"I'll get it!" Mike Greeves shouted as the doorbell chimed.
His wife Beverley was still busy in the kitchen. Both of them had only recently returned from work and Beverley was humming along to a tune playing on the radio.
Mike had been in the middle of changing out of his work clothes and the fresh shirt was still open and flapped around his body as he padded barefoot down the stairs. It was unusual for them to have visitors at this time of day and Mike sighed heavily. He assumed that it was probably Jane from next door. Fred had doubtless left her again and she would be looking to Bev for a shoulder to cry on. He knew it was uncharitable, but it annoyed him today. He'd had a hard day at work and the last thing he needed was a sobbing woman in his house running down every man that she had ever met.
Mike opened the door unenthusiastically and waited for the tears to start.
"Hello Ja..."
His words were cut off in mid sentence as he quickly realised that the visitor was indeed not Jane Flemming.
"Good evening sir."
The blue serge uniform and distinctive cap were an immediate give away.
"Oh...er...good evening officer. Sorry, I thought you were someone else."
"Does a Mrs. Greeves live here please?" The cop took a swift check of his notebook as he spoke. The tone of his voice made it clear that this was an official visit.
"Beverley Greeves? Yes, that's my wife. Why? What's the problem?"
"I need a word with her please, Mr. Greeves. May I come in?"
Mike stood back to allow the large uniformed man access to his home. It must have still been quite bright outside because he sported classic aviator style sunglasses that gave his face a sinister and slightly threatening appearance.
Beverley joined them in the front room. She was drying her hands on a dishtowel. Mike saw the cop smile as he took in her beauty.
At only twenty-six, Beverley was a good bit younger than her husband and had a very good figure, which she likes to show off. She had already changed out of her business suit and now wore a low halter-top and short skirt that accentuated her slender body.
"Can I help you?" Beverley asked sweetly. Her smile could usually disarm most men.
The police officer coughed quickly regaining his composure and looked down again at his notebook.
"You are Mrs. Beverley Greeves?"
"Yes?"
"And you own a blue Mercedes, licence XFT-4361?"
"Yes." Beverley confirmed again. "Look, what's all this about? I know it's not been stolen. It's parked right outside."
"My name is officer Peters Ma'am." He flipped his ID badge smoothly and looked over at Mike. "I need to have a talk with Mrs. Greeves, sir. In private please."
Mike shrugged resignedly. He was obviously keen to know what was going on, but had been brought up to respect the law and to obey the commands of its enforcers. There seemed little point in arguing and as he left the room he pulled the door to behind him.
"Can you tell me your whereabouts at approximately five-fifteen this afternoon please Mrs. Greeves?"
Beverley Greeves looked pale for a moment. She didn't need to think.
"Driving home." She said looking demurely downwards.
"Along Fishcott Road?"
"Yes." Her voice was now barely more than a whisper.
"There was an accident on Fishcott Road at that time, Mrs. Greeves. It involved a Mercedes with a licence number matching your vehicle. A cyclist was knocked over and injured."
Beverley looked up shocked. A stunned expression slowly crept over her face. Officer Peters could see the tears begin to form in her eyes before she buried her head in her hands.
"Oh God!" Beverley cried. "It was an accident! I...I...I just didn't see him! I was in a rush to get home and...and..."
The rest of her sentence was lost in a flood of tears.
Mike Greeves listened from outside the door in stunned silence. Of course, accidents happened every day. But why didn't his wife stop and check if the cyclist was hurt? He was about to enter the room again and voice that very question when he heard the cop continue.
"Ah..there's another thing, Mrs. Greeves. It seems that there was another person in the car. A man? And that you were both...er...shall we say...involved with each other?"
Instantly Beverley stopped sobbing and looked up at the officer. How had he found out about David? Did he know that "involved with each other" actually meant that she was stroking his cock as they drove? And that David's hand was placed nicely inside the front of her panties? She stared back at the cop, silent for just a moment. She had to think what to say.
"You realise that if you arrest me that my affair with David Bryant will become public, don't you? It will ruin my marriage and probably his as well. Isn't there anything we can do to make this go away?"
The officer watched Beverley squirm. Her eyes look at him pleadingly, silently imploring him to furnish her with a resolution to her dilemma.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but what can I do?"
The beating of Mike Reeves' heart was almost an audible sound. At least to him. As he listened through the door to the incredible conversation - more of a confession, really - the thoughts raced through his mind. Beverley was having an affair. She was involved with another man.
Mike had had his suspicions, of course. It was wonderful to have a young and sexy wife but, he had learned, you could never stop other men looking. Now it seemed that he was unable to stop other men touching either!
A part of him wanted to burst through the door and confront her; shout and scream and make a fuss. But he knew that this wasn't him at all. Non-confrontational to the bitter end, Mike Greeves swallowed his pride and continued to listen through the door.
"Well, if you can't do anything, then maybe there's something that I could do for you? Beverley said in answer to the officer's last question.
Officer Gary Peters smiled. He had left a metaphorical door open for this good-looking blonde woman and she had walked right through it. But he wasn't home and dry yet. He had to be sure that they were both on the same page. And he also had to be sure that they were not going to be interrupted by her pitiable, feeble looking husband!
"Er...what exactly did you have in mind ma'am?" He asked slowly. The look in her eye almost confirmed what he was thinking, but he still wanted to hear her say the words.
"Call me Bev, please. Well, my...er...friend...Mr. Bryant rather liked to look at these!" Beverley replied.
The officer grinned. There was a twinkle in the blonde's eyes but, as she had already started to pull up the front of her top, it was quite clear that it wasn't her eyes that she was now referring to.