Repayment

First, an apology to my followers for the length of time since I published my last story. I had three story ideas but they all ended with writer's block. This story is the first of three new ideas and it just kept going.

For those of you who started to read and then found it pulled from the site, that was my fault as I realised there was more to this story that needed to be told.

I hope the story now has something for everyone. Therefore, I know it will also get some readers' knickers in a twist. Sorry, but I can't write straightforward relationship stories.

The Repayment.

At four-thirty on Friday afternoon, Deborah, my secretary opened the door of my office "Are you busy," she asked.

I looked up. "Not really, just clearing up for the weekend," I replied, smiling at the best secretary any manager could have.

"Gerald has just rung and told me that he wants to see you immediately."

Gerald Letterman was not just the C.E.O. of the insurance company where I was the chief accountant, Gerald and his brother Stanley, also owned the company, inherited from their father, though Stanley took no part in running it.

"Don't forget me when Gerald offers you a directorship," Deborah said as I passed her desk five minutes later.

"Some chance of that happening," I replied, as I smiled back at her.

"Mr Letterman is expecting you, Mr Briers." His PA, Janet stated as she opened his office door.

As she closed the door behind me, Gerald was sitting behind his very substantial desk. "Take a seat, Robert," he told me, without glancing up from whatever he was reading.

Gerald had always been civil to me whenever we met to discuss the company's finances. Usually when I read the financial report to a board meeting. I'd say we had a good business relationship but I had never met him socially.

When he looked up he stared straight into my eyes. "You look nervous, Robert. Is there something I should know about?"

Something he should know about. He couldn't know about it and I certainly wasn't going to tell him, not now, not anytime. "No, Mr Letterman." No one in the company ever called him Gerald. "Just wondering why you wanted to see me so late on a Friday?"

"That's a shame, Robert," he said, without answering my question. He hadn't taken his eyes off my face which was making me nervous, because I knew he was goading me. He knew something, but how much did he know.

"Well, Robert, let's see just how much I do know then you can fill in the rest for me. Will you do that, Robert?"

I couldn't say no, he would want to know why. If I said yes, I was admitting my guilt even before the charges were laid. "Maybe," I replied.

"Maybe," he repeated. "An interesting answer." Finally, his eyes left my face and he looked down at the open folder. "I see that you still owe fifty thousand to Horton Finance. Is that correct, Robert?"

Oh God, yes. The bastards were demanding payment before the end of the month. If Mr Letterman knew that he also knew where all the other payments came from. "Yes, sir" I very reluctantly admitted.

"So, Robert, you've had over two hundred thousand pounds in gambling debts with Horton Finance who wanted their money back. Yes?"

There was no point in denying it, but now I was more concerned about where he was leading me. "Yes, sir."

"So you borrowed the money from me? Is that right, Robert?"

I suppose I had, really. After all, he owned the company. "Yes, Mr Letterman." I felt sick as I answered him.

"They're a rough lot at Horton Finance. Were they threatening to break your legs or cut off your balls?"

"Break my legs."

"Are you still gambling on the horses, Robert?

I still was, but only one race at a time. "Occasionally,' I told him.

Again, he was looking me in the eyes. He made a dismissive grunt "Well, Robert, we now have a problem, don't we?"

"What problem, Sir." This was not going well.

"Well, it's obvious, Robert. You still owe Horton Finance an awful lot of money

'Yes, Mr Letterman," I admitted. Let's get this over with, I thought total resignation.

"Then, of course, you will need to repay me all the money you have already borrowed to repay the Horton brothers. You did borrow it, didn't you Robert?"

No, I hadn't exactly borrowed it. I'd never intended to repay it. How could I, when I couldn't repay the original loan from Horton Finance?

"I intended to, Mr Letterman."

'Really, Robert. I don't think so," he sneered at me, then just stared at me for a moment before a smile crossed his lips. "However, Robert, I have a suggestion you might be interested in as an alternative to having your legs broken or going to prison for fraud and being reported to the financial regulator. You do know what that would mean to your life, probably your marriage and to your career, don't you, Robert?"

As it was only a week ago I still vividly remember every detail of my meeting in Gerald Letterman's office.

As far as I know, my wife, Sally knows nothing about my gambling or how much money is involved. I could have borrowed against our house but she would have to approve it.

What she knows about our discussion and my agreement with Gerald's suggestion, I don't know. She hasn't said anything to me and Gerald had told me not to speak to her about it. I had made up my mind never to gamble on the horses again.

His suggestion was very simple. If I agree to repay all the money I borrowed plus ten per cent interest on the balance every month he would pay the money I still owed Horton Finance so I didn't get my legs broken. 'Couldn't let that happen to his chief accountant, could he,' he'd told me.

I remember just nodding but he insisted I answer in the affirmative. There was still the matter of how I was going to repay him.

I vividly remember the disparaging look he gave me. "Now, about the method of repayment. I've decided how I would like the repayment made," he stated. "The going rate for a good professional girl is about two hundred pounds an hour."

I remember my surprise when he said that. "What's a professional girl got to do with it," I remember asking him.

"I'm coming to that, Robert. That's what a professional girl who knows her business can charge but I think your inexperienced wife is only worth a hundred and an hour. What do you think, Robert?"

I had gone ballistic. He wanted to fuck my wife as repayment for the money I had stolen from his company. No way. No way would I ever let a fat, bald, lecherous sixty-two-year-old fuck my wife.

I remembered how he had sat behind his desk staring at me and just repeating. "Or you go to prison for a very long time, Robert," until I calmed down.

"What's it going to be, Robert. A long time in prison, your marriage over, and your career destroyed, or your wife being my whore for a couple of years?"

I eventually nodded, but Gerald insisted that I actually agreed verbally. "Yes, Gerald my wife can be your whore until my debt is fully paid."

I vividly remember his lecherous smile as he continued. "When your wife, what's her name? Sally, isn't it. When Sally and I become more familiar with each other I'm sure she will agree to spend more time with me to help you pay my money back quicker."

Then he explained it to me. "I'll start off slowly, after all your wife has never done this before. Let's agree on four or five hours a couple of evenings a week and at least one weekend a month, Friday evening till Sunday evenings. After a couple of months, your wife should have become more professional so perhaps I'll start paying a hundred and fifty an hour for her. Can you see how this is going, Robert? The more experienced your wife becomes the more I'm willing to pay her. After all, we both want to settle your debt eventually, don't we?"

Wednesday, two weeks after my confrontation with Gerald Letterman, my secretary put his call through to me. "Robert, listen carefully," he stated and carried on immediately. "I have booked a table for Friday at The Mayfly Hotel and I've made arrangements for you both to be there at seven-thirty."

That was the first hint I had that Gerald was making a move on my wife.

"You still there Robert."

His question broke my train of thought. "Yes, sir. Seven-thirty on Friday at The Mayfly Hotel," I confirmed.

"My chauffeur will pick you and your wife up a seven fifteen and drive you home after we have eaten," he stated. "Do you understand, Robert?"

Wednesday evening, I told my wife about Gerald's dinner invitation. She wasn't as surprised as I expected, in fact, all she did was pat my cheek and then kiss me. "Gerald told me he was going to book a table somewhere special for dinner on Friday."

It took me a moment to realise what she had just said. "You've spoken to Gerald.

"Yes Robert, we had afternoon tea together at The Mayfly Hotel on Monday"

That made me cross. He had already met Sally there and now we were going there for dinner. The Mayfly Hotel was a few miles out of town, it was also a very exclusive country house hotel with a slightly dubious reputation. I wanted to ask my wife about her meeting with him, but Gerald Letterman's threat to tell the police and the financial regulator about my theft if I questioned my wife about anything, was still too fresh in my mind.

As we looked at each other she smiled, and then kissed me quickly on my cheek. "You naughty, naughty boy," she whispered in my ear.

If Gerald had told my wife about the money I had stolen from him, had he also told her what I had agreed to for repayment. More important, had he already fucked her before she left The Mayfly Hotel?

As always, I was in our bedroom with Sally as we dressed for dinner. For me, it was just a suit and tie. Sally, on the other hand, was carefully pealing a new pair of expensive black stockings up her beautiful legs, then she stood up and asked me if the seams were straight. When I told her they were, she pulled the elasticated lace tops a little higher, while making sure they were level.

A familiar action which always got my heart beat harder, made even worse by the look of pure wickedness she gave me. Then she stepped into a pair of black strappy shoes with gold trim and heels that just screamed, come and fuck me.

Where the dress came from, I have no idea. It was black and very short. For a forty-four-year-old woman, her ample breasts were still well presented. Inside the dress, their nakedness was far too visible for my liking.

"When did you get the dress?" I asked her.

"It's a gift from Gerald," she replied without hesitation. "He had it delivered to me this morning, with the shoes and stockings and the beautiful underwear. The underwear was just a pair of tiny black lacy panties.

That hurt. Right in front of me, my wife had been shamelessly dressing herself in the clothes that another man had bought for her. The same man we were both getting ready to have dinner with. The man I was now certain had fucked her at The Mayfly Hotel.

Was this how it was always going to be like when my wife got herself ready for meeting Gerald Letterman. The same queasiness in my stomach, the same pain in my chest, the same questions in my head.

The limousine arrived exactly at seven. As I helped Sally into the rear seat I remembered what Gerald had added after telling me about tonight's dinner. I would be driven home after we had eaten. I would be driven home, not we would be driven home.

As soon as we entered the restaurant someone was waiting for us. "Mr and Mrs Briers, please follow me. Mr Letterman is already here."

As was my habit I offered Sally my arm but this time she tucked her clutch bag into her side and walked beside me as we followed the man to Gerald's table.

Gerald Letterman rose as we approached him. I was ignored as he stepped toward my wife and greeted her with a hand on each shoulder and a real kiss on each cheek. "So wonderful to see you again Sally. You look absolutely beautiful," he added as he smiled at her.

'Thank you, Gerald, and it's so kind of you to invite me back here for dinner."

I just stood there bewildered by my wife's disrespect for me.

"Evening Robert," he said to me with hardly a glance as he held the chair beside him for my wife.

When we were settled there was the usual routine of ordering drinks and then perusing the menu. When I put my menu down my wife was watching me. "Have you chosen what you want, darling?" I asked her.

"I let Gerald choose for me," she replied as she turned toward him. "He seemed to know exactly what I wanted."

As he smiled back at my wife he placed his right hand over her left hand I nearly lost it. This wasn't what I had agreed to. Where had this blatant display of familiarity come from? Surely not from just one-afternoon tea together.

The waiter asking for my order interrupted my thoughts. Somehow, I

remembered my choices and he left.

"That's a good choice, Robert."

I heard his voice and looked straight into his eyes. They stared defiantly back at me. "I didn't know it was your wife's business I rented my properties from," he told me. Then he turned to Sally. "I must have been one of your first customers, five years ago wasn't it?"

Sally glanced at me for just a moment and I didn't like the look she gave me. "I'm sorry Gerald but you were our second. You would have been our first but something made you delay your decision."

"Well, it was a good decision in the end. I always have enjoyed our business lunches whenever I needed to negotiate a new lease."

Now I knew why they were so familiar with each other. They had known each other for five years. Was it only because my wife used her maiden name for business that the connection to me had never been made?

I looked at Sally. "But, you knew I worked for him?"

Before she could reply Gerald intervened. "Why would your wife think that, I rent my properties through another company."

Then I remembered that I had rarely mentioned his name to my wife.

So that was why Sally never connected us. As I listened to their conversation things dropped into place. I heard him ask Sally where the name, 'Best Rental Property,' came from.

"So you and Audrey have always been best friends," he replied after Sally told him.

Five years ago, was a bad time for me. After being a stay-at-home mother until our son left for university, Sally was going into a business partnership with her best friend Audrey. The twice-married, Audrey. The twice-divorced for cheating, Audrey. The fun at any cost, Audrey. The bad influence over my wife, Audrey. Eventually, I did something I hadn't done since I asked Sally to marry me. I went into a betting shop and placed a bet on a horse.

When the main course arrived, I realised they were now so deep in conversation they were ignoring me. Though Sally did glance at me occasionally, it wasn't to include me in their conversation. As the evening progressed I became as much concerned with the little touches of familiarity between them as I was with my wife's attitude toward me. Had they planned this behaviour between them before or after they fucked each other when she was here with him last Monday?

After we finished our dessert, almost as soon as the table was cleared a waiter appeared beside me. "Excuse me, Sir." I looked up at him and immediately remembered what Gerald had told me. I would be driven home after we had eaten. "The driver is waiting to take you home, sir."

I glanced at Gerald. "I'll have my driver bring your wife home Sunday evening," he told me before I could say anything.

"Robert." I turned when Sally spoke to me. "Don't worry, Robert, you know that Gerald will take very good care of me." Resigned to the situation I had created. I just told my wife I would see her Sunday and left the table. Even kissing her seemed inappropriate.

Apart from a couple of family emergencies my wife and I had never spent a weekend apart. Now we were apart because Sally was spending the weekend with another man. All weekend, every minute of every hour that I was awake, my imagination pictured what Gerald and my wife were doing together.

That was three months ago, and Gerald had been taking very good care of my wife on many more evenings, and also several weekends. This time Sally was packing for a week away with Gerald on one of the Greek islands. She hadn't told me which one and I hadn't asked.

At the end of the first four weeks after our dinner at The Mayfly Hotel, I'd received an email from Gerald. There was no writing on it, just numbers but I knew exactly what each one meant. It showed how much I owed him with the interest, how many hours my wife had spent with him, and my remaining debt.

I had a similar email last month showing that my wife had spent ninety-eight hours with Gerald. As well as a couple of evenings each week she had spent another weekend with him. For the remaining hours, she must have been with him during the day.

My loneliness when my wife was with Gerald was still extremely painful. The ache in my guts, the pain in my chest and the questions in my head never seemed to diminish. Some of my imagination was being fed by the titbits of information she gave me, but mainly from the way the sex I was having with my wife had changed since this whole thing started.

Whatever Gerald was doing to her, it had quickly and dramatically changed our sexual relationship. "Claim me back, Robert," was demanded every time she returned from an evening or weekend with him. By that she meant, suck my cunt until I scream my head off then fuck my brains out. That meant I had to fuck her hard and she wanted both her cunt and her ass fucked hard even after I was no longer capable.

I'd rarely had Sally's ass before Gerald started fucking her. Now fucking her ass was always part of the sex we were having almost every evening and every weekend she wasn't with him. Her oral skill had also improved. Sally had never been able to take all of my cock in her mouth. Now I could bury my crotch into her face and hold it there as I discharged my cum straight down her throat.

Was it my wife's retribution for what I had forced her to do with Gerald? Whatever the implication for our marriage, I took full advantage of everything my wife offered me.

Now she was going to be with Gerald for a whole week. My only compensation for not having my wife demanding that I fuck her brains out was the contribution that the hundred and sixty-eight hours she was with him would make to reducing my debt.

I'd just carried my wife's case down the stairs when the bell rang and she opened the front door. Gerald's chauffeur stood there. "I'll take madam's case to the car," he offered, so I pushed it to him.

Sally turned and looked at me. "It's only seven days, Robert and I'll be back on Saturday". She put her arms around my neck and drew me in for one of her special kisses. "Then you can fuck my brains out for as long as you like."

"Is that all I am to you now," I told her. "Just someone to fuck your brains out when Gerald isn't doing it." I don't know what made me say it now, even though I'd thought it so many times.

I expected to see anger in my wife's eyes, instead, I saw pity. Then she said something I hadn't expected. She reached for my face and stroked my cheek then kissed the other one and whispered in my ear. "I'll ask Gerald if there is some way I can pay off your debt even quicker."

Then she kissed me, soft moist lips pressed to mine. "I'll call you when we get to wherever Gerald is taking me." She kissed me again, this time harder with her tongue in my mouth. I sighed into her mouth as my arms held her tight and I stroked her tongue with mine.

Five minutes later she was gone as the limousine disappeared around the bend.

Sally did phone me, but much later than I expected. She gave me no explanation, just a brief apology. "I'll call you again just before we fly back," she told me, then a brief goodbye and an, "I love you."