Wendy's Weekend

***

I passed a very pleasant couple of hours with Andy in a West End restaurant that lunchtime. I dressed for the occasion and he was bright, confident and really good company. We talked of Jamie and my plans again and of course about the company's current problems. Although the financial climate was extremely tough, Andy seemed confident he could come to an agreement with the one remaining source of funds.

"They are a bit odd though," he added thoughtfully.

"In what way?"

"Well, they're a Christian Bank from a rather fundamentalist sect," he told me. "They're very tight on what sort of businesses they lend to and the type of people in charge." He laughed. "They're firmly pro-life and don't approve of contraception, divorce or homosexuality"

"Are they Catholic?" I asked.

"Stricter than that. They don't drink alcohol or eat meat on Fridays either."

"They don't sound like much fun to me," I joked. Andy smiled back at me over his coffee.

"Actually they're really nice and friendly. I like them a lot which is why I hate lying to them."

I paused.

"You've been lying?"

"Only a little. They don't believe in divorce so I only told them I had been married. I knew they wouldn't lend me the money if they knew I was divorced so I only told them about the wedding part."

"Andy," I frowned with a sly smile. "That's naughty." He grinned.

"Only you and I know that so keep it under your hat, right? Besides I didn't actually lie; I just left a bit out!"

"I can keep a secret," I assured him.

"They wanted to know if I had kids too. When I said no, they immediately thought we had been using birth control so I told them we couldn't have them; that my wife had problems 'down there'."

For a moment I wondered whether he had somehow got to know about Jamie and my problems but remembered the clinic's records would be confidential.

"Anyway, I'm working hard on them. I need the money by the end of next month or we really do hit the wall. I'm pretty sure we'll be okay but you never really know."

We talked for a while longer then Andy walked me to the taxi rank again. As we said goodbye, he kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"Thanks for listening Wendy. You're about the only person I can talk to about all this. You know me of old!"

For some reason this made me feel warm and needed.

"If there's anything I can do..." I said as he held the taxi door open for me.

"Thanks. For now it's just great to see you again. It's been fun! See you next week? Same time?"

"I'd love to!" I replied immediately.

As the taxi took me home my mind was full of the second lovely meal I had enjoyed with my interesting, handsome friend.

But those positive thoughts were soon replaced by worries about our future if the deal with the bank fell through.

***

"You're sure it's ok?" I asked my husband after telling him about my lunch that day and the date made for the following week.

"Sure," he replied distractedly. "The closer you get to him the better. At least one of us on the board is going to be sacked; if you're his best friend, it makes it much less likely to be me!"

"Have you read the letter from the clinic?" I asked, changing the subject.

"I've skimmed it," he lied. "What does it say?"

I sighed. This was my husband's first response to so many issues -- leaving it to me! I sat at the breakfast bar while he messed around with his laptop and read the letter's contents aloud:

The tests had come back conclusively. He had normal sperm and an unusually high sperm count. It was my body that was malfunctioning. It could be treated with a course of implants and injections.

If we decided to go ahead, the letter explained that I would be given two types of implant, one after the other designed to improve my fertility.

First they would address a hormone issue. There would be four implants of increasing strength which would prepare my body for the second phase. Perversely, in the short term they would actually suppress ovulation and render me completely infertile for a few weeks.

The second phase would last up to three months and would send my body into hyper-fertility, causing multiple ovulations. During that period I would become more fertile than ever before in my life -- and for longer - and would have a really good chance of getting pregnant if my husband could provide enough viable sperm.

The report said Jamie's sperm was viable so it was just a case of getting enough of it inside me. Before the takeover this would have been an easy task but we had made love only a couple of times recently thanks to his working hours and stress.

"So shall we give it a try?" I asked.

"Sorry?" He really wasn't paying attention.

"Shall I start the treatment? They're offering an appointment in a couple of days."

"Whatever you want, Sweetheart," Jamie replied absently as he took his briefcase into the study.

I frowned. Once again it would all be down to me!

***

Having the implant fitted was fairly painless. It was barely visible under my skin even when I looked hard and after a few days I had all but forgotten about it. The effect was noticeable though; I felt flushed most of the time and my skin became much more sensitive. I started to have sexy dreams too which was unusual for me; I didn't tell my husband.

Andy had been busy in meetings all week so our lunch 'date' had been moved to the evening. I could tell Jamie was beginning to feel a little jealous but he still insisted that I should remain as close to Andy as possible; there was still no sign of our old house being sold and the interest charges were mounting.

I dressed a little more sexily than usual in a short blue sleeveless dress and heels and arrived promptly at the celebrity restaurant Andy had chosen.

As usual the evening was delightful though my implant made me feel very warm throughout the meal. Andy looked gorgeous in designer suit, open necked shirt and shiny pointed shoes. I was amazed just how far he had come from the geeky kid I had known and cruelly exploited at University and was very grateful he bore no grudges.

He was, however, increasingly concerned about the business' funding. It appeared that the strange Christian Bank really was the only option still available in the current Banking Crisis but he wasn't sure he could persuade them to lend to him. They were still suspicious about his missing 'wife' and suspected the absence of children was the result of birth control or, far worse, abortion.

This time he accompanied me home in the taxi and kissed me goodnight in the driveway.

***

The implant was changed during the week. It was equally painless but the strange flushes grew worse. Still, it felt good to have actually started the process even if at this stage I was actually less fertile.

It was just as well; my husband was so pre-occupied with work that he hadn't laid a finger on me in three weeks.

But I wasn't the only one with problems; when I joined Andy for dinner that Thursday evening it was clear that, even though he looked even more gorgeous than before, he was a worried man; the Bank still had reservations about him and his business.

"They're coming over next week to see a few possible investments. The pot of cash is only so big; if the others impress them more than we do then they'll get the funding and we'll go under."

"What can you do?"

"They're staying in a hotel near Stratford and they've asked me to visit them on Friday evening to go through the details again, have dinner and stay overnight."

"You'll do that well. You're a very persuasive man," I reassured him.

"There's a problem though. They're bringing their wives along for some sight-seeing. They expect me to bring my wife too and I don't have one! If they find out I've been lying to them, there's no way they will lend us the money and the business will go under."

The answer was so obvious I had said it before I realised it.

"I'll be your wife!"

"Wendy?"

"No seriously. If it's as important as that -- if the only way to save the business for someone to play the part of your wife then there really is only one solution."

"You'd do that for me?"

"For us all, yes of course I would. I've known you for years -- I can talk about University and be convincing. Who else could do that?"

"But we'd have to share a room -- maybe even a bed," he said clearly as if making sure I had understood.

"It wouldn't be the first time I'd shared a bed with a friend. As long as it's only sharing a bed!" I added with a meaningful glance.

The look of relief on Andy's face almost reduced me to tears. We finished dinner together and when he dropped me back home his goodnight kiss was rather more meaningful.

***

Late Friday afternoon, Andy's Mercedes sped north up the motorway on its way to Shakespeare's Stratford with the two of us in the front seats. Andy was trying to fill in details of our supposed life together so we didn't make too many slip-ups in front of our hosts but I was finding it hard to retain the details.

The third implant was having a significant effect on my mind and body. Apart from feeling warm and a little flushed all the time, my mind was definitely not as sharp as usual and concentration was difficult.

I had not told my husband pretending to be Andy's wife and staying in the same room overnight. Jamie was stressed enough as it was and didn't need another worry on his mind. Besides, if all went well I would have helped save the company in a real and meaningful way which would make it very difficult for Andy to retain or promote anyone other than my husband.

It wasn't as if I was going to have sex with him, anyway!

The hotel was beautiful; a timber framed manor house set in its own grounds only half an hour from the lovely town. We were shown to our room which was large and comfortable with a four-poster bed and views out over the park that made me feel like a queen.

Andy ordered two large glasses of wine from room service and we unpacked carefully as he explained over and over again the things I was to say and, more importantly, the things I was to keep to myself.

"Which side do you prefer?" I asked pointing to the bed during a brief pause in his monologue.

I gasped, then giggled.

"Well I usually sleep on the right," he said, smiling broadly.

"So do I," I grinned back. "Let's toss for it!"

"Take it; it's all yours!" he smiled then stopped as the room's phone rang.

"Hello... Yes it is. Hi Howard, we've just finished unpacking. Okay, we'll be down very soon. Yes, she's looking forward to it!"

When he hung up the phone, I looked at him expectantly.

"I hope your acting skills are ready. We're on stage in half an hour!"

***

My tummy was alive with nerves as I dressed for dinner in a smart black cocktail dress, carefully chosen to be stylish but modest. My heels were medium height and my tights unexceptional. I wore only a minimum of jewellery and the lightest of make-up and believed I looked like the happily married wife of a successful man.

It felt strangely good not having to get as dressed up as I would if I had been out with my husband and as we entered the hotel's lounge I was more confident I could pull off the deception.

In truth, our dinner companions made the whole evening easy. Three delightful couples were already assembled, chatting companionably. I quickly noticed that the ladies were sipping soft drinks and ordered a lime and soda. All three couples were older than Andy and me but looked smart, well-dressed and happy and took me under their wing straight away, showering me with questions and making me feel the centre of attention.

Sandy, the wife of Howard, the most senior Banker, was in her late fifties, blonde and very American. Her two companions Susan and Cheryl were younger and clearly married to more junior executives as they agreed immediately with everything Sandy said.

The evening passed easily; the dinner was good and I enjoyed the old-fashioned, slightly formal politeness of the visitors as they planned their stay. While their husbands talked money the following morning, the three wives were to explore Stratford together and I was enthusiastically encouraged to join them.

Declining was not an option so I agreed.

Americans dine early and go to bed early so it wasn't quite eleven when Andy and I returned to our room. I was exhausted from the strain of keeping up my 'little wife' act and insisted on relaxing in the bath before bedtime.

Andy passed me a glass of wine which I drank eagerly after my teetotal dinner.

I took my long, modest night dress into the bathroom with me and was wearing it when I emerged half an hour later, feeling much less achy but ready for sleep.

Andy was sitting up in bed waiting for me. He was wearing a T shirt which was a relief; I didn't want to have to fend off unwanted sexual advances in my exhausted state. We lay side by side in the large double bed in the darkness.

"You were perfect," he said quietly as I dozed.

"Thanks," I replied. "I'm nervous about tomorrow. I'm not sure I can keep it up all day."

"You'll be fine. Do you like them?"

"They're lovely. A bit old-fashioned and sexually stereotyped but it's refreshing in a way."

I yawned.

"Good night, Wendy," Andy laughed and we both tried to sleep.

It took a while to get used to sharing a bed with an unfamiliar man. At first I expected Andy to make advances to me under the duvet but after a few minutes it was clear that he was trying to sleep too.

I began to relax and doze but our attempts at slumber were almost immediately disturbed by the noises that began to emanate from the rooms around us; first from my side of the bed, then Andy's. It began with clunking as if furniture was being moved, then progressed to louder noises and high pitched female giggling in an American accent!

"Jesus!" Andy growled.

The noises stopped. I dozed a little more.

Then it started properly.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The slow, steady rhythmic beat of unhurried sexual intercourse filled the bedroom. I tried to ignore it and go to sleep.

Then the moaning started, low and soft, but getting louder.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

I curled up under the duvet in embarrassment, feeling Andy's hot body close to mine and praying that he wouldn't get the same ideas that were surging through my head.

Then the noises started from the bedroom on the other side.

Thump-thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump.

"Oooohhhh!"

Sleep was now impossible with the sounds of sex filling the room in stereo. I gave up and sat up, leaning back on my pillow. A moment later Andy was doing the same; we both looked at each other and broke out in giggles.

"It is them, isn't it?" he asked.

"I could swear the first voice was Sandy's," I replied. "It's hard to imagine but that accent's so distinctive."

"And I reckon it's Cheryl on the other side too. I saw their key in her open handbag."

Thump-thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump.

"You can't fault them for effort. Or energy!" Andy joked.

"It must be the clean-living lifestyle," I replied.

Thump-thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump.

"Aaaaaahhhhhh!"

The activities on my side were reaching a climax in both senses. The heavily-accented female voice soared and wailed as the thumping grew jack-hammer fast before stopping suddenly. Far from being a relief, this simply provided a better opportunity for us to hear the woman on the other side reach a shattering orgasm herself before finally the room became quiet.

"What will we do if we meet them at breakfast?" Andy wondered aloud.

"We'll be British and pretend it didn't happen," I told him. He laughed loudly.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Brown," he grinned and kissed me on the cheek.

"Goodnight Mr. Brown," I replied.

Finally we fell asleep.

***

We rose a little late the following morning after quite a good night's sleep despite the antics of our neighbours. One nearby couple appeared to believe in morning as well as late night sex and we had been woken in the early hours by more thumping and wailing from next door.

Getting both of us through the bathroom while maintaining a bit of modesty was a challenge and I'm sure Andy got to see more of me that he should but in a gentlemanly way he didn't say anything.

When we arrived in the breakfast room we found the three older couples had already finished eating and were nearly ready for the day's activities. They looked fresh and happy. Andy and I barely had time to grab a coffee and croissant before returning to our room to brush our teeth.

"Okay, which of them was it?" Andy asked with a grin as he rinsed out his mouth in the bathroom.

"The sexy soundtrack? Sandy without a doubt," I said with certainty.

"How can you tell?"

"Didn't you see her face and chest?" I asked. "If that wasn't a post-orgasmic flush I've never had one!"

The words were out before I could stop them and I blushed scarlet straight afterwards. Andy just smiled.

"We'll see about that!" he said enigmatically as we went our separate ways, Andy to the meeting room, me to Stratford with 'the girls' as they called themselves.

***

Despite, or perhaps because of their nocturnal exertions, the three American girls were full of energy that morning and our exploration of Stratford was both fast and thorough. After looking at the river, the theatre and the ancient streets we found ourselves in a private corner of a small, old-fashioned tea room.

The conversation was bright, cheerful and normal so I was completely wrong-footed when Sandy asked me straight out of a clear blue sky whether Andy and I had had sex the previous night.

Stunned by the question, I misunderstood and was worried that she had thought the other noisy couple had been us. But it soon became clear that she meant something completely different.

"We know about your problems having children, Honey," Sandy said confidentially. I looked around but no-one could overhear, thank God.

"If your husband needs to keep seeding you, you mustn't worry about us hearing you. You do what you need to do, Wendy. We all do!"

She patted me conspiratorially on the knee. I felt horrified; what could I possibly say? All I knew was that I had to go along with them to make sure they reported back only good news to their Banker husbands. Andy simply had to get the loan or Jamie and I would be bankrupt!

"I thought, given your beliefs..." I began but they all laughed.

"Wendy Honey, sex is a gift from God! As long as it's within marriage and for the making of children, God wants us to enjoy that gift as much as we can!"

"That's right," Cheryl broke in. "My husband and I have had sex almost every day since our wedding night and we've never so much as touched a rubber or a pill. I've given him six children and I consider it a blessing. We're as close and happy as couple could be and I thank God for that."

"That's the truth Wendy; God's truth. Right now God has rewarded me with an early menopause. Now we can enjoy each other as much as we like without making any more babies," Sandy added.

She leaned closer towards me.

"We've decided to pray for you, Wendy. We're sure God will bless you with children eventually; you're a lovely girl and Andy's a lovely man. But God helps those who helps themselves if you know what I mean!"

I must have looked puzzled because there was a round of giggling.

"That's right," Cheryl eventually explained. "If you don't plant the seed, you can't grow the crop. Next time you stay with us, you and that lovely husband of yours just go right at it; get yourself seeded morning, noon and night. Don't worry about the noise; we'll be so busy ourselves we won't even hear you!"

"Morning, noon and night!" Sandy repeated with a smile.

And then bizarrely, the conversation moved on the other more banal things.