The Wine Merchant

"What the hell happened, who was it that attacked us? Was it a mugging?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think it was a robbery. The police spoke to you wife, I believe she knows." He checked my notes. Then shone a penlight into my eyes, and looked at the wound on my arm. The last thing he did was to remove the dressing on my forehead.

He gave a small smile, "Now you'll have a matched pair of scars. I'll go and get your wife."

He left only to return in a minute, "She'll be along in a moment. I think she wants to tidy herself up before you see her," he added in a quiet, confident whisper.

I gave a laugh, and a nurse came in to help me sit up in the bed. Loren slid into the room as she was plumping up my pillows. She came and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, taking my good hand in hers. She wore a pair of jeans and a hospital scrub top. Streaks of dried tears stained her face.

"This is becoming too much of a habit," she joked. "Every time I think I'm going to get lucky, you end up in a hospital bed."

I laughed back and then winced as my head and arm reminded me of their existence.

"I'll get the nurse to give you a painkiller injection," the doctor said. A few minutes later life was a lot better.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm all right, it wasn't me he was after."

"What happened, who was it?" I asked Loren.

"It was Martin, he's in police custody. Everything was him."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean everything was him?"

Thank God, the painkiller was working because Loren curled up on the bed sobbing into my shoulder. Between the sobs, she explained what she knew.

"He's mad. He's never forgiven me for breaking up with him."

"But that was years ago, and you left him for ... for ..." my mind was blank.

"Philip, yes I know it was years ago, but the police say that he's convinced I still loved him. Tom, he's admitted to being the one that drove the car that hit you."

"What!"

"It might be easier if I explain," a cultured voice interrupted from the doorway. And a Mauritian in a business suit entered the room.

"Inspector Maurice," he said as he showed us his badge. "I'm in charge of your case. I was about to have a chat with your wife when the nurses told me that you were awake. What do you remember about the assault?"

"Very little I'm afraid, a shove, a shout, and then a lot of pain. I never got a clear look at whoever it was. The only thing I'm sure of was that it was a man; it was a man's voice that shouted."

"Your wife identified him, and so did the two couples that came to your aid. We have Mr Richards in custody."

"What is this about the first accident; he drove the car?"

Inspector Maurice pulled up a chair before continuing his explanation. "From what we've gathered from the police in London and his own rambling version of the story. It seems that he's been living a fantasy where your wife is in love with him for the past ten years. He believed that Loren had been forced to leave him."

"But we only went out on a few dates over a couple of months." Loren pointed out.

"It seems he was a virgin before he met you." the Inspector said.

"Christ it was only a drunken fumble, it meant nothing. He was a nice enough person, but nothing special. Philip was so much more attractive. I left him for Philip."

The inspector continued, "He said that every time he saw you after that, you showed you still had feelings for him."

"But I only saw him once or twice a year, and that was for business," Loren said. "He was an art restorer, and we used him to clean and restore any paintings that needed it. I'd just say hello, and I don't think I had seen him since Tom's accident."

"He convinced himself that if you weren't married, then you'd come back to him. So he followed both of you, stole a car and waited for an opportunity to run Tom down. He didn't kill Tom and was so scared that he'd be linked to your accident, so for a while, he kept a low profile."

"That explains why I don't recall seeing him around the office recently," Loren said. "But how did he know I'd be going to be in the Maldives. I didn't have any idea where I was going until the day before."

"He was friendly with a porter at the hospital that was keeping him informed. So he knew that they wanted your permission to stop treating your husband and you were going away to decide. He got lucky as you didn't book online. He was following you when you visited the travel agency. He was able to overhear your travel plans. His plan worked; he engineered your meeting. You invited him to join you here. But then Tom turned up, and all his plans fell apart."

"But why this attack?" I asked.

"He didn't take your wife's second rejection at all well. If Loren didn't want him, he was going to make damn sure she couldn't have you. He wanted you dead."

The room grew silent at that last statement.

Loren broke the silence and said, "Well he failed at that." She leant over and kissed me.

~~~~<*****>~~~~

Remember that old Christmas cracker joke.

'Question; How do hedgehogs make love.

Answer; Very carefully!'

That was us a week later. I'd had to stay in the hospital in Port Louis, the capital of Mauritius for a few more days. Several head scans all confirmed that I still had a brain despite Martin's best efforts. And even more surprisingly it still worked. The wound on my arm from the surgery was healing nicely.

I was advised not to fly for a couple of weeks, not the greatest of hardships when you're stuck on the jewel in the Indian Ocean. The hotel villa was still booked for another four days, but they were happy to extend our stay for as long as we needed. Oh well, it's only money!

The airline was similarly happy to reschedule our flights and upgrade Loren's ticket, a mere £1,500 of happy.

Loren's first action on the day we got back at the resort was to strip me and carefully wash every inch of my body to get rid of the hospital smell. The bathroom had a large spa tub, and Loren quickly filled it. She slid back a glass door that opened onto our private veranda and helped me into the tub. I lay back in the tub soaking in the scented hot water with my injured arm propped on the rim and luxuriated in her gentle touch. The sounds of the ocean a soft lullaby.

Then she stood, and I was treated to a slow sensual striptease. I responded in the only way a gentleman could. My cock did his ultimate best to mimic a periscope standing tall and proud from the water. She stepped into the bath and lowered herself down, pausing only to carefully align tab A with slot B. With a deep groan, she slowly slid down my hard, needy shaft. Fully impaled she leant forward and kissed me tenderly.

Taking care not to jar my arm, she began the dance of love from time immemorial. Rhythmically rocking, rising and falling, the waves in the tub mimicking those on the beach. I joined the dance, my cock thrusting in and out of her. My mouth seeking and capturing the ripe nipples as they bounced tantalisingly close.

She raised her bowed head to look at me, "Ohh, Tom, I love you," she gasped and then groaned as she continued rocking. I rolled my hips to meet her every move. Water rose and fell, splashing over the brim. Her eyes were unfocused and her mouth open as she grunted rhythmically in tune with our movements. I whispered words of encouragement and she reacted, her movements becoming more aggressive grinding her pelvis against mine.

We came within seconds of each other, her first, followed by me pumping my jism inside her as she sucked me dry. She collapsed onto my chest regaining her breath. Then her lips sought mine. She shivered, and I realised that the water had grown cold. She reluctantly climbed off me and then helped me out. I wrapped her in a large fluffy white towel and hugged her to me. She looked up at me with her features moulded into such an expression of love that it physically struck me with its intensity.

~~~~<*****>~~~~

Postscript.

We needed to go back to Mauritius a few months later for the trial. Martin's defence team tried to suggest that he was insane at the time and that I'd provoked him, but fortunately, the trial judge rejected that claim. The trial took a week at the end of which he was found guilty. He was sentenced to ten years. The British authorities had wanted to extradite him to stand trial for the initial assault. They came to an arraignment with the Mauritian authorities, and so a year into his sentence he was transferred back to England to complete his sentence in prison there.

We had to sit through a second trial which took another week. This time his lawyer had dropped the temporary insanity defence. He tried to suggest that Loren had wanted out of our marriage and had manipulated his client into the action he took. He tried to paint Martin as the patsy.

Martin took the stand and described a fantasy of dates and meetings with Loren. All of which we could easily disprove. At the end of the week, the judge stopped the case and requested a full psychiatric evaluation.

Martin was transferred to a secure psychiatric hospital for a complete evaluation. We were informed a month later that he'd be there for at least the next fifteen years.

Our solicitor managed to get me a financial settlement for my injuries and hospitalisation. Not a fortune but a tidy sum all the same.

It took us some time to settle down. The money I received, I invested back into our business. It flourished and thankfully I could get Julia to come back as my manager.

Loren resigned from her position at the auction house to start up her own art appraisal business. That meant she could join me on most of the wine buying trips across the world. At least she did until her first pregnancy reached a time where travel was no longer an option.

~~~~<*****>~~~~

The end

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Many thanks for reading. Andyhm