The Accidental Whore free porn video

Bright lights, pubs and clubs. Laughter, shouting, drunkenness and expectation; scattered chips, spilled beer and kebabs reduced to vomit. Most married couples our age merely skirted the area, heading for the more upmarket restaurants, or maybe a bit of musical theatre. Not so Belinda and I.

But we weren’t here for the pubs and clubs. Nor to laugh and shout. Nor were we drunk, though we’d popped into the Merry Crow for a drink. We were here for the narrow passage where a certain establishment seemed to survive every whim of council or market.

There used to be more of these establishments, before the powers that be decided that the all-important “night time economy” was about pubs and bars and music and dancing and musicals and cinematic entertainment, but not the one thing that, according to a number of famous songs, the night time is really for.

No window display, but perhaps enforced discretion was better at working on the imagination than any dressed frontage. Not too much discretion. Illuminated letters above what would otherwise be an anonymous black door leave no room for doubt: ADULTS ONLY. “After you,” I said to Belinda.

A hen party was in progress. Unmistakable. Several young women in drunken hysterics over phallic objects impossible to imagine fitting any regular orifice. The front of the establishment is all sex toys, lubricants, flimsy but titillating lingerie, and bondage kits ranging from vanilla in drag to padded restraint.

The heavy duty stuff is found by those who venture to the very back of the store. No padded handcuffs here. Instead, whips and paddles and metal items strictly for those with expert knowledge. This wasn’t what Belinda and I were after. Instead, we headed for the selection of DVDs just inside the back room. The bargain bin is always a good bet for cheap and inexpertly made – the way we like it.

On this particular evening, we found ourselves alone. You’d think that with the amount of porn available online there’d be little demand for DVDs, but there were usually at least a few guys showing interest – maybe men who had reasons not to surf for their kinks, and once the wank permit is introduced, who knows if there won’t be a renaissance for DVDs? I let Belinda browse, contenting myself with pushing against her under the pretext of looking over her shoulder at the boxes she examined.

There was the usual assortment, catering to every imaginable kink; office orgies, latex orgies, dungeon orgies, dogging sessions, public biker fun, slime parties, and a nice selection for the urolagnics.

Then the strangest thing happened. A girl appeared opposite us, sorting through the DVDs with intent. I say girl; she must have been at least eighteen to be in here, but only just. Age becomes impossibly relative once you’ve made it halfway to the ultimate destination.

The point is that you didn’t get girls in the back. You got them in the front, in pairs or in packs, giggling at the toys and the padded handcuffs, never here, alone, rummaging through the DVDs in the bargain bin as this girl did. There were unspoken rules in here too, regarding proximity. You kept a certain distance from other customers and made an effort not to pay them any attention.

Though the girl seemed oblivious to the proximity rule, she obeyed the attention rule. I can’t say the same for myself or Belinda. The situation was so peculiar, how could we not glance at her? She was pretty, with straight blonde hair down past her shoulders, delicately rounded features and eye-liner enhanced blue eyes that gave various blurbs serious attention. A leather jacket ensured that she didn’t appear too wholesome, as did the black skirt that just about nudged half thigh. Edging to one side, I glanced furtively at the black nylons, a perfect match for those Belinda was wearing.

Then an even more extraordinary thing happened. Belinda broke the ultimate taboo. Indicating the DVD the girl was holding, she said, “Tight Asses 3, I recommend it.”

The girl looked up. “Thanks,” she said. Then, toying with a strand of hair with her free hand, “Is there anything else you recommend?”

I pulled back from Belinda, astonished at this breach of etiquette and trying to divorce myself from it as best I could. “All of the Tight Asses DVDs are good,” my wife said. “Rob and I have the full set at home.”

Too much information, I thought. “Anything else?” the girl asked.

“It depends what you’re in to,” Belinda replied.

I did my best to blend in with the full price shelf behind me, but couldn’t help but watch as the girl held up one of the plastic cases. “I was thinking about this one,” she said, not quite looking at my wife with eyes a fathomless shade of shame. I understood her. The title of the DVD was given in garish lettering: Exposed to Strangers. Underneath it read, “Submissive sluts undressed and made to do infamous things in public.”

Without being able to see her face properly, I could sense Belinda’s smile. “I’m not familiar with it,” she said. “But if that’s what appeals to you…” She was fishing for information. This wasn’t so much a breach of etiquette as a punishable felony.

To her credit, the girl refused to take the bait. Instead, she struck a thoughtful pose, shy eyes turning to my wife as she held up Tight Asses 3. “Is this the kind of thing you’re in to, the pair of you?”

Don’t answer! I thought. As if through telepathy, Belinda asked a question of her own. “Do you come here often?”

“It’s my third visit,” the girl said in a low voice. Then she looked down before returning the question. “Do you…?”

“Fairly often,” Belinda admitted.

The girl looked as if she had a follow-up question, but then thought better of it. She held up the plastic cases. “Thanks for…”

“You don’t have to buy them,” Belinda said softly. “Rob and I could buy Exposed to Strangers, and we’ve already got Tight Asses 3, if you wanted to come back to our place.”

I’m sure I looked a complete idiot with my mouth hanging open. The girl smiled for the first time. “Along with the rest of the set.”

“That too,” Belinda said in an inviting voice.

“Thanks for the offer,” the girl said, “but…”

She left it hanging there as she turned, taking two or three steps, then turning back. “Just out of interest, have the pair of you ever visited The Consent Rooms?”

“No,” Belinda said, her hand in her bag. “Never.” But we’d passed them many times.

“No matter,” the girl said.

Belinda had her arm outstretched, a card between her fingers. “In case you get a taste for more Tight Asses,” she said.

The girl took the card. “Thanks,” she said. Then she was gone.

“A bit risky that,” I decided. “Giving a complete stranger your card like that.”

“I have a hunch,” Belinda said, winking at me.

“About what?”

Belinda just rolled her eyes. Behind her a man appeared, giving a quick glance before averting his eyes and giving the rows of DVDs his attention. Not undivided, because as he browsed, he occasionally glanced in our direction, checking my wife out. It seemed a night for breaking taboos.

“Since you’re feeling naughty…”

“Don’t I always?” my wife returned, a familiar glint in her eye.

“Take your knickers off.”

“Yes, sir.” Mock subservience, but it didn’t matter. The important thing was that Belinda lifted her skirt quickly and pulled her undies down. Patterned stocking tops with alluring flesh above. I fancied the man might even have gotten a glimpse of buttock.

Belinda waved her knickers at me, then turned, pulling up short as she discovered the man, realising that he’d seen her remove her undies. But she wasn’t one to be stunned by shock for long. Quick as a flash, she started walking, going straight up to the man. I followed behind as she held out her hand. “These are yours, if you want them,” she said.

The man mumbled something under his breath, looking a bit shocked himself, but he took the garment. I grabbed Belinda’s arm. “Come on!”

“What’s the rush?” Belinda grumbled as I lead her back into the front room. Our acquaintance from earlier was already at the till. Other patrons were deliberating over vibrators and massage oil.

I released my grip. “See anything you fancy?”

“What if I fancy that man back there? The one with my knickers.”

“Tart!” I said. Belinda took a step back, but it wasn’t enough to stop me sticking my hand up her skirt.

“Rob!” Belinda cautioned. I turned. People were pretending not to look, and I had my wife backed up against a glass cabinet featuring an assortment of edible underwear.

I took a step back. Belinda looked impressed with my sudden show of possessive assertion. “A new butt plug would be nice,” she said.

“Your wish is my delight.”

Belinda took her time choosing, examining the assortment of toys with forensic attention to detail. I was happy to let her take her time. The man who was now in possession of her knickers emerged from the back room and checked her out anew as she picked out a tapered pink job with a width to savour, along with a tube of desensitizing lubrication.

There was a light drizzle as we emerged from the shop to the rowdiness of the street. I nudged Belinda and pointed to an art cinema on the corner, converted a few years back from a different kind of establishment. “Remember when we went there to watch Mary Millington in action?”

“Those films were vintage even then,” Belinda said, screwing up her eyes. “What are they showing?”

Somehow the letters gave off a ferocious glare in the wet, making them hard to read. “Something or other about the colour orange,” I decided.

“If it doesn’t include nudity, I’m not interested,” Belinda said.

“I’m so glad I married you!”

We walked, arm in arm, side-stepping squashed cans and branded fast food cartons. Youngsters were piling onto the pavement outside a bar. A little further, and we could turn right into a narrow, cobbled, incongruous alley.

It was incongruous because it was deserted. As much as the surrounding streets were all about entertainment, this particular alley was all about discreet brass plates next to commanding doors. Maybe our meeting with the girl was leading us here unconsciously, because one of the doors had two plates next to it. The first read, “THE CONSENT ROOMS”. The one underneath, “PASSING BEYOND THIS POINT CONSTITUTES CONSENT”. It didn’t say to what, and the entrance remained as impenetrable as we’d ever seen it.

“There must be another way in,” Belinda speculated.

“Or maybe you’re only admitted by appointment,” I said. “If it’s not some kind of weird joke.” By the time the words were out, Belinda was marching on. I sped after her, grabbing her arm as she turned to pass through a narrow arch on our left. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I want to know if there’s another entrance.” She was practically dragging me through the arch, into a courtyard suffused with a citrusy half-light. I reckoned the buildings were upwards of two-hundred years old. They wore their age well. More stout doors, but no light from any of the windows.

“Why?”

“Call it idle curiosity.”

I confess I was somewhat curious too, but not enough to go charging into unknown territory at the dead of night. Or perhaps it was just the place that unnerved me. How was it possible for it to be so silent in the middle of town? It was as if we’d been transported to another world. “Another time, eh?”

Belinda was following the wall to her left, glancing at a door, then tracing the wall with her fingers as she moved on. “What’s the matter? You’re not afraid of a little rain, are you?”

She was right. What had been a light drizzle was intensifying. It wasn’t a bad excuse. “It’ll be bucketing down in a minute. We could always come back another time.”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport. Sometimes a girl needs a bit of excitement when she needs it.” Belinda had turned, the dim light unable to conceal how the rain was flattening her hair, and just as unable to conceal the glint in her eye. It was a look I knew wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Especially when she let go of her bag.

So I caved, catching up with my wife and pushing her back against the wall. “You want excitement, my knickerless ho?”

Belinda began laughing out loud. For a moment I feared someone might hear, then I remembered that the place was utterly deserted. My hand shot up her skirt. She planted her feet a little farther apart as my fingers grabbed the inside of a thigh. Her lips parted and I crushed my mouth against hers, my hand seeking out her other lips as our tongues met. My fingers made short work of Belinda’s slippery labia to gain entrance.

My wife wasn’t just moist, there was audible wetness, the sound conspicuous even as rain intruded on the otherwise eerie silence. I realised that she must have been building up to this moment for some time and curled my fingers, using my thumb to rub her clit as her mouth watered into mine and rain ran down my neck.

It wasn’t the first time we’d done this. Back in the day, it wasn’t unknown for a bloke to be propositioned in this part of town. It had happened to me as a young man, and Belinda always enjoyed the telling of it. Now my wife twisted her head, escaping the attentions of my tongue. “Imagine I’m a whore, Rob,” she breathed.

I tore at her squishy insides, remembering how I’d had my wife backed up like this a little earlier, though unable to follow through. OK, if that was how she wanted to play it. “The guy in the shop. If he paid you, would you let him fuck you?”

Belinda didn’t answer at once, only breathed heavily and gave a few whimpers of pleasure. I wasn’t sure if the moisture on her face was rain or sweat. “Is that what you want, Rob? For your darling wife to fuck other men for money?”

It wasn’t, not really. But here in the dark, as a game… “You didn’t answer. Would you let him fuck you for money?”

I could feel my wife’s fluids thicken and ooze as I spoke, as if my fingers were churning them into cream. She didn’t bother trying to contain her moans, letting them echo in the half-light. It may have been a game, but there were also twinges of jealousy making me wrench at my wife’s insides, scratch her damp walls. She found words, briefly, whispering, “I might stretch to a blowjob, right here.”

“You’d suck his cock for money!” I breathed, the part of me that knew this was a game wrestling with a bizarre desire to take my wife seriously. There were no more words from Belinda, only gasps and moans as I worked my fingers inside her, rubbing her clit hard at the same time. Her eyes seemed to roll back into her head, and then she was shaking violently. I just about caught her in time to prevent her tumbling to the ground.

As I struggled to hold Belinda upright, I saw her hand move. Turning my head, at first I thought I was seeing a mirage through the rain, then I realised it was the girl from the shop staring wide-eyed at us. I turned back as Belinda found renewed strength and straightened up, her hand still pointing straight at the unreal figure. She had a new gleam in her eye. “You’ll enjoy this,” she said. “Trust me.”

I did trust her, or at least I wanted to, but we were indubitably entering uncharted territory. I sensed more than saw the girl at my shoulder.

“We weren’t formally introduced earlier,” Belinda was saying. “What’s your name?”

“Nicole,” the girl said.

“Well I’m Belinda and this is my husband, Rob.”

“It’s nice to see you again.”

“Were you following us?” I asked.

The girl looked guilty, but she said, “No. It was just… I like passing this way.”

“It’s not the kind of place you just pass through,” I observed.

“No, but…”

“Never mind that,” Belinda interrupted. “How much did you spend in the shop, Nicole?”

“About forty quid.”

Belinda stooped and unzipped her bag immediately. “Let me make you an offer, Nicole. I’ll give you forty pounds if you let Rob do whatever he likes with you.”

“Hold on a minute!” I exclaimed, stunned by what I was hearing.

“What, here?” Nicole said, turning her head in all directions.

“Right here, right now,” Belinda said. “Don’t worry, there’s no-one here.” She was back on her feet, rain dampening the notes she was holding.

“Maybe we should talk about this,” I suggested. It’s impossible to convey how much of a shock Belinda’s behaviour was to me. That’s not to say that my wife couldn’t be willing and vulgar when the mood came upon her, but I was afraid there might be some fall-out from this. Letting me have my way with Nicole had to come with strings attached. What if Belinda didn’t just have pretend ideas about the guy from the shop, or any other guy?

“What’s the matter, dear?” Belinda cooed. “Just now you were happy to pretend I was your little whore. Don’t you want to use a real whore?”

Nicole looked as startled by this as I felt. “But she’s not…” I said.

Belinda waved the notes in Nicole’s face. “She will be if she takes the money.”

There was silence, a silence made all the more unnatural by the complete lack of noise in this little courtyard in such a busy part of town. A silence accentuated by the sudden shower just as suddenly having let up.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked Belinda.

“It sounds like you’re warming to the idea,” she smiled.

“Not really,” I backtracked. “What I mean…” I had no idea what I meant.

It was then that Nicole reached out and took the notes, the bait. “What do you want to do?” she asked, stuffing the notes in her own bag and placing the thing on the ground next to her.

“I don’t… I mean…” I felt foolish. There was a renewed silence. It seemed to me that Nicole looked as if she was still in two minds, as if innocence and worldliness were warring impulses in the same body. “You don’t have to,” I told her. “Not if… I mean…”

Belinda giggled. “Of course she has to. She's taken the money. So make up your mind, darling husband. I’m paying forty pounds so that you can have fun with a whore.” She paused. “One who’s got Tight Asses 3 in her bag.”

I had a feeling Nicole must be blushing, but the peculiar hue the light gave her skin concealed it. She stood motionless as Belinda moved. I was still trying to gauge Nicole’s state of mind when my attention was diverted elsewhere. My wife had lifted the girl’s skirt. There were black, patterned stocking tops and snug, matching knickers. “Take her, Rob!” my wife breathed. “Use her! It’s what I’m paying her for!”

It occurred to me that I’d hardly ever heard my wife sound quite so excited. It was as if she’d turned into a whole other person. Maybe it was that feeling that somehow broke through what little resolve I had and made this weird thing all right. Before I knew it my hand had darted forwards, my fingers grazing the naked flesh above Nicole’s stocking tops.

The girl looked at me, Belinda still holding her skirt up. In the dim light, I had a vision of innocence yearning to be corrupted. She looked around again. Still no-one, no sound, nothing. Then there was the renewed patter of rain on cobbles.

I brought my right hand into play, on Nicole’s other leg, feeling the nylon as my left hand moved upwards. Touching her knickers, I felt a hint of damp. Whatever reservations I had were as washed away by the renewed downpour as I gave a little rub, especially when Nicole’s hand brushed against the bulge in my trousers and Belinda exclaimed, “Tell her what you want, darling! Tell the little whore what to do!”

The girl didn’t need any instructions to unzip me. I ground my hand against her crotch, still feeling her silky thigh with the other. Nimble fingers found their way inside my trousers to squeeze my erection through my underpants. I tried to gauge Nicole’s expression again, and decided she was more expectant than anything. As her fingers provided further stimulation, the rain came down harder, seeping through my jacket, but I hardly felt it.

I could have this girl any way I wanted, but that fact alone made it impossible to make up my mind. We stood there a while longer, just feeling each other through underwear. I was barely even aware of my wife’s presence, though she was still holding the girl’s skirt up for me. At least not until Belinda breathed, “I think it’s time we see some real action, whore, don’t you?”

The girl sank to her haunches. In next to no time my trousers and underpants were round my ankles. Nicole held me in a firm grip, working her hand back and forth, then she rose. Belinda got in on the act immediately, hoisting the girl’s skirt again. “Show him your pussy, whore,” she breathed. “The one I’m paying good money for!”

Nicole stared at me with no trace of reluctance. She blinked away a raindrop and planted her feet further apart. Then those nimble fingers pulled her panties to one side. She stroked her own mound, its baldness seeming to give off a soft glow of its own, before toying a little with her labia.

“What do you want to do?” she asked.

I wasn’t interested in speaking. My hands shot out and I was pushing her back against the wall, just as I had Belinda earlier. Her skirt fell back into place, but my hand was under it in no time. I shoved my fingers inside her, just as I had with my wife when she was pretending to be a whore. This girl kind of was a whore. She was being paid money for me to do this, at least, which in the heat of the moment made me rougher than I might have been. Nicole responded, with the exaggerated enthusiasm of any of the girls featured in Tight Asses 3. It may have been an act, but her insides were at least as wet as Belinda’s had been. Her moisture mingled with the sound of rain on cobblestones.

“Turn around!” Belinda breathed. “Let my husband fuck your cunt like the little whore you are!”

Without a word, Nicole did as she was told, planting the palms of her hands against the brickwork and thrusting her arse back in the perfect position, as if she did this all the time. Belinda lifted her skirt for me, and as if by instinct I slapped my hard cock against a buttock before yanking her knickers down, properly out of the way.

“Use her!” Belinda breathed. “There’s only one use for a whore’s cunt!”

This use of the c-word was completely out of the ordinary. My wife was usually very sparing with it, yet here she was, making free. It was there again when I worked my bulb between the girl’s labia.

“Do it! Stuff your big cock in her tight cunt! Full force! Make her feel it!”

Belinda was beyond excited. I got the feeling anyone passing in the alley might hear her. But by now I couldn’t care less, and anyway, nobody was going to be out in this weather voluntarily. The rain was hammering down, glistening on the stiff organ pushed up against Nicole. I gave an almighty thrust. Nicole cried out loud. A harder thrust made her cry out again. More thrusts, in ever quicker succession, the girl gasping and yelping every time my cock rammed into her.

Somehow, I felt her cries could as easily be pleasure as reluctance, but that only served to provide added impetus. I made a grab for her tits as I worked my cock back and forth, squeezing but failing to make much of a dent in her leather jacket as I forced my cock bollock deep in the girl, over and over.

“Fuck that whore!” Belinda urged. “Give it to her! Go hard on her cunt!”

I couldn’t go any harder than I was. Nicole was yelping like a frightened animal, but the moisture within suggested anything but fear as she tightened on me. I began panting, thinking I should perhaps slow down but unable to bring myself to do so. A little longer and I’d be spurting.

Belinda came to the rescue. “Make her taste her own cunt, darling! Make her taste herself on your cock!”

It was filthy, and a premature twitch sent a trickle into the girl. I didn’t have to do anything, though, because she obeyed my wife herself, twisting her body, sinking to her haunches, immediately closing her lips on the coating of rain-diluted juices.

That was when things became even filthier. My wife grabbed the girl’s head. “Taste your filthy cunt on my husband’s cock, you whore!” She forced Nicole down. The girl was taken by surprise, or perhaps she just wasn’t that well-practised. At any rate, she had a choking fit. Belinda let her come off, watching as the girl coughed and spluttered onto her own stockings. Then she was back holding her head. “Deepthroat my husband right now, you filthy little whore! Or else I want my money back!”

The girl’s lips were back around me, Belinda pushing down on her head. There was rasping, tons of saliva sloshing around. My helmet hit the back of Nicole’s throat and she gagged. Time and again the girl gagged. Each time, Belinda gave her some brief respite before making her go down on me again. My balls tightened and began to ache. Yet every time I thought I might cum, Nicole was sitting there spluttering instead.

Then Belinda was bringing the girl to her feet. “Fuck her again!” she breathed. “Fuck the whore’s willing cunt!”

Nicole was backed up against the wall. I grabbed a leg and lifted, my fingers digging into stockinged thigh. As my cock found her entrance, I was in for a new shock. My wife cleared her throat, and as clear as day I could hear her expectorate. As I began to thrust, Nicole wiped a hand across her face, removing both saliva and rain. Immediately Belinda spat on her again. “Take what you deserve, filthy whore!”

Who was this woman? Surely it wasn’t the one I was married to? But her nastiness spurred me on. My free hand pulled at the zip in Nicole’s jacket, enough for me to get a hand inside and grope her tits properly as I drove my cock back and forth. The girl was yelping again. Out of my mind, I abandoned her breasts, my hand instead working its way up to her throat, squeezing as Belinda dredged up more phlegm and spat. Liquid was churning inside the girl as my hard cock stabbed at her. My fingers tightened. Nicole gave a little gurgle. Then another.

Then she was shaking. “Oh yes!” Belinda cried. More saliva joined the trickle of rain on the girl’s face. “Cum for us, you filthy little whore!”

The noises Nicole was making had me slightly worried that we or I had gone too far. As she slumped to the ground, I bent over her, thinking to make sure she was alright. But as I did so, she tilted her head up. “It’s your turn to cum,” she breathed.

“Do it!” Belinda urged. “Fuck her face! It’s what I’m paying for! To see the little whore have her face fucked!”

That settled it. Barely of right mind anymore, I had my cock back between Nicole’s lips, nailing her post-orgasmic head to the wall as I thrust my thick organ between her lips.

“Taste your filthy, fucking cum-juice, you dirty whore!” Belinda breathed. “And then taste my husband’s!”

I would happily have continued doing what I was doing until the inevitable happened, but my rough treatment caused Nicole to gag. The strange light gave the long string of drool hanging from her chin an unnatural aspect before it dropped to her nylons. I couldn’t think how she could go anywhere after this. The light may not be perfect, but it was clear that Nicole was looking a bit of a mess.

“Use the whore’s mouth!” Belinda exclaimed. “Shove your cock in there and make her know all about it!”

I didn’t need Belinda’s instructions, but I enjoyed hearing them. My cock re-entered Nicole’s mouth, her head pushed right back against the wall, my helmet examining her tonsils. More gagging. With a huge rope of saliva hanging from her chin, Nicole made a grab for my cock. The rain was ceasing, but the courtyard reverberated to the sound of the girl’s hand working my slime-slathered organ. There was the sound of a window opening.

“Oi! It’s round the back if you three are looking for some real action!”

Instinctively, I tried to pull back, but Belinda was right behind me. As I tilted my head to see where the voice was coming from, Nicole’s lips closed on me. A shadowy figure was staring down from almost directly above us. Another attempt to back away was thwarted by Belinda pushing into me and now my cock was twitching. The figure was speaking again, but I caught little of what it said, since the long-postponed eruption of seed was now jetting into Nicole’s mouth. The window closed with a bang.

Pulling my cock from Nicole’s mouth, I felt instantly ashamed of what had happened. I stooped to grab my trousers and underpants, hardly daring to look at the girl as I wrestled the sodden fabric up my legs.

But I heard her voice. “Wow! That has to be, like, the best sex ever!”

I heard my wife’s voice behind me. “We'd happily pay for your services again some time.”

My head was spinning. I did my trousers up not knowing which way to look as Nicole said, “That’s an offer I’d have to be crazy to refuse.”

“Seriously?” I said, finally plucking up the courage to look at the girl. Her skirt had fallen back into place and she was doing her jacket up. There was saliva on her chin and her stockings looked a mess. Belinda was handing her some wipes.

“Sure. A girl knows when she’s on to a good thing.” She applied the wipes with some vigour. “Mind you, if you want my tight ass, it’ll cost you.”

“You’ve got my card,” Belinda told her. “Call me and we’ll arrange something.”

“Brilliant!” The girl dropped the wipes on the ground. “See you!”

She vanished into the haze so quickly she might have been a figment of my imagination. “What the hell was that?” I exclaimed.

My wife gave me a funny little look. “Isn’t it strange how things can work out on the spur of the moment?”

There was something I wasn’t getting, but there was also something I had to ask. “You’re not expecting me to… pimp you out, are you?”

Belinda threw her head back and sent a raucous laugh cannoning between the silent walls. “Oh no,” she said. “I could never pull it off.” Then she slipped her arm into mine and we moved back towards the arch. “That girl, though, she’s a natural.”

“A natural what?” I asked stupidly.

“Just enjoy, darling,” my wife said. “I’m sure there’s lots more fun to be had.”

I didn’t question Belinda any further. I was sure she was right, the way wives so often are.