Annabelle

"It's okay Annabelle, were all friends here. I'll see you in a while," I reassured. Her warm smile for me was lost by the time she looked at her husband. Her look told him to behave. We strolled a few feet away from the crowd and his smile dropped. "I'm very impressed, Clive. All this, the money, the influence, I get the point you are trying to make. But she's not happy with you and your interests. Annabelle may be your wife, but she is not your property. You need to give that some thought before you threaten me." I'd taken the initiative, and he was wrong-footed for a moment.

"I had visions of a bloke who worked on a building site," he said.

"I still do sometimes. But you know what, some of us have brains."

"Well, use those brains to think about this. Ask her about St Kits and Caracas and Bahrain. Ask her about those holidays and then see if you're still wearing those rose-tinted blinkers. I think I can find you a copy of those films if you're interested. You're not the first Max, and you won't be the last. She led you to believe my interests are a complete surprise to her and you want to believe that, don't you? Well, good luck deluding yourself."

He scored a hit, but I had a counterpunch of my own. "I got you wrong too, Clive. I thought from those films you were cuckolded, getting off on the humiliation. The man who is so outwardly successful is inwardly weak. But you are not like that at all. Are you?"

He had to ask. "What am I about then, Max?"

"You are a voyeur naturally, but you are all about control, Clive. You control the wife; you control the bull. You dispense or withhold pleasure. That's where you get your jollies. You were incensed at Annabelle taking the initiative and you lost control and hit her. You want to hit me now."

Clive clenched his fists and breathed to regain his composure. "Goodbye, Max. I don't think we'll be meeting again."

I found the bar and downed two double whiskeys, but they could not burn my mind the way they burned my throat. His insinuation that I was just the latest victim in their sick game had shaken me. Whatever the truth, I felt foolish that I had been so open in my feelings for her. Annabelle found me at the bar. I greeted her smile with hardness in my eyes, and she looked shocked.

"What did he say, Max? What lies has he told you about me?"

"Are St Kits and Caracas and Bahrain lies? He did not go into details, preferring to let me guess the worse."

Tears formed in her eyes. "That bastard. He saw how you feel for me and he had to destroy it. Those places he mentioned. There were parties. Wild parties. Couples came to meet other couples. It all got out of hand. Clive liked to watch more than take part. I told him I didn't want to do it anymore. They ended years ago. This is not a game we play, if that is what you are thinking. I would never do that to you, Max. You must believe me." She went to caress my face, and I caught her hand.

"Did you know what was on those films before I accessed his computer?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I could have guessed, but thought it was worse, honestly. But when you looked at me, like no man has looked at me since I was a teenager. I felt so good. So pure. I didn't want that tainted by having to tell you I knew all about that stuff. That I'd done things to please him. I'm sorry I lied to you, Max."

"I'm going home now, Annabelle. We need some breathing space. You should go find your husband. The man is a sick voyeur. You need to be careful."

"Don't do this, Max, please."

"Just give me a few days, Annabelle."

A few days turned into three weeks and here we are where I started the story I will never publish. Why did I make such a big deal about the swinging she and Clive had got up to? What we did was hardly chaste. I had my qualms about the filming. It did not feel right, but I was in love with her. Besides, if you had seen her coming out of that hotel bathroom, even a priest would have given up his vows.

Well, like Annabelle, I had not given her the full story of my life. My marriage to Angela ended because of parties like those Annabelle and Clive attended. In my case, my wife was keen to go. She said it would spice up our love life. I didn't see the need myself. I didn't understand she was auditioning for my replacement because she was so unhappy with our life. Perhaps I worked too hard and drank too much in those days. Perhaps I didn't take her complaints seriously. Anyway, it's all water under the bridge now.

I felt stupid because I'd been considerate to Annabelle and honest with my feeling for her to prevent my earlier mistakes from happening again. It never occurred to me she might not be honest in return. Because I loved her, I was naïve. Just like I'd been with Angela. More fool me. I would not do that again.

Postscript.

Why are you reading this now, when I had no intention of publishing? Because this bit is written a few weeks after what you have already read, and everything has changed. I didn't edit what has gone before because I wanted you to experience events as I did and share my surprise.

One evening after a long day at work, I trudged to my garden gate, fumbling in my pocket for my door keys. An unexpected visitor opened the window of a car parked in front of my house.

"Max, Max, it's me. You won't take my calls or answer my messages. I did not want to come to your office. Please look at me."

I turned around. Annabelle was at the wheel of a white Audi A3. She looked awful. Hollow-eyed, blotchy skin. "I know I look like shit, Max. I'm not doing so well. How are you?"

"I feel like shit too, Annabelle."

"Max, there is no one else I can turn to. I need your help. If you help me with this, I promise I will leave you alone. Perhaps if we said goodbye properly, we would both feel better?"

"Isn't this where we started, with you needing my help?" I wanted to be nasty, but I could not find the words. "You'd better come in." She got out of the car quickly before I changed my mind. Then she dragged a big tote bag off the back seat. "You've brought an overnight bag?"

"No, Max. It contains what I want to show you. It is heavy. Can you give me a hand?"

We sat on my couch with coffees, the huge holdall between us like the Berlin wall.

"Listen Annabelle, I owe you an explanation. There are things I had not told you about my life. Things I didn't want to taint the way I thought about you. One of them was that my wife divorced me to go off with a guy she met at a swinging party. Angela said we needed to pep up our marriage. It was her reaction when we found out she could not conceive. I think she was looking for a magic cock. We went to a few of those events until we lost interest. At least, I thought we'd lost interest. Apparently, it was just me who had. I did not want to know anything about that lifestyle again."

Annabelle instinctively put her hand on my arm. "I'm so sorry, Max. Sorry that what happened between me and Clive must have brought up so many painful memories for you."

I didn't want to admit to myself how good her touch felt. "You weren't to know. Anyway, what's in the bag?"

"DVD's, dozens of them going back years. You are right, Clive's main kink is being a voyeur. He's got a secret CCTV system covering the whole house."

"Then he must have known about us before you gave him that film?"

"No, he didn't and I've worked out why. You remember when you came to the house the cleaner was apologetic about blowing the fuse?" I nodded. "You reset everything right, including the Wi-Fi, so I could print? Clive came in that evening and I showed off that I could print from my phone. He got his phone out and said he couldn't because the network was down. I didn't bother to argue, but next day I saw I had printed. I forgot about the incident, but your warning about his voyeur sickness, the last thing you said to me, got me thinking. I started searching and I found tiny cameras with aerials hidden in every room."

She had my interest. "So, he's got another Wi-Fi network, with a hidden ID."

"Exactly. And his router, is that right, didn't restart after the power cut, so he didn't get any film of us."

"That is very smart, Annabelle. Considering you're a technophobe." She smiled and feelings I had been suppressing unravelled. My phone ringing saved me and I retreated into the kitchen to answer it. I spoke softly, but I knew Annabelle was listening.

"Sorry if I'm keeping you from someone, Max?" Her face scoured mine for answers as I re-entered the living room.

"She's just a friend concerned for my welfare."

Annabelle's face dropped. "Sounds like she would like to be more. Have you moved on, Max?"

Here was the crux of it. I pondered my answer. "No, I haven't Annabelle. I can't even lie to you yet."

"I don't want to move on Max. I'm not ready. I think what is in the bag might have some bearing on that."

"Well, we'd better have a look for both our sakes."

There were over forty recordable DVD's, all used. A permanent marker date was the only note on them. "Where did you find these Annabelle?"

"Once I'd found the cameras, I knew they would have to go to a control unit somewhere. There were no secret cupboards, but Clive would not have to go to those lengths because I'm stupid with technology, aren't I?"

I smiled at her. "You're not anymore, Annabelle." I was having a hard job not liking her again.

"Clive's got this fancy wine cellar with temperature-controlled cabinets. I looked at the machinery and just Googled the names. One came up as CCTV maker. I found the false front on the unit below it and the stash of DVD's inside."

"So why are you here Sherlock?"

"I can't open the files, Watson."

I downloaded the correct media player onto my PC, but our next problem was the files were password protected. Annabelle suggested a few passwords they'd used for Amazon and other services, but nothing worked. I counted the asterisks and smiled. It turned to a frown when my guess didn't work. Then I tried again, and we were in. Annabelle gasped and grabbed my arm in surprise, then thought better of it and let go. "You can leave it there if you want to," I said.

She looked at me. Neither of us was ready to risk a kiss yet. She put my arm across her shoulders.

"I don't know. You invite a woman in for a coffee and just like that she's trying it on."

"Shut up. Anyway, what's the password smart arse?"

"You are, or rather transposing, some letters of your name for their numerical lookalikes. You know a zero for an oh, a one for an l. Annabelle comes out as 5nn563113."

"If you say so, Brains. Let's start at the beginning."

The first film was over ten years old and showed a sizeable dinner party at their house. I got to meet Richard on screen. He was a natural people person and the centre of the conversation. Clive took a back seat, watching what was going on.

Annabelle became tearful. "You would have liked him, Max."

"Once I'd got over my jealousy. I like your hair like that."

"It could be like that again, if you wanted it to be?" Annabelle snuggled into me. We weren't kidding anybody that things were over between us.

Once we'd worked out the story, we rushed through the disks, but it still took us until four in the morning to get it all right, by which time she was in floods of tears and my fist ached from clenching so hard.

"He's such a cold, calculating, fucking bastard Max. I will kill him."

"No Annabelle, you will get even with him and I will get you out of there and what's more he will be happy to let you go because he will know what the alternative is."

"What are you going to do, Max?"

"I'll tell you in the morning. Let's go to bed."

We were lying like spoons in our underwear. "Will you just hold me, Max? That's all I want." I felt guilty at my stirrings, given the upsetting scenes we'd witnessed. I tried to hold her at arm's length, keeping my erection out of the equation. In less than a minute, she turned to face me. Her nipples were hard. "That's not what I want, Max. Not what I want at all." She launched at me and after a frantic tussle we were out of our clothes, Annabelle pulled me into her. We both sighed.

"Promise me we will never do that again. Hurt each other. We will tell the truth no matter the consequences." She nodded through her tears.

I've never made love like that before. Such a complete emotional release. Yes, our bodies were connected, but we were united on another level and when we came, it bathed us in tears of joy. Purifying tears of joy.

Two days later.

"Hello Clive, can I pour you a drink, we will have another. Same again, Annabelle?" I took her glass while he took stock of the scene. Me making myself at home in his lounge, drinking his whiskey, smiling at his wife, whose look of post coital contentment needed no explanation. That ticked all the boxes in my Guide to Cuckolding.

"What the fuck is he doing here? I thought I'd made myself clear, Annabelle?"

"You did, Clive. As crystal clear as these glasses. But why don't you sit down? You've had a busy day, and it's not over yet." He sat down and I handed him a glass of his own excellent single malt." Sláinte mhaith as my Irish grandmother would say. Good health, Clive."

He downed his in one. "Get on with it, then. I know a shakedown when I see it. What do you think you've got?"

"I think I've got you by the balls, but I am here to make you a deal. I'll let you keep all of this on condition you let Annabelle go. I'm prepared to loan her to you for the good of the business, if she is willing that is? But from here on you have no other claims on her."

Clive laughed. "You are a comedian, Max. Last time I looked I owned it all, her included. Isn't that right, darling?"

Annabelle's face hardened. "That was before the world changed for you, Clive. I've been catching up on films since you saw me last. Watched dozens of DVD's. Here's a bag full. But I think you already know their story."

Clive looked at the bag, realisation swept over him.

"You fucking pervert, Clive. You film everything. Every room in this house has one of your fucking spy cameras in it. Is that what you do all day, sit in your office spying on me taking a piss?" Annabelle was fuming. "We've seen them all, Clive. We know."

All he could do was brazen it out. "What do you think you know? So, I've got a bit of a voyeur fetish in my own home, it's not the crime of the century."

I stood over his chair. "Here is a film you might remember, Clive. Two guys start a business. They are very successful, one is a quiet wizard with the books, the other is good at selling their ideas to clients, and everyone makes money. But it's not a happy ending, is it Clive? Mr Personality is bored and wants out. But the wizard does not want him to go. He loves the company more than anything else. More than his wife who he persuades to be nice to Mr Personality. He does not care about their affair; in fact, he films it endlessly without their knowledge."

"Annabelle, he's got it wrong. We were both victims of Richard's inability to keep his dick in his pants. I wanted to confront him. Put him back on the straight and narrow." Clive was spinning a tale of his own.

I cut him off. "During the year you were filming their affair, two unexpected things happened. Sarah fell in love with Richard and she fell pregnant. You knew Annabelle could not have children, and Richard adored them. Now you had double blackmail. Richard's infidelity and a child which you would claim as your own. Sadly, Sarah lost the baby at seven months and they resolved to tell Annabelle the truth. The three of you sat in this very room. You trying to persuade them to see sense and avoid upsetting Annabelle needlessly. You all drank a lot, then Richard left. He did not see the fury with which you beat Sarah afterwards. I can only imagine it was like that when you hit Annabelle after she showed you, our film."

"She's, my wife. You had no fucking right without my say so!" Spittle flew out of his mouth. Clive saw his world falling apart.

"Yes, your say so. Like St Kitts and Caracas and Bahrain? Where a drunk wife is encouraged to fuck other men to please her husband. Did you film those too? Anyway, you know how this one ends. A BMW wrapped around a tree on the A3 in the early hours of the morning. An abused wife is kicked to the curb as soon as possible, and a grieving widow manipulated into becoming her replacement. A happy ending for the wizard." I'd laid it out quicker than I'd intended.

Annabelle rounded on him. "Except it isn't, Clive. Your happy days are over. I don't care about this fucking company, but I care about some people who invested money in you and Richard. They should not have to suffer for your actions, but they will if you don't take Max's offer. If I walk out on you publically, people will ask questions and I might just have to hint at what Max has described. I don't think they'd be happy to have their money in the hands of such a devious bastard. We've got our own copies so you can have your DVD's back." Annabelle kicked the bag and glared at him. I hope I am never the subject of such a hateful look.

"Okay Annabelle, okay. Just give me a while to think it over, will you?" Clive raised his hands in surrender while his mind raced to find an angle.

"Take the weekend to think about it Clive. You'll have the place to yourself. "

"Where are you going, Annabelle?"

"Max is taking me to Capri. They say it's an island for lovers. We'll let you know if that's true."

I took Annabelle's hand and we walked out leaving Clive staring at the floor.