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A Friday morning, six months after our adventure with Marcus. As usual, Lori and I were at the kitchen table having our breakfast, she absently reading the news on her tablet while taking spoonfuls of muesli.*"Oh. My God!""What is it?" The alarm in her voice caused me to look up."You won't believe this, Jonathan. You really won't.""Are we at war?""Nothing like that. It's Marcus!""Marcus from the hotel?""See for yourself. Oh my god!" She continued to stare. It was like she'd seen a ghost. All the blood had*drained from her face.She passed her iPad to me over the table. I read the heading of the article on the screen:* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *Sebastian Crecy, dead at sixty-five.* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *Son Marcus inherits multi billionaire's** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *media and business empire."There was a photo of Marcus walking through the lobby of some up-market hotel, his handsome, usually amiable face,*grim as death.**The caption to the photo said:*** * * * * * * * * * * * ** Marcus Crecy leaving his Hong Kong Hotel and heading for the airport to catch the next flight back to London.I read the article. It was such a shock to discover that the man I had arranged to make love to my wife was now one of the wealthiest men in the world. The things that had bugged me about him began to make sense. He had an ease that only fabulous wealth brings to a person. Now I understood how he had afforded the penthouse room at the Hilton, and many other small things that had seemed odd to me at the time.*"So what do you think of our Marcus now?" I asked her.She was lost in thoughts, answered as if waking from a dream, "Why did he lie to us, Jonathan?" Now she gave me her full attention as she said, "He told me so much about himself that night, the places he had been to, the news stories he had covered. He never mentioned his father, his family's wealth."*Later she Googled his name. We had only known him as Marcus, and it was strange to learn that it was his actual name.What he had told Lori was true. He had indeed worked as a journalist for the last ten years. First at the Sun, and later The Guardian. At the time we met him he was freelancing, covering international stories for the BBC's World Service, and also several radio stations in the USA. We learned his writing was highly regarded and that over the years he had been nominated for, and twice won, prestigious journalistic prizes.A few days later, after reading about him for one last time, she threw down her tablet, saying, "So that was Marcus,"*It was a door closing. Now she knew she would never realise the dreams she harboured about seeing him again. In the weeks immediately after our meeting with him in the hotel, she had withdrawn into herself. Only a little, but enough for me to see that her night with Marcus had affected her profoundly, stirred something deep in her psyche. Had I been cruel to let her believe she might meet him again. I knew he never would; it had been part of our agreement, a condition of him having her. It was to be a one-off, something never to be repeated.She asked if I had known who he was when I had worked with him. For a moment I was ready to confess all, tell her he was a stranger from the internet and that he and I had set up her up, that her exquisite night of passion was founded on lies. But I decided revealing the deception would be too much. She would see it as a complete betrayal of the trust she believed we shared. So I kept schtum. Instead, I casually told her, "I knew nothing about his private life. He was just Marcus to me, a guy that the company brought in to do the copy."I followed Marcus's career, scanning the online papers each morning for news of him. The chattering classes had expected him to take over the running of his father's empire, but the world was astounded when he sold all the shares he had inherited and disappeared from public life.There was not a day went by that I did not think of our night with him. It had been the most erotically intense moment of my life. I had believed that seeing Lori fucked by another man, any man, would kill the demon that tortured me. And it had ? for a while. But hell's spawn has no mercy.*By Christmas the following year, dark thoughts of Lori and other men began to plague me once again, so much so that I became distracted at work, my sleep disturbed and fitful.**I advertised online for a lover for Lori, and I was in the process of selecting someone when Marcus's gifts arrived, two small packages delivered by UPS, one addressed to Lori and the other to me.We almanbahis şikayet opened them together at the breakfast table. A watch for each of us: a Rolex for me; Cartier for Lori. Later, I Googled our gifts. I did not tell Lori what I found. It would have unnerved her to learn how much they cost. She hated to be indebted to anyone. There was a handwritten note with each item addressing each of us by our first name. A neat*thank you*and his signature. Why had he waited so long to thank*us for that night? Nearly three years had passed.*Two days after the watches were delivered, his email arrived.Jonathan. I hoped you and Lori liked your gifts. I saw your new ad and decided I must intervene. It appears that seeing Lori and me together has not purged you of your soul's sickness. But perhaps the failure was not mine; maybe your malaise is more unusual than I first thought. I have other medicines we could try. But for them to truly take effect, you will have to trust me, trust me like you would your surgeon. If you agree to put yourself in my hands unconditionally, I will do what I can to release you from your suffering. All you have to do is reply to this email with a simple, YES! If you agree to surrender yourself and Lori to my care, I will take you to places you have never even imagined could exist. I will see to it that you will be able to forget about the irritating details, the logistics of finding men for Lori. I will take care of everything. You will regret nothing.His message terrified me. Its tone, the talk of new possibilities opening up for Lori and I made me feel as if I were teetering on the edge of an abyss.Oh, God! The thought of him introducing her to other men. They would be men from a world unknown to us; the world of the uber-rich, men with power and influence. I read his message over and over looking for clues, incessantly wrestling with myself whether to trash or reply. I was Jesus in the wilderness;*he, Satan whispering over my shoulder.Unable to sleep. I would rise in the night and slip away to read his message yet again. And then I would masturbate, imagining the men who might fuck my wife. When I was through, left full of self-loathing, I would sneak back into bed and lie on my side watching Lori sleeping, feeling guilty that she was unaware Marcus had contacted me. I speculated, imagined the implications of surrendering her to one of the wealthiest men in the world. His resources would be infinite. He could make almost any whim that might cross his mind a reality. We would be playing with the big boys and I didn't know if I measured up.Again, I recalled our first meeting. I had liked the bloke. In fact, I had liked him a lot. When I had watched him talking to Lori in the hotel bar, I had thought how under different circumstance we could have become friends.**The next day I turned on the computer intending to finally consign his message to the trash bin without even a thank you for the offer. But after reading his words one last time, something came over me. My old itch flared up. He was offering me a chance to fulfill my fantasies in a way I could never have previously dreamed possible. For one last moment, I allowed myself the memory of Marcus and Lori together, recalling how I had placed my hand in the small of his back as he fucked her, how I had palmed his buttocks and cupped his testicles.*And so with my cock hard in my pants, I sat down and typed out four characters: YES!When the email vanished, a wave of terror washed over me. Oh, Fuck!It was a week before he replied. During that time, I feared I had left it too late in responding, that I had let a life-changing opportunity slip through my hands. Then on Friday, he phoned Lori at work and invited her to a housewarming party being held that following weekend at his new London penthouse. He told her there was someone he wanted to meet, and that I was to come too. A car would be sent to our home on Saturday evening to take us the seventy miles to London.*In the days that followed, Lori mooned about the house like a lovesick girl. She was off her food, distracted, lost in her inner world, hardly aware of me. When she did speak, it would be to mention Marcus.*"What do you think Marcus's apartment will be like?" she asked as we lay in bed the night before we were due to visit him. "Do you think he will have changed? Have I changed, Jonathan? Do you think he will still find me attractive? It's been three years."Had I done the right thing allowing him into our lives again? I began to wonder with what kind of people we would almanbahis canlı casino be getting involved. The uber-rich are a different species. As the hours until our meeting inched closer, I grew increasingly apprehensive. And to top it all, Lori did not know anything about Marcus's email to me, had no idea to what I had agreed.It was Saturday morning, the day of Marcus's party. I had taken Lori her breakfast in bed. When I brought the tray into the room, I found her up and towelling herself dry by the window after her shower. Delighted by my thoughtfulness, she kissed me before she slipped on her kimono. We ate together side by side on the bed, propped up by pillows.Afterwards, I cleared away the trays, and when I slipped back into bed beside her, I asked, "Have you sucked his cock?" I watched her shocked reaction. It was as if she had lost the power of speech. I pressed her for an answer, "That night at the Hilton, did you suck his cock? You never said if you sucked his cock or not."She just stared back at me. I had taken her completely by surprise.*Eventually, she asked: "Why are you asking me this now, after all this time?" She was outraged."Because if you did suck his cock, he might want you to do it again ? tonight." Even as the words left my lips, I regretted them and wondered why I was acting like a jealous teenager."Don't be stupid, Jonathan. It's a party to celebrate his new penthouse flat." When she saw I was not convinced, she added,*"Other people will be there. Important people.""How do you know who will be there?""There is someone he wants me to meet. He says it's important to him, financially. Something to do with a big deal he's planning with another wealthy businessman.""I don't understand this, Lori. Are you saying he wants you to help him clinch some business deal?""He said Uri would find me charming.""God, Lori, who the fuck is Uri? You said his name as if he is an old friend!"*"I know loads about Uri . . . Marcus says he is dying to meet me.""You realise he doesn't want you there for small talk, that he's pimping you out.""Fuck you, Jonathan! Marcus would never ask me to do anything like that. He's a proper gentleman. What the hell is the matter with you? Scared you won't scrub up well enough for his celebrity friends?""Why, who else will be going?"She reeled off a list of names. They belonged to people you would know: B-list celebrities, some politicians, a famous artist, rock musicians."I don't think this is a good idea," I said."Why isn't it?""They're not our kind of people.""Will you just listen to yourself! You're pathetic. I'm going to go no matter what ? With or without you!""You didn't answer my question.""What?""Did you suck his cock?""Of course I sucked his cock; what woman wouldn't have? You saw how big it was! You're only jealous he didn't ask you to suck it too."*The look she gave me was full of dirty satisfaction, the cat remembering just who it was that got the cream. It hurt to see her face so alive because of a memory."And if he wants you to do it again?"She did not answer, just slipped from beneath the duvet and began to dress."I had no idea you were such a slut, Lori ? I really didn't.""You do now."She left the room, abandoning me to be wracked on the bed of my own ambivalence. My ego throbbed like a hammered thumb, yet I was ecstatic knowing that she had. I lay on the bed revelling in the memory of him above her, his hips thrusting. The thought of what he might have in store for us tonight tied my guts in knots, every nerve in my body raging with the electric thrill of apprehension. My cock swelled beneath the duvet, and I took it in my hand and masturbated while yet again imagining Marcus fucking Lori. This time he took her from behind, treating her with contempt, gathering her hair into a ponytail and pulling as he pummelled her buttocks with testosterone-fuelled hips. The concierge took our names in the lobby of Marcus's building and then rang his apartment to let him know we had arrived. The lift rocketed us to the top floor as my mind ran through the possibilities the coming night might offer up. Even if he didn't coax Lori into his bed tonight, it would excite me to see her talking to him again in the way she had on their first meeting. Knowing she ached for him was the hairshirt I now wore every day.He was waiting for us at the door of his apartment flanked by two burly security people. He stretched out his right hand in welcome, warmly taking the hand I offered.*Him turning to Lori. They were like old lovers meeting after years almanbahis casino apart, pleased to see each other but sort of shy from neither knowing how the other felt about a shared past. I held down my rising jealousy as he leisurely kissed her on each cheek in turn. Then, taking her hand, he led her inside. Neither turned to see if I had followed.He paraded Lori around the room as if she were indeed a royal guest, introducing her to his friends with warmth and gusto. I was an afterthought, trailing behind them self-consciously like an abandoned puppy. I had no status here, no achievements that would impress these people.*But after a couple of drinks, I began to unwind, actually enjoy myself. I had thought I would be intimidated by the chic elegance of the other guests, but they began to seem strangely ordinary.*Later, Lori slipped away while I was talking to Sabre, the guitarist from the metal band, Strangelydead. Never a rock chick, Lori had become bored by Sabre's interminable music business anecdotes. She caught my eyes and mouthed "I'm going to get a top-up," her eyes indicating an empty glass. I smiled and nodded and returned to my conversation with Sabre.*His band had been heroes of mine when I was younger. I found myself reverting to the lad I was at seventeen, asking him about the band's demise, what was he doing now, all the usual stuff. And he was only too happy to talk ? and talk some more. But after fifteen minutes, I was beginning to lose interest in his stories about groupies and wrecked hotel rooms, and equally wrecked band members.I excused myself and went to look for Lori, also keeping my out for more beer. I couldn't find beer but helped myself to a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waitress. I sipped at it while looking around the room, anxiously trying to spot my wife.More and more people were arriving by the minute. The apartment was near full to bursting. Then I saw Lori, just her head moving among others as she wound her way across the room, gliding between the chattering cliques. I saw her pause for a moment behind a group of elegant women who were laughing shrilly at some quip that a tall, mid-twenties media type had made. Lori stood still for a moment distracted, her eyes scanning the room as if eager to see someone. I lifted my hand to attract her attention, but she did not notice me. It was then I realised I was not the person she was searching for.Seeing her stood there next to the three other gorgeous women did not diminish Lori's beauty. Instead, it made her own all the more blatant. I now saw how she fitted in seamlessly with the rich and celebrated, more than a match for any other woman in the room. She might not be famous or have political ambitions or artistic talent, but I knew if she chose to, her poise and elegance, her profound sexual allure, could gain her whatever she desired.*She moved off again, searching for Marcus I surmised, as silent and graceful as a yacht on a calm sea at sunset, soon lost to view, as if rounding a headland, when she moved behind a group of tall men talking loudly. I hurried after her, but she had disappeared again.The apartment with its sparse furnishing had earlier appeared spacious; now, with so many people crushed inside, it seemed inadequate, crass. One wall was constructed entirely of glass, just like the one at the Hilton, and I wondered how much this feature had contributed to Marcus's decision to purchase this place. Did it remind him of his night with Lori?*I spotted Lori with Marcus among a group of people at the far end of the room. I was about to go and join her when something about how one of the men greeted her made me hold back. I stood as if looking out of the window, trying not to be noticed yet close enough hear what was said.*Although immaculately turned out, the man's face had an air of brutality. He eyed Lori intently before taking her hand and kissing it with gallant ostentation. He was a broad-shouldered slab of a man, about forty-five years old. He kept her hand for a moment while he turned to Marcus and said something in what sounded like Russian. Then he laughed a booming Brian Blessed guffaw. Marcus laughed too, though only out of politeness I thought. This man was making Lori uncomfortable. I could tell by the way her eyes kept trying to catch Marcus's, pleading to be rescued. But the man kept hold of her hand while speaking to Marcus, alternatively turning and looking at her with disturbing intensity.I couldn't watch, turned towards the window and stared out at the lights of the city stretching away to the horizon. Below the building, the Thames curled away to the sea, a ribbon of silver in the moonlight. I turned back to the room again, expecting to see Lori still talking to the other guests, but she was gone. So had Marcus and the Russian.