WARNING!
This one is very different from anything I've written before, and I'm not sure what led me to write it, because it wasn't always easy. Like climbing a mountain I guess, because it's there. Some of my fans will perhaps wonder what's got into me, and it will give my detractors plenty of ammunition to throw at me, but works by good writers like Clarkovens, Xleglover and others have a big following, so hopefully some of you out there will like it.
Another point
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wasn't a detective!
Tom Clancy probably never killed anybody, and was certainly never the US President.
It wasn't Jesus, or God for that matter who wrote the bible.
So readers, don't mix ME up with any of the characters in this story, because that is what it is. A STORY!
Don't expect a high score, but comments, all of them as long as they aren't mindless rants, are welcome. So whether you love it or love to hate it, please enjoy it.
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My wife Kim is, or should I say was, an extremely attractive young lady. I don't mean that she's not attractive any more; just that she's not my wife any longer. Not saying that I'm especially happy that we're not still married, but eventually I was left with no option. Even though it was certainly partly my fault to begin with, Kim really shouldn't have taken it as far as she did.
I guess you'll want to know why now, and I guess I've got to get it off my chest sooner or later.
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It all started one Friday evening when we were both out for a night on the town. We were on our own, no kids on the scene yet to worry about, simply wanting to blow off steam after what had been a gruelling week of work for the two of us. We'd eaten, and very nice it was, and had strolled around the centre of town, eventually settling on a trendy looking bar on the ground floor of one of the best hotels in town. The Bacardi and coke was apparently good, and I could personally vouch for the quality of the real ale they were serving. The music was very much to our liking and Kim had even persuaded me to get up from my stool and join her on the small dance floor. You may have guessed that dancing wasn't exactly my favoured pastime, but the envious looks I always got from other guys when I got up and held my blonde, slim, long legged Kim in my arms, usually persuaded me to make the effort.
"Give me a break please Kim," I eventually pleaded, totally unable to actually match the way she undulated back and forward, the short skirt and somewhat skimpy top that she'd chosen to wear that evening, making the whole thing a joy to watch.
"Ok Mark," she agreed with a smile. "I could do with a drink."
And so I led her back to our table, not knowing that it would possibly be the last time I would ever do so.
"Sorry, is this your table?" A man, leaping to his feet as we got back to our drinks, greeted us. "I'm waiting for some friends and there was nobody sitting here."
"That's Ok," I assured him.
"There's only the two of us. No need to leave," my wife somewhat surprised me with. There were probably other seats somewhere, though I must confess the place had filled up quite a bit since we'd been dancing.
"Thanks," he grinned at us, lowering himself back down again. "I'm Chris by the way. Are you staying at the hotel?"
"No, just out for the night," Kim replied, "I'm Kim and this is my hubby Mark."
We chatted away quite happily, Chris explaining that he was staying at the hotel over the week-end, and was there to meet up with three locals, to discuss the possibility of setting up an off shoot of his company in the area. He was into mechanical widgets or some such things, which was not anything that I knew about, though by chance, my wife Kim did.
They chatted amiably for some time, sort of comparing notes with what his outfit did and how the company that she worked for overlapped. I wouldn't say I was feeling left out of it, but I was beginning to hope his expected guests would not be too long so that I could reclaim my wife's attention, but in that regard I soon found myself thwarted.
"Couldn't help noticing what a great dancer your wife was Mark," Chris suddenly said, directing his attention back to me. "Would you mind if I asked her to dance?"
Couldn't really say no, and indeed had no reason to. Chris seemed like a nice enough sort of guy and had bothered to ask me first, and besides Kim was giving me 'that' look that was threatening me with unspeakable things if I refused. Duly, he graciously offered her his hand, and I watched as he whisked her off onto the dance floor, where he made a damn site better job of it than I'd managed earlier. The remainder of the fast number that had been playing soon ended, and he confidently took my wife in his arms as slower music took its place, holding her close, but in fairness, not too close.
They looked good together.
Too bloody good if I was being honest, but after just the one dance he bought her back, and I felt myself relaxing and my pulse rate dropping. No harm done after all.
"Ah! Here are my friends at last," Chris announced as three young men, about our age approached the table, all smiles for Chris, but unable to keep their interest in Kim from their faces, probably wondering where she fitted in. Chris made the introductions, called the waiter over to order some drinks, and just naturally included the two of us. Soon discovering that I had a mutual interest in classic cars with one of them, Ben, I found myself engrossed in the relative merits of replacing the ignition system with the more reliable electronic method, now available on the market that could be hidden away unseen inside the standard rota cap. Meanwhile Kim found herself, not surprisingly, the centre of attention as John and Mike, along with Chris obviously, decided that she was, at least for that evening, more interesting than their silly widget things.
Over the next couple of hours; pleasant ones as I remember them, a fair amount of alcohol was consumed, any amount of amusing nonsense was spouted, and one by one Kim danced with all four of them. I was by then far more relaxed about how close they might be holding Kim in their arms, though I did note with some amusement that she was only invited up to dance when slow numbers were being played.
What the hell! She was enjoying herself, and I was enjoying watching her having such a good time. So a few hands wandered where, arguably, they shouldn't have ought to have been. None of them pushed their luck too far, and it was a pleasure to watch my lovely wife revelling in the attention that was being heaped upon her.
It was getting late; I'd had more than enough to drink, enough that I was grateful that I'd not driven our car into town that night. I was just looking forward to saying goodnight to our newfound friends and getting Kim back home and into our bed, when those plans were aborted.
"Right Chris," I heard one of them, I think Mike, say. "We'll get a couple of bottles and see you up in your room."
"Room 345," he called out. "On the third floor."
"Where else would it be?" Giggled Kim. Now Kim could hold her drink, but like me, like all of us, she'd had a few.
"Hang on a minute," I mumbled, not having agreed to go up to anyone's room.
"Come on lazybones," Kim teased me. "We've got a party to go to."
Now in the cold light of dawn, and later on I found myself there, a party with one somewhat scantily clad and very pretty young women and five men should have set my alarm bells ringing. The fact that we'd all had a good bit to drink should have multiplied my concerns, but it was probably that same drink that drowned them. A few minutes later and all six of us were trudging over to the escalators, laughing and joking, Kim giggling as she playfully patted away hands that were trying to take advantage, while I, maybe fool that I was, joined in the fun.
