Chas
Spring comes late to the North East of Scotland, where the land is washed by the cold waters of the North Sea. The living area in the barn conversion near the dunes at Balmeddie was cosy, with a log burner warming the spacious, comfortable room. Beth had brought me here to meet her friends Steph and Steve.
She had told me her tale about Ken and The Strutting Cockerel. I couldn’t believe it. My Beth, shy Beth? Ok, I knew it was an act for David, but this wanton witch? Brilliant. She had come to life. However, the worry about the future was still there.
The future? Oh yes, only two little words, but with massive meaning. The last night in Italy, a few days ago, the future was on the agenda. My post-coital bliss had been shattered by that call from my cold bitch of a mother-in-law. I, of course, did not answer her call. No doubt it would be a summons or command or disapproval of something I had done, or not done. No doubt she had been examining the flat in my absence. Beth had removed the incriminating files and flash drive. She had left the flat in its immaculate, but sterile condition. The mother-in-law had left a voicemail, which Malcolm and I both listened to:
“Chastity, I called today, and you are not here. You have left no indication of your whereabouts. That is most inconsiderate and unacceptable.” The familiar, imperious tone sounded different, though. Anxious? Angry? I wasn’t sure. “There is a letter from Anthony. He has indicated he has left you, which, of course, I knew would happen. However, the circumstances are bizarre, and I believe he has suffered a complete breakdown, which has caused him to temporarily take leave of his senses. I have no doubt you have caused this. You must return immediately to fulfil your duties and rectify this sorry state of affairs.”
As we were flying back the next day anyway, I did not grace her with a response. We were overjoyed at her news, but I was curious about what was going on. Enough of that for now.
Back to Balmeddie. My attention was drawn to the artwork which adorned the whitewashed walls. One in particular of a young couple in a pool by a waterfall, gazing into each other’s eyes. It was wonderful. I was sure it was a younger Steph and Steve.
Steph handed me a cup of steaming hot coffee and said, “That was over 20 years ago. He was my first. He will be my last. But not my only.” She was the artist. I had warmed to this couple immediately. Beth and I had come here to finalise The Plan. Also, Beth had brought her favourite belongings and clothes with her. She was moving in here until her future was sorted. When David returned, Beth would not be at home. She could not stay at mine. Too obvious. Anyway, I wasn’t staying there either. For now, I was staying with Malcolm, well away from the mother-in-law. Not hiding, but I had more important issues than her to deal with.
Events had been brought forward. Malcolm had used his network of contacts to make sure David was recalled to the UK early. The Plan was happening this Saturday at the exclusive North Dunes Golf Club, no, it is not the one owned by a rather famous /infamous American! The sooner, the better, before any gossip or info could be leaked.
When David returned to the grey, granite mansion tomorrow, his wife would not be there, but an intriguing invitation would be on the hall table, beside the infamous answering machine. Also beautifully wrapped are the scarlet crotchless panties, which also would have a message handwritten by Beth. Of course, he would accept the invitation. I was returning to Malcolm, via the west end, to deliver the invite and package. All was in place.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
David
It had been a long flight. I was not in the best of moods. I do not like my plans being altered. Why the call back to the UK? Nobody would give me an answer. I opened the door to the familiar scent. I smiled. Bethany! I would be compensated for my inconvenience, make no mistake about that. I felt a stirring in my groin as I pictured exactly what I was going to do with her very soon. I imagined her in the red lingerie, which was in my case. Oh yes, it was going to be an eye-opener and leg-opener for my prim wife. I then became aware of the chill in the house. The heating was off. No one was here. I felt fury rising. The light on the answering machine was flashing. It was green; the message had not been picked up. I pressed play and heard my tones instructing my wife to be home as I was returning early.
Where was she? Then I saw an envelope addressed to me, unstamped. I tore it open.
“David, may we be informal? We are going to become intimately acquainted soon, so I see no need for formalities. You have expressed a desire to join our exclusive “Circle of Friends”. Unfortunately, we have been unable to accommodate you until now. A vacancy has arisen. Please join us on Saturday Evening for a private gathering at North Dunes Golf Club, Balmeddie, to experience and sample what membership entails.
Yours in anticipation
The Mistress.”
The anger was replaced with smug satisfaction and lust. I had wanted to be part of this exclusive, secretive group for a very long time. I went into the kitchen and turned on the heating. The Aga was cold. On the kitchen island was a vase containing a single red rose. Beside it was a tissue package, tied with scarlet ribbons. A card handwritten by Bethany lay beside it.
“Darling, please forgive me for not being there to welcome you home. Here is a small token to keep you warm till we meet.
Bethany “
Intrigued, I ripped open the package to reveal scarlet crotchless panties.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Beth
The scene was set. The Golf Club had closed early for a private function. The owner was a member of Steph and Steve’s Circle of Friends. Ken manned the bar. A small select number of Circle members were gathered in the plush lounge, with windows affording a spectacular view of the dunes and the North Sea. In a corner of the room was a flat-screen TV.
I sat in an adjoining room watching the scene on a smaller screen, with Malcolm and Chas. I held my breath as a figure appeared in the room. My husband. He strode in as if he owned the place, supremely confident. Steve and Steph walked to greet him, hands outstretched. Steph looked fabulous in her black knee-length dress, very elegant with a lot of cleavage showing. Her red hair was loose, her heels high. I’m sure he was licking his lips. His eyes were on her tits. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but introductions were being made. The small group was equally well-dressed. The women were elegant, good-looking, and very sexy. Steph had told me that The Circle was a mix of ages and looks. They did not judge by conventional standards. Tonight’s gathering, though, had been selected purely to attract my husband. An older, greyer, plumper clientele would have been instantly dismissed by David.
Drinks were served, and conversation flowed. Steph positioned herself seductively by David, stroking his thigh and leaning forward provocatively. She was working her magic. The lights dimmed slightly. Although I knew what was going to happen, I felt a jolt go through me. It was a film, carefully edited, with background music enhancing it. Sexy stuff, no faces visible. The female was naked after her panties were removed. Yep, scarlet, crotchless panties, identical to the gift left for David. It was the Scene from the Strutting Cockerel’s back room. I was the unidentified star of the show. Chas looked at me with a huge grin. I nodded. Sweetly, Malcolm was not watching and was looking out the window. I could have kissed him. Ridiculous, I know, but I did not want him to see me like that. Oh, Chas, you lucky girl!
I watched my husband’s face. Naturally, he was loving the show. However, at the end of the edited film, there was a close-up of the red panties adorning the bar. I could see the expression on his face change to one of puzzlement. The screen went blank. A round of applause. That was my cue.
“Wish me Luck.”
I entered the room carrying a package. I, too, was elegantly attired in a red figure-hugging dress.
The Circle, apart from Steph, Steve, and Ken, had discreetly moved outside. David’s face was a study. If it wasn’t so serious, it would have been hilarious.
“I believe you are already acquainted with Beth, our most recent member. She has all the paperwork necessary for you. It has all been legally checked and only requires your signature.”
He opened the envelope. The paperwork inside was confirmation of his new position in the Tyumen Region, Western Siberia. Effective immediately. Further information banning him from overseas travel and a return to the UK within a five-year period. There was a document to be signed, transferring his share of the matrimonial home to me, along with Divorce Papers requiring a signature.
I held my breath. He read everything with a stony face, then turned to me and laughed. Ken and Steve positioned themselves beside me.
“Is this some kind of joke? I do not know what game you are trying to play, Bethany. When we return home tonight, you will discover exactly what games I play. Get your coat!” he threw the papers on the floor.
Music began to play. Ebony and Ivory by Paul McCartney. His face paled. The screen flashed to life, and the shocking clips Chas and I had found the previous summer played in glorious technicolour. The clips ended. A face appeared on the screen. A very menacing face, Dimitri Tolstoy. In another picture, the same man with his wife Elena Tolstoy, Ivory. Then, various news headlines outlining the unsolved murders and crimes linked to the Crime lord, Dimitri Tolstoy, and his mob were shown. The music changed to Verdi’s ‘Dies Irae’, Day of Wrath. David’s face was ashen. The confident, arrogant man was gone. Steve picked up the papers and a pen. Wordlessly, with a shaking hand, David signed every one.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Several weeks have passed. Spring has finally arrived, and the cold chill of winter and loveless marriages has finally gone. The grey granite mansion in the West End is on the Market. Beth is buying a property in Balmeddie. She is a frequent visitor to Steph and Steve’s home, as is Ken. She is now welcomed into the Circle of Friends, but she hasn’t quite decided to become “Intimately” acquainted with any of them yet. Not all their gatherings involve sex! Ken is a favourite, but one or two of the other gentlemen, single, widowed, and divorced, have caught her eye. She has definitely caught theirs! After David, she is cautious. She is happy
But what about Chas and the mother-in-law and Tony? I hear you ask.
Chas
When I returned from Italy, Malcolm accompanied me to the flat. I was pretty sure my mother-in-law would not be there, but…. The flat was empty, really empty. Not a trace of Tony was left. I was puzzled. Malcolm shouted me through to the kitchen. He was holding a crumpled sheet of paper. It was a letter addressed to me. My mother-in-law had opened and read it.
Chas,
There is no easy way to say this. I have fallen out of love with you. In my way, I still love you, perhaps we were never in love. I now know what true love is. His name is Johnathan. I do not think you will be truly shocked that I am gay. I should be man enough to tell you face to face, but I am not. I know your heart lies elsewhere, and I think you will find happiness there. I have started divorce proceedings. The flat I leave to you. In time, I will tell my mother. She will be utterly appalled at her perfect son, but you know what. Fuck her! Thank you for the memories, Chas.
Tony
That night, I lay awake in Malcolm’s bed, looking at the stars through the window. His home in Scotland, like Italy, is a renovated farmhouse. It is a working farm. The North Star is so bright in a dark sky where streetlights don’t diminish the clarity. I look at my ringless left hand. Before I left La Solara, Malcolm and I walked down the path to the cove, where I tossed my wedding ring into the crystal blue waters of the Amalfi Coast. My hand won’t be ringless for long. We will marry as soon as my divorce is finalised. We have no choice.
Rules are Rules. Mr. Malcolm Scott only employs married females!
Dawn was approaching. A strutting Cockerel crowed triumphantly.
Spring comes late to the North East of Scotland, but in the Tyumen Region, Western Siberia, it does not come at all. David Beattie will vouch for that.
