British English spelling and grammar.
And it has a finish!
(More or less)
***
Loose ends
I always told myself our sex life tailed off after a few years of marriage. But the truth is, it went downhill straight after the honeymoon. Before Helen and I married, there was sex of course, and enough oral foreplay to hold promise for the future. And she seemed to like me fingering her arse during conventional sex. In fact once, while doing it doggy style, I pushed my thumb up there and she climaxed.
But after the honeymoon, it deteriorated. I thought perhaps Helen enjoys the chase and gets bored after the capture. Now it's mummy-and-daddy missionary position; and not as often as when we were courting. The sad fact is, my beautiful wife is a boring fuck. I don't find sex exciting any more.
I set about spicing things up. Different positions, different rooms, times of day and so on. Then flowers and chocolates; but nothing stimulated her. We tried porn and that didn't work either. I say that, but she did get excited once; when we did it in a field. I thought maybe she got turned on by the element of danger; or of discovery. I also suggested involving another man. That sparked interest for a while, but she rejected the idea.
On the way home from work one Friday, I stopped off at the hairdresser.
"Hi Patrick, here again?" said Sally. "You only had it trimmed two weeks ago."
"I'll just have a quick wash Sally."
We don't mention it, but we know. Sally's waterproof apron is thin and does not disguise her braless state. Her breasts are large, and who wouldn't enjoy feeling a soft pair in their face? Sally acts professional, but she knows she's doing it. I often wonder if she pushes this close with other customers. Having your hair washed is sensual anyway, but warm breasts in your ears are the icing on the cake.
Then I got a surprise.
"I'm knocking off now, fancy a drink?" Sally asked.
I couldn't help thinking that should have been my line.
"I'd love to."
In a nearby pub, she came straight to the point.
"Your wife is having an affair with my boss."
I wasn't entirely surprised; it made a kind of sense. Helen had been making a lot of visits to the hairdresser recently; probably enjoying the pursuit again.
'Just going to get my split ends tidied' was what I heard most often. So hhere it was; the element of danger again - the thrill of getting caught? If I was going to get anything for myself out of this, I'd better be quick. Her affair wouldn't last long. Once her new man found out he was only getting vanilla, he'd move on to more exotic flavours. And Helen would probably get bored once the novelty wore off.
"How... I mean, please tell me everything Sally."
"Anthony has had sex with loads of women customers, sorry, I'm supposed to call them clients. He always prefers married ones because they've got as much to lose as him. The shop, sorry salon, is owned by his wife. So he has to be careful, and always does it there."
"What - in the shop?"
"Yes. He uses the back office."
"I take it his wife doesn't visit much."
"No, she rarely drops by."
"If she holds the purse strings, we might get some leverage."
"That's what I thought, especially as Anthony has been creaming off the profits. He wants to set up his own place."
She placed emphasis on the 'th' - pronouncing it 'Antony' like everyone else is not posh enough for a hairdresser.
"And my Helen is his latest."
"She is. And the prettiest one so far for what it's worth. I wouldn't mind a session with her myself."
"You're gay?"
Sally thought about it.
"No, I have a boyfriend. I think the term is bi-curious. What I'm really curious about is whether or not it's true."
"Whether what is true?" I asked
"They say women do a better job than men. You know, down there, understanding exactly what another woman is feeling. I'd like to try it. Giving and receiving."
I was lost in thought for a moment. Uninvited images of Sally with another woman. I snapped out of it.
"Anyway, how long has this affair been going on?"
"A couple of months, two times I think. He always has sex with his conquests after closing time - on his office desk actually. Then he tells his wife he's been working late."
That made sense: danger and discomfort. Like when we did it in the field. Sally sailed on.
"I want a promotion Patrick, I'm properly qualified. I've been washing hair, and doing trims, for too long. So I was thinking perhaps we could help each other."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Last time your wife was in, she was chattering away about you, and said you do your own photography. Is that right?"
"Yes. I have a darkroom on the back of my garage. It'd for proper photography; the wet process."
"That's what she said. Anthony started wading in with the innuendos. 'With a fabulous figure like yours, I bet your old man takes photos of you in the nude', 'Wish I could see them'. You know the sort of thing. He's so cheesy; I'm surprised women still fall for it. So I was thinking there might be a way we can both get what we want."
"I'm interested. Fancy another drink?"
"Thanks. How about this? To back up his working late excuse, Anthony's latest conquest, books the last appointment of the day. I'm just a junior, and usually on locking up duties. Next time your wife books that last appointment, I call you."
"Go on."
"You supply me with a camera and I lock the front door and leave. Then I nip round to the side door; it's Yale key on the same bunch. I sneak back inside and hide amongst the coats in the back lobby; it's always gloomy there. There's a window in his office door and they'd never see me out in the dark. I take pictures of them, then sneak back out and give you the camera. When they're done, they'll leave through that side door, and it'll lock behind them."
"You've got it all worked out haven't you?" I said.
"I've been thinking about it for some time. The problem is, any photos I take will be porn. I'd never get them processed on the high street. You're my best chance."
Back in the 1970s, the quietest camera on the market was the Olympus OM1. And I had one.
"And the helping each other bit?"
"You end up with hard-core photos of your wife being unfaithful. I imagine they'd help you in a divorce. And, if I can have a set, I can 'persuade' Anthony to promote me. I wouldn't bleed him dry. I only want what's fair."
A few days later, I showed Sally how to set the camera up for low light conditions and let her practise with it. I processed her results, and most of the shots were actually taken from that dark lobby into Anthony's office. Clever girl; they were not bad. About a month later, she called me at work with the news we had been waiting for. That night Helen confirmed it.
"I'm getting my hair done on Friday."
"Tidying up the loose ends?"
"No. I'm having some blonde streaks. I'll go straight from work. You'll have to cook for yourself, or eat out. I'm the last appointment of the day, and highlights take time, so I'll probably be home late."
I got back from work thirty minutes before the hairdresser's was due to close. Waiting across the road in the coffee shop, I had a good view. At last, Helen's car pulled onto the forecourt, and she went in. Then I realised I had her spare car keys on my bunch, and amended the plan.
Twenty minutes later the 'Closed' sign was turned in the front door and Sally came out, locked up, and joined me. Five minutes after that, the shop lights went out. She took the camera from her handbag, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and went down the side alley. I finished my coffee and strolled across the road. Sally soon returned.
"You said half a dozen would be enough, right?" she said, handing over the camera.
"Yes."
"By the way, what they're doing in the last shot? Anthony is forcing her. She didn't seem to like it much."
"Serves her right, whatever it is. And did you manage to find out how much money he's been hiding?"
"I did, I checked earlier this week. He keeps the monthly statements from his secret bank account in his desk drawer. But that key is on the same bunch as the others."
"That's sloppy security."
"Yes. His last statement, posted to the shop of course, shows nearly twenty thousand pounds on account."
"Wow! He has been a busy boy."
Sally and I had another kiss, and a little grope that hinted at more. Maybe I could get to like bigger tits after all. She left, and I let myself into Helen's car with the spare key. Then I drove to the Bunch of Grapes. I parked round the back, in the shadows. After a hunt in her car I retrieved items from the glovebox. They smelled really nice. I walked home and, just as I got through the door, the phone rang.
"My car's been stolen. Should I call the police?"
"No need. They've already found it; they just phoned."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"How? Where are you?"
"At the hairdresser's; I told you"
"Oh yeah, I forgot. Can Andy give you a lift home, or shall I come and get you?"
"Anthony. He'll give me a ride."
'What another?' I thought.
She looked uncomfortable when she got home.
"So where's my car?"
"The police have to keep it for now; something to do with forensics. But they said it hasn't been damaged. They'll call us over the weekend, when we can go and get it."
"Oh. Do you think I might be allowed to go and get something from it?"
"I should think so, better wait till morning though."
Now she looked even more nervous, and I knew why. If I was a married woman, just back from the hairdresser, and was wearing no tights or panties, I'd be nervous too! She went straight upstairs and I heard the shower running.
"I'm just going out to the darkroom." I shouted.
