This one might be just a touch, a tad, a jot, an iota over the top. The answer to that stereotypical LW cliché, that trite meme – is not that the best revenge is a life well-lived – it is a life really, REALLY well-lived.

Enjoy.

(BTW, if you recognise the accent – it’s not from there!)

RAINE, ON HER PARADE

“Damn, you’re a hard man to track down.”

I grunted. I didn’t look around – I didn’t need to: she still wore the same perfume.

Not knowing quite what else to do, I continued attaching bait to my hook.

She settled down not quite next to me, dangling her shapely legs over the edge of the pier.

“So how are you doing?” she asked.

I reached over and turned off the cheap radio that I took with me while fishing. I shrugged. I was holding two hooks between my lips and didn’t really want to start gabbing while they were there. I’d caught one of those in my earlobe before, back when I was starting out at this sea fishing business, and knew what a bastard it was to try and get them back out again. It almost made me feel sorry for the fish.

“So this is what you do now?” she asked, looking around.

I could understand why she didn’t look impressed. The pier was used by the fishing fleet, and their debris and detritus lay around in heaps and mounds of tackle and equipment. I’d watched the fleet set sail as the sun came up. I liked to watch them leave – and usually gave them a wave for luck. At least I thought it was for luck; they might have thought differently and been cheerfully shouting for me to fuck off when they waved back. I couldn’t hear anything over the thumping noise of their engines.

I removed the hooks for a moment. “Pretty much. I like fish.”

She looked at me with sympathy. I didn’t want her sympathy, but it didn’t bother me as much as it might have at one time.

“Jake,” she started, but then had to pause as I cast the line out with a flick that dropped it just into the elbow of the pier, where it crooked to the west. The fish liked the shadows it cast at this time of day.

“Jake,” she started again. I rummaged in the old army kit bag that I used for fishing tackle and odds and ends. With a grunt of pleasure I drew out a flask and two plastic mugs. I poured coffee into them and handed one to her. I didn’t like the bitch, but my mama didn’t raise boys who were impolite to visitors.

Raine took the cup, trying not to touch it with more than her fingertips.

“You din’t used to be so finickity,” I commented.

“Well, if you don’t have to roll in the mud, why would you want to?”

“Thought you kinda enjoyed rollin’ in the mud. Far as I saw, anyway. Seemed like you were lovin’ getting down and dirty with fuckface, muddying up my bed and all.”

Her face had gone white. I wondered why. After five years, what difference did it make?

“You saw us? You knew?”

I nodded, drawing the line in smoothly.

“I never meant for you to find out that way,” she said. She sounded sincere, but then she was a cheating bitch and lying was a way of life for her.

“What way you prefer me to find out you a cheatin’ skank?” I asked, genuinely curious.

She brushed at her skirt as if she had spotted a few crumbs on it, while she thought what to say. I grinned. I wasn’t going to tell her that she had sat square on the dried remains of the innards of the catch I made yesterday. I always gutted them right there and threw the entrails back to feed the fish that had been too wise for my tempting bait and hook. The blood and gore, I left to dry in the sun. You couldn’t see the mess against the black tarred surface. I figured ten minutes of her body heat should cook those remains right into the back of that fancy skirt of hers.

“Well,” she started. “I was hoping we could have had a conversation. You and James and I, together.”

“You really thought I’d a sat down nice and comfy with that son of a bitch?” My genuine astonishment must have been evident. She frowned.

“We could have had a civilised conversation and worked things out properly.”

“He woulda had to work my boot out his ass first,” I offered. “That polecat’s a complete whoresome cunt! By preference, I wouldn’t breathe the same air as him. I’m mostly shamed that we both breathe oxygen.”

“Jake!” she sighed. That sigh was so familiar. It had usually presaged a plea for me to be reasonable, or a long silence to teach me some or other nonsense.

“What? That slimy eel took ‘vantage of my generosity and greased my wife up and slid her right under him, and my family right alongside her. Then he done oiled my company right out from under me. He’s a cunt – a diseased, poxed-up slimy ol’ cunt. And you thought we coulda sat and drank tea or somethin’? Did he steal yo’ brain as well as yo’ promises?”

I shook my head.

“Shit. Now you got me all antsy. Five years I bin pretty happy. Then y’all turn up again. Fuck! Wadda you want, Raine? I ain’t giving you money! I ain’t givin’ you shit! You already took everythin’ I had. You spent it, now you can suck it up.”

She looked at me pityingly.

“Jake, I didn’t come to ask you for money. I mean...” She waved her hand at the surroundings, and me sitting square in the middle of them, as if in explanation.

“So why y’all here?”

“Jake, you just ran off. I didn’t know where you’d gone, or why. You didn’t even leave a note, or anything. You took a few clothes and odds and ends and that was it.”

Clothes and a few odds and ends. She had that right. Odds and ends. Better odds than she thought.

“No, I din’t just run off, as y’all so nicely put it. I considered my options, decided what I wanted to do and did it. Weren’t no runnin’ involved. You make it sound like I was scared or someone run me off. Shit, I din’t like it, but with you out of the picture, I only had to think on what I wanted.

“Thought about leaving a note, but I guess it woulda just read ‘Dear Raine, you’re a cheating, lying, thieving slut. Have a shitty life. Bye.’ But I din’t really wanna waste that much paper.”

“I was never a thief!” Raine declared indignantly. I sniggered how she didn’t deny the rest of it. Well, I’d had the proof of that. After he had shafted me and stole my company, I had gone out and got somewhat smashed in my outrage and pain, while he had gone to my house to fuck my wife in celebration. When I had discovered them in the act, a sense of bitter absolute rage had fought with overwhelming dismal defeat and I had simply walked away. The alternative was two graves and a life sentence, or the chair.

“Yeah? Then how come you and fuck-knuckle now own my family’s business? A business I worked and sweated in for almost twenty year. Weren’t never yours, and yet somehow it ends up in yore hands. Must be fuckin’ magic!”

She had the grace to look embarrassed.

“I wasn’t involved in that,” she said. “That was James. It was just business.”

“Nope. It weren’t any business I woulda been involved in. He had secrets. Secrets that only two people knew, and I was one of ‘em. You were the other. So before you go on about how it had nothing to do with you, why don’t you get it explained how he got to know about those secrets just in time to ambush me at the board meeting and vote me out. You were the only other person who knew. Shit, they were yore votes he used.”

She had gone pale again. It didn’t suit her blond good looks. It made her look pasty and ill.

“Look I didn’t come here to talk about that,” she spluttered, trying to retain some dignity.

“No, don’t imagine you did,” I said calmly. There are few good things about being cheated on and deciding to just walk away. But there are a few.

First, you get to say when enough is enough, and seeing her humping and dumping under that greasy little fuck was more than enough for me. The other thing is, sometimes you get a long time to think about things before they get shoved in your face. I’d had five years before she turned up on my pier, plenty enough time to get things straight in my mind. I imagine most couples faced with the same scenario, without any time to think, end up shouting, crying, spluttering and searching for the right words – interspersed with long silences as they try and control emotions enough to not strike out physically. I’d had the benefit of silence and solitude for a while.

“So why you here?” I asked. There was a shudder through the line and I struck, feeling the rod suddenly come alive and enjoying the swoop of excitement that ran through me. That was the part that non-fishermen never understood – the joy of going after a twelve pound fish on a line with a six pound breaking strain and having to play the fish back and forth, winding in the line and letting it run out again when needed, to tire the creature enough to bring it ashore. That, and being left alone with your thoughts – which was something I wasn’t getting right now.

“What are you doing?” she yelped, as I leapt up and began playing the fish, the rod jerking violently as I tried to steer the catch left and right. She got to her feet, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her skirt stick to the grunge on the ground for a moment. She smoothed it down over the back of her thighs and felt ... stickiness. Then she was twisting and turning, trying to see what was on her skirt.

I ignored her antics and concentrated purely on the battle. Okay, that’s not strictly true: I had fished this dock for five years and usually took a decent catch by the end of the day, so I was operating on muscle memory alone. That gave me time to ponder.

I could imagine the fish beneath surface, being drawn in a direction it didn’t want to go, instinctively fighting, until the inevitable exhaustion and surrender.

I think Raine would have made a good fisherwoman. She played me throughout our marriage, and she was back to try and do the same thing again.

She had her metaphorical rod up in the air, knew exactly where her fish was hiding and was about to launch the bait into the water.

“It’s about Carrie and Jon,” she said, almost conversationally. Never let the fish see a sudden movement. Simply dangle the bait and wait for the strike.

“What ‘bout ‘em?”

“Jake, they miss you, your children miss you.”

“Can visit me here, they want.” The look she gave my clothes and surroundings explained that this was not an option she cared to contemplate.

“They want you to be a bigger part of their lives,” she continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. So this was a prepared speech then.

“They need more stability, and they need you around. But if you can’t play as big a part as you might wish, then we have to find a different way of providing that.”

As I continued fighting my fish, I could almost taste the bait, hook carefully hidden within it, in my mouth. It was a surreal moment.

“And what might a ‘different way’ be?”

“We were thinking that James could adopt them; and before you go off the deep end, think about it. It makes sense. He’s there for them every day, and together he and I are the parents they need. This is about the children Jake, not you and me or James and me. This is purely about the children. Trust me. I’m their mother and I only want what’s best for them.”

“What grade Carrie get in science last term?” I asked. It seemed to be a non sequiter after the bomb she had just dropped, but I had reasons enough for asking.

“What?”

“You bein’ her ma and so close and everythin’. Thought you might wanna brag her marks up to me some. Show me what a good job y’all doin’.”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about the children’s schooling. They’re both doing very well. So you needn’t worry.”

“Naw, I ain’t worried. They smart kids. They’ll get by with a little help.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m talking about. But what would help, would be for James to adopt them and take over the tedious part of looking after them.”

“Take over? Take over from who? Thought you was doin’ all that looking after part.”

“Well I am, of course. I simply meant the part that you would have done if you were there.”

“That don’t make no sense,” I protested. “I’m not there, so who’s doin’ it right now?”

“Er, James is. He’s doing it. He’s a good man.”

“He’s a slimy cunt. We agreed that already.”

“No, we didn’t. And stop calling him that,” she demanded.

“So if he doin’ all the bits I woulda done if I’d been there, why’s he need to adopt my kids in order to keep doin’ it? Damn, woman! Y’ain’t making no sense at all!”

She was looking very flushed. I wondered whether she was ill or something. I hoped so.

“Yo’ comin’ down bad?”

“It’s the fish smell. It’s very strong.”

“I cain’t smell nothin’. Maybe yo’ imagining it.”

“I ain’t ... I mean I’m not imagining it. It’s very powerful.”

“Maybe it’s from that shit you sat yo’ ass in.”

“Look, James is a successful, well-respected man who is a fine role model for the children. Whereas you ... I’m sure you’re doing your best, but let’s face it, you’re not much. You have nothing. To put it bluntly – you are nothing. James wanted to help out, and I have a cheque for five thousand in my bag. Take it. Use it to get yourself together again. Give your children and yourself a chance to get ahead in life.”

“Well, I surely appreciate yo’ generous offer, but I’m happy ‘nough here right here, with my bait and my rod. S’all I want right now. Don’t need or want sell my children.”

My fish was almost done. The intervals between the sudden vibrations were getting longer and longer. But I wasn’t stupid. I knew there was always one last frenzied attempt when a fish felt the net sweep up under it.

While she continued to struggle to get the mess off the back of her skirt, muttering about my not warning her before she sat in it, I crouched down and with a swift, practiced movement netted my prey. As I had expected, it went into a final spasm as I swung it up to the dock, sending water and slime over Raine. She shrieked and jumped about, trying to get away from it. The heel of one of her sling-backs broke. You can walk in them and you can even dance in them, but you can’t leap about on uneven concrete in them and expect them to remain intact.

She stumbled and almost fell into the sea. I caught her and swung her back upright again.

“What did you do that for? Look at my suit, it’s ruined.”

“I din’t do a thing. Fish did that all by hisself. Can’t make fish do what y’all want. Fish only do what they instinct say.”

A single tear slid down her cheek. It was a Kodak moment. I suppose the equivalent would be ‘selfie time,’ for the latest generation. It was a tried and tested tactic of hers to melt my heart.

I leaned forward and wiped it off.

“Got you some seawater on you there,” I said helpfully. “Now what was you mumblin’ ‘bout afore I got this sneaky sumbitch. Been after him all summer. Now he’s mine.”

Deftly, I drew the hook out of its mouth, and held it securely in both hands.

“Wanna kiss him afore he goes?” I asked and held it out towards her. The fish opened and closed its mouth, suffocating. I imagine that it must have looked like it was threatening to eat her. She let out a shriek and cowered back.

Grinning, I took it to the edge and let it gently slide through my hands and back into the sea.

When I turned back she was staring at me as if I was crazy.

“Why did you let him go? You could have got a good meal out of that.”

I showed my disgust at the idea. “Ain’t eating that thing. Nasty tastin’ things. Can’t abide ‘em.”

“But you spent all day fishing for it.”

“So? He bin on my hook four times this summer an’ got away each time. It got personal.”

I turned the radio on, took out my phone and hit one of the stored numbers.

“I’m finished.”

I turned the radio back off and put the phone away.

“I’m headin’ home. Sunsets are mighty pretty here, but I suggest you get inside afore it get dark. Some shady people live round here. You make good-lookin’ prey.”

I picked up my rod and walked away. I heard a squeak of alarm and the hobbling of one high heel.

“Wait, please. My phone isn’t working.”

“Won’t work here. No signal.” I lied. It wouldn’t work while my ‘radio’ was ‘off’.

“But yours worked.”

“Sat phone,” I said with a straight face. “Don’t work on same system as your’n.”

“Oh, then can I use yours?”

“Nope, battery died. Why I kept it so short.”

“But then how do I order up a taxi for me?”

I thought about it, trying to keep my face straight.

“Reckon yore best shot is smoke signal. Plenty things round here to burn. Course, fire attracts them bad folks I warned about.”

“I don’t have any matches,” she said plaintively.

I almost burst into laughter. She had either evolved a keener sense of humour over the last few years and was screwing around with me, or she had become the useless thing she had always pretended she wasn’t. I still wasn’t sure which.

“Oh hell,” I muttered as I heard the car. My fun was about to come to an end. Or maybe not...

The limousine pulled up next to me. The driver, dressed in her smart white shirt and short grey skirt exited the car, putting on her cap. She opened the back door for me and took my rod and bait to disassemble it and stow the pieces in the trunk. She had done this so often she had it packed away in seconds.

I caught sight of Raine’s face. Astonishment was the prime expression, although disbelief came in a close second. I couldn’t resist.

“Rose, what I tell you ‘bout length of that skirt? Supposed to be a uniform, dammit!”

“Sorry, sir,” Rose apologised in her absolutely charming English accent. “I forgot.”

Carefully, she took the waistband and rolled it over a few times, raising the already high hem another three inches and revealing almost all of her glorious thighs.

I made circles with my finger and she rotated obediently so I could see her butt. Cheekily, she pushed it out a little.

I sighed theatrically. “Rose, y’all need to remember my instructions now, hear?”

“Yes sir,” she gave a snappy salute. “Oh, sir, I know Mr Yamamoto is hoping you will call him soon, as he has to attend the Kokkai in the morning, but would you like me over your lap now or would you prefer later, sir.”

The cheeky little bitch was trying to play me at my own game.

“Don’t have no time for laps right now. Have to make do. Over the trunk.”

Her eyes, which had danced with hidden laughter moments before, widened at my words, and then became hooded.

“Yes sir!” She turned and leaned over the hood, then flipped the back of her skirt up over her back, revealing very pretty pink panties. Damn, she was game.

Well, in for a penny ... I gave her a swat on her right cheek. It didn’t wobble much. She had a very tight ass. I heard Raine gasp.

“One. Thank you, sir, Please, may I have another.”

I swatted the other cheek, a little harder.

“Two, Thank you, sir. Please, may I have another.”

When we reached ten, I was starting to sweat, and not with the effort. Rose was trembling slightly and breathing very quickly. Damn, there was a little wet spot on those panties, which was widening.

“Ten, Thank you, sir. Please may I have another.”

“Now, Rose, you know I’m only allowed to give you ten. It’s in the company manual.”

Shit, I had forgotten to keep up the accent. Ah well. My ex could draw her own conclusions on that.

“I know, sir. But subsection three point seven stipulates that if a second misdemeanour occurs during punishment, then further punishment can be exacted immediately following.”

She took her hat off and dropped it on the floor, revealing her mop of shining golden red curls. I loved that colour.

“Oops. Sorry sir. I suppose I’ll have to be punished for that as well.”

I gave her another ten swats very quickly and then pressed my hand up between her thighs, finding the material much wetter than it had been. I moved just my fingertips very quickly and she gave a gasping moan and then a little shriek. It wasn’t a huge orgasm, but I hoped it had been a nice one for her.

She really was my chauffeur, but the spanking was just a little game she and I played now and again. I hadn’t expected her to play it in front of my ex-wife, although I must admit it had made it even more fun. And she really had been very wet indeed.

After a couple of seconds, she turned, gave my hand an appreciative squeeze, then picked up her cap, donned it and stood by the door, ready to close it when I got in.

I did so with a sigh. “Thank you, Rose. Home, please. I really need a shower.”

“Yes sir, I’ll alert Alicia that you’re on your way.”

“Perfect.”

She started to close the door, and then Raine – who had been standing with her mouth so wide open I could see the fillings in her back teeth – suddenly shrieked and leaped forward.

“Wait, this is your car?” she gasped.

“This is his work car,” whispered Rose, knowing I could hear her clearly. At that moment I realised that she had recognised my ex – from the photographs I had pinned to the dartboard on the back of my office door – and was playing her almost as well as I had played that fish earlier. When a photograph got too many holes in it, one of the staff would print out another and replace it. I had become very good at playing darts.

“The Lamborghini, he uses when he goes to the clubs, or the Mercedes Sport when he tours the wine farms. He allows me to drive that one as a special treat. I’m not allowed to drive the Ferrari, though. Only he drives that one.”

“You’re his girlfriend?” gasped Raine, still in shock.

Rose was just as shocked. “Good lord no, madam! I’m his chauffeur. It would be improprietous for me to be his girlfriend, as well.”

Raine looked at her with a very old-fashioned look on her face, but she had more urgent matters on her mind.

“I need a lift into town. I’ll come with you.”

Rose made a little sound of distress. I looked at her.

“Sir, the lady’s er ... scent would permeate through the car. It would be almost impossible to get it out. Michaela would skin me alive, sir. Please!”

“Agh. She’s right Raine. Those fish guts you spread over your butt would ruin this leather. Sorry. You’ll have to walk.”

“Oh, thank you, sir. That’s such a relief. Michaela wouldn’t be as nice about spanking me as you are.” Rose looked genuinely relieved.

“Wait,” screeched Raine. “Let me think, please.”

“You could take that thing off,” suggested Rose. “You’d have to leave it here though. The smell would drive us all up the wall.”

“What? I’m not leaving it here. It’s a unique designer creation...”

“No. It’s a knock-off. It’s Chinese. You can tell by the way they’ve attached the little buttons at the waist.”

Raine stared at her. “How would you even know that.”

“I got a first at Oxford in design. Clothes were my first love.”

“And now you’re a chauffeur.”

“Cars were my second love. They got a promotion in my affections after Sir hired me. Now, get it off and get in, or I will drive away and leave you. Sir can spank me later for doing it.”

Raine hurried things along a little. The buttons Rose had mentioned were tricky little things to unfasten.

“Is Michaela his girlfriend?” whispered Raine.

“Of course not. She’s his mechanic. Ha, she wishes she was his girlfriend.”

“A female car mechanic. Not many of those around.”

“She didn’t start out as a mechanic. She’s Italian. She was a final year engineering student in Rome when Sir found her, as well as modelling for Prada and Valentino. Alessandra was heartbroken when Michaela left to join Sir.”

“Is this going to take much longer?” I asked idly. I was actually enjoying listening to Rose. I loved her accent. It was she who had persuaded me to use a voice coach. Originally it was handy for business deals. By this time, it had become the norm and I rarely lapsed from it, although I had enjoyed relaxing into the patois of my birth when Raine appeared.

“No sir, it’s off ... now!” I heard a rip and a shocked screech from Raine. Rose had simply taken it by the waistband and dragged it down until it tore away.

I looked with a little interest as I saw Rose’s hands dart to Raine’s blouse and start undoing it. Raine’s panties were black and very abbreviated. I enjoyed looking at her plump little camel toe. What can I say? Raine’s body was as tasty as her morals were nasty.

“Get off, you bitch,” Raine hissed. “This one is a Parisian original.”

“Oh please, the closest this thing ever got to Paris is when the container ship from Mumbai sailed through the Mediterranean. Don’t you know anything about clothes?”

“Get off!”

“You are not getting in my car, sir’s car, with this stinking rag on. Oh, the hell with this.”

My interest peaked as I watched Rose tear the blouse apart, yank it down over her arms and then throw it down on top of the skirt. That was an interesting view as the struggles made my ex-wife’s tits wobble and shake within her little black bra.

“Shoes!” demanded Rose, like the cutest little TSA official you ever did see.

The shoes were bundled together with the rags that had been clothing, and the whole lot was pushed into a bin.

“Get in, get in!” ordered Rose and Raine hurried to comply before she lost her underwear, as well, to the demented Englishwoman in her stupid cap. Wisely, she didn’t say anything like that out loud.

“Sir, permission to drive a little faster. This ... lady ... slowed us up and Alicia wanted us to be dead on time: she has those soufflés in mind and if we’re late and they collapse...”

I shuddered at the thought of Alicia’s dismay.

“Go for it. If any cops catch us ... well, at least we can show Alicia the speeding ticket as proof that we did try.”

“Is Alicia your girlfriend?” Raine asked.

“No, Alicia is my chef.”

“Also from Rome, I suppose.”

I smiled at that thought. “No she’s from Australia. Although she spent some time in Rome while she was getting her third Michelin star.”

“And I suppose she modelled for Dolce and Gabana?” Sarcasm and disbelief fought for domination in her voice.

I heard Rose try to stifle a snigger, and had to join in.

“No she’s not a fashion model,” I said, when I got my face under control.

“She did do that centrefold for Playboy, Sir,” chipped in Rose. “Surely that counts.”

I had to agree. Alicia had modelled. It counted

Raine’s mouth was doing a very good imitation of that old catfish.

“Michaela was the one who modelled for Dolce and Gabana in her earlier days,” finished Rose.

“The mechanic...” The mouth was still doing the fish imitation.

“Yes. Her dad was a designer for the Lamborghini family,” I explained. “And then for the Mimran brothers. He used to take her to work with him. Working on cars holds a lot of lovely memories for her.”

“But she’s not your chauffeur.”

“Good lord, no.” My accent was now mid-Atlantic, with plenty of British speech patterns in there. I enjoyed it. “When Chrysler bought the company, Michaela’s dad was forced to retire. She blames the American Auto industry for that and wouldn’t be seen dead driving a limousine, not even if I paid her. So I pay her to be my mechanic. She loves these cars like children, but she would never drive this one.”

I could hear Rose talking softly to the discrete Bluetooth phone set over her ear and hidden by her hair.

“Sir, Rachel says Alicia is in tears and having a very loud tantrum because the soufflés have gone flat and she doesn’t have time to make more before we get home.”

“Tell her to inform chef that if her soufflés have indeed collapsed, she’s fired.”

“24 hours sir?”

“Yes, they’re soufflés not unicorn steaks.”

“I think they probably taste better than unicorns, sir.”

“Even so.”

Rose muttered into the phone.

“Rachel says Alicia is now very happy.”

“Excellent.”

Raine was staring at me as if I had turned into a snake.

“Who are you?”

“What you mean, ‘who’m I’? You know me. Still me.” I lapsed back into the speech of my youth: a youth where I met an amazingly beautiful woman at college; a woman who would tease me about my way of speaking, but loved me, nevertheless; a woman who married me and bore me two children while I worked just as hard as I could for them; a woman who took up with a man with higher status than me, and then conspired with him to take everything away from me; a woman who had failed spectacularly in that ambition.

“You fired a Michelin star chef and she is very happy about that? You must be a monster if she’s happy to be fired.”

From the front, I heard Rose snigger. I was going to have to speak to her about that. I couldn’t have my employees listening in and...

“She’s happy because now she’ll be sleeping with sir for a whole day.” Rose always had a tendency to say too much. More punishment was due, I decided. I told Rose that. She seemed very excited to hear it.