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Several hundred miles away Angie had been busy, thinking, writing, crossing out rethinking and rewriting her "confession"

My Darling Husband I am sorry for the things I have done both with Franky Grimm and to you I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am or how I can ask you to forgive me.

As you no doubt have guessed, it was all because of Charlotte. About a year ago you were away and Charlotte told me she had a double date with Marie and Frank and another man. She told me Marie had to drop out and asked if I could make up the number. I said no, but she told me she was desperate, she assured me nothing would be expected sex wise, like a fool I believed her.

The date was dinner and dancing, I was paired off with Frank. I don't know really how we went from the club to his bed, I have tried to understand, I tried to understand for weeks after that first time and again since you left me up here. All I know is I can't explain it. I have to admit I found him attractive when I first met him. There is something about powerful men. I can't explain it, but even you have to admit he is powerful, but he was just too difficult to refuse. I felt so guilty that I had betrayed you

The next time you were away, Charlotte told me he wanted to see me again. I told her no, I did, honest. You have to believe me. He came round the house, uninvited, late at night, I didn't want to let him in. He said he just wanted to talk about what had happened the last time, so I invited him in for a drink and to talk, just talk, really that was the only reason I let him through the door. I shouldn't have, maybe we could have recovered what we had. That was the first night I let him do me at home, when first soiled our marital bed.

When he left I cried myself to sleep.

The next time you were away, the same happened, the time after that was when he took my last virginity.

I would like to say I wished it was you but by then I was hooked, at the time I was glad he had me there first, it was only when you took it by force did I begin to see it was you that should have been using me like he did. That the only reason you had not used me like a whore was because you loved me, you respected me and you treated me as an equal.

Now as I face my lust, my lack of respect and the fact I treated you like a pet I realise I couldn't have any more regrets about what I had been doing with him.

I am sorry my love, but infatuation doesn't begin to describe what I felt, the desires he brought out in me.

When he told me he didn't want to share me anymore, I had a pang of guilt, so he told me I can give you hand jobs. But he insisted that you had to eat my pussy while I did it, he then started to come around and fuck me just before you came home.

I am sorry my love but for a while I got caught up with the idea. We worked out between us the disgusting things I did to your food, much to my shame I think it may have been my suggestion. I am sorry but I just got caught up with him, enamoured by his potency, his authority.

I have just read through what I have written and am even more disgusted with myself than I was before I wrote it. I realise there is no way you can forgive me for the things I have done to you, how can you forgive me when I can't forgive myself.

I have no right to ask and you should not even entertain the idea.

If there is a hell I will rightly burn forevermore.

Goodbye my love Angie XX

She folded the notepaper and put it on the table, resting her handbag on top. Taking a sharp knife from the drawer, crying she walked to the bathroom, stripped off her clothes and ran herself a hot bath.

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Young, titian-haired, angelic-featured Sally Reagan sat apprehensively squeezing a handkerchief between her small hands in the back seat of a taxi cab as it sped across Morriston. Her slender, high- breasted body was rigid with the foreknowledge of what was about to happen, and a nauseous feeling eddied in the pit of her stomach. Oh God, she prayed to herself, please don't let it be as bad as the last time. Please, don't. I... I don't think I could stand it! She twisted the handkerchief...

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