The heat was stifling, the fan over my bed turned lazily barely disturbing the flies jostling for the best places to sit along its rusting blades.
"James darling, how are you?" Saskia asked with impressively convincing compassion as she swept into the room.
I raised myself up "Not so bad," I managed to say before my strength ebbed and I fell back
"Oh, dear, you look so ill, I'll send for the nurse." she replied with a barely repressed smile.
I cursed my luck, absolutely typical that I get struck by malaria miles from what I considered to be civilisation, and stuck with Saskia, my darling wife.
Lord knows why I had allowed myself to marry her, she loathed me as much as I detested her, but it seemed a good career move at the time, and she was stunningly beautiful and achingly sexy but it was because she was not a UK national while her father with typical Russian cynicism had badly wanted UK citizenship for his darling daughter and as an up and coming trader working primarily for her father's company I fitted the bill nicely, we even signed a pre nuptial agreement, so she could ditch me after two years without losing too much.
We must have had sex six or maybe seven times in that two years of married bliss, I think we had dinner together twice and otherwise we lived separate lives from the Mayfair townhouse which her father gave us as a wedding present, and to be honest, it was quite pleasant, she had her rooms I had mine, she had her lovers and I had mine, and it was all wonderfully civilised.
The holiday invitation was unexpected, but like all Vladimir's requests something that I could hardly turn down and so Saskia and I arrived in the wilds of northern Turkey that fateful day in August.
Malarial mosquito country, "It is a wonderful place to invest, and so soon will be in EU," Vladimir insisted, as we booked into the largest of the small collection of seedy hotels in the seedy little town.
I don't know how that bloody mosquito got under my mosquito net but when I woke there was the itching evidence of a bite on my arm and I didn't feel so good.
Saskia quickly found me some anti malarial pills for me, on reflection she found them surprisingly quickly, and perhaps I should have been suspicious but I had a full days program of looking around investment sites planned so I didn't query it but gradually I felt more uncomfortable and listless until by the second day I just didn't want to get up at all.
So there I was getting worse and worse, barely able to pry myself from the bad and finally they fetched the local doctor, I think it was a formality prior to getting a death certificate, but Dr Ahmed was no fool, he took one look at me and ordered me to hospital, Saskia protested but Ahmed wanted his fee which would quadruple at least if I went to Hospital so his greed triumphed and I was admitted.
The pills Saskia gave me were fine, at least the brand was, the actual pills I found later were actually a powerful nerve agent, the active constituent of nerve gas highly concentrated and should have killed me pretty instantly but for a chance encounter with the same stuff at Uni when I was paid to test a vaccine one summer holiday, and again Ahmed's greed alone led me to be given some very expensive but entirely useless locally produced pills which while having no beneficial effects at least didn't poison me.
Sadly when Ahmed stole my pills for another patient his violent reaction, vomiting and screaming with intense headaches led Ahmed to warn me. "Your pills are poisoned," he said, "I get you medical evacuation to England."
He was too late, I felt fine, prematurely as it happened, in the medium term though my strength had been well and truly sapped and I kept needing to lie down but even then I was too stupid to suspect Saskia.
The penny only dropped when I heard Saskia and her father arguing over whether they should have me shot, after all plenty of Turks have AK47s combat machine guns as toys, like Brits have Mini Motorcycles or skateboards.
It all fell into place so I decided to take her out before they could get me.
I made some calls and as she didn't want me too far out of her sight her father decided she could drive us around to check out some investment properties while O convalesce and as she couldn't map read to save her life so the next step was amazingly easy.
She drove me in the Mercedes to see yet another property, an isolated Villa, not however the one her father had intended us to see, but very similar, one I had managed to rent for a month via the internet.
She drove expertly into the front gate and down the short drive.
"Is this the one only there was no sign?" she asked
"Oh yes, but we're early, lets look round." I suggested.
It was originally an old fort or something now lovingly re worked as a modern double glazed air conditioned luxury Villa, its stone work shone honey gold in the harsh morning light.
"Are you sure it's on Daddy's list?" she asked.
"I hope so," I agreed, "Lets see if they left us a key." I knew damned well there would be a key under a plant pot so I checked in the wrong direction while she checked around the front door so it was no surprise when she found it.
"Ha!" she exclaimed, as she waved it in the air "Shall we go in."
Saskia led the way into the house, into the marble tiled hallway and through to the beautifully appointed kitchen, "It's furnished?" she said incredulously.
"I know." I told Saskia.
"You know it is furnished?" she asked
"I know you tried to poison me," I explained pleasantly enough, as she looked round.
"Oh poor poor James," she explained, "And how do you think you will prove this?"
"I don't really need to," I suggested "We both know."
"Poor James, perhaps next time." she taunted me.
"You don't understand do you?" I asked, "Daddy has no idea you are here."
"Then I shall phone him!" she said defiantly, but I stepped forward and grasped her wrist as she took out her phone, her other hand flashed around striking my cheek and raking three red gouge with her long fingernails across my cheek.
"Oh no not this time." I insisted, "No you need a lesson, far away from daddy, a serious lesson."
She tried to pull away, I released her hand but grabbed the neck of her thin white knee length dress, it tore easily, "Run then!" I challenged, as I pulled the ruined garment from her "Get yourself arrested for indecency, this isn't the beach you know."
She stopped and flew at me snarling, "You feeble excuse for a man, I shall wear your trousers," she ranted but I grabbed both her wrists and slowly forced her to a halt and then to her knees on the polished Marble floor. "Bastard!" she shouted.
I changed my grip and forced her further down until her chin was on the ground and then I knelt on the back of her neck holding her firmly as she squirmed, "Let me go my father will kill you." she yelled.
"Be quiet," I insisted, "Or yell your head off for all I care." I undid my trouser belt and wrapped it around her wrists and pulled it tight, "No one will hear."
"Bastard!" she annunciated once more, as I tied the brown leather into a passable reef knot.
"Ok, on your feet," I insisted.
"Ha, now what?" she asked, "You have made a big mistake."
I did wonder if I had indeed made a mistake but if the house did indeed have a wine cellar then maybe I hadn't.
I dragged her to her feet, she squealed and kicked and was thoroughly objectionable, but a door at the end of the kitchen did indeed lead to a circular stone staircase leading downward.
"Walk or fall, your choice," I suggested, as I flicked the light switch and held the door open for her, "But down you go.".
"No way!" she exclaimed, but the gentlest of kicks sent her stumbling awkwardly downwards.
She landed in a heap at the bottom, swearing like a trooper.
I followed her down, and after a cursory check that she was not seriously damaged I looked around, the cellar looked much older than upstairs, its vaulted roof obviously medieval and there, within the vaults there were rows of wine racks, many covered by thick cobwebs but just a few held bottles of what looked very much like cheap supermarket plonk.
"You idiot!" Saskia complained, as she lay sprawled on the sand covered stone floor "You're completely mad."
"And you my sweet need to learn a lesson." I told her sweetly, "You can rot here until the plonk runs out and then," I paused theatrically, "for all I care you can die."
"Ha," she snapped, "Very funny, you made your point," she suggested, "So can we go now?"
"No," I explained, "You are staying here, no one knows you are here so,"
"You're mad!" she squealed.
"Quite," I agreed, "all this wine, such a pity you cant get to it."
"What?" she asked but by now I had my fingers in the waistband of her panties.
"I really don't want you to escape do you see," I said as I ripped them of her, and then as she tried to scramble to her feet so I turned my attention to her bra, I flipped the catch but couldn't remove it because of the shoulder straps, I tried to tear it but it was tougher, much tougher than the waistband of her panties and needed a very robust pull to wrench the shoulder straps off and she screamed as I hauled furiously but it gave way and then she was naked.
"Shoes," I said, she wore trainers and ankle socks, she understood but she didn't like it and she kicked out but with her arms tied she couldn't keep her balance when I grabbed her foot.
She kept kicking, desperately kicking, but she didn't have a chance, "Idiot, moron!" she screamed.
It was when I felt the flexibility of her trainers that I changed my plans maybe there was another way to chastise her.
"Right," I ordered, "You can bend over that rack, or," I paused, "I'll bloody drag you over it by your hair."
"Don't be stupid," she replied but she was wavering, fearful now.
"Me stupid, I must be," I stared at her, contempt still burned in her piercing blue eyes, her beauty a weapon she used with ruthless efficiency so I hit her, smack in the nose, it split, it crunched and started bleeding, she screamed, not play acting now, but a real intense animalistic howl of pain. It sounded real good, I grabbed her hair she had it pinned up Russian style, but I dragged it out straight, well most of it did, some just tore right out in a clump, and before she realised I had wrapped it around one of the wine rack supports and tied it in a knot so she couldn't move.
"James please!" she wailed. but she was stooping bending from the waist now, her naked ass just pouting waiting to be slapped, I just took her trainer and started slapping, left, right, left, right. watching her ass cheeks redden with the repeated blows and thats when I saw some bamboo canes stacked against the wall, not whippy bamboo but thicker hollow tubes, I saw the possibilities.
Saskia also saw what was coming, she screamed long and loud, the bamboo wasn't ideal, but it felt so good feeling the jarring as it slammed into her, I snapped the lower part of the Bmboo tubes by standing on it so I had a tubular handle and several different blade like flails to lacerate her with, and suddenly there was blood, each swat left three or four trails of blood across her buttocks and then I moved on up her back. She screamed of course, really howled and it sounded great, like making love almost.
I rested for a while, offered her some wine, she snarled "He will kill you!"
"I don't think he will ever find out." I suggested.
"It's your fault, He says you must die," she admitted, I realised she was playing for time, but I was tiring too.
"Why?" I asked.
"The agreement, I only get what I have before we marry if we divorce." she explained.
