Wendy's Weekend - Part 1 - A Desperate Situation free porn video

“And this is my wife Wendy,” my husband Jamie said as a tall, athletic man with short, greying hair turned to greet me.

“Hi Wendy, I’m Andy. Pleased to meet you.”

The man smiled, extending his hand. I shook it smiling back at my husband’s new Boss, noting the sharp suit, white shirt, highly polished shoes and Mediterranean tan, as if he’d deliberately modelled himself on a cover from Fortune Magazine.

“Nice to meet you too, Andy,” I replied, turning on the charm, holding his hand perhaps a little longer than absolutely necessary and deliberately making eye contact. “James has told me a lot about you and your plans. It’s an exciting time.”

Quite attractive, I thought as he finally released my hand. No, very attractive in fact - and he knows it too, I added to myself a little bitchily. He was tall, in his forties and, now I was close up, I could see he was also very athletic. There was an aura of charisma about him that went some way towards explaining his meteoric business success.

There was something familiar about him too that niggled at the back of my mind but I dismissed the thought and concentrated on making a good impression on the man who had just bought the company for which my husband worked.

In truth this wasn’t difficult because he seemed to be directing all his considerable charm in my direction. Flattered, I listened while he explained how the new business would fit into his larger IT empire and how important the staff within my husband’s company were to the business’s future.

It was mostly a repeat of the main points of the presentation he had just made in the company’s in-house theatre but there were enough elements of detail and elaboration to make it interesting even to a layman like me.

My husband Jamie – James at work – was on the Operating Board of a large software company. Also in his forties, Jamie had been extremely successful himself since he had left university and was considered one of three high flyers expected to take over the business when the current CEO and principal shareholder retired. This was expected to be within three years so there had been a certain amount of jockeying for position within the Board in anticipation of the event.

Jamie was tall and dark, still handsome and quite fit but now carried a little extra weight around his middle. I had to confess, it matched the little extra I now carried on my hips. In my defence I was still only a size twelve, was still considered quite good-looking and was working on recovering my figure.

It was an uphill struggle.

We had met at University on a weekend trip to Glastonbury during our final year. It had been lust at first sight; he had easily seduced and bedded me under the stars the night we met and after freeing myself of my current boyfriend, we had been together ever since.

As this story begins, we were still childless despite years of marriage. For many years we had told ourselves that our failure to conceive was because of our busy lifestyles and the fact that we hadn’t really been ‘trying for a baby’. Eventually however, biological clocks had intervened and in recent weeks we had been seeing an IVF specialist, organised through the company’s heavily subsidised healthcare programme. We wouldn’t have been able to afford it otherwise in our current financial position.

Our life plan was ambitious but if we really focussed, we believed it was achievable. Jamie would become CEO with a substantial shareholding; we would have two children in quick succession, twins if possible for convenience, I would complete my Masters and move on to a PhD; we would become millionaires.

The takeover of the business by IT-USA, a large overseas competitor had been an entirely unexpected and completely unwelcome disruption to this plan.

IT-USA had grown rapidly by the aggressive acquisition of smaller, less forceful competitors. It was rumoured to be in some financial difficulties but these hadn’t stopped it from undertaking the hostile takeover of the business in which my husband worked.

It was also well known for parachuting management into its overseas acquisitions rather than using home-grown talent, and would usually follow this with a programme of asset-stripping. At the very least, Jamie’s job was at serious risk so we were both very anxious when Andy Brown, the founder and CEO of IT-USA had arrived and made the presentation to the whole nervous staff that had just taken place.

He had been mostly reassuring as far as the workforce was concerned; they had, he said, bought the business for its development talent as much as for its brands, but from things he had hinted, the Senior Management was due for a shake-up.

This really was something to worry about.

Apart from potentially thwarting our life-plans, the takeover had come at a terrible time for Jamie and me because we had just completed the purchase of a large house in one of the most select areas of our city. The price, though enormous, had been attractive for a property of that size so we had taken out a large bridging loan and moved quickly to make sure it became ours.

When our ‘old’ house was sold, the borrowings would reduce to a still-large but more manageable level but property wasn’t selling very quickly and ours had become ‘stuck’. This debt, added to our original mortgage, the two car loans and the cost of our apartment in France meant we were so ‘highly geared’ that, if Jamie lost his job, we would immediately become bankrupt.

Jamie’s therefore had convince Andy how irreplaceable he was to the new organisation. My role was to help him do this in any way I could. Our future and that of our still-to-be-conceived children depended on it.

I was so deep in thought over this I didn’t notice that the crowd was dissipating and the foyer was becoming less crowded.

“You don’t recognise me, do you Wendy?” a soft voice at my elbow asked. “You haven’t changed – but I hope I have.”

I turned to find Andy by my side, offering me my third glass of champagne within the hour. A little wrong-footed, I took it and smiled at his handsome face, somewhat puzzled.

“Have we met before?” I asked, genuinely nonplussed.

“You could say that,” he continued, still smiling. “Remember University? Remember your second year? Remember Glastonbury?”

Suddenly the strange feeling I had been having made sense. A cold chill came over me.

“Glastonbury? Oh my God!” I exclaimed, genuinely shocked. “You’re not Andy Jacobson, are you?”

He positively beamed.

“I wondered how long it would take; I could tell you knew something wasn’t quite right. I know I changed my name but has the rest of me really changed that much?”

“Massively,” I answered honestly. “Unbelievably! You used to be such a... I mean so...”

“Such a dork, you meant to say,” he interrupted, still smiling.

“No… I…” I mumbled, flushing with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry Wendy,” he said, taking my elbow and gently steering me towards a quiet corner of the room. “It’s true, I was a dork. I hope I’ve grown out of it now though,” he smiled disarmingly.

“I can’t believe it,” I said truthfully, my voice shaky and nervous.

Andy Jacobson had been a friend at University. He had very nearly become an intimate friend but then Glastonbury had intervened and Jamie had swept me off my feet. I had felt bad about Andy; it had been his parents’ contacts that had got us the half dozen tickets for our little group in the first place and it had been my leading him on that had made the whole weekend possible.

Andy had fancied me for at least two years before that weekend. I hadn’t been kind to him; several times I had let him kiss and fondle me when I had been drunk, miserable, single or all three but I had always dumped him immediately afterwards.

To be honest, I had led him on terribly over the whole Glastonbury event, hinting that if he managed to get us all tickets I might actually share a tent with him with the clear implication that things would take place within that tent.

Of course when I met Jamie at the festival all my priorities changed and poor Andy had been forced to share a small tent with two other male friends while Jamie and I monopolised the one Andy and I were supposed to be inhabiting.

Andy had been badly upset, lying in the dark listening to the girl he loved having sex with another boy after she had promised herself to him.

I had been cruel to him about it the morning after but at least it had brought his infatuation with me to an end and after all, Jamie and I had gone the distance and got married.

Still, I wasn’t particularly proud of myself or my behaviour and felt extremely awkward meeting my former admirer again, especially when he had both me and Jamie at a disadvantage.

“So what have you been up to since Uni?” I asked, desperate not to reminding him of my former cruelty. “I know about the business from Mike and that’s fantastic, but what about all the rest?”

He looked relieved, as if pleased to have got the hardest part out of the way.

“Well, I’m divorced after seven years of marriage. I live in West London - temporarily.”

“Do you have a family?” I asked. He laughed mirthlessly again.

“It appears that I am infertile. Can you believe my luck? After all those years getting myself together; getting my confidence back, growing the business and finally marrying a gorgeous wife, I couldn’t make a baby of my own with her. Where’s the justice in that?”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, thinking of our own parallel situation. “Was that what...?”

“What went wrong with our marriage?”

“Sorry. That was a bit personal,” I blushed.

“Not at all; you’re an old friend Wendy. My first love in fact. If I’m honest, it was a big part of the problem but not the only part. I’m pleased you and James are still together. No kids for you either?”

“Not yet. We’ve been trying but no luck so far. I suppose my career got in the way for too long. I just hope it’s not too late.”

“You’re using the company’s IVF and fertility scheme, I hope?”

“Yes. It’s a great thing to have. I doubt we could have afforded treatment without it,” I told him truthfully, amazed at how much I felt able to open up to this man I hadn’t set eyes on for over twenty years.

“Make the most of it,” he advised. “I’m not sure how long we can afford to keep it going. Still, if it allows our best engineers to stay working for longer I expect it’s money well spent!”

“We’re very grateful,” I smiled. Andy looked at his watch and frowned.

“I’m really sorry Wendy but I’ve got to meet the financial press now. I’d love to catch up with you and James very soon. How about I take the two of you to dinner on Wednesday?”

“That would be lovely.”

“Okay that’s settled. And it’s my treat. How about the Waterfall restaurant at the Shard? Eight o’clock?”

And so it was agreed. My millionaire former boyfriend smiled and kissed me on the cheek before joining his PR team and a small knot of press men with cameras.

*

“You mean he’s THAT Andy?” My husband’s voice was full of disbelief.

We were undressing in the huge bedroom of our wonderful new house later that evening. I had just told Jamie about my conversation with the new owner of the business and a little of my own history with this unexpectedly important man.

“Yes, and he couldn’t have been nicer to me!”

“Thank God for that,” he sighed. “It will be hard enough hanging on to my job without my new boss holding grudges against me.”

I hadn’t told Jamie the whole truth of how badly I had treated Andy over the whole Glastonbury incident and had taken care afterwards to ensure that they never actually met at University.

I didn’t want my husband to know just how hard and manipulative his wife had once been in case he believed me capable of being so again. All Jamie knew was that Andy had once had a serious crush on me and that I had got rid of him the day after Jamie had first seduced me.

“Just make sure you’re really nice to him now, okay?” he smiled.

“Well I’ve got off to a good start, haven’t I? It’s not every Director he’s invited to the Shard. I must have done something right.”

I did a few other things right that night too, culminating in my gorgeous husband inseminating my hopefully-fertile body once again with the clear intention of making a baby in me.

It didn’t work.

*

Wednesday evening came quickly after a couple of busy days at college. Jamie was hardly to be seen at home since the takeover; he along with the other Directors were seeing who could spend most time at their desks looking indispensable.

Despite having me as his secret weapon, Jamie was playing the game as hard as anyone so he and I hadn’t spoken much since that first evening. Indeed when my taxi drew up outside the tower’s busy entrance I hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with him in nearly two days.

Dinner at the Shard being definitely a special occasion, I had dressed carefully both to make a good impression on my husband’s boss and to show Andy that he wasn’t the only one who had weathered the years well. My short black cocktail dress had been hauled from the depths of the wardrobe and I was wearing it with black tights, high heels and my best gold jewellery. Add to that a black shawl over my shoulders and an expensively finished hairstyle and I felt fantastic. I couldn’t wait for my husband to arrive and see me at my very best.

But as I stood waiting, I felt a buzzing from my handbag. I opened it to find my phone ringing and the words ‘Jamie mobile’ on the screen.

“Hi! Where have you reached?” I asked cheerfully.

“I’m still at my desk,” came the miserable reply.

“But I’m standing here waiting,” I protested.

“I know. Andy needs a report doing before the US closes at midnight. I thought I could get it done by five o’clock but it’s taking much longer.”

“Why on earth does he need it then? He’s not going back to work at midnight is he?”

“I’m afraid that’s exactly what he plans to do. He‘s done it half a dozen times already. There’s a problem with a cash transfer and he’s got to catch New York before they close.”

“So what am I supposed to do here on my own?” I asked petulantly.

“You’re not on your own. Go and have dinner with your ‘Old Friend’,” he said.

“Can’t I call in sick?” I asked, dreading being alone with an ex-boyfriend who even I believed I had treated very badly.

“Stand up my Boss? Are you out of your mind Wendy?”

Less than ten minutes later I walked through the thick glass doors of the Shard’s thirty-fourth floor restaurant and into the main dining room. I gasped; the walls were all windows; glass from floor to ceiling, the internal walls were glass too and the view across London was simply stunning.

A pretty black-dressed waitress approached me. I gave her Andy’s name and she showed me to a table for two set in a private corner next to the outside wall. As I neared the table, Andy rose to greet me.

“Wendy! I’m so pleased you came. I’m so sorry about James.”

He took my hand in his and kissed me politely on the cheek like an old friend. We sat facing each other across the table, the incredible view immediately to my left.

“It is an amazing place, isn’t it?” he said as if in awe himself.

“Do you eat here often?”

“It’s my first time. I wanted to take you somewhere special. Both of you,” he added hastily.

“Jamie’s really sorry but...”

“I know. He called me. I’m sorry too but tonight’s call to the US is important. It always is important where money and Americans are involved. Still it gives us a chance to talk about old times without boring the pants off him.”

I smiled stiffly; the last thing I wanted was to talk about old times and old sins with a man I had mistreated twenty years ago. But he was my husband’s Boss and for the moment held our financial future in his hands so the least I could do was chat with him for an hour or so.

In fact we chatted for nearly three hours. The food was delicious, the surroundings were breathtaking and to my surprise, Andy was a really entertaining person. We gazed through the glass together, spotting famous landmarks in the dark and Andy regaled me with fascinating stories from his career. He was genuinely interested in me too, in my life and what I thought of the major issues around us; quite unlike the other men I had met through work, my husband included.

To my relief, difficult or awkward subjects simply didn’t come up. The closest we came to discussing Glastonbury was when I asked him why he had changed his name. He told me that after he and I had ‘fallen out’ (to use his expression) he had managed to hold things together until the final exams were over but had then gone through a serious breakdown.

He had been admitted to hospital and when he was released his parents had sent him to stay with relatives in America to recover and start a new life. Separated from painful remainders, he had thrived in his new environment, changed his name to his relatives’ and started the business from their back bedroom.

The rest, he told me, was history. The business had boomed, he had met his ex wife at work and they had lived together happily for many years before their marriage began to break down. I told him all about Jamie, making sure to stress all his good points, about our plans together and about our rather late-in-the-day desire to have children.

After dinner we walked together through the brightly lit streets and it seemed only natural for me to slip my arm through his. As he put me in a taxi and waved me on my way home I realised how quickly the time had passed and what a really wonderful evening it had been.

I did feel guilty when I reached home and found my husband’s side of the bed still empty.

I’m not sure when he joined me but when I woke around three-thirty in the morning he was alongside me, fast asleep.

*

“How was your evening?” Jamie asked over breakfast the following morning.

“Great,” I replied and told him all that had happened - perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “It’s such a shame you couldn’t make it.”

His face was glum; it couldn’t all be a result of missing a good dinner. I asked him what was wrong.

“The business is running out of money fast. It’s basically in good shape but the takeover has used up too much working capital and we’re in danger of defaulting on some of our loans. Andy might be a computer genius but he didn’t make a good call buying us. They were short of cash before but now…” he left the words hanging.

My husband didn’t need to explain; if IT-USA went under then our main source of income would go and we would be bankrupt – both houses, both cars and the French property would be lost. What was more, our chances of fertility treatment would be gone too.

It was unthinkable.

“Can’t Andy raise funds in the US?” I asked simplistically.

“The business is very profitable but it’s heavily in debt already,” he replied. “The banks are being ultra-cautious. I know he’s working on one Lender of Last Resort but he says they’re a bit strange. Hell! Is that the time?”

And with that my anxious husband kissed me on the cheek and ran for his car.

My own day was interrupted many times by worries about our financial future interspersed with memories of my lovely evening with Andy. I could hardly believe how much he had changed and how little he bore the grudge that my unforgiveable behaviour had deserved. The fact that it had contributed to his breakdown made his attitude even more extraordinary.

I began to have quite an admiration for the man and was both surprised and delighted when he phoned to ask me for lunch the following week. Not us, just me!

“Frankly the closer you can get to him, the better,” my husband had said when I had told him.

I had half expected Jamie to be angry or jealous but he was neither. In our financial position, practicality had to overcome all emotions.

*

I passed a very pleasant couple of hours with Andy in a West End restaurant that lunchtime. I dressed for the occasion and he was bright, confident and really good company. We talked of Jamie and my plans again and of course about the company’s current problems. Although the financial climate was extremely tough, Andy seemed confident he could come to an agreement with the one remaining source of funds.

“They are a bit odd though,” he added thoughtfully.

“In what way?”

“Well, they’re a Christian Bank from a rather fundamentalist sect,” he told me. “They’re very tight on what sort of businesses they lend to and the type of people in charge.” He laughed. “They’re firmly pro-life and don’t approve of contraception, divorce or homosexuality”

“Are they Catholic?” I asked.

“Stricter than that. They don’t drink alcohol or eat meat on Fridays either.”

“They don’t sound like much fun to me,” I joked. Andy smiled back at me over his coffee.

“Actually they’re really nice and friendly. I like them a lot which is why I hate lying to them.”

I paused.

“You’ve been lying?”

“Only a little. They don’t believe in divorce so I only told them I had been married. I knew they wouldn’t lend me the money if they knew I was divorced so I only told them about the wedding part.”

“Andy,” I frowned with a sly smile. “That’s naughty.” He grinned.

“Only you and I know that so keep it under your hat, right? Besides I didn’t actually lie; I just left a bit out!”

“I can keep a secret,” I assured him.

“They wanted to know if I had kids too. When I said no, they immediately thought we had been using birth control so I told them we couldn’t have them; that my wife had problems ‘down there’.”

For a moment I wondered whether he had somehow got to know about Jamie and my problems but remembered the clinic’s records would be confidential.

“Anyway, I’m working hard on them. I need the money by the end of next month or we really do hit the wall. I’m pretty sure we’ll be okay but you never really know.”

We talked for a while longer then Andy walked me to the taxi rank again. As we said goodbye, he kissed me lightly on the cheek.

“Thanks for listening Wendy. You’re about the only person I can talk to about all this. You know me of old!”

For some reason this made me feel warm and needed.

“If there’s anything I can do…” I said as he held the taxi door open for me.

“Thanks. For now it’s just great to see you again. It’s been fun! See you next week? Same time?”

“I’d love to!” I replied immediately.

As the taxi took me home my mind was full of the second lovely meal I had enjoyed with my interesting, handsome friend.

But those positive thoughts were soon replaced by worries about our future if the deal with the bank fell through.

*

“You’re sure it’s okay?” I asked my husband after telling him about my lunch that day and the date made for the following week.

“Sure,” he replied distractedly. “The closer you get to him the better. At least one of us on the board is going to be sacked; if you’re his best friend, it makes it much less likely to be me!”

“Have you read the letter from the clinic?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I’ve skimmed it,” he lied. “What does it say?”

I sighed. This was my husband’s first response to so many issues – leaving it to me! I sat at the breakfast bar while he messed around with his laptop and read the letter’s contents aloud:

The tests had come back conclusively.

He had normal sperm and an unusually high sperm count.

It was my body that was malfunctioning.

It could be treated with a course of implants and injections.

If we decided to go ahead, the letter explained that I would be given two types of implant, one after the other designed to improve my fertility.

First they would address a hormone issue. There would be four implants of increasing strength which would prepare my body for the second phase. Perversely, in the short term they would actually suppress ovulation and render me completely infertile for a few weeks.

The second phase would last up to three months and would send my body into hyper-fertility, causing multiple ovulations. During that period I would become more fertile than ever before in my life – and for longer - and would have a really good chance of getting pregnant if my husband could provide enough viable sperm.

The report said Jamie’s sperm was viable so it was just a case of getting enough of it inside me. Before the takeover this would have been an easy task but we had made love only a couple of times recently thanks to his working hours and stress.

“So shall we give it a try?” I asked.

“Sorry?” He really wasn’t paying attention.

“Shall I start the treatment? They’re offering an appointment in a couple of days.”

“Whatever you want, Sweetheart,” Jamie replied absently as he took his briefcase into the study.

I frowned. Once again it would all be down to me!

*

Having the implant fitted was fairly painless. It was barely visible under my skin even when I looked hard and after a few days I had all but forgotten about it. The effect was noticeable though; I felt flushed most of the time and my skin became much more sensitive. I started to have sexy dreams too which was unusual for me; I didn’t tell my husband.

Andy had been busy in meetings all week so our lunch ‘date’ had been moved to the evening. I could tell Jamie was beginning to feel a little jealous but he still insisted that I should remain as close to Andy as possible; there was still no sign of our old house being sold and the interest charges were mounting.

I dressed a little more sexily than usual in a short blue sleeveless dress and heels and arrived promptly at the celebrity restaurant Andy had chosen.

As usual the evening was delightful though my implant made me feel very warm throughout the meal. Andy looked gorgeous in designer suit, open necked shirt and shiny pointed shoes. I was amazed just how far he had come from the geeky kid I had known and cruelly exploited at University and was very grateful he bore no grudges.

He was, however, increasingly concerned about the business’ funding. It appeared that the strange Christian Bank really was the only option still available in the current Banking Crisis but he wasn’t sure he could persuade them to lend to him. They were still suspicious about his missing ‘wife’ and suspected the absence of children was the result of birth control or, far worse, abortion.

This time he accompanied me home in the taxi and kissed me goodnight in the driveway.

*

The implant was changed during the week. It was equally painless but the strange flushes grew worse. Still, it felt good to have actually started the process even if at this stage I was actually less fertile.

It was just as well; my husband was so pre-occupied with work that he hadn’t laid a finger on me in three weeks.

But I wasn’t the only one with problems; when I joined Andy for dinner that Thursday evening it was clear that, even though he looked even more gorgeous than before, he was a worried man; the Bank still had reservations about him and his business.

“They’re coming over next week to see a few possible investments. The pot of cash is only so big; if the others impress them more than we do then they’ll get the funding and we’ll go under.”

“What can you do?”

“They’re staying in a hotel near Stratford and they’ve asked me to visit them on Friday evening to go through the details again, have dinner and stay overnight.”

“You’ll do that well. You’re a very persuasive man,” I reassured him.

“There’s a problem though. They’re bringing their wives along for some sight-seeing. They expect me to bring my wife too and I don’t have one! If they find out I’ve been lying to them, there’s no way they will lend us the money and the business will go under.”

The answer was so obvious I had said it before I realised it.

“I’ll be your wife!”

“Wendy?”

“No seriously. If it’s as important as that – if the only way to save the business for someone to play the part of your wife then there really is only one solution.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“For us all, yes of course I would. I’ve known you for years – I can talk about University and be convincing. Who else could do that?”

“But we’d have to share a room – maybe even a bed,” he said clearly as if making sure I had understood.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’d shared a bed with a friend. As long as it’s only sharing a bed!” I added with a meaningful glance.

The look of relief on Andy’s face almost reduced me to tears. We finished dinner together and when he dropped me back home his goodnight kiss was rather more meaningful.

*

Late Friday afternoon, Andy’s Mercedes sped north up the motorway on its way to Shakespeare’s Stratford with the two of us in the front seats. Andy was trying to fill in details of our supposed life together so we didn’t make too many slip-ups in front of our hosts but I was finding it hard to retain the details.

The third implant was having a significant effect on my mind and body. Apart from feeling warm and a little flushed all the time, my mind was definitely not as sharp as usual and concentration was difficult.

I had not told my husband pretending to be Andy’s wife and staying in the same room overnight. Jamie was stressed enough as it was and didn’t need another worry on his mind. Besides, if all went well I would have helped save the company in a real and meaningful way which would make it very difficult for Andy to retain or promote anyone other than my husband.

It wasn’t as if I was going to have sex with him, anyway!

The hotel was beautiful; a timber framed manor house set in its own grounds only half an hour from the lovely town. We were shown to our room which was large and comfortable with a four-poster bed and views out over the park that made me feel like a queen.

Andy ordered two large glasses of wine from room service and we unpacked carefully as he explained over and over again the things I was to say and, more importantly, the things I was to keep to myself.

“Which side do you prefer?” I asked pointing to the bed during a brief pause in his monologue.

I gasped, then giggled.

“Well I usually sleep on the right,” he said, smiling broadly.

“So do I,” I grinned back. “Let’s toss for it!”

“Take it; it’s all yours!” he smiled then stopped as the room’s phone rang.

“Hello… Yes it is. Hi Howard, we’ve just finished unpacking. Okay, we’ll be down very soon. Yes, she’s looking forward to it!”

When he hung up the phone, I looked at him expectantly.

“I hope your acting skills are ready. We’re on stage in half an hour!”

*

My tummy was alive with nerves as I dressed for dinner in a smart black cocktail dress, carefully chosen to be stylish but modest. My heels were medium height and my tights unexceptional. I wore only a minimum of jewellery and the lightest of make-up and believed I looked like the happily married wife of a successful man.

It felt strangely good not having to get as dressed up as I would if I had been out with my husband and as we entered the hotel’s lounge I was more confident I could pull off the deception.

In truth, our dinner companions made the whole evening easy. Three delightful couples were already assembled, chatting companionably. I quickly noticed that the ladies were sipping soft drinks and ordered a lime and soda. All three couples were older than Andy and me but looked smart, well-dressed and happy and took me under their wing straight away, showering me with questions and making me feel the centre of attention.

Sandy, the wife of Howard, the most senior Banker, was in her late fifties, blonde and very American. Her two companions Susan and Cheryl were younger and clearly married to more junior executives as they agreed immediately with everything Sandy said.

The evening passed easily; the dinner was good and I enjoyed the old-fashioned, slightly formal politeness of the visitors as they planned their stay. While their husbands talked money the following morning, the three wives were to explore Stratford together and I was enthusiastically encouraged to join them.

Declining was not an option so I agreed.

Americans dine early and go to bed early so it wasn’t quite eleven when Andy and I returned to our room. I was exhausted from the strain of keeping up my ‘little wife’ act and insisted on relaxing in the bath before bedtime.

Andy passed me a glass of wine which I drank eagerly after my teetotal dinner.

I took my long, modest night dress into the bathroom with me and was wearing it when I emerged half an hour later, feeling much less achy but ready for sleep.

Andy was sitting up in bed waiting for me. He was wearing a T shirt which was a relief; I didn’t want to have to fend off unwanted sexual advances in my exhausted state. We lay side by side in the large double bed in the darkness.

“You were perfect,” he said quietly as I dozed.

“Thanks,” I replied. “I’m nervous about tomorrow. I’m not sure I can keep it up all day.”

“You’ll be fine. Do you like them?”

“They’re lovely. A bit old-fashioned and sexually stereotyped but it’s refreshing in a way.”

I yawned.

“Good night, Wendy,” Andy laughed and we both tried to sleep.

It took a while to get used to sharing a bed with an unfamiliar man. At first I expected Andy to make advances to me under the duvet but after a few minutes it was clear that he was trying to sleep too.

I began to relax and doze but our attempts at slumber were almost immediately disturbed by the noises that began to emanate from the rooms around us; first from my side of the bed, then Andy’s. It began with clunking as if furniture was being moved, then progressed to louder noises and high pitched female giggling in an American accent!

“Jesus!” Andy growled.

The noises stopped. I dozed a little more.

Then it started properly.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The slow, steady rhythmic beat of unhurried sexual intercourse filled the bedroom. I tried to ignore it and go to sleep.

Then the moaning started, low and soft, but getting louder.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

I curled up under the duvet in embarrassment, feeling Andy’s hot body close to mine and praying that he wouldn’t get the same ideas that were surging through my head.

Then the noises started from the bedroom on the other side.

Thump-thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump.

“Oooohhhh!”

Sleep was now impossible with the sounds of sex filling the room in stereo. I gave up and sat up, leaning back on my pillow. A moment later Andy was doing the same; we both looked at each other and broke out in giggles.

“It is them, isn’t it?” he asked.

“I could swear the first voice was Sandy’s,” I replied. “It’s hard to imagine but that accent’s so distinctive.”

“And I reckon it’s Cheryl on the other side too. I saw their key in her open handbag.”

Thump-thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump.

“You can’t fault them for effort. Or energy!” Andy joked.

“It must be the clean-living lifestyle,” I replied.

Thump-thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump.

“Aaaaaahhhhhh!”

The activities on my side were reaching a climax in both senses. The heavily-accented female voice soared and wailed as the thumping grew jack-hammer fast before stopping suddenly. Far from being a relief, this simply provided a better opportunity for us to hear the woman on the other side reach a shattering orgasm herself before finally the room became quiet.

“What will we do if we meet them at breakfast?” Andy wondered aloud.

“We’ll be British and pretend it didn’t happen,” I told him. He laughed loudly.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Brown,” he grinned and kissed me on the cheek.

“Goodnight Mr. Brown,” I replied.

Finally we fell asleep.

*

We rose a little late the following morning after quite a good night’s sleep despite the antics of our neighbours. One nearby couple appeared to believe in morning as well as late night sex and we had been woken in the early hours by more thumping and wailing from next door.

Getting both of us through the bathroom while maintaining a bit of modesty was a challenge and I’m sure Andy got to see more of me that he should but in a gentlemanly way he didn’t say anything.

When we arrived in the breakfast room we found the three older couples had already finished eating and were nearly ready for the day’s activities. They looked fresh and happy. Andy and I barely had time to grab a coffee and croissant before returning to our room to brush our teeth.

“Okay, which of them was it?” Andy asked with a grin as he rinsed out his mouth in the bathroom.

“The sexy soundtrack? Sandy without a doubt,” I said with certainty.

“How can you tell?”

“Didn’t you see her face and chest?” I asked. “If that wasn’t a post-orgasmic flush I’ve never had one!”

The words were out before I could stop them and I blushed scarlet straight afterwards. Andy just smiled.

“We’ll see about that!” he said enigmatically as we went our separate ways, Andy to the meeting room, me to Stratford with ‘the girls’ as they called themselves.

*

Despite, or perhaps because of their nocturnal exertions, the three American girls were full of energy that morning and our exploration of Stratford was both fast and thorough. After looking at the river, the theatre and the ancient streets we found ourselves in a private corner of a small, old-fashioned tea room.

The conversation was bright, cheerful and normal so I was completely wrong-footed when Sandy asked me straight out of a clear blue sky whether Andy and I had had sex the previous night.

Stunned by the question, I misunderstood and was worried that she had thought the other noisy couple had been us. But it soon became clear that she meant something completely different.

“We know about your problems having children, Honey,” Sandy said confidentially. I looked around but no-one could overhear, thank God.

“If your husband needs to keep seeding you, you mustn’t worry about us hearing you. You do what you need to do, Wendy. We all do!”

She patted me conspiratorially on the knee. I felt horrified; what could I possibly say? All I knew was that I had to go along with them to make sure they reported back only good news to their Banker husbands. Andy simply had to get the loan or Jamie and I would be bankrupt!

“I thought, given your beliefs...” I began but they all laughed.

“Wendy Honey, sex is a gift from God! As long as it’s within marriage and for the making of children, God wants us to enjoy that gift as much as we can!”

“That’s right,” Cheryl broke in. “My husband and I have had sex almost every day since our wedding night and we’ve never so much as touched a rubber or a pill. I’ve given him six children and I consider it a blessing. We’re as close and happy as couple could be and I thank God for that.”

“That’s the truth Wendy; God’s truth. Right now God has rewarded me with an early menopause. Now we can enjoy each other as much as we like without making any more babies,” Sandy added.

She leaned closer towards me.

“We’ve decided to pray for you, Wendy. We’re sure God will bless you with children eventually; you’re a lovely girl and Andy’s a lovely man. But God helps those who helps themselves if you know what I mean!”

I must have looked puzzled because there was a round of giggling.

“That’s right,” Cheryl eventually explained. “If you don’t plant the seed, you can’t grow the crop. Next time you stay with us, you and that lovely husband of yours just go right at it; get yourself seeded morning, noon and night. Don’t worry about the noise; we’ll be so busy ourselves we won’t even hear you!”

“Morning, noon and night!” Sandy repeated with a smile.

And then bizarrely, the conversation moved on the other more banal things.

*

“So there’s yet another hoop to jump through before you get the money?” I asked Andy as we sped along the road back to London later that afternoon.

Andy sounded a little dejected.

“That’s right. They’re going on a tour of European capital cities while their accountants do the groundwork then they’re going to Scotland. We’re invited to spend a long weekend with them there. If all goes well, the money is ours.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes of course but…”

“But what?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, Wendy but do you think you could pretend to be my wife again? Just that weekend?”

I thought for a moment. The evening and morning had gone well but I wasn’t sure I could keep up the deceit for a full four nights, even if I wanted to. On the other hand, Andy had been a real gentleman and the others had been such pleasant company.

“What about Jamie?” I asked. “I’m not sure he would agree.”

I hadn’t told Andy that I had lied to my husband about the night’s adventures; Jamie thought I was staying with a friend in Birmingham. I wasn’t sure how he would have reacted to the idea of my sharing a bed with an old flame, however platonic the friendship was now.

“I can send him on a trip to the US,” Andy volunteered. “He needs to go anyway. I’ll just bring it forward a week or so. He’ll never need to know.”

I sat in silence for a good ten minutes, thinking. This was a real chance to help both the company, my husband and myself – our whole future in fact. But I had to know something more.

“Did they talk to you about children?” I asked tentatively. Andy coughed.

“Yes. They were a bit forthright about it in fact. Why do you ask?”

I told him all that Sandy and Cheryl had told me in the coffee shop.

“Howard said something similar to me. They really believe that their prayers and their company could make a difference to us... to you. They’re so convinced, you could almost believe them yourself!”

*

I made a big deal about thinking it all over but in truth, there really wasn’t an alternative so two days later I agreed to spend the four day weekend with Andy posing as his wife. That night, my husband announced that he had to make a short-notice trip to the US to help with the financing plans.

It was as easy as that!

Although I had accepted the inevitability of the trip, it wasn’t without reservations. If I was found out as an imposter, the consequences for the business might be severe but then, I reasoned, if we didn’t get the money the business would collapse and Jamie and I would be destitute.

If Jamie did find out… well, I could probably make him understand that it was all for us and our future. Maybe he would understand.

Meanwhile the fourth implant was making its presence felt; still no period arrived, I felt hot and flushed a great deal of the time and began to make even more demands on my husband in bed. Jamie did his best to oblige but he was working sixteen hours a day so I was often left unseeded and unsatisfied.

After a few days I received an unexpected e-mail which made me sit back and stare when it popped into my inbox. It was from Sandy who was with ‘the girls’ in Barcelona. They had just finished dinner and had been talking about me again. After a warm and friendly introduction, I could barely believe my eyes:

‘We all thought you were a darling, Wendy. You and your lovely husband are just the sweetest things and we’d really like to help you with your little problem. We’ve just called our Pastor back home. He’s going to arrange a series of special prayer meetings over the weekend that we’re all in Scotland. The whole church is going to pray for you and your problem all weekend. Morning, noon and night!

All you have to do is believe in the power of prayer and make sure your lovely husband seeds you morning noon and night too. Don’t worry about us hearing – we’re used to it. Andy has told us how strongly you both believe so if God wants you to have a child, it will surely happen that weekend.’

Later that day when Andy and I met for our usual lunch date, I showed him the message.

“You know what this means,” I said coldly. “I’m not having sex with you. I’m not doing it even once, let along ‘morning noon and night’ for four days.”

Andy looked as nonplussed as I felt.

“Couldn’t we pretend?” he asked.

“After what happened last time? And with them listening in? No way! They’d suss us out straight away!”

“I suppose so.”

“And we couldn’t use condoms either. I heard all about what they think of those; if they found any sign of birth control we’d be blown completely!”

“But it’s our last chance to save the business, Wendy. I know it’s distasteful but...”

My implant must have been messing with my hormones because suddenly I flushed into anger. How could the idea of sleeping with me be distasteful for him? I hissed the question over the table.

“That’s not what I meant...” he began but I cut him off.

“It’s not distasteful. It’s immoral. For all you know I’m great in bed. Actually I am really good in bed. Maybe you are too but I’m married and...”

“Please, Wendy!”

Fortunately he managed to calm me down before I could embarrass myself any further.

*

Two days later Andy called me on the phone at home.

“I have a proposal. Please hear me out before shouting. Will you promise to do that?”

“Well, okay,” I said with some unease.

“Wendy, we’re old friends. We get along really well and, I think, we care for each other. You’re married but I think we both have feelings which we haven’t expressed.”

“Maybe,” I replied though I knew he was quite right.

“I can’t bear the thought of coming between you and your husband; I’ve lost you once and know how much it hurts. So if the Christian Bank deal goes through, I’ve decided to go back to the US office. In that event I would need to promote someone to head up the UK and Europe.”

Now he had my full attention.

“There are only three possible people who could do the job, and your husband James is one of them. It’s not entirely my decision but I’m prepared to put him forward as Head of UK and Europe.

My heart thumped in my chest. This was what we really needed.

“But he can only head up the business if there still is a business.”

“Of course,” I said. The logic was undeniable.

“And there will only be a business if we get the money from the Christian Bank, right?”

“Right.”

I could see where this conversation was going.

“And we will only get the money if we convince them we are ‘one of them’.”

“I suppose so,” I agreed.

“And the only way we can do that now is for you to pose as my wife for four days.”

“I’ve already agreed to do that,”

“And for us to have sex together several times each day.”

We had reached the inevitable conclusion. The logic was terrible!

My old friend; my good friend was asking me to cheat on my husband with him in front of witnesses for four whole days.

And the most bizarre thing was that I felt sorry for him for having to ask me!

“Andy, I can’t, I...”

“Think about it, Wendy. Please. It’s the only way to give us all a future. In a couple of months I’ll go off to the US and you’ll probably never see me again.

“Andy please...”

“All I’m asking is this one long weekend with you; just four short days as my wife and it’ll all be over. The business will be saved, I’ll go back to the US, Jamie will get his dream job and your lives will move on to a new level of prosperity. Only you and I will ever know what happened.”

“But I will have to sleep with you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“That’s true, I won’t deny it. You would hardly be my wife if you didn’t sleep with me and we won’t convince them we’re sincere about having a child unless we do it noisily a great deal over those four days.”

“Morning, noon and night?”

“I reckon a dozen times, that’s all.”

“Jesus, Andy!”

“I know. But when I bring you home again it will all be over and only you and I will know it ever happened.”

He laughed in a self-deprecating way.

“You never know, you might even enjoy it. I’ve come on a lot since Glastonbury, trust me!”

“I can’t think about it!”

“Please try, Wendy. Sleep on it too if you have to. But if you say no, I need to take steps to begin shutting the business down now. It’s all in your hands. I’d make a decision quickly if I were you.”

*

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!”

Jamie’s sweet, familiar face was only inches above mine, his chest crushing my boobs, the full weight of his hips thundering into my pelvis as he thrust his long, slim cock into my vagina over and over again.

“Mmmmmmm!” I moaned, faking arousal as I had done many times before, especially recently.

Mistaking energy for technique, my husband’s body slammed painfully into mine in short, fast strokes, dragging the upper surface of his shaft across my rather sore clitoris.

“Wendy! Wendy!” he grunted as he thrust mercilessly, letting loose the bottled up tension of so many long, arduous days at work.

Ironically, after weeks of neglect, my husband Jamie had chosen that very night to try and reawaken our stricken love life, presumably in preparation for the sustained period of insemination that would have to take place once my fertility treatment began in earnest.

I loved my husband madly, cared for him completely, still found him extremely attractive but had to admit that our lovemaking left a lot to be desired. It wasn’t all his fault; my own lack of imagination had contributed to the perfunctory nature of our copulations that had existed for the last few years but the pressure of his work since the takeover had made things a lot worse.

Determined to at least try and play my part, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensations passing through my body; my squashed boobs with their abraded nipples, the aches in my hips where Jamie’s bodyweight had forced my legs wide apart, the thump-thump in my belly as the head of his cock slammed hard into my cervix over and over again.

I tensed my pelvic floor as hard as I could, trying to tighten my vagina around his long but rather slender erection. It worked to some extent; the increased pressure rubbed every ridge and undulation on his shaft across my inner lips.

I tilted my pelvis too, forcing my clitoris even harder against the top of his fast-moving shaft. Again the sensations increased but I could already tell that, once again, I would not reach orgasm.

‘Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!’

“Oh Yes! You’re the best!”

I showered lie upon lie in the hope of stirring my husband to greater feats of lovemaking but to no avail; I was too distracted and my arousal remained far too low for even a glimpse of an orgasm. As if oblivious to this, Jamie continued to thrust with his regular, gradually increasing pace and I knew that our copulation wouldn’t last much longer.

“Oh Wendy Wendy Wendy!”

My prediction correct, to my disappointment I recognised the familiar signs that Jamie was about to reach the climax that was denied me. I closed my eyes, clamped down on his cock one last time, tilted my pelvis even more steeply and silently prayed for a last minute orgasm however small…

“Aaaaaaaaaggghhhhh!”

But it was too late! The sound of release coming from my husband’s mouth along with the faint throbbing and pulsing inside my vagina told me clearly that his climax was in progress and he was already ejaculating inside my body.

I looked up at his handsome face, now twisted in orgasm as he came. I closed my eyes again. It really wasn’t his fault; under normal circumstances my husband’s routine but thorough technique would have produced the results I needed.

But circumstances were not normal! How could I relax and enjoy sex with my husband when my first ever infidelity might be only days away?

As I felt Jamie’s seed flowing from his body into mine, another face began to materialise in my mind.

As my husband’s thrusting body slowed to a halt, behind my closed eyelids the handsome features of my old friend Andy began to form.

For a moment I wondered what making love with him might actually be like.

*

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much after that. There was no way I could discuss my dilemma with my husband or anyone else so I had to keep my terrible thoughts to myself. The entire future of the business, Jamie and my financial future and the security of all the company’s employees rested on me and my decision.

On the one hand, asking me to be unfaithful to my husband for the first time in twenty years was intolerable.

On the other hand, all I would have to do was have no-strings sex a dozen times with an old friend; a very attractive old friend too.

A dozen times, that was all. He wasn’t asking for an affair, just a ‘dirty weekend’. Four short days and it would be over. Only he and I ever would know what had happened and the rewards would be enormous.

And I was infertile too; the timing was perfect – IF I chose to go ahead and do it.

It wasn’t as if Andy had any choice either; he was as trapped as I was!

But I had never cheated on my husband before! And having sex for money – however indirectly – was a kind of prostitution wasn’t it?

It all came down to one question; was I really that kind of girl?