Julie said goodbye to Laura on the steps of the hotel and watched the motorbike roll away into the traffic. She picked up her phone and dialled home.

"Anthony darling, how did it go?"

"We won."

"Great. I thought you must have. I just had a text from Angela, she didn't say exactly, but she wants to meet. I hope your people looked after her."

The lie came easily, so easily that she caught her breath. There was silence on the other end.

"Anthony?"

"I'm not sure what happened, love, I got caught up in all the mêlée afterwards, I don't know where Angela went."

"Oh… um… well, I'd better get over to the hotel and find her. I hope she's not in a state."

"Would she be?"

"It's a big stress. What came out? She was worried."

"The prosecution got at her a little."

"How?"

"Asked her at one point the difference between what she did and a common prostitute."

"She's not going to like that. Will it get into the papers?"

"It might."

"She was worried about some detective."

"He won't be worrying her. I've fixed that. I think he might be moving out of town."

"Really?"

"His superiors will be having a word with him, if you know what I mean, they will be pointing out his lack of judgement and failure to do his homework. Angela had a video that he should have known about. Wasted everyone's time. I think someone is going to point out to him that the prosecutors are never going to trust his evidence in the future. He'll leave town."

Julie smiled, thought for a moment about asking more but then abandoned the idea.

"I'll call you when I've found Angela." She hung up and left it at that. She'd have to think before she called again. He sounded a little off, hesitant, worried. He ought to be buzzing, he'd just won the case. Did he suspect?

-  -  -  -

Laura weaving through the traffic made an effort to concentrate on the road. Her mind was buzzing, she needed to think. Once through the worst of the slow-moving vehicles, she pulled over to a cafe, parked the bike and sat nursing a black coffee.
 
Pulling that bondage stunt was stupid; letting her ego run away with her, showing off. There was something Angela was going to say, some secret and she’d run away from it, bottled it, but what could it be?

Why did Angela say that Julie wouldn’t mind about Anthony? Was that the secret? Did Angela have something going with Anthony? No, no way he couldn’t have pulled that performance today if they’d been lovers. Did Angela know that Anthony screwed around… did he? Maybe Julie did?

Was there any way to find out? What if she called, not a phone call— what could she tell from that? Go there knock on the door, see what happened. Not tonight–—he'll be celebrating with Julie, bound to be––why would he even let her in——but maybe he would, or they would. She could say she was worried about Angela

She looked at her watch; she was half an hour away from the house. Too soon. She read the menu, not exactly gourmet food. Scrambled eggs were on offer all day. That would do, finish the coffee, order, wait for the food, eat slowly.

What if Julie wasn’t there? God, this was complicated. Should she come on to Anthony? Did Angela give her permission? Damn near but it couldn't be up to Angela could it. It felt like that but was it a trick? What was the worst that could happen? She might get fired, probably would get fired.

 Would Angela give her a job? Doing that kind of psycho-whoring with Angela? The thought crashed around in her head and unlocked something. That would be so hot.

-  -  -  -

Anthony put the phone down, cursing under his breath. why didn't he think about Angela? Because he was obsessed with making up to Julie.

"Idiot," he said to the coffee machine. "And you too," now addressing the flowers, looking like a wedding bouquet on the counter. Two bouquets really, a deliberate extravagance now given pride of place on the dining room table where Julie was bound to see them.

Serves me right, he thought. I'm completely out of practice. I don't even know if she likes those flowers. Will they last till tomorrow?

He fired up Google, feeling vaguely foolish hunting around gardening sites but was relieved to find that the blooms should be good for a day or two. He'd take tomorrow off; with the case finished early there was no problem. Julie wouldn't stay in town another day. If she wanted to, he'd tell her to bring Angela with her. Maybe he should do that now; she still hadn't phoned, but there was something in her voice, a hint; somehow he knew she'd stay in town.

Should he rush up to town? He looked at the clock. Hell, by the time he'd gotten there it would be past nine, they'd be bound to be eating somewhere, he'd never find them. He glanced at the whisky glass. He'd had too much to drink anyway, he'd have to get a taxi and then a train and he had no idea of the timetable this time of day.

He tried calling Julie's phone but it went to voicemail. Damn. How did he get in this mess? Worse still, he realised that he was feeling horny. Now that the adrenaline from the court had washed out of his system his mind was full of making up to Julie. He wanted her, he'd been looking forward to this in every spare minute all day and she wasn't here.

The doorbell rang. It couldn't be Julie, she had a key. Who the hell could it be? He swung the door open and stepped back in surprise seeing the leather-clad figure in front of him. This time there was no question who it was, she was clutching her crash helmet, her blond hair cascading over her leather clad shoulders.

"Can I come in," she said.

"Sure, sure. To what do I owe the honour?"

"I was worried about Angela," she said, lying through her teeth but managing a straight face. "She took off after the court and seemed upset. I tried to catch up with her but missed her. I thought I ought to tell someone, or at least check up but with the office closed the only thing I could do was run over here."

"Julie is going to meet Angela. She phoned."

"Is Angela okay?"

"I don't know, Julie hasn't called back yet."

Laura closed the door behind her. "Any chance of a drink?"

"Yes, of course, come through."

"Hey, those are great flowers."

"I was kind of celebrating, you know, because we won."

He hesitated a moment. "I kind of felt guilty too, Julie had to run around the place keeping Angela's spirits up and all for my case. I thought I had to do something — a bit of a waste really, she's not here and celebrating on your own is no fun."

"Is she not coming home?"

"She called an hour ago, said she was looking for Angela, thought she needed looking after. Like we should have. It's all my fault, I'm obsessed with my work, I arrive home exhausted and either carry on working or veg out. It's not surprising Julie thinks I wouldn't mind if she looked after Angela. All my fault."

"But she hasn't phoned yet?"

"She will."

Laura smiled inwardly. "What would you bet?" Their eyes met for a moment. "I'll tell you what," she said. "If you're right I'll let you see what's under my leathers."

"You really think she won't stay with Angela?"

"She's your wife, she knows you've had a hard day."

"You're on, but you'll have to stay until she rings. You could be here all night."

"Okay, I'll tell you what. If she doesn't ring in the next half hour, and if she doesn't say she's coming home, then I lose. How's that?"

"You're on, but for now I'll bring you a drink out in the garden while I finish cooking supper."

Laura was led out to the garden and settled into a comfortable bower seat surrounded by the scent of jasmine. Anthony appeared a minute later with a glass of wine, still looking glum.

"Is there any chance, um, depending on the phone call, that you could stay to eat? I'm gonna feel pretty flat if she doesn't come and I've got food for two, actually food for three because I thought she might bring Angela."

"So I could stay either way?"

"Well yes, I guess."

"Unless she brings Angela."

The phone rang and Anthony dashed inside. Laura sat for a moment thinking. As they'd walked through the house she'd caught sight of a portrait on the wall. It looked like Angela, but Anthony hadn't met Angela until today, so it must be Julie. They could pass for each other’s double she thought. She slipped into the kitchen to listen and get another look at the picture.

"Hi love, how's it going?"

"Yes, well, yes, I guess. What time tomorrow? I'm off for the day because the case is finished, so, well, if you could get home."

"Well yes, it would be nice. I was kind of hoping..."

"Well because I've been neglecting you, I thought we could..."

"Okay, yes. Yes... I'll be fine."

He put the phone down and turned to Laura. "I win it seems."

"That's kind of embarrassing."

"Why? Did you think you'd win?"

"It's more to do with what I'm wearing, or not wearing really."

"I'm all agog."

Laura peeled off her leather jacket to reveal the corset she'd been wearing at Angela's studio.

"That looks incredible, where did you get it?"

"A friend gave it to me."

"A guy?"

"No," she said. "A woman friend."

"She has good taste."

"Taste?"

"Hell yeah. It's very sexy but it's more suggestive than actually revealing."

"That part isn't the problem." She unzipped her trousers and dropped them to the ground, kicking them to one side and revealing that whatever might be said about the corset the lack of panties was, plain and simple, revealing.

"Well, that's tasteful too."

"You like a shaved pussy?"

"It's neat, clean and, well, um as good as any I've seen. Actually better than most."

"Thank you. That was a compliment wasn't it?"

"It was."

"I didn't come here to seduce you or anything, I really did come because I was worried about Angela."

But she did say Julie wouldn't mind if I did seduce you, she thought, and Julie looks so much like Angela... and she had a secret...

"We should eat," Anthony said. "The food's done, Julie isn't coming home. After a visual treat like that the least I can do is feed you."

"My lack of underwear doesn't bother you?"

Anthony suppressed a laugh. "I guess it depends on what you mean by bother. One can't un-see what has been seen, so in that sense, it is too late to worry about."

"You mean every time you see me, no matter what I'm wearing…"

"I'll know what's underneath - yeah, I guess."

"So no more seductive mystery."

"No more mystery," said Anthony, warming to the game, "but as for seductive, that's another thing altogether. Can we skip the banter for a minute and eat?"

"What are we eating?"

"Beef chill with rice and cornbread with a rather nice rosé, followed by strawberries and champagne."

"Sounds good, spicy but quick and practical. Isn't beef chill supposed to be erotic or seductive or something like that?"

"Got it in one. It was kind of make-up food. I neglect Julie because I work too much. I wanted to turn over a new leaf."

"Should I go? Well, after the food maybe. I'd hate to tempt you too much."

Anthony seemed to try to avoid looking at her and when she moved to help him set out the table he managed a wan smile. He stepped back to the stove and inspected the rice, pulled open the oven and took out the bread.

"At least I haven't screwed up dinner."

"Look," she said. "Let's not skip around it. I fancy you, I'm swanning around your house with no panties on. If I hang around we'll end up fucking. I'll enjoy that and I promise you will. I think it will buck up your confidence and it'll probably make you feel a bit guilty so you'll try even harder with Julie. It's a win-win."

For a second he put the oven gloves down and dared to look at her. "I knew you were dangerous the first time I saw you."

She stepped across to him and wrapped her arms around him.

"Have you ever eaten chilli nude?" he said.

"No. Isn't it dangerous?"

"Not unless you spill your food a lot."

"Then it won't be dangerous," She laughed, enjoying the banter. "Are you very susceptible to aphrodisiacs?"

"I wouldn't know about that. Are you?"

"Oh yes, very, very susceptible,” she said. “If anything happens I’ll blame it on the food."

"Sit," he said, pointing to a chair. He ladled rice into a couple of bowls and spooned chilli over the rice. He chopped the cornbread and moved the whole lot to the dining table.

When she was seated he stood beside her and filled a spoon, lifting it to her lips and watching as she wrapped her mouth around it.

"Well?"

"Awesome chilli."

He gave her another mouthful and as she swallowed she reached for his belt, flipping it undone and unzipping to drop his pants, pulling his boxers down in another movement.

"Oh, yes," she said. "If I swallow that now how do you think it would be."

"Hot," he said, but don't do it yet."

She took his cock in her hand, gently working it to enough hardness to stand on its own.

"Would Julie do this for you?"

"Oh, I think so," he said. "She's not the problem, if she was dressed like you right now I'd probably have my head full of a case and then probably watch some trash crime TV; that's the problem."

"So why are you taking notice of me?"

"I wish I knew," he said, pulling away and sitting at the table. He pulled his bowl across and started eating.

"You need practice," she said. "It's as simple as that. You should practice on me."

She looked at him, sliding another spoonful into her open mouth, wrapping her tongue around the base of the spoon as wantonly as she knew how. "Seriously, I'm not trying to steal you from her."

"You don't know her. Why would you care?"

"I care because I want to be me, and I don't steal husbands — I'll fuck them, that's fun, but I won't steal them. I like husbands, they know what they're doing and there's no obligation. Anyway, I've heard Julie on the phone, I've talked to Angela about her, I think I get her."

"How many husbands have you… um…"

"Fucked. Say it."

"How many husbands have you fucked?"

She giggled. "That's my secret. This isn't like a job where you list your experience on your CV. The principles would be the same if it was one or a hundred."

"But their reasons might be different."

"Oh, sure, that's true. Some want to know if they've still got it. Some want a springboard, you know, out of whatever."

"Do you get caught by the wives?"

"Mostly no, but some find out. Maybe its pictures on a phone, stains on a bed sheet. I don't care. If the husband leaves his wife then it's off. I tell them that, I always tell them that."

"What if the wife liked it that way. Some wives like their husband having a mistress, it gets all that messy sex out of the way and they can get on with their lives."

"I haven't met one of those. I did get off with the wife once — that was fun. He was pissed off. She was great."

Anthony relapsed into silence as he slowly ate his chilli.

"Deep thoughts?" she said.

"Thoughts — not sure about deep. Are you ready for strawberries?"

"There's only one way you should eat strawberries if you need cheering up. You go fetch them and I'll get ready."

Anthony, looking a little puzzled strolled to the kitchen and took the strawberries out of the fridge. Sitting close by was a cream dispenser fuelled up with a pint of cream and a new gas cartridge. Last on the tray was a sugar shaker full of caster sugar. He flipped the cork from a bottle of champagne and filled two flutes.

Back in the dining room, Laura wriggled out of her corset, quickly moved everything off the table and laid herself on it, legs spread and smiling by the time he came back.

"Ah, I see," he said.

"It would be best if you could tie me down, scatter the berries where ever you like and eat them off me and feed me at the same time."

"Why the bondage?"

"I want to give you a treat. I'll enjoy being the treat, you can do what you like, eat suck, fuck, whatever, or nothing at all, leave me here like a piece of art if you like."

Anthony slowly removed his shirt, his eyes never leaving her, questioning, thoughtful.

"You imagine the ropes, I don't think I can cope with being that masterful."

"I prefer it."

"Yeah but it's my treat you said, so if it makes me feel weird…"

She spread her legs, sliding down the table until her knees could bend.

Hesitantly, Anthony began placing strawberries on her stomach, working outwards and downwards from the navel until a few dozen berries made a heart she with the pointed tip hovering over her pussy and the dip in the top in her navel. He scattered fine sugar over them and then set about covering the spaces with whipped cream. After a few minutes, he stood back.

"Take a picture," she said. "I can't see properly."

"I can do better than that, hang on a couple of secs."

Anthony dashed out of the room and returned with a laptop and a webcam. A few clicks later the picture was on the big TV.

"How's that?"

"Record it in case I want to see it again."

"Incriminating evidence?"

"You're a lawyer, it should be safe with you."

Anthony hit the record button.

"I don't think I can eat that many."

"You're supposed to feed me my half."

"Oh, right," he said, looking relieved. He picked up a strawberry and dipped it in cream and held it to her lips.

"Not like that," she said with a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. "With your lips."

He ate the berry he was holding and took a sip of champagne before leaning over her and sucking a berry from the outside of the heart outline then reaching further across he managed to dip it in sugar and cream, getting some of each spread across his lips. He eased himself across her mouth and kissed her open lips, managing to drop the berry in the right place but covering her lips and chin.

Her tongue reached out and licked his lips clean.

"Clean me up." He dutifully licked her lips and chin until normality was restored.

"See," she said. "Fun, isn't it?"

"Open wide." He dribbled a little champagne into her open mouth.

However hard he practised, every strawberry was equally messy and each seemed to require more champagne to wash it down so by the time most of them were gone they were both getting drunk.

She sat up to look at the remaining mess on her belly.

"I'm surprised at you," she said.

"Why, what did I do wrong now?"

"I thought a few berries might find their way further down, or at least some cream." She reached over and grabbed the cream squirter and before he could move she had put her finger into her pussy, positioned the spray nozzle and hit the button. There was a messy sound and an instant later a mass of cream where once there had been a neatly shaved vagina.

"Lick it out." Her voice this time had a stern edge to it.

"Is that an order?"

"It is," she said, the friendly soft giggle reappearing.

He knelt at the foot of the table and began to work, while she finished another glass of champagne.

-  -  -  -

In her hotel room, Julie stood naked in front of the mirror. Marion smiled at what she could see.

"How long ago?"

"Less than an hour. I called you straight away. What do you think."

"Some folk would be proud of them."

"Yeah, yeah, and maybe I am but how do I get rid of them fast."

"Ice bath first and the Arnica I think. I can do your hair again once the cream is on."

Marion set the bath running filling it with cold water.

"Give yourself a normal shower to cleanse everything and I'll get the ice. I think I saw a machine down the corridor.

Two minutes later she was back with a bucket full of ice cubes as Julie tentatively stepped into the water.

"Shit, it's cold."

"That's the idea. It stops it swelling, gives the bloodstream a better chance to clear away the nasties that come out in the bruise."

"You're a doctor now?"

"I read it somewhere. Do you mind if I strip, you might splash."

"I'm not in a position to argue am I?"

"There's etiquette darling, some of us have standards. Of course, if you're going to take up being a masochist you need to practice. Lie down in the bath, face down, it's your tits we're treating."

"I thought a sauna would be good, doesn't that do the same thing?"

"It might but they don't have a nude sauna here. Get in the ice. If we had both available I'd have you jumping from one to the other. Maybe you should install one at home."

"I wasn't planning this as a regular activity."

"Maybe worth a thought... perhaps at your studio, I'd be a regular for sure"

Julie plunged herself flat into the bath and let out a muffled scream, followed by a sharp intake of breath as the ice cubes were dumped all over her. Marion reached into the bath and swished the cubes off Julie's back then held her shoulders to make sure her head was above water.

"How Long?"

"Ten minutes."

"Don't leave me. Don't people get heart attacks doing this."

"Sometimes, but you haven't so far. Relax. Enjoy it."

"You're a sadist."

"More career counselling."

They kept up the banter as the clocked ticked away the minutes until Julie got out of the bath and towelled off.

"On the bed with you and let's cream you up."

In another minute every mark was covered in Arnica cream.

"Let it rest like that while it soaks in and tell me about it. I don't get why you let her do this."

"I'm not sure I do. I was in a weird state, I'd been Angela all afternoon, watching Anthony working, trying like mad not to be me… That tick thing you talked about was good, every time I thought he was too close I held my ear, bit my lips, fidgeted like mad. I must have looked like a stressed-out wreck. It actually made me feel nervous. Then we got back to the studio and she was so curious, but in a cool way."

"How do you mean?"

"Most women would either disapprove or maybe be turned on and probably intimidated a little. She was not like that at all. It was like a professional interest. I actually wondered if I should hire her."

"So long as she changed her name to Angela?"

"Yeah, something like that. The thing is I was feeling guilty about giving Anthony the runaround, so maybe in the back of my mind I deserved a whipping."

"Do you think she knew?"

"I almost told her. I don't think I can keep it up. I'll have to tell Anthony."

"Why? Nothing like this is going to happen again."

Julie stared at the ceiling, saying nothing.

"Really," said Marion, "I mean, what are the chances."

"It's not that, it's me. I started to ask myself why I was doing it all. Do I need the sex? In which case why not just leave Anthony and find some stud. Do I need Anthony? Watching him in that courtroom I loved him all over again. Why can't he be like that at home…?"

She sat up. "Has this stuff soaked in yet?"

"Mostly yes. Don't rub it, I'll put some more on later. Now, what about the hair? Am I doing Julie or Angela?"

"Julie. Angela died this afternoon."

"I can't make the hair regrow."

"I'm not daft Marion, make the colour and style a bit more like the old me, that's all it needs. If I'm going to own up then the short hair will help."

"So why not just go home, whip marks and all and have it out?"

Julie lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Slap some more juice on my tits and call room service. I feel hungry. After that do my hair and I'll decide. If I feel worn out I'll sleep here."

"Are you planning on some poor waiter seeing your tits?"

Julie laughed. "That might actually cheer me up." She threw the menu at Marion. "You choose, I'm too tired."

They ate hamburgers and salad, Julie having adopted a bathrobe to spare the waiter's blushes and Marion worked on her hair. A little before ten and once again inspecting her image in the mirror, Julie came to a decision.

"I'll go home," she said. "Anthony will probably be in bed and this lot has faded enough."

"So you'll have the big reveal in the morning?"

"He did say he had the day off."

"What will you do if he goes berserk?"

"Live at the studio while I sort things out."

"What about money?"

Julie almost blushed. "I kind of cheated with that too. I paid a salary into our joint account from the company I set up, you know, enough to look like an average wage, the rest is…"

"In a huge slush fund somewhere?"

"Something like that."

"What were you going to do with it?"

"I thought we'd buy a place in France or Spain. I had this crazy idea that if I could take him off somewhere romantic we could get it all back together."

"So you secretly became a high-class whore to get your husband to take some notice. Have you tried saying that out loud?"

"I'm not a whore, not really. The clients don't pay for the sex."

"Some men go to whores for cuddles and chat. No sex, but they still pay."

"Since when did you become an expert?"

"Never you mind. People talk to makeup artists. Are you okay with a cuddle before I go, no need for anything more tonight? As soon as you stripped I thought you might need some relaxation. Seeing the whip marks I couldn't get out of my head what you must have looked like, hung up and screaming.”

“I didn’t scream.”

“I bet you looked delicious.”

“I didn’t know you were a sadist.”

“With the make up I do darling— what else could I be. The big stuff takes hours of torture.”

Julie laughed and pulled Marion onto the bed.

“One of these days we’ll do this properly."

- -  -  -

Two hours later Julie pulled up in front of the house, by then it was past midnight. There was a motorcycle on the drive in front of the garage, it had two front wheels.

"What are the chances?" she muttered as she looked for her keys. She inserted the key slowly and silently, eased the door open and crept inside. There was no sound.

Julie stood in the hallway, suddenly paralysed, unsure what to do next. Why was Laura here? Was it Laura? A pity she hadn't memorised the registration but that bike was unusual. She looked up the stairs, should she stroll up as if this was perfectly normal? If she did would Laura realise who she was? Had she already guessed?

The bedroom felt like an awkward place for a confrontation without a plan. She listened at the living room door but couldn't hear a sound. She turned the handle and inched the door open, the lights were out and she couldn't hear anything. She slipped into the room and closed the door. She could see through to the kitchen and even in the dim light, she could be sure there was no one there.

So they must be in bed. Should she go up? She switched on the light. On the back of one of the chairs was the leather corset that she'd given Laura a few hours ago.

"So it is her," she whispered as she picked it up.

It was then that she noticed the laptop and the webcam. What had they been up to? She flipped the laptop open and turned it on, thought for a moment to remember Anthony's password and looked for recent activity.

So they'd made a movie, how nice of them. After a moment's hesitation her curiosity got the better of her but before she hit play she saw the lead to the TV. She hunted around to find some headphones.

Two minutes later she had it all set up and then another idea hit. She quickly stripped and put on the corset, it felt amusing to recapture it and it covered what was left of the whip marks. She lay back on the sofa and watched the screen light up.

The movie opened with Laura lying on the table with the strawberry heart in place. Initially, it was jerky as Anthony positioned the camera, twisting it around so that Laura was horizontal across the picture and at one point filling it completely.

"Zoom out a bit so I can see you as well," said Laura in the film.

Soon she was filling the centre part of the screen but there was no sign of Anthony.

"I can't see you."

"Because I'm behind the camera."

They both giggled until finally, a naked Anthony appeared at the end of the table. Julie found herself making a professional appraisal of his cock; semi-hard but looking good.

"You don't know what you're getting into," she muttered. "This girl could burn you up in a second."

Julie paused the clip. Did she feel jealous? Not so far, this was more amusing than anything else. She hit play again.

"This feels weird," said Anthony on screen.

"Don't worry about it. It's fun, nothing more. Now give me another strawberry and do it properly this time."

Anthony picked up a berry with his lips, dipped it in cream and aimed himself at Laura's mouth. His aim would have scored about six out of ten, some of the cream ending up on her cheek before their lips met and the berry disappeared from view.

Julie watched as more berries took the same route and occasionally Anthony would pause to lick most of Laura's face to clean off the spare cream.

Julie, relaxing on the sofa, legs spread, fingers playing with her pussy, found herself admiring the way that Laura was topping from the bottom, wrapping Anthony around her little finger. There was no doubt she'd be a great asset to her business, but did she want to steal Anthony? What was it she’d said, 'I don’t steal husbands.'

As the movie unfolded the strawberries eventually all disappeared and then she watched Laura fill her pussy with cream.

"The little bitch, she's making him practice licking her out."

As one hand crept deeper into her pussy Julie sucked the fingers of the other and every few minutes changed hands. The suspense mounted as she waited for the moment when Laura would tempt Anthony into fucking her. Several times she thought it was there but Anthony hung back. Finally, Laura pushed explicitly.

"Look, you know I want you to fuck me. Your cock has been solid as a rock for the last ten minutes."

"I don't know."

"Don't think about Julie. I'm not trying to steal you away, you can fuck me whenever you like, you can feel guilty and be extra nice to Julie. She'll be pleased. It will all work out."

"I'm not that much into fun," he said, the courtroom voice had gone and been replaced by a sad insecurity.

"You must be a disappointment to her."

"I am, I know I am, she tries to egg me on but I drown myself in work."

"How does she egg you on?"

"Not like this, but I know she reads about sex. She's a psychologist, she knows every mind trick."

"Well, she knows Angela. They probably talk."

"Oh, God. I don't know what to do."

She doesn't realise I'm Angela, thought Julie, or maybe she's just not giving it away.

"Angela and Julie are probably talking now, probably comparing notes about you. I bet Angela would fuck you if she could."

"Why?"

"She almost said as much to me after the court. I could see it in her eyes. It's a pity you didn't make sure she was okay."

"I know, I know."

There was a long pause as they both looked at each other. Laura sat up on the table.

"I'll tell you what; fucking me while I'm sticky like this would probably not be much fun and you probably didn't lick me out as well as you should. Let's have a shower and you can take me to bed. You can put the lights out and pretend I'm Julie. I'm too pissed to drive home."

Julie watched Laura climb off the table and grab Anthony by the cock. She led him towards the table and in an instant had sprayed cream all over his very erect member. Laura dropped to her knees and wrapped her mouth around him. It took about a minute before he started to cum and she pulled back letting him squirt onto her face.

She stood up, still holding his cock.

"Now do you want to lick this cream off my face right away or shall we clear the table first?"

At that point, the video stopped but a quick glance at the table showed that they had cleared up. Julie was left sitting in the dark knowing that somewhere upstairs her husband was probably in bed with Laura. It was way past midnight now and she knew they had drunk a bottle of champagne between them and there was another half full in the fridge.

She padded around the kitchen, trying to think; eating the few remaining strawberries and sipping champagne. She could sleep in the spare room, maybe set an alarm to be down before anyone else, but what if Laura wanted to scarper early. Say she drank half a bottle, five units at max, so when she wakes up she might have a hangover but she won't be drunk; so she could sneak off if she woke at five. Did that matter? She had the video as proof and it was Anthony she needed to sort things out with.

The video was on Anthony's laptop. In a panic, she rushed to her handbag and found a memory stick. With obsessional care, she copied the video and then in a fit of mischievous energy she mailed it from Anthony to herself.

By then she'd made up her mind and sneaked upstairs. The bedroom door was open. She approached with extreme caution, inch by inch until she could begin to see the bed and sure enough, there were two people in it. Laura was lying on her side almost draped over the left-hand edge of the super-king mattress, Anthony was in the middle in the classic spoon position. Both were breathing evenly and fast asleep. What should she do?

After watching for a few minutes to convince herself that they were definitely asleep she went in search of her phone and soon added a video of the two of them in bed to her collection. What now? Should she wake them?

She sneaked into the spare room. Should she leave the door open? Anyone leaving the master bedroom wouldn’t look in that direction so why not?

She eased herself out of the corset and hung it over the end of the bed. If anyone looked in they would see that first.

She lay for a while, flat on her back staring at the ceiling in the dim light; one scenario after another flitting through her head. It would be an interesting morning.