Shetland Pony Club

"Yes," she replied.

"So let's just get this straight, Kirsty," I responded, looking at her coldly. "Was that the business you were doing for them, or the business you were doing for Donnie?"

"Alright, Kenny, you've made your point. You ambushed me this evening, so it looks like you already know the answer. I was careful to keep things as discrete as possible. Nobody here knows me, so I don't know how the hell the company found out what I was up to in my own free time."

"Well, they didn't get any information from me," I said, grateful for this unexpected opportunity for misdirection, attributing the blame for her downfall to an unknown third party. It was true I hadn't directly informed her former employer. David Shepherd had acted as my emissary, but Kirsty didn't know that and I wasn't about to point the finger at David.

My G&T was running low and I was pleased to see the waiter approaching with the wine. The Australians are renowned for blending cabernet sauvignon and shiraz to create smooth and powerful red wines bursting with berry flavour and enough tannin to cope with the likes of beef and lamb. Having tasted the wine, I signalled the waiter to pour us each a glass, satisfied I had selected a reliable partner for dinner, even if it was only the wine.

We resumed our conversation after the waiter left.

"What is it you want from me, Kenny?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, Kirsty. For a while I thought I wanted my wife back, but now I'm not so sure. I'd like you to tell me what happened. I'd like you to be honest with me, instead of trying to pull the wool over my eyes. I don't need any graphic descriptions, but I need to know why we ended up in this mess and whether we can agree on where we're going from here."

Kirsty didn't immediately reply, instead finishing off the last of her G&T as our dinner arrived and was quickly and efficiently served by two smiling young waitresses.

"Okay, Kenny. You might not like what I have to tell you, but it will be a weight off my shoulders."

She fiddled around with her knife and fork, trimming a small piece of lamb from the bone, before popping it in her mouth and washing it down with a sip of wine. In the meantime I wasn't letting my rare ribeye get cold.

"I contacted Donnie not long after we got back from the Canary Islands at the end of November. I just couldn't stop thinking about him fucking me in the sand dunes. Try as I might, I couldn't get his big cock off my mind. I wanted him to myself for an overnighter or two and we got together at his place in Aberdeen in early December. I know I was cheating on you and I went behind your back, but I justified it by telling myself I'd already been with him, so a time or two more wasn't going to make any difference."

"Was our trip to Shetland for Up Helly Aa Donnie's idea?" I asked.

"No. It was my idea, but Donnie made the arrangements. Without his connections it would have been impossible. It's not everybody that gets to Up Helly Aa. I hope you enjoyed it."

"Yes, I enjoyed it at the time," I replied. "How did you like your gangbang in the boatshed?"

Kirsty was startled. "I don't know what you mean," she said, hesitantly.

"From the video I saw it certainly looked like you enjoyed it. Did Donnie arrange that as well?"

"What video are you talking about?"

"The video Donnie sent me a few weeks ago."

I could see Kirsty visibly wilt before my eyes, her shoulders drooping as she realised I knew much more than she had thought.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she finally said. "Donnie invited me to the boatshed if I could get away from you that night. I don't know what I was thinking, but when I got there one thing led to another. I had plenty to drink and it didn't take much persuading once the idea was put to me. Donnie fucked me in front of the others and they followed on. All of them had condoms, so I wasn't worried about consequences and I really let myself go. I know Donnie filmed it, but he told me no faces were visible."

"There were no faces in the clip I saw," I said, "but I knew it had to be you. Incidentally, giving me a Viking helmet afterwards was a cruel gesture, but I presume that was Donnie's idea."

"Sorry, Kenny. Donnie said you'd like the helmet and I thought it was a really nice thing to do. I had no idea what it symbolised until someone told me a few weeks ago."

"So when did you start working for Donnie?"

"Not long after we got back from our trip to Shetland," she said. "I reached an informal agreement with him. All I had to do was go to a few formal dinners and other events with businessmen who needed a presentable companion for the evening. It was fun and I got well paid."

"Did you have sex with any of your clients?" I asked.

"Not the first few times," she said, "but there were a couple that I liked enough after a couple of dates. I know it doesn't alter the fact that I had sex with them, but I was careful and I did make them wear condoms."

"And presumably Donnie also gave you what you wanted from him."

"That's about the way it was. I got to stay at Donnie's place and he would sleep with me whenever we were both in town."

Kirsty paused to take a generous mouthful of wine and take another bite of her tender and juicy looking lamb. I had a passing thought that there was no mistaking either of us for vegetarians. 'Nature, red in tooth and claw', as Tennyson put it, that was us.

"I know you're not in love with Donnie," I said. "For a while Mary thought there was more going on between the pair of you, but she changed her tune. Presumably that was after she found out you were working for Donnie in return for his favours. Anyway, you told me you weren't in love with him and I actually believe that."

"It's true. I don't love Donnie," she said. "I need him, but I don't love him."

"So, in return for the personal service he gave you, you worked for his escort agency?"

"Yes," was all she said.

"I've tried to understand what's happened to you," I said, placing my cutlery on my plate, next to the remains of the ribeye. "I'm struggling to catch up to some extent, but I'm not stupid. Did you really think I was born yesterday and you could keep me in the dark ad infinitum?"

"I know you're angry and upset, Kenny, and it sounds really bad to say it, but I didn't really think about you," she replied. "It's like having an addiction. I got a taste of something incredible and it was as if some wild, hidden part of me had been let loose. I was doing things I didn't know I was capable of and I wanted more. I tried to keep what I was doing in Aberdeen completely separate from my life with you, but I got carried away."

"I've done everything I can and I've tried to be patient," I said, "but this is your last chance to choose me instead of Donnie. There's nothing to stop you coming back home and getting another office job, you know?"

"I know," she said.

Kirsty emptied her glass, peered into it for a minute, looking as if she was puzzled there was no more wine. She sighed once more, then lifted her gaze and looked me in the eye.

"I'm afraid it's too late to go back to the way we were, Kenny," she said. "I've changed and I'm not the same person. I know I could get another office job and maybe I will do that on a part-time basis here in Aberdeen, but I'm moving in different circles now and I don't want to go back."

"You know this means the end of the road for us?" I asked.

"I think I've known that for a while, but I've been avoiding admitting it to myself. Sorry."

"I'm sorry too," I replied. "I'm sorry it had to end this way, but I'm not going to wait for you to change your mind. I'll be seeing a lawyer when I get back to Edinburgh. If you give me your address in Aberdeen I'll get the paperwork sent there. It would help if you collect your stuff from our house as soon as possible. I'll get it tidied up and we can sell it."

"That's as much as I could have hoped for," she said. "The last few months must have been tough on you and you've been very patient with me. I appreciate the consideration you've shown me, just as much as I appreciate the years we've spent together. You've always been a good partner and I still love you as a person, but it's just not the same anymore. Talking to you this evening has helped me realise I can't expect you to continue to stand by me if I'm not there for you."

It was clear we were winding up our conversation, so I gestured to the waiter to bring me the bill. Neither of us needed to prolong the agony over dessert or coffee.

*

I waited until after the house had been sold and we were divorced before finally deciding whether or not to do anything further about the demise of my marriage to Kirsty. Under the skin of every nice guy there is a potential nasty bastard, just waiting for the nice guy to be pushed beyond the limits of his tolerance. That's when Dr Jekyll gives way to Mr Hyde and the nasty bastard takes over and runs the show for a while.

Somehow Kirsty's former colleagues and anybody we knew began to find out a bit more about why she had changed careers, moved to Aberdeen and got divorced. David Shepherd pressed the button to destroy her chances of getting another job in professional financial management. Closer to home, I found a couple of former neighbours who absolutely relished dishing the dirt on Kirsty to just about everyone who was part of our social circle.

Of course I had to put up with being pitied and possibly even mocked behind my back. The game was over. Of course I had lost, but I was glad to hand back the trophy. The offensive Viking helmet had been packed up with Kirsty's belongings. I was a loser, but I was also the innocent party and I needed to be recognised as such, so that I could start again with a clean slate. From what I heard later, people were saying things like "No wonder he sent her packing!" and "What a slut!", instead of "He must be a cuckshit idiot" or "What a wimp!"

I didn't hear from Kirsty after the divorce and I didn't visit Aberdeen for a while, but the local newspaper there got hold of some interesting information and ran a headline article on prostitution, unofficial brothels and the seedy escort business that feeds off all those businessmen paying for sex. The paper was trying to reinforce the case for making it illegal to buy sex from third parties, such as prostitutes, escorts and rent boys. On the front page there was a nice picture of 'Lucy', described by the paper as a '44 year old divorcee and former financial management executive from Edinburgh'. Who knows? Maybe any publicity is good publicity, but in this case I doubt it. If I was a business executive I wouldn't want to be seen with the most easily recognisable old slut in Aberdeen.