Star Quality

"You said he took you for lunch," I pressed her.

"Well yes," she admitted, screwing her hands together. "I couldn't get you on the phone, so I knew you weren't home, so I went to lunch when he invited me. He had bought me a lovely dress."

"So you weren't worried about me then?"

"Well Greg," she started, looking at me plaintively, "You were supposed to be going to the Dentist this morning, so I presumed that's where you were."

Oh Fuck!

Forgot about that!

Damn it; that was the second appointment I'd missed and I'd be in trouble.

"Please Greg ---- Please," she started to beg. "I really do love you. I was silly last night but nothing happened, so can't we just forget it?"

"And darling Danny-boy Jill, what about him?" I demanded. "You spent the night with him half naked and expect me to believe that nothing happened?"

"It didn't, I promise."

"So he didn't touch you then?"

"No! ---- Well --- That is ....."

"That is what?" I screeched, my temper flaring again. "I've already seen him feel your tits and suck them. Did you let him finger fuck you as well, or did you suck him off?"

"No No No," she cried. "All we did was cuddle a bit."

"And kissed?"

"A little bit," she relented. "But not like we do."

"And you let him feel your tits I suppose?"

"Well a bit Greg. Yes I did, but I kept him out of my panties."

"Bloody well done," I replied sarcastically. "I'm really proud of you. What a wonderful wife I've got."

"Oh Greg, I'm sorry. I said I was sorry. I don't know what got into me ----- I'd drunk too much."

"I can only guess what got into you Jill," I spat back at her. "And I bet it was attached to that bloody Daniel."

"No Greg please," Jill sobbed, and then burst into tears.

Jill started to cry out loud, huge sobs wracking her body as she clung onto me, desperate for me to put my arms around her to comfort her.

"What have I done Greg? ------ Oh my God, what have I done?"

"Fucked our marriage Jill," I told her. 'That's what you've done."

The conversation was pretty obviously not going anywhere, but I shouted at her, and she cried back at me for the next half hour or more. Eventually we quietened down, and I took my place in my favourite armchair, rejecting her attempt to come and sit on my lap.

"Why didn't you stop me Greg," she asked at last, having settled down somewhat. "I was drunk ---- Out of my mind. Why didn't you stop me?"

"I don't know Jill," I told her. "Maybe I was just as much at fault as you were. I should have put my foot down when you started on again about ..... Well, you know."

When at last she came over to me, and crawled up into my lap, I didn't reject her.

I was too tired --- Too exhausted to fight it.

We sat there the rest of the evening in silence, clinging on to one another, neither of us saying anything, both wishing to God that the previous evening hadn't happened. Wondering if by some miracle whether our marriage could survive. I still really had no idea whether Jill had really cheated on me the previous night, and I wasn't sure whether she knew for sure.

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

We never went to bed that night, simply rearranged ourselves out on the sofa. Jill did ask whether we should go up to bed, but it just seemed to be too much trouble.

The next day passed in a blur, and the week that followed wasn't that much better. Jill was totally pissed off with me when she discovered that I'd lost my licence for a year, but when she mentioned it I simply stared back at her, and she soon shut up.

I was like a robot, carrying out my functions at work, refusing to let my brain dwell on what had happened, or how I was going to deal with it.

Maybe I was making a mountain out of a molehill. I just didn't know.

The Ostrich comes to mind when I think back on that period. If I didn't confront the problem then maybe it never happened. Maybe one day it would go away. I loved Jill with all my heart and soul, but I couldn't forget what had happened that night.

It couldn't go on like that, not for long, and eventually Jill cornered me one evening.

"Greg," she said. "We've got to talk about this. We've got to get past it."

"I don't know if I can Jill," I told her. "You put that bastard before me that evening, and then spent the evening with him naked and forgot all about me."

Jill put her head in her hands and burst into tears.

What is it about a woman crying that breaks even the strongest man down? Especially when it is a woman that you love.

Nothing was resolved for the long term, but for the first time since that goddamned awful night, we ended up making love together that night.

It wasn't exceptional, not even that good. Damn it, it wasn't very good at all. But it didn't matter ---- It was a start, though we'd have to see whether we both wanted to continue to go there.

Not her you understand --- Me!

A day passed, then a week, and then at long last a full month. Nothing really resolved, but we were still together, still clinging on hopefully, even though the ultimate joy seemed to have deserted our relationship. But we were trying. Not just me, but the pair of us.

Then something happened that gave us both some thing to grab hold onto. Out of the blue, Jill got a major promotion. It wasn't just some normal progression, but a new job that catapulted her into a new level of management, and for the first time in our relationship, Jill was contributing just about the same income into our home as I was.

This might seem unimportant --- inconsequential --- but I knew that for Jill this would be a pivotal moment, and felt that it could be the turning point for our relationship.

And so it was!

The next six months were much better, nearly as good as before --- That is before ---- Well, you know!

I'd just about forgiven her! Not forgotten you understand, that's different. But everyone makes mistakes, and as they say ---- Life goes on.

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

Then came the Christmas party. The bane of my life --- Christmas parties.

It was hers of course, W&G Ltd, who she still worked with.

"I've got to go Greg," she insisted. "I simply have to."

"No problem," I assured her. "I'm expecting it. I've kept the date free."

"I'm really pleased you're coming Greg, but if you don't fancy it, then you don't have to."

"Why wouldn't I fancy it," I queried merrily. "Free drinks and all that that, and a bit of dancing."

"Ok honey."

But she wasn't happy.

There was something wrong.

Something was up!

It took me ten minutes of cajoling and teasing, but at last I got it out of her.

"Daniel's going to be there," Jill admitted.

"He owns the company honey?" she went on. "I swear on my life that I haven't seen him since that evening, but he's going to be there that evening."

"Fine Jill," I told her, acting more laid back and chilled out than I really felt. "He's there. So what!"

Jill shrugged her shoulders, smiled and pulled a face.

What was I to make of that?

"He's sort of indicated that he would like me to support him a bit during the evening. You know ------- Introduce him to members of staff and things. Act as an intermediary --- Sort of a hostess."

We stared at one another for several moments, while I sorted my senses.

"You told me you hadn't seen him Jill," I cried out, upset. "That you haven't spoken him even."

"I haven't Greg," Jill exclaimed. "Well not exactly. I haven't seen him or talked to him face to face since ----- Well since that night. But I work for him honey. It was Dan that promoted me into my present job. We e mail one another, fax one another, and I speak to him most days on the phone."

Oh Jeeeesus!

She'd never even mentioned that before.

You noted didn't you ---- Not Daniel, but Dan!

What a choice!

Go with her?

Let her go on her own?

Demand that she stays home!

What a fucking choice.

Whatever I said was going to be wrong.

Ok so we discussed it sensibly.

No bloody chance. Sure we discussed it, but the more that we talked about it then the more we shouted at one another, the more I sulked, and the more Jill screamed.

Who was in the wrong?

It was her of course. But then again on reflection if I had the choice again ----- I don't know!

So there we were ---- 21st of December, eight o'clock in the evening, and I was sat there as miserable as fuck in my favourite armchair, waiting for my wife to emerge from our bedroom. Waiting for the love of my life to show to her loving husband just how she was going to dress for this so special evening. How she was going to be dressed for her date for that night.

That's right!

I wasn't going with her.

Oh Jeeeeeesus!

"No Jill, no!" I declared when she presented herself. "Not that dress sweetheart. Not that one."

"What do you care,' Jill spat out at me. "You don't trust me. You don't support me, so don't you dare to tell me what to wear."

With that, Jill, my wife, spun on her heels, and walked out of the room, the front door slamming behind her.

I don't think I'd ever seen her looking more beautiful.

Finality!

The dress she'd worn was one I'd bought her earlier that year, and shortly before we had run into our 'problems'. A dress that we had promised ourselves that we would keep for a special occasion.

To say the very least ---- It was revealing!

No problem if she was out with me ---- But ...... Well just ....but!

Some fucking special occasion ------ One that her husband wasn't welcome at!

That evening. No not even that evening, just the early part of it, up till when Jill left in such a huff. For me, all the progress that we had made over the weeks, months since she had deserted me were lost.

What a bloody fool I had been.

I sat at home fuming, reliving the last few words she had said to me, reworking them in my head till they spun round and round.

The cow, the bloody bitch. She'd gone off with that bastard and deserted me for the second time.

OK ----- I didn't know that for sure, but what else was I to think?

There was nothing else was there ---- Jill had gone off to spend the evening with the wonderful Daniel, and I wasn't welcome. Could I have been more understanding? Yes of course I could have, should have been maybe. Perhaps Jill was just trying to protect my feelings, my ego ------ Perhaps ----- Perhaps not!

Fuck it! Fuck them!

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

Don't know what time she got home, and didn't care a damn.

OK, so it was sometime around one thirty two in the morning, but who was counting?

"Hi honey," she greeted me just before midday when Jill eventually emerged for a late breakfast. "What did you get up to last night sweetypie? Did you have a good night?"

I looked over at her, stared at her, shaking my head in disbelief.

"What's up Greg?" she asked.

Was she bleeding stupid? Was she totally daft?

"So did you fuck him last night then Jill," I demanded quite calmly. "Or did you have sex with the whole damn male staff?"

Jill leapt back in surprise, her mouth gaping open.

"What do you mean Greg," she cried out. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Cheating bitch," I accused her, not caring whether it was true or not in this instance, having just about lost it. "Why don't you bugger off back to your lover boy?"

"But Greg, she started to protest. "I haven't .... That is I ....."

"Shut up you cow," I screamed at her. "Just bugger off and leave me alone."

"But Greg ....." she started again.

"Fuck off bitch," I interrupted.

Jill stared at me for a few moments, tears welling up in her eyes.

"But Greg honey. I didn't do anything sweetheart. I didn't."

"Too late bitch," I shouted at her. "I no longer believe anything you tell me."

With that, Jill burst into tears, turned on her heels and ran from the room. Ten minutes later, I heard the front door slamming as she left the house, bound for I knew not where.

It took me a good five minutes before I started to curse myself for being so damn stupid.

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

The next few months were a jumble, involving a shed full of beer and any number of bottles of cheap whiskey. I don't remember a lot about it, but at least I didn't feel a lot of pain. But eventually as always reality had to dawn.

It was Mike ---- You remember Mike ------ My pal that I'd caught feeling my wife's tits up all those months ago?

Hardly seemed important now in light of what had gone on since then.

"Don't you think you've had enough Greg?" I heard someone saying to me, as I slumped against the bar in some pub in town. It wasn't my local, it having been made clear that for the time being at least I wasn't welcome there anymore.

I looked round recognising Mike through the alcoholic haze that engulfed me.

"Fuck off Mike."

I guess he was expecting that, and he persisted, at last persuading me to go and have a McDonalds with him, on the promise that he'd get me a drink later.

Now then!

I have to make some sort of statement here.

I don't like Big Macs! ----- No sorry I didn't like them at all, and still don't really.

But maybe I'm one of the only people alive, whose life has been saved by a Big Mac.

It gave Mike the time to get through to me. To talk to me, and tell me what a complete fool I was being. I'd lost my job and I didn't even know it, having simply failed to turn up for work so often that eventually I simply stopped going and they stopped expecting me.

He never once mentioned Jill, and I never asked him. He concentrated on me and listened as I poured my heart out to him.

Then he took me home, to his home where May, his lovely wife continued the healing, the pair of them taking time out from their own lives to help me mend mine.

"I really should go back home," I pointed out to them after I'd been there over a week. "I may have left the gas on or something."

"I doubt it Greg," Mike replied smiling. "You're flat was repossessed a couple of weeks back."

"Where have I been living?" I asked unbelievingly.

"Doss houses, friend's places till they got pissed off with you, the park maybe on more than one night."

Oh God!

How could have I have fallen so low?

"You can stay here as long as you like Greg," he offered, and May nodded, backing him up.

"Let's say two weeks maximum," I countered. "I have so much to thank you two for, that I can't keep depending on you for ever."

"As long as it takes Greg," May offered. "As long as it takes."

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

What friends!

With friends like that, it's difficult to have enemies ----- Ok ----- well you know what I mean.

"Any idea what happened to Jill?"

I had to ask!

I hated bringing up the subject, but I'd been working up to it and I couldn't avoid it any longer, as much as I may have wanted to.

"Don't worry about her Greg," Mike started, but May interrupted him, introducing her womanly wisdom.

"He's got to find out sooner or later Mike," May spoke out. "Better from us now than down the pub one night."

"What," I demanded. "What's happened to her? Is she alright?"

Oh shit --- My heart was pounding and despite everything, I was still concerned about her.

"She's Ok Greg ----- Maybe better than OK," May continued. "She's shacked up with that Daniel Murray guy. The one that bought out W&G."

Before I could say anything, Mike intervened.

"Not any more from what I've heard May," he told both of us. "From what I hear, she's dumped him and gone off with some big-wig nearly twice her age."

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

With Mike and May's help, I got back onto my feet and started to rebuild my life. It wasn't always easy, but then I was nobody special with no great expectations, so equally, for the most part it wasn't so very difficult either.

I dated, but not a lot, always trying to match the poor woman up to Jill.

By the way, the big-wig , who you would all have heard of, was nearer three times her age than twice, and in any case didn't last very long either.

'OK magazine' --- 'The Sun' ---- Even the Times and the Telegraph and the television. They were all methods by which I could chart the progress of my loving wife.

Yes --- Wife ---- As to my knowledge we were still married, no divorce ever having taken place.

The Cannes film festival with some ageing rock star, and a few weeks later LA, at some premier with the heart throb male lead. Jill had become a minor celebrity in her own right, a personal friend of Paris Hilton with whom she was photographed with frequently.

That photo that hit all the headlines with Paris exiting her car and showing to the world that she was out for the night 'commando'? Well the girl in front was Jill, and I somehow doubt that she had any panties on either.

We simply moved in different worlds, and I worked my hardest to drive all thoughts of her out of my mind.

Not easy if you read the newspapers.

Even harder if you watched television.

Even in out local pubs it was hard to avoid, her being a local girl 'made good'. How many times did I hear some guy claiming he'd known her before she became famous, claiming he'd taken her out and bedded her when she was just a local girl.

How many fights did I get into?

How many did I lose?

They weren't even close with their stories, but I eventually learned to keep my counsel and not to intervene.

I was OK till I heard that old record by Peter Starstedt. You know, the one that starts 'Where did you go to my lovely' or something like that, and charts the life of a girl from the Italian slums. Not quite Jill's story, but the similarities broke me up. Especially the reference to the topless swimsuit.

Oh Bloody hell! I should explain about that.

I'd been reading a magazine that I probably shouldn't have even opened. OK, so I was becoming obsessed. There in the middle pages was Jill, yes my Jill, on some Arab prince's floating gin palace in the Med. somewhere, glass of wine in her hand, tiny bikini bottoms and very little else. Her pert little bare breasts sticking out cheekily, teasing the group of well heeled guys who surrounded her.

She just looked so vulnerable, and I wanted to protect her but couldn't.

Them perky little tits ---- Them long slender legs ----- That smile ----- They just cut me up so.

I spent the night wondering which of the guy or guys she'd ended up in bed with. No I didn't sleep much that night.

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

I endured my torture for the next two years. I'm not saying I didn't go out with other women, and didn't go to bed with some of them. I'm not claiming that I didn't have a good time. By then I was in my early thirties, well maybe a little bit older, had a well paying job, my own apartment and a nice car (Yes I was still into nice cars, and had long since got my licence back).

Many of my pals, both new and old thought that I had the life of old Reilly.

Well I did!

Till the next time I spotted my wife in the newspapers or magazine or the telly. Out for the evening with this guy or that guy, and it didn't seem to matter as long as they were rich and famous.

God Jill was fucking gorgeous!

Every guy's wet dream.

And it was me that had discovered her as well.

And she used to be mine ---- mine! --- Bloody hell, just mine, but I lost her, stupid sod that I was.

Then it got worse by a mile.

She got a bit part in some nondescript movie shot in some obscure place by some unknown director. It got featured in the Cannes film festival and was a minor success, so called artistic photos of my wife running naked along a beach somewhere, were spread everywhere.

Jill became more famous in a minor sort of way.

Then it got worse yet again!

James Bond ---- Yes you know the guy.

My Jill got cast as a Bond girl for the latest film. All right, not the principal girl, that went to some famous French actress, but Jill played the part of some bimbo who caught Bond's eye, and spent most of the film till she got bumped off by the baddies, with virtually no clothes on, only the discrete camera work distinguishing her performance from what could otherwise have been mild pornography.