Over the following week, I was somewhat troubled by what Penny had said which, on the face of it, was precisely nothing.

She was never coy, never afraid to speak her mind and yet here she was, seemingly hinting that something wasn't all it appeared but was afraid to speak of it.

Since I had hit the nadir of my life I had been working so hard to be the loving wife that Philip wanted without being someone that he didn't know.

I would never be controlled by him but at the same time, I would not control him either.

The trouble was that Sam was always there, in the back of mind and the harder I tried to shut her out, the more persistent her memory became.

Philip was right, a complete break was just what we needed and Venice was just the place to clear away all the driftwood that was cluttering my mind.

Friday night and I got home from work a little later than usual. The traffic had been a nightmare and the journey that normally took an hour stretched to two and a half.

When I walked through the door, Philip was waiting in the kitchen and he was not happy.

“Ah, you're home at last,” he said with a heavy hint of sarcasm.

“Yes, the traffic was awful!” I answered. “An accident on the motorway.”

His eyes narrowed.

“But you don't use the motorway.”

“No, I don't,” I agreed, a little confused at his demeanour. “The motorway was closed and I suppose that the other roads couldn't cope with the extra traffic.”

“Maybe so but there has been nothing on the radio about it.”

“Do you listen to the traffic reports?” I queried as I was beginning to get angry. It was as though he didn't believe me.

“No but I have had the news on and there was nothing on it.”

I really didn't like his tone.

“Besides,” he continued, “The dinner is ruined!”

“To hell with the dinner!” I stormed. “What are you accusing me of? The traffic reports have been churning out warnings constantly since about five-thirty!”

Suddenly he took an envelope his pocket and held it out to me.

“This came for you.”

I took it from him and studied it.

It was a plain white envelope with the address hand written in blue ball pen in an unmistakably female hand and had a single, second class stamp.

My heart sank and began to pound uncontrollably. I must have blushed as I could feel my cheeks burning.

Philip stared at me with undisguised impatience.

“It's from her isn't it?” he said sharply. “It came this afternoon, long after the other post!”

So that was it, I thought, that was why he was so angry about me being late!

With a trembling hand, I took the letter opener from the shelf and inserted the tip under the flap, quickly slicing through the folded paper, all the time I could feel his eyes burning into me.

The tension was palpable and as the blade cut through the final inch it caught then freed. The opener flew from my hand and clattered onto the floor. I left it where it lay.

The paper inside was plain white and folded to fit. My trembling hands struggled to withdraw it.

Immediately I breathed a sigh of relief, in the top right hand corner, in big blue letters, 'NHS'!

I unfolded it and read its contents and, almost unnoticed in the background I heard the newsreader announce,

“Breaking news. Rush hour traffic chaos as motorway is closed after accident involving six cars and two lorries...”

Philip suddenly turned towards the screen and stared at it as pictures of the carnage were broadcast along with helicopter shots of the miles long tailbacks and jams on the surrounding roads.

“... the situation was exacerbated by a serious of minor collisions as drivers impatient to get home...” the newsreader continued.

I lowered the letter and stared at him as he turned back to face me looking very sheepish.

He looked down at the crumpled paper in my hand, the blue lettering clearly visible.

“Is this how it will be then?” I asked quietly. “Will you never trust me again?”

“Anna... I...” he struggled to find the words.

I just stood and looked at him, my own anger fading. How could I be angry with him? There was no-one to blame but myself.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered at last, “I thought... well, you know, the letter and you being so late...”

“No, it is me who should apologise. Maybe you will never trust me.”

“I do try,” he replied, taking my hand, “I really do but sometimes...”

I put my finger to his lips.

“Sshhh...” I whispered, not daring to admit, even to myself that I thought the letter was from Sam too. “Shall we see what we can do with dinner?”

The truth was, I had suddenly lost my appetite but I really had to be strong and pretend at least that things were all right but deep inside I could not be certain.

“So what was the letter?” Philip asked hesitantly as he pulled the rather dry looking shepherds pie from the oven.

“A Physio appointment for my ankle,” I told him, “I think this will be all right with a little gravy,” I continued, flicking the kettle switch to on.

“Oh no! Don't tell me, next week?” he groaned.

I laughed.

“No, don't worry. It's not for three weeks yet.”

The dinner did turn out all right. It hadn't dried out too much and the gravy was enough to make it a delicious meal.

As we ate, Philip didn't mention the argument again and I shovelled the last morsel into my mouth.

“You know,” I began, dabbing my mouth with a napkin and leaning back in my chair, “that was really tasty.”

Philip smiled but said nothing. I could see he was still churning things over in his mind.

“I do understand, Philip,” I said, trying to ease his mind, “I can't expect everything to be perfect, not yet anyway.”

“Suppose I never trust you?” he asked sadly. “Can we really live that way?”

“Never say never,” I replied, using the old cliché. “All we can do is try.”

The rest of the evening, such as it was after the washing up was done, we spent finishing the packing.

I pulled out my lingerie drawer and selected a few items, packing them neatly into my case, we had one each, and then I noticed a flash of blue at the bottom of the drawer.

It was the set I had bought in Birmingham and as I took out the matching bra and Brazilian panties my mind was suddenly filled with a myriad of images.

I thought of the assistant who had given me such an intense orgasm in the fitting room and of the day at Penny's when I had the most wonderful time with Sam.

Would it be a good idea to take them with me along with the blue stockings?

My mind wrestled with the idea but then I returned them to the drawer and hid them once more at the bottom. Once I would have loved to wear such underwear for Philip but now? This set? No.

The memories and desires it rekindled were too strong and I resolved that when we returned I would destroy them and erase the memories but... I doubted that I could.

That night I slept fitfully, continuously disturbed by dreams.

Once more I was back in the changing room in Birmingham, dressed only in the blue ensemble.

I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a sad, frightened face staring back at me.

Suddenly, the curtain was drawn back and the shop assistant appeared.

“Suits you,” she said. “Very nice indeed.”

“Erm, thank you,” I replied with more than a little uncertainty and aware that I was now visible to the whole shop!

She turned to face the customers.

“Isn't she stunning?” she asked them.

One stepped forward from the group of about ten women who were now standing in front of the open cubicle.

“Beautiful,” she said, moving towards me and eyeing me up and down.

“Sam?” I said, recognising her. “What are you doing?”

“Admiring you,” she said and then turned back to the group. “She is stunning isn't she?”

Another customer stepped forwards.

“One in a million,” she said as she began to stroke my face with the back of her fingertips.

“Penny? Wh... what...?” I stammered but a familiar tingle was starting to rise from my lower body.

I felt hands begin to caress my body, unknown hands belonging to familiar but unknown faces.

“So soft,” one said as she gently squeezed my breast, the waitress from my usual coffee shop.

Fingers explored between my legs, pressing the silky fabric against my sex,

I stared wildly about, looking for something but not knowing what. The faces had all become strangers and their hands were wandering all over my body now, inside my pants, fingers exploring my most intimate places.

I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the sensations they were producing, the soft fabric slipping slowly down my legs, breasts suddenly freed from their restraints, mouths kissing every inch of my flesh and tongues sliding between my buttocks and labia.

“What the hell is this?”

I jumped, startled and afraid, suddenly alone.

“Philip! I... I...”

I looked about, naked and cold, shivering in fear and trying to cover myself with my arms and hands.

The shop had gone and there was just a dazzling bright white.

My husband was as naked as I was, his solid member standing stiffly out from his loins.

He grabbed my arms and pulled them away from my body.

“Don't cover yourself!” he demanded forcefully, “Not from me!”

I remained silent, allowing him to control me and he dragged me towards a huge bed in the middle of this undefined room.

Without any warning he threw me onto it, face down and then grabbed my legs, parting them forcefully with one swift movement.

Oh my Lord I was so wet now and I made no protest as I felt his fingers ram into my soaking entrance.

How many I could not tell. Two? Three perhaps?

He pushed deep and I could tell that, with his free hand, he was stroking his rigid member.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers to be replaced instantly with his tongue, hot and wet between my thighs.

I felt myself being opened roughly, stretched and exposed, my opening wide and accepting as his tongue pushed inside, slurping and sucking as my juices flowed into his mouth, covering his lips and chin.

His strong hands were on my buttocks, parting them, opening me in every way, every part of me on view to him, stretched and willing, wanting, nay needing the attention of his insistently flickering tongue and hot lips.

Again, he stopped as suddenly as he had started and I felt strong arms around my waist, pulling my hips up off the soft bed, my knees spread wide apart and then he was inside me. He gave me no warning but just rammed roughly into me.

I gasped with pleasure and just a little pain as his penis seemed to swell inside me, stretching me as he pumped hard against me, thrusting with all his strength

I knew that if he continued in this way my orgasm would not be far away and already I could feel my abdominal muscles contracting and fluttering.

Then I cried out with another kind of pain as his finger pushed roughly and unexpectedly through the tight ring of my anus, past any resistance the contracted muscle may have offered.

He was not gentle as he forced his way painfully inside but the sensation of being violated in such a manner was enough to tip me over the edge and my orgasm tore through me causing me not just to cry out but to scream with the intense pleasure and pain!

I opened my eyes to find the room still in darkness. Philip was beside me, breathing gently in a peaceful sleep.

The disappointment was unbearable and I lay back against the pillow breathing heavily and slowly coming to terms with the fact that although so real, it had been just a dream.

The one thing I realised now was that I knew, deep in my heart that the reason I had strayed from my husband was that he was not strong. My own character was independent and controlling, a typical Scorpion and I needed him to be the same, to take charge sometimes instead of just letting me do everything and him happy to go along with it.

I realised now that Sam had been an escape, an attempt, although subconscious, to break out, to rebel and it had been a huge mistake because it had only made the problem ten times worse.

As these thoughts spun around in my mind I tried desperately to go back to sleep but sleep was not so easily captured.

My heart almost stopped when the alarm began it's relentless scream so I must have found sleep again.

I struck out violently, knocking it onto the floor just out of reach.

“For goodness sake, shut up!” my mind yelled at it as the sound echoed around inside my skull.

Eventually, my reaching fingers located and silenced it, much to my relief and I placed it more gently upon the bedside table. My heart pounded on for a few more minutes as I lay still.

“What time is it?” the sleepy voice beside me asked.

“Five!” I snapped, partly due to tiredness but also due to the dream, remnants of which still lingered in my head.

Philip threw back the quilt and jumped breezily from the bed.

“I'll get the kettle on whilst you wash your hair,” he chirped brightly as he slid his feet into his slippers and pulled his robe around him.

“Strong and black!” came my moody answer.

I pulled the quilt back up over my head as he disappeared through the door put then pushed it completely off.

“Sod it!” I thought, swinging my legs over the bed side and sitting up.

I sat for a moment with my head in my hands. If there was one thing guaranteed to make me grumpy it was a lack of sleep.

A shower soon washed away some of my bad mood and by the time I had dried myself off and cleaned the shower, Philip had reappeared with the tea tray.

“I'm sorry,” I said to him, “I didn't sleep well so I was tired.”

Not that it was much of an explanation but he accepted my apology, such as it was.

“Don't worry,” he said, “This time tomorrow you will be waking up in Italy.”

I stared at him.

“Not so early I hope!”

“All right,” he agreed, “Maybe not this exact time!” and smiled warmly.

Seeing him so happy just melted my heart and I leaned my head against his shoulder and rubbed his upper arm.

As planned, we arrived at the station on time to stroll through to the platform.

Philip had booked us on the nine forty-five to Kings Cross and we had almost twenty minutes find it and board.

We got out of the taxi at the front entrance and the doors slid open as we approached.

I suddenly realised that this was the first time I had been here since that fateful trip back in February and my feet became like lead weights, each step becoming an effort.

“Are you all right, Sweetheart?” Philip asked me, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Erm, yes,” I replied slowly, “Sorry, it's just that I haven't been here since I fell and broke my ankle.”

“Oh yes, of course. I had forgotten,” he replied and I wondered whether he was thinking the same thing that I was, that it was also where my fall from grace had begun.

I was determined that this time, I would not slip again, either physically or sexually.

One legacy of that slip was that I was not yet able to wear heels and still needed the aid of a stick until my ankle was back to full strength and so, I walked slowly. Soon though, we passed the spot where I had lain in agony and I could see it as clearly as though it were now.

I walked a little quicker, not wanting to spend a moment longer than necessary in this awful place.

We passed through the barrier without delay, Philip scanning the 'e-tickets' successfully for us both and we found the train already in the platform.

It was not the platform where I had first met Sam but it may as well have been as her image was as clear as day in my mind.

I followed Philip blindly towards the front of the train but then noticed something written on the carriage doors.

“Hang on,” I called to him. “Did you reserve seats or are we just taking pot luck?”

He stopped and turned to me, a big grin across his face.

“Of course I reserved seats,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye. “You don't think I am taking any chances with this trip do you?”

“Oh, all right only I think you are walking the wrong way, these are the first class coaches.”

“Oh yes!” he exclaimed, “So they are. We had better get on board and look for our seats then. We don't want to get left behind.”

In his usually gentlemanly manner, Philip helped me up the step and then followed with our cases.

There was a handful of passengers in the carriage, all looking very smart, even businesslike even though it was a Saturday morning.

They didn't look up as we passed through so I headed onwards towards the end of this spacious carriage and the more familiar surrounding of standard class.

“Hey, not so fast,” Philip called, “These are our seats!”

I stopped and went back to him, still standing in the middle of the carriage.

“Philip!” I hissed, “This is First Class! Don't embarrass me by making jokes in front of these people!”

“I'm not making jokes,” he smiled brightly, “These are our seats!”

I stared at him incredulously but he really was not joking because he had already put the cases into the luggage rack and was waiting for me to sit in the seat he had indicated.

The seats were two singles facing each other across a small table and I sat in the wide leather seat.

Once comfortable I leaned towards him and whispered quietly, not wanting any of the other passengers to hear me.

“This must have cost an arm and a leg!”

Again he smiled,

“They were expensive, yes,” he agreed, “But being a weekend and booked in advance, were not too bad.”

He paused for a moment, just looking into my eyes.

“I wanted this to be special,” he said finally, “A new start for us. We never had a honeymoon when we got married so I thought this could be it.”

he took my hand in his.

“I love you, Anna,” he went on, more seriously, “I want you more than anything, more than life itself and I will do anything to keep you.”

My eyes began to well up with his sincerity.

“You haven't paid for first class air fares too, have you?” I asked him slowly.

He laughed.

“No, I am afraid that was just a little beyond me but the good thing is that we get to have breakfast on here, whatever you want... It's all included in the ticket!”

Slowly at first, and almost imperceptibly, the train began to move giving the sensation that it was the station that was moving away from the train.

I blinked and stared as we passed the escalators up to the overbridge, a familiar face looking about as if searching for something... or someone.

It couldn't be!

Sam?