two watched."

"How could any husband do that?" I wondered aloud, my temper rising.

"That wasn't the end of it," she went on, starting to sob again. "He pulled me up onto my feet and told the others to undo my bra. Then when that fell off, he turned me round, held my arms trapped behind my back, and my bare tits stuck out for his damn filthy friends to grope."

I pulled her closer to me, unable to find the words to console her.

"The two of them were squeezing my breasts and tweaking my nipples till it hurt so much that I couldn't stand it any longer. Then one of the bastards undid the belt on my jeans and unzipped them. I thought they were going to strip me naked," she went on. "But by then I was screaming aloud for all I was worth, and at last Tom told them to stop."

"What happened then?"

"Tom just held me, and I felt my jeans begin to fall down my legs anyway. By the time they were down to my knees, the three of them were standing there laughing at me and taunting me."

What could I say?

I felt like walking over to blue shirt and smacking him one on the nose.

"Then Tom let go of me, but as I tried to escape, one of the others grabbed my panties and pulled them down. By the time I got away from him and fled to my room, I'd left my jeans behind and my panties were half way down my thighs."

"Did they chase you?"

"No," she sobbed. "I locked myself in the bedroom and I didn't see Tom again till the next morning."

"You should have reported them to the police," was my somewhat unhelpful suggestion.

"How could I," she blurted out, and burst into tears again.

When she settled down again, she explained that the following day her husband had threatened her that unless she played along, he would invite his friends back for a gang-bang with her as the prize. Eventually, after some discussion, she'd agreed to going into a bar and letting some stranger pick her up, as it seemed a lesser step than going all the way.

"Why don't you just leave him?" I asked.

"Maybe I should," Cindy answered. "But I guess in some way I still ..... Well maybe I still love him."