That was this summer. I had very long relationship and last year i got ridden of it. So I sex occasionally wit various girls till then. One night this September I was very very tired of everything. Job went finally better and some private investing also, but I had being working for 14 hours a day at time. It was About 1 am in the morning and was just went of from long shower and about to lay down on my bad.The voice from the other side of cell phone was very pleasant, some kind of baby talking voice. Voice said" Annnn' what what do want from me now?...LOL.. i said "who is this?&... Continue»
Sarah looked at me pityingly, stood up, and took me gently by the arm.
"Come on," she said. "I'm due a break. Let's go and get a coffee somewhere."
Over coffee, actually I drink tea, she told me that Jim had seen my car pulling into the car park and had gone out through the back door, as I'd come in through the front. He'd told her we'd had a big bust up, but not why, which made me sigh with relief.
"He won't discuss it," she said. "He's in a terrible state. Do you want to tell me what it's about?"
"I can't," I replied. "But it's my fault, not his."
"That bad eh?" Sarah commented, with a knowing look.
"Worse than that," I replied. "Much worse."
"I think you need to find someone to talk to about this," she suggested. "Someone close to you, that you can trust."
It was good advice, but I had nobody. I was close to my parents, an only c***d, but how do you start a conversation like that? "I haven't mentioned it before Daddy, but I've been working as a prostitute since I left Oxford University, and my husband's just found out."
No, it just wasn't possible. I had nobody, and I'd have to work it out for myself.
Then a week later Rolf rang. Rolf was another of my American clients, nearly sixty, but in really good shape, a good lover, and I'd known him since before I'd met Jim.
We got on really well, and I suppose I did have some quite deep feelings for him, though nothing like I had for Jim. Anyway he was married, and once I'd even met his wife, though I was of course introduced as a junior business contact.
Rolf was one of only two of my 'dates' that I had ever given my telephone number to. I felt I could trust him.
"Sorry Rolf," I said when I heard his voice. " I'm not available at the moment. Might not be for some time."
"Golden Circle told me your bad news," he said back to me over the phone, and I burst into tears.
"You need someone to talk to, don't you," Rolf went on. "Let's meet somewhere. Maybe I can help."
" Oh Rolf, please no, don't ask me out. I'm in no state to give you what you want."
"Payback time," he said quietly. "Time I did something for you rather than the other way round. No messing around I promise. Meet me at the usual place..... No, not there. I'll come up to Cambridge. Where do you suggest?"
Five hours later, I was sat in front of Rolf, and he started to question me.
"Do you want him to come back?" He asked first, to which I replied that of course I did, but there seemed to be little chance.
"If not, then I would be more than happy to.... Well you know that Polly and me haven't been getting on so well for some time now, and I thought...."
I interrupted him, "Please Rolf, don't lead me down that path. I like you, OK, I love you in some way, but you're not Jim. Sorry but you're just not Jim."
Rolf nodded his head sadly.
" I expected that Jenny. Sorry but I had to ask. Had to get it out of the way."
I smiled at him. He was so sweet.
"Jim won't talk to me Rolf. He just won't talk to me. I don't know what to do. I don't understand how if he loved me, he could cut me off like that."
"And I don't think you've yet realised quite how much you have destroyed him, his whole world young lady." Rolf replied.
"But he just doesn't understand. It was just sex. Just something I need, the excitement, it's like a d**g and I don't seem to be able to exist without it. Going with a range of different men all the time. Not knowing who I'd be going to bed with from one week to another. I can't seem to explain it to anyone."
I poured my feelings out, explaining how even when I'd stopped after getting married, I'd ended up miserable after just six months or so, with only one lover, wonderful though he was, and as much as I was in love with him.
"Just sex was it?" Rolf asked.
"Yes there was never anything else, just sex."
"The way you smiled at me. The way you kissed me. The way you pleased me, just sex all the time was it?" Rolf asked.
He wasn't asking, he was querying whether I'd got my feelings right.
I thought about it. Remembered what it was like being with him. Remembered the feelings with which we had made love, yes made love, not had sex.
I was k**ding myself, and though it had so often been just sex with most of them, an adventure to take part in and forget, with Rolf, and a few others for that matter, it had been more than that. Far more.
"Do you remember how you reacted when you found out I'd gone with one of the other girls when you were on holiday Jenny," Rolf demanded gently, reminding me of how angry I had been. How I had shouted and screamed at him, sulked for a couple of weeks. Even been sharp with poor Jim who was so blameless.
"Can you imagine how Jim must feel now.?... Can you imagine how much worse it must be for him?"
I looked up at Rolf, and it came flooding in, the realisation of quite what I'd done to Jim. Quite how unspeakably awful I had been.
I started crying, but this time I wasn't crying for myself. I was crying for him, my husband, my love, and I cried like I'd never cried in my life before.
I was heartbroken, that I'd broken his heart.
Rolf took me gently in his arms, and rocked me tenderly, whilst I cried like a baby as he held me.
"I can't imagine what I can do, but I'll try," he whispered to me. "I just hope he thinks as much of you as I do."
I'd do anything, absolutely anything to have just a glimmer of a chance to win Jim back. I'd fight against my need to go with other men, and I prayed to God that I could be strong enough to resist it, to have the willpower to say no; I'm not going to do that anymore.
And I'd start straight away. Yes I would, straight away.
I'd tell Rolf to stop undoing the buttons of my blouse.
I will I'm determined I will.... I'll tell him to stop immediately.... Right now!... I mean it, right now.....Right now....I'll tell him to stop....
"Rolf please," I managed to whimper quietly, my feelings and my needs conflicting badly.
"Please what?" he replied, quietly, gently, almost as you would speak to a c***d.
I shivered in his arms, whispering almost inaudibly, "You know what. You know."
"Then say it Jenny. Just say it."
"Please stop Rolf," I managed to get out. "Please stop undoing my blouse....I want you to. I need you to, but please Rolf, please." My body urged me to retract my words, and the burning need in the tips of my aching breasts screamed at me for being such a fool.
Rolf stopped, and cuddled me tightly to him, continuing to rock me gently.
"I'm sorry Rolf. I'm so sorry. It's not that....."
He put his finger to my lips, and cut my silly words dead.
"That's a first step Jenny. How difficult was that?" Rolf said after a few minutes.
"Difficult..... bl**dy difficult Rolf," I replied as the tears that I had held at bay till then, started to roll down my cheeks. "I wanted you to carry on. Dammit I still want you to carry on...."
"But are you going to let me Jenny, because truthfully, I really want to."
"No! No I'm not," I replied, but I didn't mean it. That is I did.... But I ...... Oh damn it I didn't know what I wanted anymore."
I tore myself away from him, leapt up from the sofa and retreated a few paces, staring at him in torment.
"What are you doing to me Rolf?... Why are you torturing me like this?.... Why don't you leave me alone?"
"It's a first step Jenny," Rolf repeated. "And an easy one at that. It may not always be so easy, but it's a start."
I knew what he was doing. Had known more or less since he started. He was testing me to see if I had the will power to say no. To refuse sex just like that, knowing how good it would have been, how tenderly Rolf would have undressed me, caressed my naked body so tenderly, and then made wonderful gorgeous love to me.
I discovered I was panting, fighting for my breath, staring at Rolf, trying to get my thoughts back in order, knowing that if he so much as beckoned to me, I would fly back into his arms, and tear my own blouse of before he had another chance to stop me.
Then he laughed, just a little laugh, not much more than a grin, and the tension broke. I felt myself relaxing, my breathing coming back to normal, the turmoil in both my brain and between my legs subsiding.
"How did you know?" I whispered. " How did you know what I'm like?"
"How long have I known you?" Rolf returned my question. "How long have I been in love with you myself?"
I smiled at him. Rolf seemed to have an answer for everything, but could he help me with Jim?
"Then why didn't Jim know? Why doesn't he understand me and my needs?"
"Did you ever let him know?" Rolf answered. " Did he ever have reason to suspect?.... Would he have been able to understand if you had told him the truth?"
"You did Rolf," I answered miserably. "You listened long enough to understand."
Rolf looked at me, almost as a father would his misbehaving little daughter.
"But I knew I wasn't the only one Jenny," Rolf explained at last. "Jim is your husband, and had every right to expect that he was."
I started to sob again, the magnitude of my impossible situation dawning on me, but realising that it was perhaps nothing compared to that of my husband Jim.
Rolf stood and took me in his arms, but not as before, comforting me as several years of hidden grief poured out.
"I'll see what I can do Jenny," he repeated. "I know someone who might be able to help, but as for Jim?.... Well I'm not sure. I'm just not sure."
When I'd stormed out of the house after finding out that my wonderful sweet wife was a whore, a prostitute, whatever she called her self, I'd wandered blindly around the neighbourhood with no idea where I was going or even where I had been.
I woke up on a park bench in the early hours of the morning, my head reminding me of the pub I had ended up in, and where I had d***k myself silly. I couldn't even remember leaving. Couldn't remember how I got to the park.
I found my mobile in my pocket and clicked up my office number, only stopping when it dawned on me that it was still six in the morning.
I felt empty, completely devoid of feelings. I couldn't hate Jenny because I couldn't relate to her. I didn't know her any more, and she wasn't the lovely sweet woman that I had met and gifted me her virginity.
My insides tightened, turning over, and almost making me wretch.
Her virginity.....Gifted me her virginity. The words floated in a confused jumble round my brain.
Oh Christ no, it couldn't be. Surely it couldn't be even worse?
She couldn't have been....? Not then... Not when I'd first met her, not that first evening. Please, please don't let that be true.
How we'd first met flashed back.
How she'd come into the hotel and mistaken me for the guy she was due to meet.
The guy that she was due to discuss some public relations deal with for her agency.
The agency that she used to work for.
The same agency that she still worked for.
Oh no! Please someone tell me no.
How could I have been so stupid? Why didn't I realise?
But why would I?
Why would I even think to question what she had told me?
It was all so plausible, and made good sense. But then Jenny was a very intelligent woman, so she would make sure that it made sense.
And of course I was blinded. Blinded by her beauty, and then so quickly afterwards by my love.
Love?.....Love?.... What did that mean any more?
A pal put me up for a few days, and I told him, like I told the office that Jenny and I had argued really bad. I couldn't tell them the truth, I couldn't. How do you tell anyone that you've just discovered that you've been married and in love with a prostitute, who'd been cheating on you the whole time you've known her.
Jenny tried to contact me of course, and Sarah my PA, kept telling me how upset she was, and for that matter what a state I was in.
Just once she suggested that I ought to talk to her, but I bit her head off so violently that she didn't bring the matter up again.
I rang her parents to discover that they had no idea we even had a problem. I was going to tell them what their damn daughter did for a pass-time, get my revenge on her, but baulked at hurting them so. It wasn't their fault and they'd always been good to me, if a little distant. I just told them we'd had a little argument and that no doubt Jenny would be in contact soon.
"All blow over soon enough Jim," her mother had replied. "If you only knew what problems me and George have had over the years."
If she'd known what problems we were having, then she wouldn't have been so breezy about it I suspect.
I knew I was going to have to see her. I knew I couldn't walk away without knowing the answers to so many questions. But I didn't know how, and I didn't know if I could face her, so I just kept ignoring her calls.
"Hi Jim. You don't know me, and maybe won't want to, but I'd appreciate it if you could spare me the time for a little chat. I'll ring again later."
The man's accent was American, but then I deal with Americans all the time. It was the tone of his voice that alerted me. That and the fact that he'd rung me at home, when I would be unlikely to be in. It was a couple of weeks since my awful discovery, but it was still raw in my insides. No doubt time would prove to be a great healer, but it hadn't even began to smooth down my hurt yet.
When he rang again that night I answered and didn't ring off straight away when he said he was ringing on Jenny's behalf. He'd been clever. Wondering who the hell it could have been had worked in his favour, and I decided to listen to what he had to say.
I supposed it was the boss from the agency, and reluctantly agreed to meet him, not sure that I would be able to resist slugging him, but eager to pump him for information, evidence if I needed it, as by then I thought maybe I would.
He introduced himself as Rolf, but was evasive as to how he knew Jenny. When he discovered that I wasn't prepared to talk to him unless he came clean, then he did. When he told me, then I had to believe him. Why else would anyone make up a story that he'd made love to your wife, and that he'd made love to her even before you had, and that he paid her for her favours.
I expected blind fury, but it never came. I expected to shout at him, or punch him, but I didn't. Maybe if he'd been a younger man I may have reacted differently.
Somehow I just sat there and listened to what he said.
Rolf was an intelligent man, and used to dealing with people and generally getting his own way. Rich and powerful men like Rolf tend to get their own way, but the difference with him was that he persuaded you rather than ordered you.
It would be difficult to accept that I grew to like Rolf. How can you like a man who has been fucking your wife behind your back for several years? No I couldn't like him, but I did learn to respect him, and what he said made good sense.
Whichever way it turned out, we both had to move on. I couldn't imagine ever taking Jenny back, but there was unfinished business and turning my back on it would solve nothing.
I agreed to meet her. I agreed to go and see her at our house...my house dammit... the following day.
I drove up to our house and parked my Jaguar on the drive. It was just like any other day, coming home from work, maybe a bit early, even the neighbours wouldn't have noticed anything odd.
Thank Christ for the self-locking device, as my hand was shaking so much that I doubt I would have been able to get the key into the lock of the car.
Thankfully I didn't have that problem with the front door, and it opened as I approached.
I prepared myself to push Jenny back if she tried to grab me and cuddle me, but she had more sense. She just stood there and let me in, asking quietly how I was.
"How the hell do you think I am?" I spat at her, despite my resolve to try to be civil.
"I'm sorry Jim," she said with just the slightest hesitation, "I won't pretend I know how you feel, but I've an idea."
"How could you know?" I demanded, but she just looked at me, without argument.
"And don't you dare bl**dy well tell me you love me, or any of that crap," I said, almost shouting, trying to provoke her, despite my best intentions.
"I don't have to," was all she said, without even raising her head to look up at me.
We walked through to the lounge, my lounge, and sat down facing each other.
"Well you wanted to talk. Then talk!" I said shortly.
I looked over at her, and saw that her face was blank, almost devoid of any expression, any life, any hope. Then she looked up at me, and the hint of a smile flitted over her face.
I felt my heart breaking again.
I couldn't shout at her.... I could hate her; I could detest her, but I couldn't shout at her.
"Is there any hope for us Jim?" Jenny asked at last. "Any hope at all?"
"I doubt it," I replied. "Not unless you can convince me that your behaviour was reasonable, and I don't see how you can."
"Neither can I Jim. It wasn't reasonable, not at all reasonable. It was stupid and selfish. I had a problem...have a problem, but I never even chose to share it with you. I never even asked you to help me."
She looked at me balefully, and asked, "What do you want to know Jim. I'll be honest with you I promise."
Where was I to start? There was no point in asking simply why? Or when?
How did you get into all this Jenny? How could you....." I left the question unfinished. I didn't think more was required.
Jenny took a deep breath and started.
"I spent my c***dhood at boarding school, and only saw my parents during the holidays. The school was strict, and the only boy I had even kissed by my eighteenth birthday was my cousin during the summer hols. Then I went up to Oxford and was sort of let off the reins. Like many girls from my background we went mad for sex. Couldn't get enough of it.
One day two of us stripped off at a rugby match, completely naked, and ran across the pitch. We were grabbed by some of the players, and... well we didn't get back to our hall till the evening of the following day, and even then in borrowed rugby shirts and nothing underneath. It was all so crazy, exciting, and for the first time in my life I felt wanted, that I really was someone, someone that had a point to make. I can't explain it anymore than that.
Then when I left, I went to work in London, but never had enough money. Not enough to live like I had been used to anyway, and I refused to sponge off my parents. I just had to be independent of them.
A girl I knew told me about this so called dating agency. Men paid you to go on dates with them...no sex...not even a good night kiss if you didn't want to. But of course I found myself quite liking some of them. First it was kissing them goodnight, then letting them go a bit further, and then of course I ended up in bed with one of them.
It wasn't a great step from that stupid little agency to Golden Circle, just a lot more class, and a hell of a lot more money.
I was hooked. I had my own money, lots of it, more than I could spend, and I was going exciting places, Paris, New York, all over.
Most of all though I was someone.
I was a woman that men wanted, and would pay to be with. Someone they could show off to their friends, who would be jealous of them.
I wasn't just a silly little schoolgirl whose parents only bothered with her at holiday time, and sometimes not even then."
Jenny broke down and started crying, and I felt pity for her. I just wished I had met her earlier, before this had all started.
"And the evening we first met?" I asked, when she had settled down a little.
"I knew you'd ask that," Jenny answered. "I couldn't believe you hadn't suspected, but we lived in different worlds."
She looked up at me again. "I don't suppose you had ever even met a call-girl before that night had you?" I shook my head, and Jenny shrugged her shoulders, as if that explained everything. All it showed to me was what a dumb brain I'd been.
"I was due to meet someone, a client... Ok a date. An American, there were always a lot of Americans, but I can't even remember his name, other than he was called James of course. I never did get to see him, because I guess I'd packed it in by the time he came back to London.
I was late, got caught up in traffic, and I met you Jim."
"So why did you go with me Jenny? Why didn't you just bugger off?"
"You were sort of cute. You looked nice. You were just completely different to all the other men that I knew at that time."
"And the second date?" I queried. "How did I get to rate a second date?"
"I enjoyed that first evening with you so much. You were so sweet...sorry but you were sort of sweet and innocent, even though you were ten years older than me. I realised you had absolutely no idea of why I had been there that night, and honestly suspected that you maybe not very experienced with women, but you certainly proved that one wrong."
"But why the virgin act Jenny? Why that?"
"I was a virgin that night Jim. Maybe only your virgin, and maybe not a real one. But that night I was a virgin for you, and I wasn't acting, or at least it didn't feel like it."
"So I was at least special?" I asked. Small comfort but better than nothing.
"Very special," Jenny answered. "The most special ever in my life."
"So how could you still go on fucking other guys? How could you do that if I was so special?"
"I didn't Jim. At least I didn't after our second date."
"Your lying Jenny. Please don't bl**dy well lie to me. You didn't stop working for that agency till just after we were married. How could you do that?"
Jenny shook her head more confidently. "I didn't Jim. I swear it. I did go on a few dinner dates, and yes I was paid, but I never went to bed with them. None of them, it was just dinner then maybe a few hours at a club and then home. And the last one was two or three weeks before we were married."
"I'm supposed to be impressed with that Jenny?" I asked sadly.
"Not really," she responded as she shook her head uncertainly, the first of a new set of tears rolling down her cheeks, and a few stray dark lustrous hairs matting to her cheeks.
Jenny didn't need me to ask her the next question, but explained how after six months of marriage, I'd suddenly seemed to immerse myself in my business, and it coincided with her feeling unworthy again, and lacking any purpose or outside excitement in her life.
With my unfortunate agreement, she'd gone back to the agency, and started to do dinner dates again. No sex dinner dates; there was a demand for them from lonely businessman away from home, looking for a special beautiful date for the evening, paid for, but acting as if it was by choice. Of course it didn't stop there, and Jenny got hooked again, promising herself that it would be just the one, then another and another.
"I thought I had the best of both worlds Jim?" she enthused, "A wonderful loving husband who I adored.... Still adore," she added defiantly, daring me to argue. "And the thrill of my other life, the glamour, the places they took me, the way all the men used to look at me, hungrily."
"And the sex," I added tersely.
"Yes Jim. And the sex," she agreed weakly.
"How many of them were better in bed than me Jenny?"
I didn't want to, but I had to ask the question, and she began to cry again.
"Not many Jim. Honestly not many of them, and it was just never the same. Ok, a few of them I got fond of, quite fond, but it was never the same as with you."
"Rolf for example?"
Jenny nodded, "Especially Rolf," she admitted.
Up till that point I could maybe have been tempted to give in and take her back. I don't think it would have worked, little chance really, but I might just have tried. It might just have worked, but that admission killed it, and the final questions buried it.
"How many had bigger cocks than me Jenny?" Bought a mumbled, "Just a few," from her.
"How many times did you come home and kiss me, when you still had the taste of other men's cocks in your mouth?" hardly bought a response, just a series of sobs, and a strangled, "Oh I'm so sorry Jim."
I didn't need any answer, her manner told me all, and more.
I watched her sitting there crying. I couldn't hate her. Goddammit I couldn't stop loving her. It broke my heart to watch her in such a pathetic state and not go over to comfort her.
But I couldn't go back to her. I couldn't live with her any more. If I had any doubts before, then I had none at that moment, and I told her so.
She took it well; asked me if perhaps sometime in the future we could get together again, when time had maybe healed the wounds.
I said I didn't know, that maybe it was possible, but that it would probably take a lifetime for that to happen.
I took her in my arms and held her one last time, kissed her lightly on the lips and cuddled her up tightly.
Then I reluctantly let her go, said goodbye and walked back out of the house. I heard her crying as I left, and the sound haunted me for months later, even years on a bad day.
It was the most difficult thing I'd ever done in my life.
I deserved it. Oh God how I deserved it, but how could life have been so cruel to me.
I spent the next week in a fit of depression, and even Rolf wasn't around to console me.
What could I do? The only thing I could. The only thing I knew, and the thing that I always sought solace in when I was low.
I rang the agency, Golden Circle, and they were delighted to have me back again, declaring me to be their most popular e****t. I'm not sure if that helped, but equally it didn't do my wrecked confidence any harm.
I spruced myself up, bought a new dress, and went off to meet my first date, determined to enjoy it, determined that if this was to be my life again, that I would make the most of it and damn the rest of them.
It wasn't a good choice for my first time back, and I realised I should have chosen someone I'd already been with. He was a German Industrialist, who thought he owned the world, and thought he owned me.
He leered at me when we met in the foyer of the hotel, and made some crude remark about sucking my tits. My clients were not normally like this, or perhaps I'd become more sensitive to what I was doing.
He grabbed me round the waist and pulled the front of my dress down, right there in front of everyone around us. I yanked it back up, but not before half the guests at the hotel had enjoyed a good view of my breasts.
I really felt so cheap.
I thought of pulling out, just walking away, but he had hold of me and was obviously already fairly d***k, already making a scene. So I decided to get it over with as quickly as possible, urging him over to the lift to get up to his room, refusing dinner or even a drink, which would normally have been at least the minimum requirement to enjoy a full evening of my time.
Once in his room he grabbed me and started to tear at my clothes. I was frightened to scream, as girls like me would not get a lot of support from whoever might arrive. I was on my own and I knew it. Short of beating me, then I would have to take what he dished out, and dish it out he did.
He stripped me naked, my dress in a torn mess, my bra ripped in two, and my panties no longer recognisable as such, after he had torn them from me. I tried to reason with him, tried to quieten him down, but he just kept shouting, "Fucking bitch. I'll get my money's worth out of you, you dirty whore."
He grabbed at my breasts, wrenching at them angrily, squeezing my nipples till his nails bit into them, making me scream in pain, praying by then, that someone would hear us and come to my help, whatever price I had to pay afterwards.
He was just so big, and I was like a doll in his hands, pushing me back onto the armchair, and ramming his fingers up my still dry pussy.
He screamed something at me in German, and then switched to English.
"Stuck up fucking upper class English whore. Think I'm not good enough for you, that I can't even get your pussy wet? I'll show you."
With that he dragged me across the room, grabbing a handful of hair when I managed to wriggle free, pulling me behind him, whimpering in fear, and then throwing me bodily onto the bed.
Before I could move, he took hold of my ankles, and stretched my legs wide apart. By then all the fight had gone out of me, and I simply lay there, praying that it would soon be over. After more rough handling between my legs and inside me, he decided I was ready, dropped his pants without letting go of me, and rammed his cock straight inside me. It hurt like hell, and I screamed, but thankfully, with ten or so thrusts he was finished, and he spurted his cum inside me, collapsing on top of me in a d***ken stupor, which soon turned to d***ken snores.
He'd paid for me, and had used me. He was at least finished.
It took me ten minutes to escape from under him, as he was huge and a complete dead weight.
I stood looking at him exhausted from my efforts, hating him, hating everything to do with this business. I'd had problems with men before, but never like that, and it was the first time that I had ever had a client inside me without a condom, even Rolf.
I thought what to do, and took all of his clothes, every last one of them, his wallet, his passport, everything, even the towels and threw them all out of the window, not even bothering to watch them flutter down to the street below. Then I found some toilet cleaner in the bathroom and poured that all over his filthy back. I hoped it would burn him badly.
My dress was a mess, and my underwear non-existent, and I wished I'd kept something back to cover myself with. I tried to pull one of the sheets from under him, but he was too heavy, and besides it started to rouse him from his sl**p.
There was no option, so arranging the torn dress around myself as best I could, I took to my heels and fled the room.
Nobody crossed my path till I got out of the lift and had to walk across the foyer, at least twenty people waiting there to book in or book out. Everyone stared at me, at my bare left breast, which stuck out through the wreck of the dress, or my bum, which must have been completely uncovered.
I didn't stop. I took no notice of their calls, no idea whether they were condemning me, or offering help. I ran through the crowded streets to my car, oblivious to the stares and the calls around me, not caring that my dress, or what was left of it, was down to my waist, my breasts bouncing around freely as I ran.
Thank God, I'd thought to grab my purse, but I still had to endure cat calls from a group of teenagers as I scrambled in it, to find my keys, giving up all efforts to keep what little was left of my dress around me, and abandoning it on the pavement beside my car.
I drove home naked, and cried all the way. How I didn't have an accident I will never know.
I cried most of the next day as well, realising the level of depravity that I had fallen to. I was still young, and most would say beautiful, but what was my future in the years to come. Another ten or fifteen years or more, and perhaps I'd be lucky to get even that bastard German to go with me.
I was finished and in despair. My life seemed to be finished.
Sat at the table that evening I came to a decision. I took out my check book and wrote four cheques, all to charities that I had meant for years to support, but never got round to it.
The four checks totalled nearly one hundred and eighty thousand pounds, all that I had in that damn bank account.
I didn't want it. I'd never wanted it, and I'd soon no longer need it.
The Chemists was next door to the Post Office, which was convenient, and I was soon back in the house. Looking at my favourite photo of Jim, I opened the bottle of pills and started taking them one by one, and I'd more than half emptied the bottle before I started to feel drowsy.
I'd no expectations of making it to heaven, and had never been too sure of the concept anyway. But that seemed to be where I ended up, all misty and white and silent.
Peace at last!
"Jenny. Jenny how do you feel?" Angels were talking to me. Why didn't they leave me alone to sl**p?
"Jenny, come on Jenny, try to pull through girl. Keep on trying, you can do it."
Please just leave me, I feel so tired.
A few hours later I was back in the real world, the one I had tried so hard to leave. The man's voice talking to me at my side caught my attention.
Jim! It was Jim who had come back to me.
But it wasn't Jim, it was Rolf, and it had been him who had saved my life. My neighbour had called him, and if he hadn't called round I would have died. If he had given up trying to get me to answer my door, then I would have died. If he hadn't broken into the house, then I would have died.
Jim never even came to see me, but at least he did ring and ask after me, and even sent flowers. It really was the end of us two for sure.
A couple of weeks later Rolf and I flew back to New Hampshire, where he installed me temporarily in a sumptuous flat. I guess being a mistress was quite a leg up from being a call girl, but even this situation soon changed.
Rolf made a generous offer to Polly his wife to get out of his life, and she jumped at it. A year later I became Rolf's wife, both our divorces safely out of the way, and I soon showed the community that I was anything but a pretty trophy wife, taking an active interest in his business. He made me a vice-president after three years, and he delighted in telling me that it had been the board's decision when he had been absent.
I revelled in it, loving the pressures and pains of running a business as much as the successes.
Not once did I need the thrill of other men. I didn't need it any more, the business more than filling all my needs of one sort, and Rolf, my darling loving husband, providing the others.
Once my past returned to haunt me. A client from my old days recognised me and tried to blackmail me into having sex with him. I agreed, but fortunately couldn't go through with it, and when I told Rolf he took it very calmly.
I neither saw, nor heard of the man again.
There was also one colleague of Rolf's who had been one of my dates fairly regularly, that Rolf didn't even know about. He was a bit awkward with me till he had it confirmed by Rolf himself that he knew about my past, and then became one of my best friends. He and his wife are still amongst my very best friends, though even now, I'm not sure whether she knows about my background. I'd like to think she wouldn't care, but she would perhaps be surprised.
Well I heard about him, rather than from him, for several years. His business had gone up in leaps and bounds, and I suspected that he'd put all his energies into it, to the exclusion of his love life.
Then I lost touch with him, my own business interests taking up so much of my time, as I took over more from Rolf, as he got older. Then my father died, and we went over to UK to the funeral, and to take over his affairs, his business interests swelling our own considerably.
I am now a very rich woman.
Then about six months ago news of Jim popped up again, and I know that he met a woman in her forties in New York. They've been going out since, and it seems to be going very well for them both. It looks as if Jim is going to settle down at last, though he is taking it carefully after his time with me all those years ago. I can't blame him, but I sincerely hope it works out well for them both.
When they met, he went up to her and said, "Hello Mrs. Carter. How are you?"
She turned round and looked at him, thought about it, then said, "Hi, you must be James."
"Jim, not James," he responded, to which she replied, "James, Jim, what's the difference."
"Sorry to hear about Rolf. He was a fine man," Jim said to her.
"Yes," she agreed. "I had thirteen wonderful years with him, and I miss him since he died last year."
There was a silence between them, but it was a special one, not an awkward one. It was a silence for remembering, forgiving, if not forgetting, for deciding if there was a future. Making their mind up whether life really gave you a second chance or not.
I think it will work out for Jim and his new woman. In fact I'm sure it will, and I'll do my very best to make sure that it does this time.