Chapter 1

It all started in London, September 1998.

My wife, Angie and I were going through a bad time in our marriage. We’d been married for just over nineteen years. In that time, we had produced two kids and a nice home. My job was relatively well paid and it kept us in good financial order. All that said my relationship with Angie had over those sixteen years slowly became stale. Our feelings for each had waned into conventionality and even though I tried to bring some change or difference to the relationship, it always failed at the first hurdle with Angie always arguing the fact that everything was okay so why change. Since our youngest daughter was born and especially in the last two years, Angie had fallen deeper into this conservative blinkered state lost her sense of fun, fashion and sex. Whether it was ultimately due to carrying and giving birth to Lucy, I’ll never know.

In reality, I thought I’d lost the woman I’d married.

Angie had forgone her sense of fashion from a fun-loving attitude that gave her an eye for choosing just the right sort of clothing to set off her figure in the most delicate of ways that always made me want for more. She was a woman who loved to show her femininity sensuously that was never over the top or slutty looking; I always admired her for that.

Now she has become so conservative that she covers nearly eighty per cent of her body. Long skirts, jeans, baggy jumpers and high neck blouses gave her a dowdy look. I can’t remember the last time I saw her naked.

I suppose I could put it down to the conversation we had over the dinner table. It was in July 1998 our daughters were at home for the summer break. We’d just finished out main meal and Angie had got up and started collecting up the dirty plates.

“So who would like a pudding, then?” she asked.

“I’m not fussy really, but it was a nice dinner Mum,” Lucy said.

“What do you have Mum?” Jennifer asked.

I picked up my glass of Beaujolais and took a mouthful.

Angie replied, “Well there’s strawberry ice cream, Cherrie Cheese Cake or fresh Pineapple with cream.”

“Oh I’d love some fresh Pineapple, mum.” Jenifer asked.

Lucy’s eyes lit up, “And me.”

“And you Peter what would you like?” She had the dirty plates in her hands waiting for my answer.

Jennifer groan, “God mum what are you wearing?”

“What do you mean?” Angie asked as she looked down her body at her clothes.

“I mean what are you wearing, you look so dowdy.”

“I do not,” snapped Angie obviously not liking what her fifteen-year-old was saying.

“You do mum. Look everything your wear is so old fashioned.”

Then Lucy added, “That’s right mum, you look so decrepit.”

Angie stood at the door to the kitchen looking at her two daughters shocked, “Decrepit, well that’s nice isn’t!” Angie spoke and looked again at her clothing, “There’s nothing wrong with my clothes. I don’t know what you mean.”

“You really ought to look at yourself mum and lighten up,” Jennifer added.

Angie when into the kitchen the door swinging shut.

“Blimey, Dad why don’t you say something to her about it, Mum has lost her senses she has a much better body than she is letting on.”

“Come on Jennifer it has nothing to do with you what your mother wears. If she wants to wear those kinds of clothes, then that’s up to her you shouldn’t interfere.”

“But dad...”

“Don’t go there Jennifer. What happens between mum and me has nothing to do with you guys okay?” I snapped back knowing Jennifer would not stop until she has made her point.

With a sigh, Jennifer eased back and we all fell silent waiting for mum to return with our puddings.

A couple of minutes later Angie returned with the fresh pineapple sliced up on a plate. She placed the plate on the table and then handed round bowls for each of us.

“Help yourselves to the fruit and the cream is in the jug,” she said.

As we started to enjoy the fruit and cream Angie said to Jennifer, “So what’s wrong with my clothes I’ve been wearing these for years?”

I could see on Jennifer’s face the question would allow her to make another attack on her mother, something she has been doing frequently over the past three or four months. Once they were inseparable but since Jennifer’s sixteenth birthday Jennifer takes extreme delight in trying to ridicule her mother.

“That’s precisely what I mean. Your clothes are so ancient you can’t even get them from the charity shops anymore.”

With that Jennifer got up and left the dining room with a huge smile on her face knowing she’d one that round in this war of words and derision.

Over the following weeks, Jennifer exploited her position of being one up on her mother and made it known to all and sundry, especially her immediate friends that her mother had no form of dress sense and that she was living in the past.

In that year, my employer had a large conference in London. The company had had its best year so far and for the first time it allowed wives and partners to come along to the Year End Ball. The conference was a three-day event taking place in the Docklands area; all those going had a room in a hotel. In addition, because we were living down in deepest Cornwall we were given an extra night so that I was at the conference on time. It was to start on the Thursday and finish on the Saturday night, and culminating with the End of Year Ball.

I used this opportunity to bring Angie out of her conservative attitude and hopefully get my wife back, the one I married. In addition, if it all goes to plan it could stop our daughter ridiculing her mother.

Two weeks before the event at dinner, I asked Angie, “Would you like to go to London with me to the conference?”

“Oh yes, that would be great,” she replied then started to think about it.

“Can I go too?” Jennifer suddenly sat up.

“And me, I would like to go to London as well?” Lucy said trying to keep pace with her older sister.

“Afraid not girls, if mum says she wants to come then you two are staying with your Gran.”

“Oh Dad, not Grannies?” the two girls said almost simultaneously.

“So what do you say Angie?” I pressed.

“But you’ll be at the conference all day and I’ll be stuck in the hotel bored out of my mind.”

“Not necessarily, you could go sightseeing see the Tower of London, Buck Palace.”

“Not on my own,” she said looking fearful, “Oh no, I couldn’t go without you.”

“We could go with you and then you could see the sights,” Lucy interjected.

“I know you’ve never been to London before so why not take this opportunity, it’s free,” I said, “I really want you to be with me and we can go to the ball and dance all night.”

“Do you really, do really want me to be with you?” asked Angie amazed.

“Yes of course I do however, there is a catch though!”

“What do you mean a catch?” she asked suspiciously.

“It’s one you’ll like.”

“Well come on out with it,” she urged irritated.

“We’ll talk about that later. But in principle you would come with me?”

“Yes of course. But I don’t like catches.”

“Oh come on dad we want to know what you’re planning?” Jennifer said frustrated.

“It’s not for you girls to hear I’m afraid you will just have to wait that’s all.”

“Ah dad you always do this it’s just not fair,” Lucy groaned as she got up from the table.

“You’re right Lucy, dad is always doing this and it is so frustrating. Come on let’s go upstairs out of the way we’re clearly not wanted here,” Jennifer added rather piqued.

I waited until I heard the music go on then turned to my wife, “I would like you take this opportunity while in London to go shopping and buy yourself a new wardrobe of clothes.”

Angie looked sceptical, “Why, why do you want me to buy new things?”

“Because I want to see you looking nice again wearing more fashionable clothing.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Angie queried her face again looking irritated.

“Angie you’ve changed so much over the last couple of years. It pains me to see you like this. As you are at the moment you’re not the woman I married.”

“Oh, Peter what do you mean?” Angie looked utterly horrified.

“To be blunt your dress sense has become non-existent our sex life pretty much the same, making our relationship pretty insecure.”

“But I thought you loved me?” Angie blurted out her voice now sounding fearful.

“Of course I love you, Angie, but we both have needs. My need is to have you back the way you were. Before the girls were born, you were a fun loving exciting woman - the woman I married. Now you are the complete opposite.”

Angie went silent. She sat up in her chair, straight of back looking down into her lap where she started to fidget with her fingers. This was her normal stance when we started to a conversation and it didn’t go her way regardless of the trivialness of the subject.

“Don’t you agree you have changed?”

Angie nodded.

“I’m not chastising you, Angie you know me better than that. All I want is for you to be yourself. I don’t know what’s gone wrong or why but let’s see if we can bring your confidence back.”

Angie looked up at me with those large black eyes of hers and I could have melted into her arms but I held firm.

She nodded in agreement.

“All I want is for you to go shopping and have some fun purchasing some new clothes, dresses, skirts and even underwear. I want to see you looking sexy again as you used to. But more importantly I want you to feel sexy and confident.”

Angie looked down into her lap and quietly said, “I’ll try.”

That was good enough for me.

The night before we went to London the mother in-law came to pick up the girls.

Angie was clucking about like a hen with her chicks. Do this, have you got that, take this no not that. It was chaos on that Tuesday night as the girls packed for the four nights away.

Jennifer was being her awkward self, possibly more than usual for some reason. I could see Angie becoming angrier by the minute with her.

I caught up with Maureen my mother in-law in the kitchen she had made herself a coffee and was sitting at the breakfast bar.

“It’s chaos up there at the moment,” I informed her as I leaned back against the sink.

“Sounds like Jennifer is growing up fast?”

“You can say that again. She’s constantly challenging her mother on nearly everything she does,” I added, “I have had to step in on several occasions to keep them apart, I can see one day they will be at each other’s throats and I won’t be there to stop it.”

Maureen smiled, “Yes I know, Angie was the same with me as I was to my mother. It’s in our genes I think.”

“Genes or not it might be a good time for Jennifer to have a little one to one advice from someone other than Angie and me. I was wondering if you might find time to chat with her whilst she’s staying with you.”

“I can if you want. But I don’t think it will do any good,” Maureen spoke sincerely looking at me over the top of her cup.

“Well I thought I’d ask, I thought it might come better from you?” I added a little disappointed.

“Maybe, but if she is anything like her mother then she will be like this for a good few years to come. Angie didn’t change until she met you and the change was nearly over night. I would assume my mother would say the same about me if she were still alive.”

This revelation was a concern, as I didn’t know if I could put up with this bitterness until Jennifer found her man.

“Oh well I will just have to crack down a lot harder with her, I’m not going to put up with constant this confrontational attitude every time.”

“That won’t do any good Peter; it will only make her worse and rebel even more. I will speak with her and see if I can make her see some sense. I will not guarantee anything as I am sure it will go in one ear and out the other,” Maureen finished her coffee and stood up, “Still we can only but try can’t we?”

Maureen was in her late fifties but still had a body a lot of younger woman would love to have. Angie and Maureen were nearly the spitting image of each other; both had deep black hair and a fine porcelain complexion. The only difference between the two was Maureen had a few lines around the eyes whereas Angie didn’t. I have been told that some people think they are twins on first glance, and it’s not until they are close that they realise Maureen is the older of the two.

“I appreciate that Maureen, thank you.”

“You’re welcome Peter. You’re a good man and a loving husband I know you’ll do the right thing with the three women in your life,” she said with a warm smile while handing me her empty cup.

“Hey don’t you mean four women?” I said putting the cup in the sink.

Angie called from the hallway, “The girls are ready mum.”

“On my way dear,” she replied and looked at me, “What do you mean four?”

“Come on Maureen you’re the fourth woman in my life.”

“Jesus Peter, if only, if only that were possible,” I saw the seriousness on her face and suddenly realised for the first time in twenty years or more that she meant it.

The hotel was excellent. We had one of those large rooms with a king size bed and all the mod cons such as walk in shower, furniture for more than one person to sit in, satellite TV and a well-stocked bar I was well pleased.

We had arrived around four pm on the Wednesday so we found our room, showered had an early dinner and then went into the West End. I had managed to get tickets to see La Traviata.

Angie had been excited all day and everything was going well, that is until she’d changed to go out and her dowdiness again was there for all to see. I was livid that she hadn’t put herself out; she hadn’t put any make up on either. I bit my tongue and off we went.

The opera was excellent and Angie was in awe of it all. As we left the theatre, I managed to hail a taxi.

“Oh darling that was just wonderful,” Angie gushed as we settled in the rear seats of the taxi, “The music, the costumes, oh it was just pure magic.”

I had a huge grin on my face, happy to see my wife so ecstatic, “It was good I have to admit, but sad.”

“Yes,” Angie also agreed, “I cried my heart out at the end.”

“It was difficult not to,” I added.

“But sweetheart,” she said cuddling up to me, “It was the best ever. I shall never forget it, thank you.”

When we got back to the hotel, we had a nightcap in the bar. There was a man throwing some tunes together at the piano. As I ordered drinks at the bar I looked at the man playing, he reminded me of the man in Casablanca and half-expected Ingmar Bergman to enter and say those immortal words. But she never did and he never played the tune so we sat and quietly listened as he played through several songs some old some new but for us the magic was there. We love being in our own company whether in conversation or thoughtful silence we just let the music take over our minds and drift away the night.

Then suddenly the music stopped, and pianist had finished playing breaking the magic romantic spell that had envelope us. He stood up took a short bow and left.

The excellent atmosphere was broken and we went up to bed.

I made my advances towards her once we were under the covers but she rejected them saying she was tired from all the travelling. I again was angry and frustrated to say the least and fell asleep wondering if it was worth all the hassle.

I tossed and turned throughout the night and I woke even more frustrated and a deep bewilderment.

We went down to breakfast together. Angie was still dressing in her dowdy clothes and just looking at her took me deeper into my gloom. Very little was said to start with but in the end, Angie broke the silence.

“What time does the conference end today?” she asked as she drank her tea.

“About five,” I replied.

We fell silent again but then I asked, “You still going shopping?”

She looked at me and snapped, “Yes, that’s what you want isn’t it?”

“Don’t you want it too?” My gloom very quickly turned to anger with my voice indicated it.

Angie ignored the sound of my voice, “Yes, I think so. I want us to be happy,” she replied and finished eating her toast, “But I haven’t a clue where I should go or how to get there.”

“Well there’s Oxford Street that’ll be a good start.” I finished my coffee and stood up to go, “I’ve got quite a bit to do today so I’m going now.” From my wallet, I took out a credit card and gave it to Angie, “There have some fun; you have twelve hundred pounds to play with.”

Angie’s eyes lit up with amazement.

I smiled to myself and said, “When I get back tonight I want to see you dressed in some nice new sexy clothes.”

Angie was still in shock as she nodded in agreement.

Just as I was leaving the hotel, I remembered I had to see my boss Mr Buckle. I took a taxi to his hotel and went up to his room.

The old man’s voice called out from behind the door, “Come in.”

“I don’t have a key Mr Buckle,” I called back.

After a short wait the door opened and Mr Buckle looked out, “Oh, it’s you Peter come on in,” he said opening the door for me.

“How’s the hotel?” he asked.

“Very good thanks.”

“Had breakfast yet?” he asked closing the door after me and I entered his suite. I thought our room was big but you could our room into this one at least four times. This place is huge.

“Yes, I sat down with the wife for breakfast. Where’s Mrs Buckle?” I asked him.

“Take a seat Peter. She’s still in bed; Sally had a hectic night last night.”

“I took Angie to the opera and saw La Traviata.”

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Sure, that’ll be nice,” I replied, “Angie loves opera and has always wanted to come up to London and see some.”

“We saw that last year whilst up here on business,” he added while pouring out the coffee, “Sally balled her eyes out after,” he said with a smile.

“Angie was the same but she still loved it.”

“Just the one sugar, please,” I added as he went to the bowl.

“How was the trip up from deepest Cornwall?”

“Long, but we got here, the room is great. Not as grandiose as this one but good.”

Buckle handed the coffee to me, “So speech time how you getting along with it?”

“Well I’ve finished it but I’m sure you’ll rip it apart.”

“Aye, but we don’t have the time for too many changes as you’re opening the conference with this speech,” I said picking up the notes from off the table.

Twenty minutes later I handed the speech back and he began to read it.

I finished my coffee and then got up and made another from the pot on the table.

Then Buckle looked up saying, “You know I just don’t why I didn’t promote you to a higher position,” he said seriously as he glanced back over the text

I remained silent and sat sipping my coffee.

“That’s probably the best speech you’ve ever written.”

“You write them Mr Buckle I only revise them, taking out the repeats and the rubbish.”

Buckle looked at me and smiled, “Well I’m going to give you some information that does not go beyond these walls do you understand Peter?”

“I think so Mr Buckle,” I replied slightly confused.

“You’ve been with the company a good few years now?”

“Twenty-four,” I said.

“Aye, well this information is extremely sensitive and if it were to get out then heads will have to roll.”

Blimey, I thought what’s the old man playing at?

“I’m selling up Peter. I have had a couple of parties interested in the business and if they produce the goods then I’m out of the business for good. You should do the same.”

“Coming from CEO I suppose I should consider it,” I said with a smile but the smile fell on a serious face. A face I have seen many times in the past when he has or was about to lose his temper.

“You should, I will not be too fussy about who buys it. As long as I get what I want then I will let it go. I am almost certain jobs will go especially in the sales and head office staff.”

I suddenly thought about the time and looked at my watch, “Blimey we’d better get a move on otherwise you’ll be opening the conference late this year.”

“Come on then let’s get a move on,” Buckle grabbed his suit jacket and put it on then we made our way to the lift.

As we entered the lift so he went on, “You have been a loyal employee Peter, I thank you for that.”

“That’s okay, I’ve enjoyed working for you there’s no sin in it.”

“Aye, I think it’s you and old George Simpton that’s left from the first lot of sales people I hired. Do you remember those offices above the Indian restaurant?”

“Yes, and stank rotten. Those people who bought from there really didn’t know did they?”

“That’s for sure; look I’m going to tell George exactly the same as I have told you. When I sell the business, I will make sure you and George get a bit more than the rest of them okay. Just something to show my appreciation for your loyalty so make sure you start looking for something else, don’t leave until the last minute.”

“No of course not I’ll speak with Angie tonight and see what her thoughts are.”

So you brought the Misses with you. If I remember correctly I saw her at last year’s company Christmas party wasn’t?”

Aye, it was,” I replied. I can still remember him taking her onto the dance floor and whisking her round as if he were thirty again when he’s really in his late sixties.

“You have a very attractive woman there Peter. I would be proud to have a woman like that on my arm that’s for sure.” The lift doors opened and we stepped out. He moved in close and said, “You really must do something about her dress sense though. With a figure like hers she’d do better to show it off.”

I laughed and said, “You’ve got that right. I’m working on it though; she’s going out today to look for a new wardrobe.”

“Good man, now let’s get on with this damn conference.”

As I entered the hotel that evening, I noticed an advertisement for an 80’s disco in the hotel that night and I thought Angie would love that as she loves to dance. Me I’d rather sit and watch while waiting for the slow dances to happen that’s when I like to be on the dance floor, although it’s been years since we had a smooch.

I pressed the button to call for the lift and stepped back waiting for one of the three lifts to arrive. I was looking around the busy lobby when the bell for the lift arriving chimed and the doors opened. I entered and pressed the button for my floor. The doors started to close and I suddenly became apprehensive about Angie actually going shopping. If she’d backed out, not gone shopping how was I going to deal with it. This is something I never considered, yet it was the most obvious.

As the lift door was just about to close a man’s arm came through the closing gap stopping the doors closing. The doors snapped back and the man walked in, “Going up?”

I nodded saying, “Yes.”

“Come on Jennifer the man says he’s going up,” he called out into the lobby.

A woman then followed him into lift and I mentally gasped at her beauty. She was a brunette like my wife, tall and straight of back, with legs that seemed to go on for miles. She was dressed smartly yet a bit tarty with a pink short skirt with white lace trim a white blouse that pronounced her breasts and a short black jacket. Her long legs wore black nylons and red colour high heels.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked standing very close to her with his arm around her waist.

“Yes,” she mumbled.

I was standing to the back of them and though I wasn’t really listening, it was a distraction from my own worries. Then I heard her whisper, “Did you have to make me do this?”

In a normal voice, he replied, “Do what, honey?”

She sighed and spoke but it was too quiet for me to hear as I just got a word here and there.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked, “Speak up girl,” he chided with a smile.

After a short pause, she asked slightly louder and enough for me to hear, “Did you have to make me leave my panties off?”

That was when my brain didn’t believe my ears.

Then the lift came to a stop and the bell rang. The doors opened and the couple got out. I could hear them talking as they went down the hall.

“God, you sexy bitch,” I said to myself smiling.

The doors closed and the lift took me up to my floor.

I entered the room to find a dozen carrier bags scattered across the bed. I smiled to myself and sighed with relief.

“Hello, I’m back.” I called out.

A voice came from the bathroom, “I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.”

I switched on the TV and sat to watch the early evening news.

Five minutes later, the bathroom door opened.

I stood up like an expectant kid waiting for a gift.

There standing in front of me was my wife. The wife I once had. She was wearing a pale blue skirt suite. With a tailored jacket that had two small buttons, pulling the jacket tight over her breasts forcing them up and in. There was no blouse so you had a full cleavage on show with a hint of a black lacy bra underneath.

Her skirt, like the jacket, was well cut, but it was the shortness of it that shocked me the most with the hem a good six inches above the knee. Angie was also wearing black stockings and I found out later a suspender belt. To cap off the suit, she was wearing heels of similar colour to her suite.

However, her hair made the biggest difference. She’d had a perm giving her hair long loose curls making her hair fuller and bouncier giving her an angelic sexy look.

“What do you think,” she asked, “You don’t think I’ve gone too far?” She smoothed the skirt down with her hands picking off a loose piece of cotton thread.

After putting my eyes back into their sockets, I replied, “Angie you look absolutely wonderful. Now there stands the woman I married.”

“Really,” she replied somewhat shocked.

“Really, you look beautiful. I’m proud of you, Angie really proud.”

“I have some other things to show you I’ll change into them.”

“No, no they can wait. I want you to stay as you are. Let me shower and change and we’ll go down to dinner.” I started removing my shirt and headed for the bathroom. In the doorway, I turned, “Why don’t you go on down to the bar and get the drinks in, I’ll only be a few minutes?”

A sudden shocked expression appeared on her face, “I, I don’t know if I can do that!”

“Sure y’ can. The way you look tonight every man in the bar will be looking at you, you’ll be the main attraction.”

“But Peter, I don’t want to be the main attraction,” Angie said her voice sounding desperate.

“You have nothing to fear. Just go down to the bar and order the drinks. Put them on the bill and wait for me, you’ll be fine, promise.”

“Okay,” she said weakly her head bowed in defeat.

“I’ll be about twenty minutes. By the time you get to the bar you’ll only have fifteen minutes to wait.”

I got my shirt off as my gorgeous wife walked out of the room.

It went downhill then.

Firstly, I had a fight with the shower controls, as I couldn’t get the right temperature. Then when I got out of the shower, the telephone was ringing. It was Buckle, “Hi Peter sorry to bother you at this time I just wanted to see say that this morning’s speech went down extremely well and I thank you for that but I was wondering if could come by again in the morning and go over the tomorrow’s speech...”

“Sure, that’s okay with me Mr Buckle I’ll be there same time tomorrow morning.” I said standing there dripping water.

“That’s great you can stop and do it here or, you can take it with you if you like so long as I get it back by Midday for the final speech at 1 o’ clock.”

“I’ll look first at what you’ve written and decide, so I’ll see you in the morning about the same time.”

“Um, by the way are you and your lovely wife coming to the ball on Saturday night?”

“Yes of course,” I replied, “We catch the 11:15 to Penzance on Sunday.”

“I would dearly like to meet your wife again.”

“Well we’ll” be there,” I said now feeling the coldness of the room as the water started to dry on my body.

“Great I’ll see you in the morning then,” he said and hung up.

I then raced around getting ready where I’d said I’d only be fifteen minutes it was now fifty. I was half expecting Angie to walk through the door with a full of anger.

I ran to the lift and the doors opened immediately I pressed the down button and I got in.

The bar was very busy. Everyone were city types in their suits. One crowd of about six men were loud and generally having a good time.

I looked around the large room as I headed for a space at the bar.

At first, I couldn’t see Angie and I suddenly thought that I might have missed her as she could have been in the other lift going up whilst I was coming down.

The bar tender arrived and I ordered a glass of Beaujolais.

As I watched the bar tender walk away to get my order I suddenly saw Angie sitting at the far end of the bar sitting with her back to me.