Caught on Camera

Victoria Hetherington reached the side of the pool, pulled back her long brown hair, and hauled herself out of the water and onto the tiles that surrounded the pool. She stood, squeezed the water out of her hair and padding over to where her towel lay, looked back to where the wet footprints trailed back to the water's edge.

Carl was a few metres from the edge and reached the side with a single powerful stroke which hardly disturbed the crystal clear water. Those wonderful shoulders flexed, and with a casual shrug he heaved himself on the side. He bounced effortlessly to his feet, his tanned torso shimmering with droplets of water as he stood and swept back the fair hair that she guiltily thought made him look like some Aryan God.

He had told her he had been shortlisted for the Olympic swimming team a few years back but had missed it through injury. She'd brushed that off as just the sort of thing men say to strange women in hotel bars, but now she half believed him, mesmerized by his broad shoulders and narrow waist. She had pictured that gorgeous body clad in the tiniest of shiny speedos. What was it they called them? Budgie smugglers? She remembered and she almost laughed out loud as she watched him approach and lowered her gaze to between his thighs. Parrot smugglers would be more apt! She realised that now as, with rising waves of lust, she watched Carl's substantial penis swaying rhythmically side by side like some hypnotic pendulum with each step he took towards her

She pulled the towel up to her body and dried the bush of hair between her legs, feeling a sudden warm flush as she remembered only an hour earlier and the sudden exhilaration and feeling of freedom that had accompanied the shedding of their clothes in wild abandonment around the pool lounger. The wonderful sex on the lounger that had followed spontaneously had been urgent and wildly adventurous. That would cause some confusion in the morning she thought, the bent frame and suspiciously stained canvas seat would certainly cause some prurient speculation amongst the hotel's pool maintenance team!

She raised the towel up her body as Carl reached her and he rubbed her down, almost too energetically, spending an unnecessarily long time and paying a deliciously rigorous attention to her breasts and nipples then working his way slowly downwards.

"Those bits are already dry!" She whispered, as the towel draped, trapped between them and his hand cupped the rough fabric between her legs.

"Not so sure of that!" He said mischievously, and soon had his doubts confirmed.

He wrapped the towel round her and dried her back, pressing into her so she could feel the length of him almost all the way up her stomach. He took his hands off the towel and it remained clamped between them as his hand kneaded her buttocks and his mouth sought hers.

Slowly the towel slipped down until it ludicrously hung draped on his erection and he leaned forward to suck hungrily on her breasts. Almost frantically her hands struggled to disengage the towel but he teasingly kept it pressed to her, pulling her into him with powerful arms and distracting her with little flicks of his tongue across her nipples.

She triumphantly pulled the towel free and his cock sprang back against her stomach with a gentle slap. She dropped slowly down to her knees, her eyes fixed on his face with a determined gaze of sheer hunger, her hand vainly trying to get a grip on his buttocks which felt like marble to her clawing fingers. He taunted her by frustratingly keeping just beyond reach. A finger nail raked his skin, then another and then more. Blood started to trickle down his skin and with a little moan, he attempted to escape, pulling his lacerated buttocks away from the relentless fingers and submitting finally to her impatient mouth.

In a dingy room, down a dingy corridor leading from a dingy metal staircase deep in the bowels of the hotel, Night Security Officer Fred Jones took another swig from his NYPD coffee mug and turned to his superior who lounged inelegantly in a battered old leather adjustable chair idly playing with the zoom toggle on his video surveillance control.

"What are they up to now Chief?" He asked impatiently.

"Blowjob." Surveillance Engineer Harry Entwhistle replied with feigned ennui, fine tuning the zoom.

"God! that guy's hung, I'm surprised there's any water left in the pool!" He observed, laughing at his own wit.

"They never quite get it, do they Chief?" Fred chuckled from his chair at an altogether less interesting monitor.

"Empty pool late at night, low lighting; It's a complete shag magnet! They honestly think we haven't got video coverage of those areas?"

"And we've got the best! High resolution, low light, fast zoom lenses, and all recording to solid state drives through super fast connections!" Harry enthused, totally confusing Fred who only really understood that they had cameras.

"Shall I go and scare the crap out of them Chief?" Fred enquired.

"Nah, let them have their fun, nip up to Reception and see if we find out what rooms they're staying in." Harry had his instructions.

"What and miss the finale?" Fred moaned.

"You won't miss it! We have to transfer it to a DVD, check it through, and give it to that twat Hardcastle in the morning." The hotel manager was a stickler for rules and no favourite of his security team.

"Roger that!" Fred did a mock salute.

"I've no doubt he will!" Cackled Harry.

Harry was right. Carl and Victoria sat afterwards, backs to the cool tiled wall of the pool room and shared a cigarette. Victoria pulled her knickers up and pointed to the prominent NO SMOKING sign.

"We are bad!" she laughed

"And, hopefully, we're going to be even worse!" Carl promised and passed her the cigarette as he pulled on his jeans.

They parted outside her room, kissed, and Carl, apologising

that he had business to attend to, disappeared down the corridor to his room. Victoria was too tired for anything but sleep, she sighed happily and let herself into her room. She showered and, with the towel wrapped tightly around her, re-enacted in her head Carl's hands as he dried her and collapsed exhausted on the bed.

She had met Carl in the bar where totally against her better nature she had agreed to let him buy her a drink. He was charming, tall, stunningly good looking and from what she could tell from the bulges and ripples in his clothing shockingly, athletic. He had one of those hard to place subtle European accents and she'd assumed 'home', wherever that was, was probably the other side of the channel. She'd taken with a large pinch of salt the lines about being in town on business, separated from his wife, etc, etc. She was having a special break and was in the mood for a little fun.

Although he had never divulged his age she'd guessed a year or two either side of thirty. He seemed to have made a success of his life whatever the hell he did and wasn't at all afraid to spend money. They'd had dinner and shared a bottle of wine and then, after sitting talking in the bar again until it closed, he'd told her about his missed Olympic opportunity and they'd wandered down to see the swimming pool. It was late, they'd had a few drinks and before she knew it they'd stripped off and with a brutal intensity that had taken her completely by surprise, had the best sex of her life. Watching him swim naked, the water refracting, magnifying and swirling tantalisingly over various parts of his body, whilst gliding through it herself, also naked and feeling its caress on her own body, was a feeling she would never forget.

They had another day together and then, back to normality for them. Carl back to wherever he came from, Victoria back to Sussex and her husband.

The Next Day.

They met, had breakfast together and then on his insistence they went shopping. Victoria had never known a man more attentive or attuned to her shopping impulses. He knew the right shops, the right designers, he listened, was helpfully critical when necessary and marvellously flattering and admiring when not. He knew her size just by looking although she admitted, blushing to herself, he had sampled a considerably more intimate knowledge of her body than any tape measure.

They chose underwear and although the bra and knickers set he'd so wanted her to try on was a little more revealing than she'd have picked herself, she had outrageously allowed him a quick peek into the changing room as she tried it on, much to his rather obvious delight. She had bought it and was planning to wear it for him tonight. They'd grabbed lunch, returned to the hotel and after a few drinks and a long exhausting session of absolutely wonderful sex, she had returned to her room to prepare herself for their final meal, and night together.

The envelope on the bed addressed to her from the Hotel Manager, Mr Hardcastle, was a surprise. He wished to have an urgent meeting about a matter of the utmost importance and requiring absolute discretion.

Curious and not a little nervous, she took the lift down to the reception and was politely ushered into his office by the receptionist.

"Ah, Mrs Hetherington. Please take a seat. How are you enjoying your stay in our establishment?" The Hotel Manager enquired.

Hardcastle was a short, pompous little man with a badly executed comb-over that succeeded only in emphasising his bald patch, a fussy, over-trimmed moustache and prissy little wire rimmed spectacles. He seemed to be rather full of himself this afternoon.

She took the proffered seat and with rising curiosity and some trepidation answered;

"Very much, thank you."

"So, apparently, it would appear..." He said in an oddly knowing manner.

"We pride ourselves on the luxury, comfort and security of our facilities. You can relax in comfort knowing that you, and your valuables are completely secure. You are of course aware that we have in place some of the most sophisticated security systems currently available?"

"Oh course, but what does that have to do with me?" She couldn't quite see yet where this was going.

Mr Hardcastle was starting to enjoy himself, dragging it out and keeping her guessing.

"Including, of course, state of the art video surveillance and..." He paused for dramatic effect.

"A rather luxurious swimming pool!"

The penny dropped with the sound of a manhole cover falling from a very high building.

"Fuck!" Victoria just couldn't stop it from coming out.

"Precisely!" Hardcastle triumphantly exclaimed.

"Given the high profile nature of your husband's occupation and of course in a slightly different sense Mr Schmitt's, we feel it prudent to pass any evidence of, er, impropriety like this on to a higher authority. In the interests of National Security you understand?"

Hardcastle apparently had been doing some digging.

Victoria was baffled.

"What the fuck has it got to do with National Security, and who the fuck is Mr Schmitt?" She exploded desperate for information.

"Your husband works for the Government, Yes?"

"Well, Yes."

"And is party to extremely sensitive information in that capacity?"

"WHAT?" He's a fucking Civil Servant for Christ's sake she thought. No one would trust him with keys to the vending machine

"He is, I understand, a rather senior Civil Servant, and Mr Schmitt, your, Carl..." He was almost sneering now.

"Is believed to have connections with some rather, er, unsavoury people, suspected of trading stolen sensitive information"

Victoria didn't know whether to laugh, cry or just hit him. She realised that she knew all too little about her husband's position, and had assumed his reluctance to talk about work was simply because it was too mundane to interest her. The thought that she had been seduced by Carl cynically to elicit information about her husband's work horrified her. She immediately dismissed the notion. Neither of them had even mentioned her husband and they would never see each other again after tomorrow.

"For Christ's sake we had sex in your sodding pool, very fucking good sex by the way, Oh, of course you probably know that! Did you enjoy the show by the way?"

Victoria knew damn well she had traded nothing but bodily fluids with Carl, and was getting seriously pissed off.

"Actually I did Mrs Hetherington." Hardcastle's infuriating smile was icy calm.

"Which is why I am inviting you to a rather special event tonight"

Victoria was stunned, what sort of shakedown was this? Did he want to watch them both at the pool again? Perhaps even join in? She was repulsed by the idea. Carl will tear his fucking head off, she thought.

"I wouldn't piss in your swimming pool let alone have sex there..."

"Again" she added pathetically, conceding the obvious

"Not the swimming pool Mrs Hetherington."

"A venue considerably more, comfortable..."

At last the annoying little man started to explain:

"We hold a members only, extremely select dining club here every couple of months. You and the implausibly endowed Mr Schmitt, sorry, Carl, are cordially invited"

"You're inviting me to DINNER?" Victoria was incredulous.

"Indeed! You will enjoy the finest wines, impeccable service and the best food in London. In return you and Mr Sch..., Carl, will..."

Hardcastle paused, enjoying her discomfort and savouring the punchline.

"Provide the after dinner floor show."

Victoria was completely caught by surprise. she had expected to be asked for money, possibly even sexual favours (God, he was older than her husband), but what the fuck?

"What exactly do you mean by floorshow?" She asked, although she had a horrible feeling she already knew the answer

"Maybe I can lend you a DVD that might refresh your memory?" He tapped a plastic case, with its incriminating silver disc, on his desk.

"And what if I don't comply with this, you filthy bastard"

"Then this DVD, and of course Carl, you, your husband, and no doubt Carl's wife will be held up to the closest scrutiny and copies will be circulated to various media groups. The recording is actually very good Mrs Hetherington. Very high definition, and, er, in quite, graphic detail. No doubt copies will find their way onto the internet. You will be quite famous Mrs Hetherington, and after all the enquiries are concluded, quite a catch for the chat shows and tabloids. If you comply on the other hand, then all the original recordings will be erased and you will leave with happy memories and this one remaining DVD. No-one else will be the wiser."

"Dress code is of course formal, although in your case... Temporary!" He leered with a sick smile.

"We will enjoy seeing you at eight. Good evening Mrs Hetherington."

Stunned, she took the lift to her room. It was 5.30 pm. Victoria had to find Carl.

He was in his room, sitting disconsolately on the end of the bed staring at the pattern on the carpet with his head in his hands.

"Carl?" He looked up with tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry"

"For What?" She desperately needed to know

"Carl, look at me; are you a fucking spy?"

"I'm an accountant from Hamburg. I was never in the Olympic team," His voice trailed off and he looked, like a small, frightened, although, she couldn't help recalling, rather big for his age, boy.

He had seen Hardcastle just before she had, and had immediately rushed to her room to find her and warn her, mere minutes too late.

The Dinner.

They met in the reception just before eight, Carl had persuaded her to wear the new underwear after all and she had chosen a simple, but stylish black dress, high heels and hold up stockings that gripped her upper thighs tightly. He wore a smart black suit and tie.

Nervously and reluctantly they found the private dining room and quietly entered. It was larger than they expected it to be, and already almost full, and abuzz with a disconcerting hum of anticipation.

The room was luxuriously lit with groups and couples filling each of its fifty odd tables. In flagrant breach of the law and fire regulations, cigarette smoke left a drifting haze across them. A small lamp glowed dimly in the middle of each table giving each a warm glow of intimacy. The dining area formed a square doughnut shape round a slightly raised small square platform covered with a rug. The platform probably more innocently served as a dance floor at other times, but now ominously featured a small single bed draped with a rich red cover individually lit by an elaborate and ornate chandelier. The platform looked for all the world like a stage set, or boxing ring she reflected uncomfortably. With sheer terror it finally dawned on Victoria that this WAS happening, wasn't some sort of sick joke, and they were probably either going to have to run, or actually go through with it. She realised she actually didn't really know very much about Carl. Was it possible he thought she actually had access to secret information?

They were led to their table by a smartly dressed waiter who pulled out their chairs and ushered up the wine steward who brought a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"Complements of the management." He announced impassively. A menu was brought up to them and they were left alone.

Victoria's stomach was a writhing knot of terror. They had been led almost the whole way across the room followed by numerous curious eyes. Did anyone know yet what they were there for? Carl looked no less ill at ease and despite his attempts to comfort her was noticeably trembling. He poured them both a glass of champagne and she downed hers in one.

They ordered two light meals which both of them really only picked at, but which both wished would last forever.

"Try to keep your eyes on me, ignore them." He gripped her hand and gazed into her eyes.

Another complimentary bottle of champagne arrived and they both realised they had been drinking far too quickly, but filled their glasses nevertheless. They spoke quietly trying to reassure each other and failing dismally.

A microphone crackled on, the chandelier brightened and Hardcastle, ridiculously dressed like a circus ringmaster in a tailcoat, bow tie and top hat, stepped beaming onto the platform accompanied by a round of applause from the guests.

Victoria was very close to bursting into tears. The moment she had dreaded for the last few hours, was about to start.

"I'd like to welcome the latest hapless couple to fall foul of our excellent security cameras, only to return LIVE to perform their debauched acts for your delight and sexual gratification in our cosy little den of iniquity!" Hardcastle pompously announced, in a melodramatic voice.

Another round of applause and some laughter.

"In the interests of decency I will not use their real names, and also in the interests of decency I must ask you not to use any smartphones, cameras or recording devices."

Several rather heavy looking gentlemen discretely made their presence felt on the peripheries of the room.

"And NOW, in the interest of INDECENCY, I welcome to the stage... TONIGHT'S ENTERTAINMENT!" His voice reached a crescendo

He beckoned to Victoria and Carl, who suddenly found themselves brightly lit in the beam of a spotlight.

A wild animal cheer broke out. And with tears welling in her eyes Victoria took Carl's hand as he lifted her to her feet.

The walk to the stage picked out by that spotlight was the longest Victoria had ever taken, teetering slightly on her high heels as the champagne suddenly took effect; she felt like a Tudor queen being led to the block. As they reached Hardcastle, Carl stooped and held Victoria's head, forcing her to look straight into his eyes. In a voice trembling with passion he tried to comfort her;

"I want you more than I've ever wanted anybody. Together we can be strong. Forget there's anybody else in the room. We can rise above this charade."