Damn House

The last I heard of her, Shirley was shacked up with the manager of Tescos. It was the tits I suppose --- they really were impressive!

Even in a supermarket, you don't get many of them to the pound!

------------------

Let's move on several months!

News!!!!!!!!

Fantastic and unbelievable news.

Couldn't believe it, but Nigel and Angie announced their intention to get married, and I didn't even know that they were still seeing one another. Hadn't seen too much of Nigel since we'd graduated, and I hadn't really thought about Angie for a long, long time.

Best man ----- who else? ---- the one and only me!

Panic as I thought about the after dinner speech, and not really knowing his family that well, how risqué dare I be.

It went well though, and I avoided making any jokes about it being the best man who had taken the bride's virginity.

Afterwards I found myself chatting to the two bridesmaids, and sure enough one of them was my old sex playmate dear Becky.

Well of course --- She was Angie's best friend. They'd both graduated a couple of years after we had, and Becky filled me in on what they had all been getting up to since. The two girls had apparently settled down after Nigel and I had left, and of course he and Angie had kept their relationship going. For her part, Becky had gone through a string of boyfriends over the two years that were left at Uni, but at least only one at a time.

Since then, it seemed she thought she had found the love of her life, but that had fizzled out a few months previously. Something to do with discovering that she wasn't the only one in their relationship who had a boyfriend. Never understood that sort of thing myself ---- Not my sort of thing and never will be.

"I'm a good girl now. Haven't been to bed with a man for nearly three months now," she told me with a laugh. "Unlike my ex boyfriend."

You can probably imagine what the comment that she hadn't had a man in some months put in my mind, and with that exact thought, I asked her what she was doing the following day.

"Going out somewhere with you I expect," she retorted. "But we've got this evening to get through yet."

Well that seemed pretty promising to, so you can imagine my surprise when several hours, a shed full of drinks and a number of dances later, I found myself kissing her goodnight on her doorstep, and didn't even get invited in.

"I don't want to push this too quickly," Becky told me. "I've made that mistake too many times before."

"But it's me Becky," I protested. "It's not as if we're strangers you know."

"That's what I mean," she countered. "I know what you're like."

Then with a smile, she said goodnight to me, and closed the door behind her.

Gob smacked!

No sex for me that night, and I went home feeling sorry for myself.

----------------

The next day was a revelation for the two of us. Becky really had changed and had matured much as I had. By then she was working in a bank, was ambitious and doing very well, and had long since left her wild ways long behind her.

One date led to another, and before we knew it we were going steady, though to my surprise it took three weeks till she let me share her bed and her body. The years since I'd last tasted it hadn't done her body any harm, and her big tits were still as firm and delicious as they'd ever been.

We fell in love!

Oh blimey!

Maybe not so surprising after all, but Becky moved in with me, and less than a year later, we were married. Nigel was my best man, and got me back for the outrageous but true things that I'd told his guests at his nuptials. Of course he didn't tell all and sundry that he'd fucked Becky before I had, any more than I'd told his about Angie and me.

Then Becky got a great bonus the following Christmas, and we used that as a deposit on our first house, a sweet little two bedroomed starter house in the suburbs.

I really liked that house.

But Becky was ambitious, and as I said earlier, upwardly mobile like so my young professionals were at that time. Not that I wasn't ---- Just not to the same extent perhaps as she was. The starter home quite quickly didn't satisfy her, and she wanted something bigger and more 'suitable' to our emerging position.

Fair enough ---- though I was quite happy where we were, I could see her point, and it looked like a great investment in a rising market.

Besides, I loved her like a puppy dog, and if she'd wanted me to live in a tent in the bloody desert, I would probably have agreed.

It was about then that we heard that sadly, Nigel and Angie had split up and going for a divorce. Nigel rang me and told me that he vaguely suspected Angie had been having an affair with her boss, but her version was quite different, informing us that she'd walked in on him and the next-door neighbour with no clothes on.

Becky and I talked about it, and both of us agreed that Angie's story was by far the most believable. We were concerned about how we would maintain our friendship with the pair of them, but Nigel solved that by taking a job in Dubai, and except for the odd e-mail, I've never heard from since.

---------------------

Well, that about gets us back to where I started. Seems some time ago now doesn't it?

I had my job, but Becky was unemployed and we had a damn huge mortgage on our house hanging round our necks. Couldn't even sell the damn thing, as prices had plummeted and we were dipping into negative equity.

"Use your looks instead."

Angie's suggestion hung in the air like an elephant. I didn't like the sound of it, but in fairness my wife working behind some bar would have it's obvious advantages. Much as I loved my wife, and I did, I'd never been the jealous sort and the thought of a group of guys ogling my missus didn't really upset me.

Well, I was proud of her wasn't I?

She was gorgeous ---- damn beautiful --- even prettier than that first night I had met her.

"I'll take you along to the bar I work in Becky," offered Angie. "Nick, the manager will take one look at you and sack one of the other girls if he has to."

Lo and behold ----- so it came to pass!

Yes, Nick did like the look of my Becky, and whether he sacked someone else or not I don't know, but she started the following week.

She seemed to quite enjoy it, coming home late four or five nights a week; apparently making more money in tips than Nick paid her in wages. It was a bit worrying that Becky didn't want me to go and see her at the bar, claiming that Nick, the boss, didn't like husbands and boyfriends around, spoiling the image of his attractive bar staff.

That should have sent warning bells shouldn't it?

What to do?

Bugger him.

One evening coming home from work, and having had a few pints with my mates and knowing that Becky wouldn't be at home, I took a detour and found myself outside 'The Place'. Silly name I thought, but it was obviously busy, with people coming and going all the time.

Why not?

I gingerly slid in through the front door, and pushed my way through the packed bar to see if I could spot Becky.

Bloody hell!

It wasn't my wife that I saw first but one of the other girls, a neat little blonde with a nice rack, a saucy smile and good legs.

Till that point, it never occurred to me that the bar staff might be obliged to wear a uniform. Never even thought about it.

Totteringly tall high heels, tiny short shorts that showed her bum off, and a tee shirt that seemed to have had the bottom half cut right off. All long legs, bare tummy and more than a hint of upside down cleavage as it were ---- Quite a sight!

But where was Becky? Where was my wife?

There she was ----- Oh Gawd blimey!

The outfit she wore was exactly like the little blonde's that I'd just seen, except that it looked tighter and even smaller on my buxom wife.

Jesus ----- No wonder she raked in so many tips.

What a mixture of emotions!

Damn it, half of me was furiously jealous at the amount of flesh she was flashing, and part of me, yes ---- that part --- was excited at seeing her so exposed as that. In a moment of panic, I pondered on whether Becky's wild side had returned.

One of the clients patted her on the backside, and I held my breath as I waited for her to wallop him. But no! All she did was turn round to him and smile. She said something that I couldn't hear, but if it was a telling off of some sort, then neither of them were taking it too seriously.

Keeping myself hidden back in the throng, I then watched Becky as she flirted and joked with her customers as she served out the drinks, coquettishly wagging her finger at the odd guy who took too many liberties with his hands.

Now understand me, and understand me well!

I didn't mind guys looking. Damn it all, I loved it when Becky went topless on the beach in the summer!

But touching ---- groping, squeezing and all, was some thing else altogether.

I found myself gripping the back of chair to keep my anger in check.

What the bloody hell did my damn stupid wife think she was up to?

Is this what she did every night when she was at work?

Did she enjoy being touched up by all and sundry like that?

How far did she let them go?

What liberties did she allow them to take?

Then some bastard put his arm round her from behind and cupped Becky's breast and gave it a squeeze, as he leant forward and kissed her on the back of her neck.

What did she do? ----- Just laughed at him and casually patted his hand away as if it was of little consequence.

No bloody wonder that my damn wife didn't want me to see her at work!

I'd had enough, and pushed my way angrily forward, pushing the guy who was still getting a free feel of my wife's tit, away from her.

"Careful there mate," he shouted at me angrily. "Piss off and find your own tart."

"Oh God another drunk," I heard Becky yelling, not having realised who I was. "Quick, somebody call the ........"

At which point she looked me straight in the face, and realisation dawned.

"Oh my God Dick," she cried out in anguish, her eyes wide open in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing?" I screamed at her. "What the fuck do you think your doing?"

I didn't hear her answer. In fact I don't remember much more of that evening, though I do have a vague recollection of my fist connecting with some guy's chin.

I think I came second, or maybe even worse, and can vaguely remember being thrown out of the bar by some big bouncers, and then soon afterwards someone dragging me into the back of a taxi.

"You OK Dick?" the 'someone' was asking me, but at that point I wasn't sure of the answer. I had one eye that didn't want to open, and a hell of a pain in my shoulder.

Oh yes! And my fist hurt like hell as well --- But maybe that was a little more satisfying.

Peeping out of my one good eye, I found to my surprise, that the woman beside me was no one other than Angie, looking pretty hot in her sexy little outfit.

"What happened?" I asked my tending Angel. "Where the hell is Becky?"

"Don't worry Dick," she told me. "Settle down --- Becky is following us in your car."

Why was she following us in my car?

Why wasn't she in our taxi?

Better still --- why weren't we all in my car?

I think ---- I'm not too sure, but I think that I flipped out again a bit. I suspect that Angie should have taken me to some hospital or whatever, but we'd all had a good bevy, and none of us were thinking too straight. I ended up at my place ---- Our wonderful, bleeding, superb, bloody house!

Then I passed out, and I think that Angie had undressed me and put me to bed.

What the hell ---- She'd seen it all before, even if it had been a few years.

-------------

THE AFTERMATH

"What the bloody hell do you think you were doing you stupid bastard!"?

Nice way to be greeted on a Saturday morning, especially when you were sporting a sore head to end all others. I just looked up at her --- Becky that is ---- my wife.

"You stupid fucker Dick, you've got me the sack," she spat out at me, but my brain was taking some time to register the facts.

"Ah," I started to say, but without a great deal of success.

"Shut up you dummy," she responded. "You've ruined everything you stupid sod. I've lost a well paying job and now we're going to lose our house."

It was then that the events of the previous evening started to come back to me, and I felt my anger returning.

"I've ruined everything?" I queried. "What about you? What was I supposed to do when I saw that asshole feeling you up."

"That asshole as you call him was a good customer of mine you idiot," Becky spat back at me. "He was one of my biggest tippers."

"Oh I see," was my haughty reply. "So if they tip you well they get to feel your tits do they?"

"He didn't feel my tits," she squealed back at me.

"I saw him Becky," I replied angrily. "I watched him put his arm round you and give your tits a squeeze, and watched you as you did nothing to stop him."

"Oh that," my wife retorted, just a little taken back. "That was nothing ---- Just one of the gang having a bit of fun with me, that's all."

"A bit of fun! ------ A bit of fun! Letting guys in pubs play with your boobs is just a bit of fun is it?"

"Dick," Becky cried, her voice now full of emotion. "You're getting it all out of proportion. If us girls wanted to get good tips, then we had to accept a bit of messing about. Why the hell do you think we were dressed up like that for Christ's sake? It didn't do you any harm ---- You haven't lost anything."

We glared at one another angrily; both probably worried about saying too much and going over the top.

I was angry --- hurt --- disappointed in my wife. But I didn't want this incident to end our marriage. It was stupid of her maybe, but it wasn't that serious, and I was obviously pushing her into a corner.

It was a corner that neither of us wanted to end up stuck in.

"Well I got the push anyway Dick," she said at last in a far more controlled tone. "I'm sorry if what you saw upset you. Maybe I shouldn't have let them get so familiar, and I won't be going back there anyway."

Quick decision!

I guess that was about as near as I was going to get to an apology, or an admission that she was in the wrong.

I could have pushed it ----- I could have continued the argument, but at that moment in time I was still sore from my brawl from the night before, and didn't feel up to it.

We dropped the subject, and Becky laid down beside me and gave me a careful and loving cuddle. We kissed a bit, and played around a bit, and it was lunchtime before we eventually managed to get up and dressed.

-------------

Two or three more weeks went by without Becky finding another job, other than the odd bit of babysitting, which hardly helped at all. She'd had a few offers but they were very much in line with the previous one and each of them I vetoed.

Then came the letter from the solicitor!

'On behalf of Mid Shires building Society ............. '

And so it went on!

We had just ten days to make a substantial payment on the house, or we really were on the point of losing it.

I expected Becky to cry, and to carry on the way that she had when we'd received the previous warning.

But she didn't!

She simply sat there silently deep in thought, virtually excluding me from her ponderings. After a while, Becky stood up and walked out of the room and I heard the telephone 'DING' as she picked it up in the other room.

Who she was calling I did not know, but I simply couldn't see any way that we could conjure up the three thousand pounds they were demanding.

When Becky came back into the room she had a solemn expression on her face, and her whole demeanour was serious.

"I can't think of any way we can raise the money sweetheart," I told her. "Not that much in so short a time."

"I can," she shocked me with. "I know a way."

My mind ran riot, trying to imagine a way out of our dilemma.

A loan?

Sell the family silver that we didn't have anyway?

Rob a bank?

No ----- Personally, I couldn't see any way out ----- Just no way ----- Our house was on the line.

"You might not like it Dick," she graciously informed me. "But at least listen me out."

That meant, I knew straight away, that I wasn't going to like it.

"No going back to work in any of those sex bloody bars," I exclaimed, full of pent up frustration. House or not, there was no bloody way that me wife, my love, was going to disport her half naked body to a group of half drunken louts.

"Not that Dick," she informed me quietly. "It's what Angie's been doing since she left 'The Place'."

I hadn't even known that Angie wasn't working at the bar any more. And had no idea whatsoever what she was now doing.

"What's that then?" I asked her, genuinely wanting to know.

"Well Dick, I don't want you to get the wrong idea," Becky continued. "Don't jump to any silly conclusions."

"I won't," I said. "What's she doing?"

"If I tell you, then let me explain before you blow your top," my wife told me, which was disconcerting to say the least.

"Just tell me."

Promise you won't get upset."

"I promise."

My wife swallowed deeply, sighed, and took a big breath. Did wonders for her tits but I was just about beyond noticing.

"You might not like it."

"Just tell me for Christ's sake."

"She goes on dates," she spurted out, and then pulled a face, waiting for my reaction.

"Dates? What do you mean, she goes on dates?"

What the bloody hell was this?

"Now don't get upset Dick," she calmed me. "There's no sex involved, nothing like that. Angie just goes out to dinner and things with lonely businessmen who are on their own in town over night."

"Lonely business men!" I nearly screamed at her. "Are you telling me that Angie is working as a bloody prostitute?"

"No No No," she screamed back. "Listen to me you bloody idiot. She goes on dates and that's all. There's no sex, no touching, no nothing! She simply keeps lonely men company for the evening. They just take her out to dinner. Maybe dance with her at the most ---- But that's all. I promise you Dick that's all."

"What sort of men," I demanded, my mind in a twirl. "How does she find them?"

"She works for an agency Dick," my good wife went on. "They're mainly older guys in their fifties or whatever. She tells me they are mostly really well off --- They'd have to be for what the agency charges."

"An escort girl you mean," I blurted out, as I caught on what she was on about. "Angie works as an escort????? She has sex with lonely clients?"

"Don't say that!" Becky rounded on me. "Listen to me will you? Some escorts may do the sex thing, but Angie just does dinner dates."

"And men pay for that?" I queried, my head spinning. "Men pay a woman just to go out to dinner with them?"

"They do Dick," she replied. "And they pay a lot of money if you are pretty enough. They just enjoy the company of pretty, intelligent, elegant women when they are away from home."

"How much do they pay?"

I really and truly shouldn't have even asked that question, but having done so, was astounded by the figures she quoted me.

"Bugger me," I responded. "They must be rich."

"They are Dick. They are."

Having taken in quite what Angie had been up to since the last time I'd seen her, the fact that my wife, the woman who I loved was proposing to do exactly the same thing gradually filtered through my overloaded brain.

"No Becky," I told her. "No bloody way. There's no way I'm letting you go off on dates with other men, no matter how rich they are."

"But we'll lose the house honey," Becky pleaded. "It'll just be a couple of evenings a week for a month or so. Till we get back on our feet."

"No Becky," I told her firmly. "Absolutely not! My wife doesn't go out on dates with anyone, rich or not, old or not."