Alibi

"You, my willing fuck buddy?"

"Mmm, me," Alison's hand is rubbing his cock now, which is starting to stiffen up again from her gentle ministrations, "I could be your whore, your slut, your little piece of arse, to have and to hold, from this day forward, at any time, day or place. You, my lovely, can do anything to and with me, from now until we leave this suite on Friday."

"Anything?"

"Anything. I am yours to command. I am your willing sex slave." Alison, pushes herself off his chest, staring into his eyes, wearing her mischievous smile, while still rubbing his cock. "You can fuck me any way you want, anywhere you would like, be it the shower, the sofa, the table, the terrace ... including fucking my arsehole, if you want it."

"Did he have your arse?"

She stares at him with wide-open eyes, brought close to tears again. She sets her jaw in that determined way he once adored.

"I will be your fuck toy, at your beck and call for your every desire, but I have three conditions, sweetheart," she says, stifling a sob, "Will you think about the possibility of accepting these conditions, now, quickly and put me out of my misery?"

"Depends. What are those three conditions?" he resigns with a sigh.

"One, don't ask me anything about Marcel for now, while we are here. I will tell you everything you want to know, the very moment we get home, even if I am only there long enough to pack up my stuff. I will then sit down with you and answer every question about my relationship with Marcel, honestly. I promise I will hold nothing back. Do you agree to that point?"

"OK, I agree to point One."

"Thank you, honey. We could always talk, couldn't we?; until recently. It's one of the reasons I fell in love with you and still love you."

She kisses him briefly, nipping his lower lip again, before continuing.

"Right, Two, you must feed me while I'm here," she giggles, "I've got breakfast waiting on the hot plate in the other room. You have got to be hungry and I'm absolutely starving!"

"Me too! I've not eaten since breakfast yesterday. Are you going to release me?"

"Sorry, sweetheart, I will shortly. But first things first. Do you agree to condition number Two?"

"Yes, I do."

She lets go of his cock.

"Oh!" he sighs.

"I know," she agrees, "it's hard letting go, but we'll have a quick breakfast, a refreshing shower and then you can fuck me every which way until lunchtime."

She gently releases the tie holding his poor bandaged hand, kissing it better as she does so. She turns to untie his feet. As she presents her arse to him, he playfully slaps her across one buttock cheek with his left hand.

"Ow!" she admonishes him for a moment.

He pulls her by the knees towards his face and clamps his mouth to her dripping cunt, and starts to suck and lick, inserting his insistent tongue between her labia and into her vagina, lapping up their combined juices.

"Oh fuck! That's good, honey, don't stop! Please don't ever stop doing that!"

She continues slowly untying his ankles, kissing him where the ties have rubbed, stopping often in ecstasy as Bill slurps away at her nether region. She shudders with pleasure as he sweeps his flat tongue across her sensitive arsehole, before sucking her juices and inserting his tongue in her pussy or lapping with tongue-tip around her sensitive nub. In a surprisingly short space of time, her orgasm wipes her out again and she collapses on him once more. Her night was deprived of much sleep and she is suddenly exhausted. A gentle slap on a butt cheek stirs her again, she'd almost fallen asleep in the warm sunshine now flooding into the gorgeous suite.

"Wha'?"

"Come on, Ali, clean up time in the shower, then food," Bill says cheerfully, surprising himself at how upbeat he feels. The thought flashes across his mind that the pleasure he had got from the early morning fuck has actually been topped by being able to make Alison come with the power of his tongue alone, "then you can tell me what your third condition is while we eat."

"Fuuuck," she exhales, "I can't even think what it was, now! Oh boy! You still got it babe, you just sucked my brain right out of my front bottom!"

"Well, your brain didn't have to travel far!" Bill is off the bed and heading for the bathroom, with Alison not far behind, slapping his arse in retribution for his scathing remark.

After showering, where they had kissed frequently and liberally soaped each other all over without going as far as having sex, Bill puts on his dressing gown, while Alison dons the white shirt he wore yesterday. She smiles as she breathes in the smell of his deodorant, a hint of cologne and the faint aroma of his sweat, thinking, deciding, that when she packs both cases on Friday, she will wrap his shirts in plastic and stow in her case; to keep them as a reminder of what she knows she's now lost.

She sits him at the table and pours him some fruit juice and a dish of segmented grapefruit from the fridge, followed by a steaming cup of strong dark roast French coffee. Each time he says thanks and she kisses the top of his head. Alison plates up his breakfast from the hostess trolley, bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and French toast on a warm plate, with just bacon and eggs on her plate. She carries them to the table and sits to the right of him. He smiles and mouths 'thanks'.

"I see you are still wearing your engagement and wedding ring," he observes.

"Yes, hon, I ... I can't bear to lose them... Bill, you won't insist that I return them to you, will you?"

"They are no good to me, Ali. What do you want to keep them for, anyway?"

"They, they still mean something to me, despite everything that I did. Bill, whatever happens to us, and I am at your mercy here, I promise, together or apart, I will wear both these rings for the rest of my life."

Bill doesn't say anything, keeping his thoughts to himself. Alison looks at him sideways.

"I took off your Grandmother's lovely eternity ring before I lay down to sleep last night. I have left it on your bedside table. The ring box is at home. I'll look it out for you when we get back."

"There's no need for that, Ali, Gran specifically left it to you in her will."

"Your Gran meant so much to you, I know. You stayed with her a lot when you were a boy. I didn't even think she liked me enough to leave it to me, I think it's a good quality diamond solitaire. Maybe ... it will come in handy as an engagement ring ... should you consider getting remarried one day."

"I won't need the ring, Ali. Twice bitten, twice shy."

This time it is Alison that is silent, reflectively chewing a piece of bacon that suddenly feels like cardboard.

She gets up and fetches the warm croissants and pains du chocolat piled on a warm plate.

"She did like you, Ali, she told me several times that you were good for me." He pauses, "The ring is quite a valuable one, but there is a story attached to it. Back when I was about 15 or 16, my Aunt Pat asked me to come with her to pick up Gran and Granddad from one of the London rail stations, not sure but St Pancras I think it was, to help them with all the cases. They'd returned from a holiday in Venice."

"I don't think you've ever mentioned it before and neither did your Gran. If it was me I would never stop talking about such a trip."

"No, I've never spoken about it since, not sure why, except it wasn't a positive or optimistic trip that I wanted to remember. Aunt Pat was always chatty and she told me on the way that Gran and Granddad had travelled on the Orient Express, a romantic trip to Venice and back."

"Oh, how lovely."

"No it wasn't really, hon. Aunt Pat confided that the trip was because Granddad had been caught having an affair with some secretary at work and that expensive diamond eternity ring was part of the retribution. Gran wore it flashing on her hand when we picked them up. They stayed together, but they were never quite what they were before."

"Oh. I didn't know. Gran wore that ring all the time, as a reminder, I guess. Is that why you want me to keep it, as a badge of guilt, hon?"

"No, that would be petty, Ali. However, because most of the females in the family know the story behind it, it would be difficult to give it to anyone else. You could always pass it onto Kelly, without the story that forged it, she really loved Gran."

"Not really fair to Jules, though, whenever she decides to marry, and Marty might settle down one day with a girl," Alison considers, nibbling a croissant.

"I'll leave it up to you what you do with it," Bill conceded. "Well, I'm completely stuffed. How about we get dressed and go clothes shopping."

"You hate clothes shopping."

"I know, but I only have suits here, not that the ties are going to be much use-"

"Sorry about that, we can get you more ties, but they are going to be pretty pricey round here."

"No ties, but I do need some casual clothes for the next few days."

"I hoped we would spend today and tomorrow in bed. You don't need clothes for that."

"True," Bill smiled, stroking the back of her head, "but I need to rest this morning ... maybe we could go to bed this afternoon, eh?"

"You've got a date, honey!"

"We've got more than one date, babe. We have until next Wednesday."

"Yes? Well, I happen to have acquired a handy supply of blue pills. Only don't ask where I got them!"

***

"Honey, I've finally remembered my third condition," Alison says.

It is late Friday morning and they are waiting for the lift to take them to the ground floor, intending to walk and stretch their legs for half an hour before taking a light lunch at the nice café they had found yesterday. They had slept in late this morning, making love, and were now quite hungry. They then planned to walk along the seafront all afternoon before changing into their glad rags to attend a cabaret in the evening.

"OK, honey," Bill smiles, "let me have it with both barrels."

"You are taking me to my sister's on Thursday, as she's letting me stay with her until I find a place of my own, but I still want to see you on a regular basis if possible, so," she takes a deep breath, "I would like you to ask me out on a date for this coming Friday, hopefully for the first of many dates."

"But-"

"Only until you meet someone you feel you could fall in love with, honey."

"I am fat and ugly, Ali, no-one's-"

"No, honey, you know I can't accept that. You're a lovely, handsome man. OK. You could, and should, lose some of the weight you've put on recently, if only for the sake of your health."

"Yeah, Keith was saying as much on the phone-"

"You're on holiday and you rang work!?"

"No I didn't, Keith rang me, while you were in the shower."

"Mmm, I wondered why you didn't join me, I thought maybe I'd worn you out, or possibly you don't you fancy me anymore?"

"Yes and no." He pauses, as the lift opens. It is empty.

"Is that, 'yes, you've worn me out' and," Alison says as they step into the lift, "'no, I don't not fancy you anymore', hon?"

"Yeah," he laughs, "those two."

"I've still got those blue pills, hon."

"Well, I've not needed them so far, Ali. You've been all the stimulus I've needed."

She tucks both her arms around his arm and squeezes him to her.

"So, what did the 'old man' want that couldn't wait until you got back?"

"Oh, to tell me he was being shunted upstairs to CEO, Old Saunders is packing it in, with immediate effect."

"Oh, honey, Keith was your biggest ally there in your department, what's going to happen to you now?"

"Nothing much except, starting next Monday, I cover for him as sales director, while his P.A. Pam helps me get straight for a fortnight or so before she joins him."

"So how long are you covering Keith for? Do they have someone in mind, yet?"

"Yes, they have ... me. The directors wined and dined the directors of Caledonian last night, who told them the only reason they didn't go shopping abroad for their massive refit was my integrity in ensuring that they went for the most appropriate machinery. They originally planned to refit a year ago but I told them at the time that if they couldn't wait, they'd best go for the Japanese competitor; but, if they could possibly delay, then stall until our next generation of machinery, the Zero range with the new microprocessors, was ready. As you know, Caledonian decided to wait. Keith had stood up for me and my methods of investing trust between us and the clients for years, Saunders saw the writing on the wall, and jumped before the other directors pushed."

"Oh, sweetheart, that's fantastic," Alison gushes as they descend, "Now, we really do need to get you back in trim. Look, we can run together, share a shower afterwards, get you even more handsome and desirable than you have ever been. And we can do that starting in the gym here at the hotel. Now you are going to be an even better catch, I know that Glenda and Izzy at the office fancy you like mad already. I've seen them eyeing you up at office get togethers."

"But Izzy's twenty years younger than me, with two school age children and she's never given me a hint."

"You may not have seen the hints, hon, but she wants you, I know. She'll be in your lap as soon as she hears you've chucked me out, the scheming bitch," she spits, "And your promotion's only adding icing on the cake. But until then, as I said earlier, I want to date you, Bill. I want to be your dead-cert-every-time fuck buddy. I'll cook and clean for you weekends, I'd be ready to talk to you any time, to stay at your place or go away at the drop of a hat. I'll even share you, if I really have to," sniff! "while you get yourself back on the dating horse. Please think about it, hon."

"I will."

They exit the lift and walk arm in arm through the double doors, descending the steps to the pavement.

Marcel has a taxi waiting out front of the hotel to take him to the airport. He stands watching, while the driver packs his bags in the boot. As he turns, hearing the sound of their voices, they recognise each other.

"O, ctherie, Alithon," he stutters through his toothless grin, "our fthlightth goeth thith athternoon. "

"Bonjour, Marcel," Alison says brightly, flashing her best smile, "I wonder, have you heard from your missus, yet?"

"Oui, yeth, I 'av. Ath we're ge'in' a divorthe, maybe we cou'd-"

"Never! No way, I'm afraid. I'm staying on here with my fantastic forgiving husband. But anyway, have a good life, Chef!"

They walk away, Alison holds tightly to Bill's arm, both remaining silent, until they turn the corner. She exhales loudly.

"Thank you, Bill," she says quietly.

"What for?"

"For not rubbing my nose in it when you could so easily have done, right in front of Marcel."

"I wouldn't talk to him again."

"Nor me!" She sobs, "I've fucked up so many lives."

"No, Marcel fucked up his life, without any help from you. He didn't think his marriage was worth the paper the licence was printed on. He is to blame for the effects on his wife and children. Just think of your life as one having a new beginning."

"Yes, you're so right, sweetheart." She smiles broadly. "When I get myself straight, I think I am gonna stalk you so thoroughly you'll either have to take out a court order to exclude me or take me in out of pity. And until I find employment I am gonna make it my full-time job to fuck you senseless as often as I can."

"I won't take out any court order, Ali," he laughs, "besides, I have already got you a job, starting next Monday."

"You have?"

"Keith was telling me that Caledonian love you as much as they do me, so Keith suggested that you join Pam and me on Monday week, to learn the ropes."

"What?"

"I need a new P.A., Mrs Alison Matthews, as simple as that. You need to learn to do the job and, as soon as we can book you in, take some computer courses covering-"

"Don't worry about that hon, I took a Sage course four years ago and a Microsoft Office refresher just last year. I'm a whizz at spreadsheets and presentations. Oh, I am gonna be such a good P.A. for you, sweetheart, you'll never want to lay me off. And I'm one very Personal Assistant who comes with fringe benefits!"

EPILOGUE

Alison did disclose every detail, about her one and only affair, the first night they got back from Nice. It was so late and was so upset by the time she finished, that she slept in her daughter's bedroom that night, and moved out to her sister's house the next day. Bill and Alison worked closely and successfully together as sales director and his efficient and fiercely loyal personal assistant up until she retired, eight years later. They remained great and affectionate friends, comfortably attending family functions together, with their children and grandchildren accepting their divorced status. When they travelled on business together they slept in different hotel rooms; Alison retaining her married name throughout, causing no little confusion every time she booked their business and vacation accommodation.

They did date together as a couple, regularly. They attended functions, plays, cinema and meals, even day trips and vacations together, but they never slept together again after returning from Nice.

About three years after the split, Bill fell in love with an attractive Scottish widow, Marjorie, who had a teenage son, Angus. Bill and Marjorie were soon married and Bill's house sold, the proceeds split between the divorced couple. Bill and Marjorie bought a family-sized home in the same town. Alison used her share of the sale to move from her rented apartment into a small bungalow nearby. Alison and Marjorie became fast friends, both before and after the marriage, when Alison finally gave up her slim hopes of marital reconciliation. Alison confined Bill's old shirts, which had become old friends and comforters, to the dustbin around that time.

After she retired, Alison struck up a relationship with a retired widower, Alec, who kept himself fit working part-time up-keeping gardens that had become too much for their owners. Alec eventually moved in with Alison, becoming a faithful couple, but she refused to marry him, maintaining wearing the three rings from her first marriage as she had promised. She developed a successful second career writing a series of sentimental Christian romance novels and attracted a dedicated fan base.

Marcel lost his marriage and his job. He fared badly in the divorce settlement as his prenup agreement was watertight, his proof of adultery allowing him to leave the marriage with only the clothes he stood up in. His ex-wife, famous divorce lawyer Kitty Shilling, even sent the bailiffs round on the day of the decree absolute, forcing him to pack a suitcase with everything in his wardrobe, including his carpet slippers. She did warn him by telephone beforehand, so he donned three pairs of socks, five pairs of pants, various tee-shirts, shirts, jumpers, dressing gown and a couple of coats. The bailiffs laughed, calling him "Michelin Man", taking photos of him to forward onto their client and shared them on their social media. At their next family function, Kitty took great delight in burning every single item, suitcase included, in a fire pit while he looked on.

Despite hours of tortuous speech therapy, Marcel was unable to get another French language teaching job. It appeared he was no longer attractive to even the loneliest of potential female company, so he endured a solitary existence. He was only able to scratch a living processing technical translations for product instruction leaflets, working from his rented studio flat above a rundown row of mostly boarded up shops. Forced by meagre funds to rely on public transport, Marcel's attendance at family functions was infrequent. On more than one occasion Marcel overheard his giggling grandchildren refer to him rather irreverently as "grandpopth".