Mid Life Crisis

"His deal fell through," my wife started to explain when I had got her seated with a warm drink and I had taken up a vantage point at the window. "It was drugs. There were eight bags of cocaine in the hold-all, including the one he's been dipping into. He had somehow ripped them off from a big London dealer. Jerome was hoping to sell them to a Manchester gang and went to meet their negotiator in Bolton."

After pausing to let me take in this information Anne said, "But I better start at the beginning. Tuesday afternoon he went out carrying the hold-all and came back with a locker key that he dropped on the table. I recognised that it came from the city station. Wednesday I hoped I might get home while he was away even if I had to go back again but I didn't get the chance. Now I knew about the drugs he didn't trust me so he took me to another house where three black guys were waiting. One was completely bald, one had tattoos all over his arms and back and the third was a bit older than the other two. As soon as Jerome left they started messing with me. I said J wouldn't like them touching me but they claimed they had his permission to break me in because he might want me to earn for him."

My wife stole a quick glance in my direction before saying, "They took turns to fuck me all day, either fuck me or stick their cocks down my throat, usually two at a time. It wasn't actually as bad as it sounds and at times I quite enjoyed it. Their cocks were big but nothing like his and compared to Jerome they were quite gentle with me. Then he got back and I could tell from his face that it hadn't gone well. In the flat I watched him hide the key in a jar of Vaseline, then he got me on the bed and took his anger out on me with his cock. He tried to do me in the backside but it wouldn't go in and I thought I was going to die while he kept trying. Actually the older guy had done it that way earlier with no problem. At one time during the day there were two cocks in me, one in the front and the other up the back. "

I did not think the story could get worse but I was mistaken. "Thursday evening Jerome said he needed cash and I had to stand outside and attract punters. At first I tried to refuse but he persuaded me with his fist. All the time I was outside he watched from the window. Twice over the next couple of hours I took a man upstairs and screwed him for about twenty minutes while Jerome hid somewhere. He was disappointed that I didn't earn more and he let me know it. Then tonight he said I had to go out again but I hurt too much and didn't care what he did. That's when he gave me this," Anne said, pointing at her eye. "So I went out and when a car stopped I jumped in the passenger seat and told the driver he could fuck me for nothing if he only took me away from there."

Anne had begun to cry. "I tried to direct him to a park where we could do it but he was a nice man. Once he had seen my face he asked me where I lived and then dropped me at the end of the street. We have to be prepared because Jerome is bound to come looking for me."

"He might not if he's got these other problems," I offered, more in hope than confidence.

"He's got to come," Anne said with certainty. "When I left the flat this last time I'd taken his key from the jar. Outside the front door, where he couldn't see, I lifted a broken flowerpot and pressed it into the soft soil underneath. I did that so that I've got a bargaining counter to make him leave me alone."

Eventually I took Anne to the bedroom. I planned to stay awake all night but could not resist a need to watch her disrobe. When she saw that I was not leaving she said quietly, "There's something else you have to know. When I was with the three guys they held me down and put a tattoo on me. The one with all the tattoos makes his living doing it."

"Where is it and how big is it?"

"About two inches tall and it's down almost between my legs." Very self consciously, Anne stripped to reveal the tattoo of an ornate capital letter J that straddled her bikini line but was slightly offset to the right. The centre of the letter was bright red and it had an electric blue border. All of the surrounding skin was still inflamed.

My heart sank at the knowledge that this was going to be a constant reminder for the rest of our lives but I forced a smile to my face and said, "I can get used to that, anyway when your pubes grow back it will hardly be noticeable."

He came later that night. I was gazing out of the window lost in thought when the security lighting came on illuminating the area in front of the house and a tall dark figure emerged from the shrubbery. When I opened the window he looked up. We glared at each other for a moment and then he said, "I want her back cocksucker. You've got until tomorrow night and if you know what's fucking good for you make sure she comes, know what I'm saying." Leaving his threat hanging in the air he turned and strode away.

"He hasn't missed the key yet," Anne said at my shoulder. "If he had he would have been asking for that not me."

The following day I managed to grab sufficient sleep to set me up for another night time vigil but in the event it passed without incident. I had been listening to the radio to help pass the hours and had it tuned to the local station when the 6 a.m. bulletin announced as breaking news 'Reports are coming in of a gangland style slaying in the heart of the cities red light district.'

At 8 a.m. they had more details. 'A man described only as a black male has been found shot dead. Referring to it as an execution, police say that from the position of the body it seemed that the dead man had been in a kneeling position when he was killed by a single bullet to the back of the head. Indications are that the victim may have been tortured before death because several of his fingers were broken and he had also been cut. Bizarrely, in some kind of ritual, he had Vaseline smeared all over his face.'

I knew with absolute certainty that this was Jerome so I woke Anne to tell her 'It's over'. We rang Andrew and Chloe to say it was safe for them to come home and in a Herculean effort Anne both got herself looking presentable and cooked a Sunday dinner. We had a pleasant family evening with some limited explanations offered and it was just as my wife and I were preparing to retire that the door bell rang.

I checked the peephole to find I could tell little except that the caller was black but knowing that I ran upstairs to the bedroom window. An immaculately dressed tall black male was gazing up, flanked by two others in the usual baggy clothes. His companions were both holding small sub machine guns across their chests in classical style. Opening the window I enquired what they wanted.

In a cultured voice the leader said pleasantly, "I believe you have something that belongs to me."

Pushing past me Anne said clearly, "I don't have what you want but I do know where you can find it. The problem is that if I tell you, what guarantee have I that you won't still harm me or my family?"

"Only my word I'm afraid," he said. "I know exactly how you came to be involved and can assure you that once I have the product I have no further interest in you or yours."

Prefacing her disclosure by saying, "I don't think you will want to go near there for a while," she revealed where the key was concealed and ended by saying "I have written down everything I know and given a copy to my solicitor. If anything does happen to me he will know what to do with it."

"There was no need for that. If what you say about my property is true, this is the end of the matter," he said. On that reassurance, Anne revealed where the key was hidden and then they were gone.

It was inevitable that Andrew would be interviewed by the police and they turned up a few days later but he was easily able to prove that he had never left the hotel during the relevant hours. Neither Anne nor I were questioned. It was nearly a week before my wife declared herself healed enough for penetrative sex but I suspect she had delayed until her vagina had shrunk back to near normal size. There was a nasty moment as I was about to put it in when I thought of all the cocks that had been there since our last lovemaking but three weeks of enforced celibacy ensured that my scruples did not last for long.

It was after we had reconnected that Anne said, "I've been such a bloody stupid idiot, if you decide to take me back I promise I will never be unfaithful to you again."

I had actually got my answer thought out well in advance. "I am taking you back but there is no need for you to make that promise," I told her. "It has amazed me to realise, in terms of volume, how many times that huge cock was bigger than mine. If you could get it inside you and enjoy multiple orgasms then it is obvious that I can't give you the pleasure you deserve and I love you too much to deny you that pleasure."

At the end of my speech Anne embraced me lovingly and said emphatically, "Do you think I would ever be selfish and foolish enough to put me or my family in that kind of danger again?"

A couple of weeks later I walked in the bedroom to find her holding a powder compact. I assumed she was doing her make-up until she got a small heap of white powder on her thumb nail and deliberately held it up to a nostril. When I asked if that was what I thought it was she blinked, nodded and tried to explain, "Jerome was snorting the stuff continuously. At the start I only did a few lines for the extra high but towards the finish I was doing as much as he was just to make things bearable. It is addictive and I'm weaning myself off it again. I only take a pinch if I am suffering and when this has gone I won't be buying any more."

Around a month after that, we had managed to achieve a semblance of normality and, apart from the tattoo reminder, I was beginning to think we could put these events behind us and forget them. Fittingly Anne chose a Sunday evening to tell me, "I'm pregnant."

"I thought you were using your diaphragm," I gasped, totally shocked.

"I was but I had to take it out almost straight away," she confessed. "His cock was so big there wasn't room for anything else in there. The first week I wasn't worried because I knew I was reasonably safe."

"Who do you think....?"

Anne shook her head. "Both of the tricks used condoms but the other four all had me bareback. I think the odds are that it has to be Jerome."

I knew that the obvious answer to an unwanted pregnancy wasn't an available option because my wife had been on several anti-abortion demonstrations and was once almost arrested while picketing a clinic. The alternative, adoption, I did push strongly and Anne eventually agreed but without enthusiasm. Some days later Chloe revealed that she was also expecting, (in the rush to the hotel her BC got left behind) and I am still waiting to see how that will affect the issue.

You may ask, 'Didn't I get angry?' The answer is an emphatic 'YES', so much so that at times I was gripped by a black all consuming rage. I wanted to lash out, to damage, to punish for the hurt inflicted on me. But who? Jerome was the obvious primary villain but he was already dead, Anne perhaps - but set against the quarter century of love, happiness and contentment she had given me, I felt that her transgressions had been more than paid for. I did duly airbrush my brother from my life but the lack of regret with which I did so makes me wonder if I was only looking for an excuse.

My strength (or weakness) is that I am a logical man; I don't dash off and act on an initial gut reaction. I mentally listed all the pros and cons and argued it all out in my head, vacillating one way and then the other. Even after I had told Anne that I forgave her, there were still moments when I was tempted to pack my bags and go. Right from the start of my meditations, I admitted that what we once had could never be completely recaptured, so the question was whether what was left was worth fighting for.

My wife still loved me, I was pretty sure of that, and I don't think I could ever completely stop loving her no matter what she did, this based on the many very happy memories that we shared. That was at least a basis to build on.

If we divorced then the house would be sold for the value to be split, with the result that we would both have to settle for smaller properties in far less pleasant areas. The fact that it would also leave our daughter and her husband homeless was another factor.

After nearly twenty-five years of being looked after, of glorious meals, clean ironed clothes always to hand and the place always tidy, how the devil would I manage on my own? Over the years I had washed up occasionally and I did do most of the heavy dirty stuff but I realised that I had been a bit of a chauvinist pig, accepting all that as my right. On balance, I was far less a bargain than my wife.

If I left, it would be vital that I quickly find a replacement female companion and that was not likely to be easy, hell I hadn't been all that good at the dating game first time round. Two fairly short relationships and it had been Anne who spoke first to me.

In the end the choice was easy, one way lay the potential for happiness while the other route promised only misery and loneliness. All I had to do was to ignore the two week traumatic aberration in the middle of what might be a fifty year marriage.

With regard to the pregnancy, I know what I would prefer to happen but I have admitted to myself that I am in this marriage for the duration no matter what my wife decides.