The Bet

"What did you find out about him?"

"He works abroad most of the time but I didn't quite grasp was he does."

"Anything else?"

"He's got a very nice cock," she said with a grin.

Her remark caused a tumult of emotions in me. My first thought was fear that I had lost the wager but realising that Sally would have imparted such news differently, I was filled with rage at him having imposed on her good nature to expose himself. "I'll kill him," I snarled.

Sally was laughing at me. "I've seen his penis - in fact I have had a good long look at it but that is the nearest that I intend to get. You needn't worry because it was all very innocent. When I carried the tea in I must have been more keyed up than I thought because my concentration had gone and I managed to trip over his feet and tip both mugs straight into his lap. It was so silly - I've brought you tea hundreds of times without anything like that happening. Anyway he jumped up frantically, ripped his trousers off and started dabbing at himself. Well he wasn't wearing any underpants. After a minute when the pain eased he realised what was on show and turned his back."

My wife couldn't prevent a smile flitting across her face as she continued, "He was very apologetic, said that his bollocks were being burned to buggery and that he had never been so embarrassed in his life. I told him that his was not the first one I had seen and that I wasn't bothered at all. I fetched a towel for him to dry and cover himself, hung his trousers on the radiator to dry then went in the kitchen to make some more tea. When I came back he had wrapped the towel round himself like a skirt. The trouble was that he was sitting with his legs apart as men do and he completely lacked the awareness a woman has of what a skirt can reveal. I didn't want to embarrass him further by telling him so had to sit for two hours while his trousers dried, looking at everything he's got. It's only fair to mention that he was pretty aroused by the situation. I thought the whole thing was rather funny."

It was some kind of male compunction that made me ask, "Is his cock bigger than mine?"

Sally just said "Yes'" without embellishment or qualification and, although curious for more detail, I felt it would be indelicate to pursue the subject.

I was rather suspicious about the whole incident. It seemed too fortuitous that he should turn up looking for a lost wallet when I had most unusually been called away from home on what I now believed had been a wild goose chase. I was also worried about Sally's answer to my query about his prick - to just say 'Yes' without elaboration meant that the intruder into our lives had got to have something pretty enormous between his legs.

Then on further analysis I became very encouraged. If this had been Damien's masterstroke then he had come badly unstuck - he had played his ace but instead of being overcome with lust, Sally had been amused instead. With a feeling of complacency, I dug out the brochure and spent a pleasant hour anticipating the holiday of a lifetime.

Although I was happy with the outcome of the illicit Saturday morning visit I was not going to let him get away with it unscathed, so when Damien was enjoying his next Friday evening, I waited until Sally had disappeared into the kitchen and then tackled him about it. I said, "I am not happy with the stroke you pulled last Saturday, in my book that wasn't kosher."

He did not deny it, instead going onto the attack by stating, "If we are talking kosher, I thought we had agreed that you wouldn't tell your wife about the bet."

"You suggested it that's all - and I can see how that would serve your purpose."

"You won't believe me but I actually made that suggestion for your benefit Phil - women can be very contrary when their virtue or lack of it is made the subject of a wager."

I had a devastating comeback to this but before I could make it, Sally returned. During the course of the evening it was obvious that a rapport had been struck the previous Saturday morning because the atmosphere was far less stilted. Although the purpose of us being together was known openly by all it was never overtly stated - at least there was no need to bother with any more false reminiscences. I was rather surly and said little. I felt antagonistic towards my rival and resented every small smile that my wife threw in his direction. Despite having the conversational field more or less to himself, I thought Damien failed to capitalise upon it. He went through the motions of saying the right thing to her but did it clumsily with none of the polish or flare I had expected. When he had gone Sally confirmed this impression by saying, I'm baffled by this whole bet thing because Damien doesn't come across at all as the big womaniser that he is meant to be. I like him, I think he's a really nice guy but although I can see why some women might fancy him, I don't really think that he is my type."

It had been agreed the private meal would take place on the Wednesday. I had stipulated that he must take her to an independent restaurant and not one that was part of a hotel. I did not want Damien to lull Sally with his charm and then whisk her quickly upstairs to his seduction suite. My logic was that if he did manage to temporarily overcome her resistance then she would undoubtedly come to her senses before arriving where the deed was to be done.

I came to the conclusion that Damien's abilities as a seducer of women resided totally in his mind. This belief filled me with a sense of elation that lasted until he called at the house in a taxi to pick up my wife for their evening. We were alone while Sally went to put the last touches to her make-up and Damien took the opportunity to say to me, "Don't worry, your wife is in very good hands. I should have Sally back to you about eleven, soon after we have finished eating." He paused significantly and then added, "That's if I have miscalculated - I'm pretty sure that it is actually going to be a great deal later." He accompanied the remark with an exaggerated man to man wink. Before I could reply Sally appeared, pecked me on the cheek and they were gone.

I felt deflated. Something was badly wrong. After three meetings with Sally he was doing badly, he had to realise that and yet the man remained overwhelmingly confident. Then it hit me - these evenings with the three of us were just a blind and the real seduction was to take place in the restaurant. He undoubtedly had some secret weapon that would make his victory inevitable and my mind ran the whole gamut from hypnotism to something in her drink. Well he wasn't going to score that night if I had anything to do with it.

I ran upstairs and quickly put on my best suit and was still pulling on a tie as I hurried to the car. The restaurant was reached in good time and once there I skulked around until I spotted their table. It was in a tiny private alcove complete with a candle in the middle. Finding the head waiter I said, "A table for one please and I would like it there." I was pointing to the only spot in the whole place that gave an uninterrupted view of my wife and her suitor.

The Maitre D put on a stuffy expression and said," I'm sorry sir that is not possible. That position is always kept clear for the benefit of the waiters."

"I'm sure that you could make an exception just for tonight," I suggested, glancing down at my hand. The waiter followed my eyes to where a crisp new twenty pound note was folded between my fingers.

"I will see what I can do," he agreed and the bank note disappeared from my grasp with a sleight of hand that must have taken years to perfect.

My table was about twenty feet away from them, too far to hear what they were saying but close enough for them to be aware of me. When I sat down Sally and Damien were drinking wine and chatting while waiting for their order. After Sally had said something, he slowly slid his hand across the table and rested it on top of hers. I think that my wife was going to acquiesce to it remaining there but at that moment she glanced up, saw me and jerked her hand away as if it had been burned. Damien whipped his head round to see where she was staring and the subsequent flash of anger on his face gave me a great deal of satisfaction. It was game set and match. Although they persevered to the end of the meal both felt compelled to glance frequently at me. I ate very little but then neither did they - though they did drink quite a lot of wine. When I knew that they were almost finished, I paid and went down to my car and then sat with the engine running close to the door, ready to follow anywhere that they chose to go. When they appeared, Damien looked round then leaving my wife in the doorway; he walked over to the car and tapped on the side window. I was reluctant to lower it fearing that he might punch me in the face - it was what I would have wanted to do if I were he. As it was he simply said coldly, "As you are here, perhaps you would like to take Sally home and save me the taxi fare."

We must have been travelling for five minutes before Sally spoke and then it was only to say, "I wish that you had trusted me - as it is you have spoiled what could have been a very pleasant evening for no good reason. If you are trying to make me fuck him then you are going the right way about it."

There was no sex for me that night but by Thursday bedtime she had mellowed. This was largely due to my abject apologies and explaining my fears. I said, "Damien is almost a professional philanderer and men like that have lots of devious ways to make women submit to them. I just wanted to be there to protect you."

I think that Sally took that with a pinch of salt but she laughed and said, "You are silly - you know I don't think that you feel half as certain of me as you pretend." The thought seemed to give her pleasure - I suppose that it's the 'not being taken for granted' syndrome.

Friday was Damien's real last chance, so at some point during the evening he had to talk my wife into making an assignation to meet him. On the final Friday of the sequence this would be impossible because the bet finished at the end of the evening and the only real purpose of that gathering would be to declare the winner and sort out small details (mainly the tickets and spending money cash). Damien would therefore be going all out to woo her and I was determined to sabotage him - without being heavy handed about it and risk alienating my wife.

I played it beautifully. Although pretending to be jovial and good natured all evening, whenever the conversation edged in a romantic direction, I quickly side-tracked it into more mundane channels. I also never left them alone together for an instant. If Sally went into the kitchen and Damien casually wandered after her then I went too and at the end of the evening my bladder was bursting due to having manfully resisted the pressing call of nature. When the door eventually closed behind Damien's departing back then, had I been a footballer, I would have pulled off my shirt and done a lap of victory lap round the room.

During the next week, while not displaying any sign of triumphalism in front of Sally, I spent most of my lunch hours wandering round the clothing shops choosing my wardrobe for the holiday. In contrast, though admitting that she was looking forward to the cruise Sally failed to display the enthusiasm that I would have expected had we being paying for ourselves. I felt sure that, once the formality of the coming Friday was past, she would become as excited as I.

When the Friday evening came it held a revelation. At the time Damien was due to appear, Sally was watching for him out of the front window when she suddenly cried out, "The blue car is back - it's just parked in front of the house."

I ran to join her just in time to see the door open and Damien step out. When we opened the front door ahead of him, before either of us could speak he said, "I know, I know - I've got a lot of explaining to do."

When he was seated with a drink in his hand, he leaned for and addressing himself just to Sally he began, "As this is virtually all over, I felt that I had to come clean because I am not at all what I pretended to Phil. About two months ago I saw you for the first time and I thought that you were the most wonderful woman that I had ever seen. I was immediately besotted by you and started hanging about hoping to see you because one glimpse of you caused my heart to lurch. Gradually I found out where you worked, where you shopped and where you went at lunchtimes. You were always with someone or very obviously going somewhere so I couldn't approach and had to content myself with admiring you from a distance. Then finally I managed to follow you on the train and find out where you lived. While I was there, Phil drove up so that is why I was able to recognise him in the pub. That night I dreamed up this crazy bet - at the very least it would allow me to meet you properly. Sunday lunchtime I hung about the pub hoping against hope that your husband would be going in for a drink."

"Wasn't it a bit idiotic to put up so much money for so little," I interrupted.

Damien turned to me for the first time and said, "Wouldn't you risk everything you have to win the only thing that you want in the world, no matter what the odds."

I thought about the display of conspicuous wealth parked outside the house but decided to hold my counter in reserve, contenting myself by saying, "I still think you are crazy."

"Well I think that it is very romantic," Sally contradicted me and then after a pause she said firmly, "One thing is certain - you have got to cancel the ridiculous bet."

Damien and I shouted "No," in unison and then, before I could justify my refusal, Damien went on, "I've played the game and it's only fair that I should pay the piper. I have only one request, would you be so kind as to sit on my lap for a couple of minutes - it will be a memory that I can take away with me."

Sally looked surprised but got up and moved towards him while I, feeling magnanimous in victory made no move to stop her. Reaching his knee, she sat down gingerly and he slipped his hand tentatively round her waist. Giving a long sigh of contentment, he said, "That was the nice thing about the bet - I couldn't lose because I won four whole evenings able to look at you that I have enjoyed immensely - and I still enjoyed those two hours in the restaurant. Then there are these precious moments - you see these are all pleasures that I would have never enjoyed otherwise - so the sacrifice of my personal possessions is well worth while."

This was too much for me. "Put away the violins," I sneered. "Personal possessions - you have got to be as wealthy as fuck and losing the bet is not going to hurt you one little bit. You've only to look at that flash car outside - if you can afford to drive that then paying for this holiday is hardly going to bankrupt you."

"You don't get it do you - that car is the holiday," he said looking at me. "I've only paid the holiday deposit so far. That car is my pride and joy but tomorrow I am selling it to pay the balance."

I could not believe what happened next. Sally stood up, took Damien's hand to pull him to his feet and then without looking at me started leading him towards the door to the stairs. Immediately I knew what she intended and tried to leap up to prevent it but my legs seemed paralysed and when I attempted to cry out instead, the muscles in my throat were similarly atrophied. Impotently I watched my wife disappear and then just before Damien also vanished from view, he leaned his head back to throw a broad triumphant wink in my direction. He followed this quickly by rolling his eyes upward in a gesture that I took to be an invitation to go with them and verify that I had lost the bet. With my last remaining bit of pride I grimly shook my head.

I sat stunned. It was incomprehensible to me how the whole situation could have changed so rapidly. For several minutes I remained immobile feeling completely numb but then I stood and was unable to stop myself from walking slowly towards the stairs. Sally had taken him into the guest bedroom and either by accident or design the door had been left ajar. Damien was lying on top of my lovely wife and thrusting a penis appreciably larger then mine into her with practised efficiency. I should have turned and walked away then but instead, cursing myself for the sick pervert I had become, I stayed watching for possibly twenty minutes. I know that I filled the tormented role of voyeur long enough to know that my darling Sally was doing far more than lying back and thinking of England. He did not actually make her cum but I could tell from her breathing that she was very close and I suspect that she fought it rather than compound her betrayal.

Before the finale, I forced myself back to my chair downstairs. Damien came down alone several minutes later. "Sally is taking a shower," he told me reporting it as a matter of fact.

I stood, for no good reason, and gazed at him wondering what sorcery he had used to so corrupt my wife. I think that he read my mind because he said quietly, "I told you, psychology. That's the magic - it works every time."

I nodded but still did not understand. "There is just one little formality Squire," he went on in a brisk voice, removing his release document from a pocket. "I'd like you to autograph this if you would be so kind."

For a second I considered refusing but then took the proffered pen and scrawled my signature. "When the time comes, do you want to deliver your wife to the port or would you prefer me to pick her up here?"

"I'll bring her," I managed to say, upon which he incongruously stuck out his hand only for me to ignore it. I was choked up and just wanted him to leave while I still retained some semblance of self-control. Damien turned towards the door but then paused and swung back. In an action that seemed completely out of character, he leaned forward, squeezed my shoulder and said sympathetically, "Don't worry - I will bring her back to you safe and sound, I promise." Then he was gone.

Sally appeared a long ten minutes later. I had half expected her to dress exactly as she was before, to give at least the surface impression that nothing had happened, but she had rejected such a subterfuge and instead had just wrapped a bathrobe round her. I was pretty sure that she was naked beneath. She walked slowly towards me, stopped three paces away and looking into my eyes said simply, "I'm sorry Phil."

"WHY?" The single tortured word broke from my throat.

"I honestly don't know," she told me. "It was an impulse. I hadn't the slightest intention of doing anything like that but suddenly there was this overwhelming feeling that it was the right thing to do. I think that, knowing he had fallen for me so badly and was risking everything it seemed so unfair that he was having to be satisfied with so little." She stopped and stood looking at me helplessly. After a moment when I was unable to respond she pleaded, "Can you get me a drink please?"

I had almost finished a large glass of whiskey so I did myself a refill and poured her the white wine that she liked. We sat side by side on the settee but not quite touching - I think that both of us preferred not to look into each other's eyes. Sally took a large sip and said, "I couldn't believe it myself - it didn't seem real. Upstairs with him I asked myself how can I possibly be making love to another man in my own house with you downstairs. I had only wanted to give him a little bit more and it was not until I was in the shower just now that I realised the implication of the bet and what I had done. It took all my courage to come down and face you."