Old Speckled Hen

Brent lay in the dark and plotted his revenge. It was obvious now, she must have found her mum's Rohypnol and tried to knock him out. The bitch! They'd eaten his salads and drunk his coffee while waiting for him to pass out. Then come to his house and fucked in his bed. He'd never have known if he'd drunk all that beer. He was going to hurt them both, badly. He thought he wouldn't sleep again. But five minutes later he did.

Next morning he woke about six, none the worse for wear. He heard Audrey get up around seven, and soon she appeared in the study, with a coffee. He hauled himself up into a sitting position, and groaned, holding his head.

"You were out like a light last night, so I covered you up and let you sleep."

"Thanks. Sorry about that; I must be working too hard. Spent the whole night dreaming of warehouse carparks. (Actually, the dreams he could remember featured torn up contracts and dirty sheets!) I hope you didn't come home feeling too horny!"

"Not a problem."

"I suppose you had to find someone else to fuck to your brains out!"

"What?"

"Only joking!"

"Oh. As it turned out, I ended up as tired as you!"

"OK. What time did you get in?"

"About eight."

Brent had to wonder if she really had a sex session for three hours, while he'd slept.

"Got to get going now though, big day today."

"Good luck, let me know how it goes."

He sat at his desk and worked through what he'd heard on the phone. She claimed she'd hidden the tablets in a place he'd never think to look. Now where would that be? Or, where would they not be?. He tried the bedroom, and stopped. A place that he would not check. But she didn't know he'd overheard. It had to be somewhere she could get at them at short notice, hidden in plain sight. Not in handbags or pockets - somewhere he would see them but not know what he was looking at. Now he remembered she'd also said 'for the time being'. It must be a temporary place then. Her mother's idea had been a big Aspirin bottle

Brent went into the en suite bathroom. The cabinet is where tablets should be kept; where they would not attract any attention. He opened the bathroom cabinet. One glance, and knew where they were. His vitamin D bottle; big and white. He'd have no need to open that till summer was over. But he looked in it now, and was right. He took it downstairs, and tipped the contents onto the table.

His vitamin D's had been removed, presumably hidden away somewhere, to be returned later. But she'd done more than just fill the bottle with roofies. There was a fine powder in the bottom. She'd actually filed the word Roche, off each one. Very clever Audrey; but so was he. He returned to his desk; he did all his best thinking there.

So, the conniving bitch was working through Nigel's bucket list. And next two would be anal sex, apparently with him lying drugged beside them. This guy was weird. And Audrey was worse. There were a lot of tablets, so she wouldn't notice if he helped himself to some. He took six, then put the rest in the jar and back in the bathroom cabinet.

It was ten thirty when she called.

"We got the job! The Chinese guys are coming over to sign the contract! We'll pick them up at Heathrow, at eleven fortyfive tomorrow morning."

"Great news! Well done both of you!"

"We'll dot the i's and cross the t's today, then Nigel wants to treat us to dinner tonight."

"Both of us?"

"Of course. He wants to repay you for the salads and coffee. He's booked a table at Claudio's."

"What about his wife?"

"She's away at her sister's till tomorrow lunchtime. He'll be organising a party for the whole company this weekend. His wife will come to that, and we can all celebrate again."

"Good."

"Nigel says he would like to drop by our place before we go. He's never seen where I live, and he's intrigued by your Old Speckled Hen, and wants to try one. I thought we could all have a beer, before dinner. We'll be there before six."

"Deal."

(Never seen where you live?)

Now Brent had to be quick. Last year, he'd done a garage extension with a utility room and a greenhouse, for a neighbour. The guy's name was Ted, and he was head of security at Heathrow airport. First Brent booked a flight for the following morning, using Audrey's credit card. He told them he needed some special arrangements and it was agreed he could drive in and explain. Then he called Ted.

The girls on the Information Desk were understanding and helpful. Ted turned up and persuaded them what Brent was asking for had often been done in the past. Leave it all to him. Brent slipped him twentyfive pounds and he confirmed he would be on duty, when Brent returned next day.

About five thirty, Audrey's Citroen drove straight into the garage, and Nigel's Mercedes parked on the drive. Brent poured three beers and slipped a roofie into two of them. They burst in, excited, and made the introductions.

"I've just poured these." he said.

He put their glasses on the worktop.

"Do you keep it in the fridge?" asked Nigel.

"Strictly speaking, it should be at room temperature. But in the summer, it goes in the fridge."

The home phone rang, and Brent went into the hallway. There was no-one on the line. Now that was really clever; he almost admired the bitch. She must have speed dialled it from her mobile, probably in a pocket. No prizes for guessing what had just happened to his beer.

"Must have been a wrong number." he announced.

No sooner had he sat, than Nigel said "Cheers!" and raised his glass. They clinked and drank.

"This is wonderful stuff!" he enthused.

Brent took a small sip, but bulged his cheeks as if he had a mouthful before he swallowed.

"Excuse me a moment. I just need a breath of air; been stuck in front of a computer all day. I stayed indoors yesterday, and a pint of this knocked me for six!"

He stood, took another mouthful of beer. and went out through the French windows, taking his glass with him. On the patio he stepped out of their view and spat it out, onto the roses. He hoped it wouldn't hurt them as they got the rest of that pint poured over them too. It pained Brent to waste yet another glass of his favourite tipple.

He retrieved his hidden unspiked beer from under a bush, poured a little away, and went back in. Before sitting, he raised his glass and made his own toast.

"To Nigel and my clever wife!"

They stood, clinked glasses, and each took a good swallow. Then chatted and steadily worked through their beers. Soon, Nigel stood again and said "Gan bei!"

"What does that mean?" asked Brent.

"It's Chinese for bottoms up! We have to finish them!"

They all drained their glasses and Brent said: "Anyone fancy another?"

"No thanks. We need to be off soon."

"Come through to our lounge then!"

It only took five more minutes before they were slipping out of it. Once they were knocked out, he carried Nigel up to the guest room, where he duct-taped his feet together, then his hands; secured in front of him to make it easier to carry him later. More was used to tape up his mouth, though he doubted if that would be necessary for a while.

He packed selected items into a carry-on bag for Audrey, ready for tomorrow's flight, and sorted out her handbag. Then he undressed her and put her to bed, thoroughly lubricating her arse. She was going to get her precious anal sex tonight, several times. Just not with Nigel. He might as well have a final go at it, while she was still here. Then, the final touches.

He checked Nigel's pockets, where the wallet revealed his home address and the Heathrow arrival details from Beijing. The Chinese guys were called Mr Cheng and Mr Wen. Brent wrote their names on a large piece of card. Nigel's phone contacts listed Harriet h, and Harriet m. That was his wife; home and mobile. He sent her a message.

'Won't make it home till tomorrow afternoon. Stand by for a big surprise!'

He turned it off and went to the kitchen, where he thoroughly washed the beer glasses, not forgetting the one from the garden. Then spiked two bottles of mineral water with a roofie each. He set his alarm for four in the morning. Finally, he called and confirmed his booking with the removal company, and went upstairs for the last sex with his soon-to-be-ex-wife.

He slept surprisingly well after a rough session, and checked them both at four.

Parking Nigel's Mercedes at Heathrow next morning, Brent gave him a last mouthful of water and left him sleeping in the car boot. Then shook Audrey awake. This was the first time in ages, he had worn a suit.

"Come on, you'll be late for signing that big contract!"

"What ...? What time ...?"

"Here, drink some of this and wake up."

He called Ted, who met him at the Information Desk.

The same two girls were on duty, and Brent showed them Audrey's passport and ticket, and confirmed yesterday's story; she was terrified of flying. She'd been on the airline's course for first timers and was now having her first flight. She'd been prescribed a mild sedative, but was still scared.

"I've arranged to take her Airside. She insists I take her to her seat. They've given her an early check-in, so there's just this small bag."

Ted said he would escort Brent, and the ladies called a member of the flight crew, who was told the same tale. She agreed to accompany them.

The cleaners were still working on the plane, but Audrey's seat was ready. Brent had booked 40K near the back; against the window, so nobody would need to pass her. He pushed her bag under the seat in front, belted her in, and persuaded her to swallow the rest of the water.

"You have a nap. Nigel has it all in hand."

"Mmm."

Brent slipped Ted the other twentyfive, as agreed, and was escorted back to Information. He reassured the staff his wife was safely in her seat.

Her flight didn't depart for over two hours, but he hung around the airport. Then, awash with Starbucks coffee, he went through to Arrivals. The Beijing flight was on time, and fifteen minutes later they appeared. Only small carry-ons, so they were the first ones through. He held up his card. The interpreter was gorgeous.

"Where is Mr Preece?" she asked.

Audrey said they had good English, but it still sounded like 'Pleece'.

"Welcome to London, honoured guests. I am Mr Preece's driver and will take you to where the contract is being signed."

He took their bags.

Once they were safely in the rear of the Merc, he opened the boot and stowed their bags where Nigel was sleeping. In the driver's seat he explained.

"Mr Preece was amending your contract all night. He's taking a nap while I drive."

The woman interpreted as he drove to Nigel's house. He thought Harriet would be home by now.

"We are not signing at your company?"

"Please excuse the delay, we just need to collect a witness to your signatures."

As the interpreter spoke Brent sent a message from Nigel's phone, to Harriet.

'I've been fucking Audrey for weeks. But don't worry, I'm home now!'

He left them sitting on the driveway, and walked off; they craned their necks and watched him. He looked back in time to see Harriet rushing out and threw Nigel's phone into a hedge; then hailed a taxi. He spent that afternoon overseeing the packers, who loaded Audrey's possessions into their truck. Soon they were all on their way to the storage facility. It was difficult to predict how long it would be before Audrey needed to access them, so paying three months in advance seemed reasonable.

That evening, as Brent settled in with an Old Speckled Hen, he wondered what she was doing. She'd be arriving in Beijing about now. There never had been any check-in luggage of course, so she only had what she was wearing. It was a light summer dress he'd selected. Beijing would be hot, so he'd been very considerate and not bothered with her bra or panties.

He wondered if they'd search her. He'd removed her bottle of spiked water. Her handbag only had a plastic bag in it, containing two dozen roofies. He wondered if they were common in China; or even legal. There was no phone, money, credit cards, passport, or return ticket.

That only left her carry-on bag. Nothing of interest in there. Except for a bottle of Old Speckled Hen, some condoms, and a bottle of anal lubricant. What would Beijing make of that?