Christmas Tryst

Before Alan was even half-way up, I'd hit him again in exactly the same spot. This time, his hands, now free of obstruction, reacted automatically – flying protectively to cover his groin from further assault. Perfect. I hit him a third time. Another bulls-eye. This time, by the sound of it, breaking at least a couple of fingers in the process. That'd make it harder for him to hit me back, even if he could walk – which would be difficult with his pants around his ankles. These were the kind of odds I favoured.

Now he was shouting with a mixture of pain and rage and beginning to struggle into a sitting position, not knowing what to do with his hands. I could see his dilemma. Should he use them to pull himself up and risk another ball-pummelling or should he continue to risk me pulverising his hands to protect his, now bloody and hopefully very painful manhood? His quandary was irrelevant. As he struggled to raise himself, I cracked him on his right knee as hard as I could. Good sturdy branch this was – it barely even flexed. Now he was screaming.

"Fuck! I'll fucking kill you, you cunt."

He obviously decided that he had to get out of the confines of the car so he put his right hand on the doorframe to pull himself out. Another easy target.

"Not yet you won't, bastard." I said, surprised at how calm I was feeling, and with that I brought the branch down hard against his hand, this time almost severing one of his fingers. He bellowed again.

"You fucking prick. I'll rip your fucking head off."

Now he'd come far enough forward to try and get out of the back. He probably realised that he wouldn't be able to get far with his pants down so he leant forward, trying to grab them with his left hand. Even with the agony he must have been in, and with his right hand now almost mush, I still didn't want him leaping at me so, as he did so, I took aim with the branch and smacked him right across the forehead, knocking him flat on his back again. Apart from his hands and arms still twitching, he didn't move.

After checking to make sure that he wasn't going to leap on me from behind, I turned to face Jayne. Other than picking herself up off the floor, she hadn't moved and was simply standing there, crying, her hands covering her face. Her sobs and almost total nakedness, combined with streaks of dirt, a skinned knee and laddered stockings made her look pathetic. A twinge – that was all, the merest twinge – of sympathy crossed my mind, quickly displaced by the memory of what I'd seen and heard just a minute ago. Other than a serious case of shame & guilt and a few scrapes, she was unhurt (unlike that prick she'd been screwing) so I had little compassion for her now. I think we both knew in that instant that, as far as our marriage was concerned, there was no way back from this. But now my anger started to resurface – I wasn't finished.

I went around to the car's rear passenger door, found Alan's jacket and fished out his mobile phone and wallet. I also lifted Jayne's phone and house-keys from her handbag, then reached over the back of the seat and grabbed her dress and knickers from next to where Alan was still lying, now groaning.

I went back to where Jayne was standing, flipped open Alan's phone and started typing a text message.

"What are you doing?", Jayne asked between sobs.

"Calling for help." I said.

"Help? Why do you need bloody help now?" she asked.

"Not for me – for you two."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm texting Debbie from Alan's phone, asking her to come and get 'us' because I've lost my car keys. I'll let you two explain why you're in this car park at one in the morning with no car keys, why you're naked, why Alan's got no pants on and why he's been battered."

Even in this darkness I could see Jayne had gone from pale to alabaster-white as it dawned on her what scenario Debbie was going to find when she arrived in a few minutes time.

"You can't do that. You wouldn't do that."

"Oops – too late." I said as I pressed the send button and flipped Alan's phone closed.

"You bastard. Well, we'll just deny everything when she gets here. We'll tell her we were mugged in the village and forced to drive here. We'll tell her we were both attacked and how Alan tried desperately to fight them off and save me. We'll tell her that I was about to be raped when someone else drove into the car park and disturbed them. She's been my best friend for years – she'll believe me, not you."

"Ooh – clever. But don't relax just yet. I reckon you've got about 10 more minutes to also think of a reason why I've got Alan's phone, pants & car keys, your phone & keys and your dress & knickers in my car. And, if she notices it, why your tits are covered in his jiz for that matter – although I guess one splash looks much like another doesn't it? Anyway, good luck with all that."

"You fucking twat. You really are a nasty bastard aren't you? How could you put us all through that? Why should Debbie be put through all the misery that this will cause? What's she done to you to deserve that?"

"That's not even a good try, you conniving bitch. It doesn't come close to making me feel guilty for what I'm doing. This is entirely down to you – both of you. YOU'VE done this to Debbie, not me. YOU'VE deceived us both. YOU'RE the ones who've been screwing around behind our backs – for God knows how long. I give your friendship – and her marriage to that fucking tosser – about another 15 minutes."

I felt my anger rising again - I needed to get out of there before I did any more damage. I strode over to where Alan was lying and now groaning loudly – still dazed and looking like he was trying to work out why his right hand wasn't working. Confident that he was no threat just yet, I knelt down, pulled off his shoes and tugged his pants off, stuffing them inside my coat with Jayne's dress and knickers. Then I walked around to the driver's door, reached in and pulled out the ignition keys, dropping them into my pocket alongside their mobile phones. And with that I was done.

"The doors will all be locked so don't bother coming home." I said to her over my shoulder as I walked off across the car park towards my own car - with Jayne's shrieks and cursing ringing in my ears.

As I was walking back through the woods, Alan's mobile started to ring, the screen glowing with Debbie's photo. I was torn. As a friend, I did feel more than a little guilty about drawing her into this situation in the way it was now going to unfold. On the other hand, arriving in the car-park to the scene she was about to witness would cause maximum harm and discomfort to both Jayne and Alan – and that was my sole intention. I wanted them to suffer every bit as much as I had when I witnessed their little display a few minutes earlier. How could they treat Debbie and me so callously? What right had they to be spared the distress that was now speeding their way, ostensibly on a rescue mission? I was hell-bent on destroying their cosy little world and it was just a pity that Debbie was going to have to suffer to bring it about. I was so angry about the whole thing that I actually felt it was a shame that I couldn't be there to witness it all happen. Or could I?

Looking back towards Alan's car, I could see that Jayne had gone around to where, presumably, he was still lying dazed. She was no longer throwing insults at my back, so she couldn't see me. And my car was parked further along the road from the car-park entrance meaning that Debbie wouldn't see it as she arrived. So, what was to stop me circling back around the car-park, and straight back to where I'd originally hidden behind Alan's car, to watch the impending fireworks? Not a damn thing. If things turned nasty or it started to look as if they were going to concoct some fantastic story that would enable them to wriggle out of their mess, I'd be able to step in. And if things went to plan, I'd be there to witness their total humiliation first hand. I couldn't lose. So, turning all mobiles to silent, I carefully and quietly circled back.

As I neared the tree behind which I'd originally hidden, I needn't have worried about keeping quiet. There was the mother of all rows going on and it was music to my ears. They were going at it hammer and tongs, blaming each other for the mess they were in. Jayne was cursing Alan for destroying their cosy little affair by being obsessed with sex and demanding that they have a "Christmas fuck" in the woods before going home. Alan, obviously in a gratifying amount of pain, was yelling at Jayne to "Shut the fuck up and find something to put on". Jayne then helpfully suggested that they should simply "... get the hell out of here" so Debbie wouldn't find them in this state. You'll understand at this juncture that I didn't marry her for her practical mind. Alan asked Jayne, as diplomatically as he could under the circumstances, what she thought Debbie would do on finding his unoccupied car, at midnight, in a deserted country car-park, after receiving a text calling for help and then finding no sign of him or her and being unable to get him on his phone? Might she call the Police? And would that be a good idea? (Actually, he wasn't in the least bit diplomatic but that was the gist of his thoughts on her suggestion.) Then, as it has an uncanny knack of doing, fate stepped in with the arrival of Debbie. Bit of a pity, I thought – I was just beginning to enjoy the cabaret.

As Debbie's headlights swung around from the car-park entrance and advanced slowly towards Alan's car, both Jayne and Alan were caught like the proverbial startled rabbits. They didn't even have the wits to find Alan's jacket to cover her with. Slowly, Debbie's car inched towards them – maybe she was frightened herself, unsure of what she might find when she reached them. Eventually she pulled up across the front of Alan's car and got out – leaving her door open and with the engine running. She obviously hadn't yet seen either of them as she cautiously made her way along the side of the vehicle and around to the, still ajar, back door.

As she peered around the edge of the door, she caught her first glimpse of them: Jayne – all but naked, scratched and mud-stained and now shivering uncontrollably ; Alan, moaning in pain as his smashed hands tried to pull his pants up at least far enough to cover his also battered genitals. Debbie shrieked.

"Oh my God! Are you both ok? What the hell's happened?" all this said as she quickly crossed to Jayne, throwing her arms around her to try and comfort / warm her – though her eyes never left Alan. "Alan. What the fuck's going on here? Who did this to you? Have you called the Police?"

"Mike. It was Mike." Alan hissed through gritted teeth. "He fooled us into coming here and then went berserk."

Credit where it's due. He was undoubtedly in serious pain and probably still feeling groggy from the crack across his forehead but he never even hesitated. He was the consummate professional liar. I wondered if I should I intervene now or wait and see how his story developed. Once again, my curiosity got the better of me.

"What do you mean it was Mike? What's gone on? Why was he here? And what were you doing here?"

"We weren't doing anything here. We were at the dance but were both feeling a bit guilty about enjoying ourselves while you were both unwell so we left early to come home. But as we were leaving the car-park, Mike pulled up alongside us in his car and called through the window for us to follow him. He seemed really agitated but he didn't stop long enough for us to ask him what was going on so I had no choice. As we drove along behind him, Jayne kept ringing his mobile but he never answered."

The devious bastard. I could see where this was going now. He went on ...

"We followed him all the way here then as we jumped out of the car to find out what the problem was, he went crazy. He had a pick-handle with him and he just went off on one, accusing us of having an affair."

Brilliant. I had to hand it to him, it was a stroke of genius. In a matter of moments he'd completely turned the tables on me and put me into the position of having to explain my actions. But he hadn't finished.

"He was like a man possessed and he wasn't interested in any kind of conversation while we tried to calm him down. He forced Jayne to strip off, threatening me with the pick handle when I tried to intervene. Then, when she was all but naked, he cracked me across the forehead and while I was dazed, he carried on beating me. Look at my hands. And you don't want to see the state of my balls. I'm in bloody agony. He was a fucking madman. Anyway, he dragged my pants off, grabbed my car keys and Jayne's clothes then stormed off through the woods yelling that he was going to call you and drop us right in the shit. Then, next thing we know, he's fucked off and you're arriving. That's it. That's what's happened. Now, can we please get the fuck out of here? Jayne is freezing to death and I need to get some medical attention."

What was I going to do? If I stormed into the middle of this little lot I'd have to argue the toss with Alan – with Jayne supporting everything he said. But if I waited, it would give them both more time to get their story straight and discredit anything I told Debs later.

After such a plausible story from Alan, how was I going to convince Debs that I was telling the truth and that her husband and my wife really had been fucking each other for – well, who knows how long?

How was I going to get her to believe me over him? I knew she'd had trouble with him being unfaithful a couple of years previously, with a work colleague at their annual works barbecue. Debbie had suspected he'd been up to something and had found some graphic pictures of them both on his mobile phone. After it had all come out, he'd managed to convince Debs that it was just a stupid fling and he wouldn't ever treat her so badly again. Then one night, a few weeks later over more than a couple of drinks, he'd confided in me that he'd kicked himself afterwards for being so stupid as to get caught. His only real regret was that he hadn't hidden the pictures any better – not that he'd treated Debbie so badly, nor that he'd been so fucking horny and vane that he couldn't resist the temptation to take some graphic pictures of them both 'in flagrante'. Could I leverage that little episode and use it to get Debbie to believe me instead of him?

And then it hit me. Pictures. Could he have been so stupid as to make the same mistake again? Could I be that lucky? I thrust my hand into my coat pocket and pulled out his mobile. I flicked through the menu, into his pictures folder. There were only a handful on there, mainly of Debs and their pet Labrador. Shit. I remembered, he'd only had the phone a couple of weeks – an early Christmas present from Debs herself.

They were starting to get themselves together now. Debs had found Alan's jacket and was wrapping it around Jayne's shoulders, while Alan was shuffling over towards Debbie's car. What the fuck was I going to do? Not only were they going to get away with it, they were going to make me look a complete moron to the whole world, unless I could prove they were screwing each other. I was just resigning myself to spending a sleepless night at home trying to think of a way to prove my side of the night's events when, as I was about to put Alan's phone back in my pocket, I decided to check the videos folder. There were 6. I ran the first one. Debbie walking the dog. Second one – Debbie protesting as Alan tried to film her getting undressed for bed. Third one – a bed.

It was a hotel bed by the look of it. Empty. Then a woman, dressed only in a white thong, walked into view from behind the camera, turned, sat on the edge of the bed and smiled seductively into the lens. It was Jayne. She was quickly joined by Alan who proceeded to offer his burgeoning erection to her receptive mouth – and away they went again. I don't know why, given everything that had happened earlier, but my heart skipped more than one beat. He'd actually been dumb enough to repeat the same, stupid mistake. I didn't know whether to be relieved that I'd found the incriminating evidence I needed or even angrier than when I'd caught them fucking each other earlier. Whatever, I needed to be quick if I was to witness the result of Debbie seeing this video.

I quickly created a new text message saying simply "Watch this – NOW", attached the video to it, selected Debs' name from his contacts list and pressed send. It was received almost immediately on Deb's phone – I heard it ping from where I was still hiding behind the tree. She stopped and looked at her phone just as she was about to help Jayne into the car.

"What the hell?" she said, looking at the screen. "It's from you Alan."

"Don't look at it!" he shouted at her. "It'll be from that fucking nutter – he pinched my phone. He's got fuck-all to say that we're interested in."

But it was too late – Debbie had already read the message and was obviously now running the video, staring intently at the screen. Alan must have suspected that something was going wrong and he came charging, as fast as his aching balls would let him anyway, back around the car and tried to grab the phone off Debbie. Unfortunately, he tried to use the hand I'd mangled earlier and all he succeeded in doing was smear blood all over Debbie's wrist as she pulled away from him and backed off.

"What the fuck is this?" she screamed. "You cheating, lying bastard. I should have known after the first time that you were a complete shit. But you .." turning to yell in Jayne's face, "you fucking bitch. You're my best friend. What the ......." - but she never finished the sentence. She just fell silent and stared from one to the other of them. After a few seconds, Alan, ever the consummate bull-shitter, tried to step in and fill the silence with some kind of justification. His sentence was even shorter than Debbie's last one, though, as she swung the hand holding her phone and smashed it into his face, splitting his nose and spilling yet more of his blood across the car park. As big as he was, Alan didn't dare retaliate, or even remonstrate. And once again, Jayne was reduced to tears as she finally realised the full implications of her disastrous "Christmas fuck".

Nursing her sore hand with its skinned knuckles, Debbie ushered Jayne away from her car, shut the passenger door and climbed in behind the wheel, locking all the doors as she did so. As she revved the engine, she lowered her window a fraction and said "Not that either of you deserve it, I'll call a taxi to come and collect you. How you explain the state you're in is your problem. How you pay for it is your problem. Where you stay tonight is your problem.". Then, with a sad smile she added "But they're only the start of your problems aren't they?" and drove quickly away.

As Jayne and Alan climbed into the Land Rover to get out of the cold and wait for their taxi, I too turned and walked, unseen, back to my car. Half way there, my own mobile phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was Debbie ......

Two marriages and a lifelong friendship were gone in the space of just an hour – though whether any of them would have survived much longer is anyone's guess. How would things have panned out if I hadn't been as suspicious as I was? Would Jayne and Alan's adulterous relationship have fizzled out eventually? Would they have decided to ditch our two marriages and go off together? I've always believed (rightly or wrongly – it takes all sorts I suppose) that if you were able to cheat on your spouse and have an affair, then you were obviously unhappy in your marriage in the first place. Would that unhappiness eventually have brought an end to our relationships? Who knows?