All in one night
-Cuckold or Victim, what would you prefer to be?.
By Sutekh the Destroyer
Authors note
Dear readers,
This is my first story, so thank you for your kind consideration.
Although a work of fiction, there are some factual elements within and the rest is greatly embellished.
I hope it brings a smile to your face at times, but hopefully not too much puzzlement!.
Granted it's a long story, but I've seen many readers complain as they begin to read a story that's sub-divided into parts, subsequently discover that later instalments either fail to materialise or are delayed to such an extent that the story loses cohesion and thus readers attention.
Thus I've chosen to present my first story as one large rollicking adventure for the reader to partake in their own time!.
Oh yes, this story is set in Australia as I'm an Australian, so if I may paraphrase the sentiment from a well-known writer in the LW genre from my country;
Please insert your "Aussie English" 5.24 inch floppy disc into your circa 1982 Hyperion portable computer with its glowing 7 inch orange cathode ray screen that matches mine!.
Hopefully then you'll enjoy my story as much as I had writing it, thank you.
The Author wishes to thank Destodes777 for long standing support, advice and friendship, also Stev2244 and Vandemonium1, all true scholars and gentlemen.
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"I like cars", I half sang, half hummed to myself the lyrics to that old song by Elton Bog, called "Island girl" as I happily drove my little car in the gathering dusk.
Then I smiled as I remembered that it actually took me ages to realise that "Island girl" was the name of the song and not "I like girls" as I originally thought!.
I openly chuckled to myself. wondering if other people upon first hearing that song also realised that Elton Bog was in fact a screaming homosexualist?.
"I like girls, da de da, something, something, something, I like girls", I continued to mutter as I glanced at the car instruments on the dashboard as I mentally checked my trip progress.
Not far now after driving a distance of some 160 kilometres in my little Renault 'Zoe' electric car.
This little French "hot hatchback" only had a 400 kilometre range at best and perhaps a lowly 135 km/h top speed, but I was in no hurry and besides, driving is one of my favourite hobbies and I particularly liked the challenge of driving these little cars to their limits, balancing speed with range as a function of fuel, or in this case, electricity capacity in the battery pack.
I smirked at the thought of my veritable arsenal of cars I had at home including; off road 4x4's, luxury sedans, hot hatchbacks and my personal favourites, the European supercars that are so fast they seemingly try to kill you with their horrendous speed and acceleration!.
'Andrew my son', I thought to myself, 'you've done well and you deserve it all!'.
So I was in a good mood indeed as my little electric car continued to whiz along the Midlands highway to my destination this evening.
Oh yes, some cars have their own personalities and mood; supercars for instance I felt are mostly female within their aerodynamically shapely form and containing all the variety of nuances that the females exhibit!.
This little electric Renault 'Zoe', although far from a supercar, still felt like a pert young French woman, like the girls I met and dated at university years ago.
She seemed like a sexy French girl like the plucky and attractive journalist "Alice Avril" I've seen in French adaptions of Agatha Christie crime mysteries?.
Ah happy days, I fondly reflected as I drove on with a smile on my face remembering all the pretty women from my university days.
Soon though my destination loomed ahead in the form of the approaching small rural hamlet of Kempton, located here in southern Tasmania.
I actually had to turn off the highway to a gravel road that skirted the town to the north, then follow it down a few kilometres to some open crown land near a creek which was my final stop.
With no traffic, but still with enough light to see, I soon found the site after carefully negotiating the gravel road at low speed before finally stopping and exiting the car, stretching my legs and straightening my back after a two hour economic drive to this quiet sylvan glade.
It was a still April night, with autumn evident in some of the surrounding trees, but I had work to do and quickly opened the car boot and removed my telescope, camera and computer attachments which filled the tiny electric car's carrying volume.
I was here for an Astronomy "run" tonight, so I was keen to set up the equipment and begin before the end of twilight!.
As I hurriedly worked, I idly thought about my wife Sophie and what she was up to now back home?.
Probably yapping to her friends on the phone if she runs true to form, I concluded wryly.
That stray thought then pushed another more unwelcome consideration into my mind as I continued to assemble the equipment, Sophie's "friends", actually one in particular I utterly detested, bloody Barbara Holgate, a first order slag with no redeeming features whatsoever, came to the fore in my mind!.
Sophie and I had been married for three years now, with the first half of the marriage, "beau ideal", until Sophie met that slag Holgate through her work.
A twice divorced, cheating low life with more diseases than brains I had rapidly concluded about Holgate!.
The slag quickly went through her two husbands, expressly for her self-enrichment, so now living well of their money, she now only went to "work" for two reasons I could think of; to maintain her bank balance at its high level and to meet more men to seduce and exploit!.
Indeed, her workplace was more like a fucking safari park for that sexual predator, such that any man around her would do well to be alert, lest her claws and teeth sink into their flesh when she struck and mostly behind their backs too.
Then it was all over for the unsuspecting man, as that sexual predator Holgate quickly devoured the man alive!.
For some bizarre reason though, Sophie although fully aware of her reputation still felt sorry for the slag and to my chagrin they soon became friends.
Curses!.
Indeed, I could still recall when Sophie first introduced me to Holgate.
An expression of sneery condescension flitting across her face as her cruel mouth twisted ever so slightly upon seeing me for the first time; a man in his late twenties, light brown hair, below average height certainly but slim and very fit with hardened, manly proportions dressed in a smart and expensive dark Zegna suit, plus my smiling blue eyes set on an intelligent face.
Although I'm not model material (I still think all male models are homosexualists), I nonetheless look after what God gave me to work with and Sophie certainly thought so too as she raved about how wonderful a husband she had to all her friends!.
Business man, scientific entrepreneur, a couple of advanced degrees in physics and engineering, long distance runner, a very fast solar plexus "killer punch" if necessary, large rural property containing a large 1930's white modernist Art Deco style manor house and did I mention lots of cars?.
That's me, mostly quiet, witty, capable, sort of like a modern and younger version of "Captain Arthur Hastings" the ever-affable associate from the "Poirot" mystery television series and always happy to oblige and smile!.
But how did I become so successful, how did I do it exactly?.
Quite easy really, by single-handedly creating a business, making synthetic gems for industrial purposes via my self-designed "free electron laser" device.
Who knew that so many people here in Australia and around the world like synthetic gems such as garnets, topaz, amethyst's and are also prepared to pay me for it too?.
Nice work if you can get it eh and to borrow an amusing expression from the great "Arthur Daley" from a popular 1980's British comedy;
"The world is your lobster my son, the world is your lobster"!.
Anyway, it appeared that I clearly failed to measure up to the slag Holgate's expectations upon meeting me, as she seemed instead to be fixated on men who were the archetypal tall, dark and handsome types, but to me these men I again suspected were likely secret homosexualists too, as I just don't trust that sort and disliked being around them, which seemed to just cement in her mind her negative view of me which was all too evident, especially to me!.