Wendy's Weekend

To my surprise, inside were a single red rose and a long, hand-written letter.

When I saw who it was from, my heart began to thump and my tummy filled with butterflies.

As I read it, I felt my life falling apart.

***

'To Wendy, my first love,

By now you will suspect that there was something 'not quite right' about my takeover of the business and all that happened afterwards. Your suspicions are correct and an explanation is justified.

I'm sure that over the past year you have felt helpless; that events were moving outside your control and that you and your husband were being swept along as casualties of something bigger than yourselves.

You couldn't be more wrong, Wendy. Everything that has happened over the last year has had one single focus.

You!

After you dumped me so cruelly at Glastonbury, I had a breakdown. I managed to hold things together long enough to pass my examinations but then I completely collapsed. It took three months in hospital and a year in therapy to learn how to live with what you had done to me. They say I might never recover fully.

My recovery began in hospital and afterwards by focusing on my IT skills, fine-tuning them to an impressive level. This distracted me from what you did, helped start my business and grow it into the empire it became.

Soon I met my wife; we were married and had children. I became stable, I became rich but the wounds were too deep to heal completely and my obsession with you remained strong.

Using those IT skills -- not all of which were strictly legal - I was able to keep close track of you and James secretly from my new home in the US. I learned about your ambitions, your severe financial problems and of course your desire to have a family.

This was too good an opportunity to miss. I decided it was time to take action.

Buying the business James worked for made no financial sense as I'm sure he has told you. It wasn't supposed to make financial sense Wendy; I bought it solely to put myself in a position of power over you both. I knew that its financial position was poor and my ownership couldn't last long so once I had control, I had to act quickly.

The first stage was to get to know you again; to make friends, to convince you that I was on your side; that I was the 'good guy' who could get you out of your predicament; to disarm you and make you believe I held no grudges.

Yyou cannot imagine how difficult it was pretending all was okay but I persevered however I really felt.

The second stage was to create a crisis which you and I needed to face together, and in which James could play no part. The company's precarious financial position provided this easily; I knew whatever James told you in private would support the things I told you and convince you to support me in return.

The third stage was to put you in a situation where you genuinely believed you had no choice but to do something that would compromise you forever, but which you would believe was unavoidable -- even desirable.

This was much harder.

From the moment I bought the business I knew the clock was ticking and I would have to sell soon; negotiations for the sale were taking place in secret with my US partners throughout the whole of my ownership. My UK team, especially your husband, knew nothing about this, convinced that I was simply arranging additional finance but this wasn't true.

There was no Christian Bank Wendy, or any other bank. All the people you met were actors employed by me to create an environment where you would willingly, eagerly go to bed with me. They were professional too, you have to admit.

I hadn't expected you to yield so easily or to enjoy our 'dirty weekend' as thoroughly as you did. That was a real bonus for me - and I suspect for you too. I believe you discovered something about yourself that you never expected; your new-found love of great sex and your unsuspected prowess as a lover.

You are a very good lover, Wendy; even better than I hoped you would be. You and I are totally compatible in bed and could have had an amazing life together. All it took was the right man to awaken a side of you that was simply being wasted.

I was that man; I was always that man and after our weekend together, you know this is the truth.

What you don't know is the other truth; the truth about my supposed infertility.

I am not infertile Wendy; quite the contrary. In fact I have an unusually high sperm count as my wife here in New York and our four kids can testify.

For an IT expert like me - or 'sad pathetic geek' as you called me in Glastonbury -- it took only minutes to hack into the Company's Medical system and swap the references of your husband's sperm sample for that of my own.

It is James who is seriously infertile, not me.

In the same way, it was easy to change your prescription to a much stronger dose of fertility drug and to start it earlier than you thought. Far from suppressing your fertility, the implant you had just before our weekend made you hyper-fertile.

It was child's play to work out when your most fertile times would be and it should come as no surprise to learn that your fertility peaked during your weekend as my wife, or perhaps I should say your weekend as my whore.

It was hard work inseminating you as often as I did during that weekend but it was very satisfying for both of us in so many ways and as you can imagine, my motivation was powerful.

My plan worked precisely as I had intended; you became pregnant at exactly the right time and the baby growing in your belly can only have one possible father -- unless you have more secrets than even I know about.

Why did I wait this long to tell you? Well, if my calculations are correct then it is now far too late for a termination and you will very soon give birth to my child. I wish you a smooth and painless labour.

With a son to be proud of, James will be happy and will take care of his family well. He will no doubt go on to greater things with you his wife at his side. You will watch his rise but as you watch, you will remember that for one weekend you became a willing, eager whore; a woman prepared to prostitute herself completely, and all for money.

The result of your whoredom is that the two of you will spend the rest of your lives bringing up another man's child. You will be rich, you will be successful, you might even be happy but you and I will always share a hidden secret.

How long that secret remains hidden depends entirely on how you bring up our child. Should anything happen of which I disapprove, the truth will immediately emerge; a simple paternity test will confirm your adultery and the shame will destroy both your marriage and James' career.

It's possible that video evidence will emerge too, perhaps of some of our special times together; the times when you were at your most... enthusiastic in bed? I kept that little secret till last but you can trust me; the footage is long and detailed.

There has always been a powerful bond between us Wendy, even though you never recognised it. Now the bond is stronger, deeper and will last all our lives. In a very real way, you are mine forever.

Whenever you look into our child's sweet face, remember me, remember Glastonbury, remember the whore you were prepared to be but most of all, remember never ever to treat anyone with such contempt again!

Perhaps now my recovery can become complete.

All my love as always,

Andy.'

***

I had heard the term 'my blood ran cold' many times but until that moment had not understood what it really meant. An iron-grey iciness filled my body, dulling my senses and paralysing my brain.

My hand fell automatically to my bump and my eyes filled with tears as I realised how completely I had been deceived. Andy had not just taken over my body; my mind, heart and soul had willingly followed it.

I had let him turn me from a loving, faithful wife into an adulterous slut.

I had allowed myself to be impregnated by a man who was not my husband.

I would very shortly bring another man's child into the world and into my family.

I had become so focussed on sex I had all but begged him to fuck me one last time before he left.

Worst of all, I had enjoyed every moment of the whole degrading process.

There was no way out; there was nothing at all I could do about it!

I felt sick. Physically sick.

"Are you all right Darling?" Jamie asked as he entered the kitchen.

"Sorry Jamie, I've got to go..." I said as I pushed past him, ran upstairs to the bathroom and locked the door.

A moment later I was on my knees, retching into the lavatory bowl, the terrible letter clasped in my hand.

"Wendy! What's the matter?"

Jamie called anxiously through the door as I tore the evil letter into a thousand tiny shreds. I flushed them frantically down the toilet, slammed the lid down and tried to stand up.

Then something punched me hard in the belly.

"Aaaagh!"

"Wendy! What's wrong?"

"Aaaaaaaaagh!"

It happened again; the contractions had started.

"Oh my God!"

I doubled up in pain as my cuckolded husband banged on the bathroom door.

"Wendy? Wendy? What is it? Talk to me!"