A few weeks ago I went to a class reunion and met up with Terry, a guy who I haven’t seen for more than thirty years. I didn’t really like him when we were at school and I took an instant dislike to him at the reunion. He was always the centre of attention at school and I was always on the outside of the group, never part of the in-crowd. Even now, as we spoke for a few minutes, he seemed to be staring around looking for someone more interesting to talk to. However, when he discovered I’d married Jenny, a girl from a few years below us at school who he vaguely remembered, he seemed to take more interest. He asked me lots of questions about our lives and careers and children. Then he asked me if she had been faithful to me. I told him categorically yes, I trusted her absolutely. He told me that was a dangerous claim for any man to make. It turned out that he had divorced his wife after she cheated on him. This made me feel better about myself, because finally I was one step ahead of him. But somewhere in all the beer and bravado he bet me that he could take my wife out for one drink and she would go to bed with him. All he needed from me was an introduction. Obviously I laughed at his ridiculous claim. But for some reason I found myself accepting his £100 bet. The next morning I was already regretting it, however I assumed that Terry would have forgotten and we would never see each other again so it didn’t matter. However this was not so. He telephoned me at work that morning – apparently I had given him a business card. I told him I didn’t think it was a very good idea but he insisted. He told me if I didn’t go through with it he would contact her himself and tell her about the bet. This would have caused a row, although in hindsight by far the best solution would have been to take it on the chin and tell her myself. However, I agreed to meet my wife for lunch in Starbucks the next day so that he could ‘accidentally’ bump into us. After all, what harm could that do? I met Jenny the next lunch as I had agreed with Terry. We ordered a sandwich and a latte each and, a few moments after the sandwich was delivered, there was Terry. I introduced them and asked him to join us, as instructed. Moments later I got a text message. It was from Terry – he must have pressed the button in his pocket. It said to tell my wife that it was from work and that I had to go back immediately. For a moment I thought about ignoring him, but I looked across and there was something about the look on my face that told me it wasn’t a good idea. I did as I was told. As I was leaving Terry said it was a shame we couldn’t catch up properly and maybe we could meet for a drink one evening. And then I was gone, leaving my wife chatting to a man who I know had only one plan for the afternoon. I left it about an hour then called my wife on her mobile. It was switched off. I called her again every fifteen minutes until she finally answered just after five. I told her I’d been calling all afternoon and she said her phone had accidentally turned off in her pocket and she had only just noticed. I asked her what she had been doing all afternoon and she replied ‘the usual’. Conversation over. Later that evening I got a text from Terry saying that I owed him £100 and suggesting we met for a drink. We met up the next evening and he told me what had happened. They had lunched in Starbucks and really hit it off. They both liked a particular novelist and had spent ages talking about him. Jenny had a book that Terry had never read and so she took him back to our house to lend him it. There they had another cup of coffee and carried on chatting for a while and then he kissed her. He said she never even resisted and that within minutes they were hard at it. I told him I didn’t believe it and he said he had proof. Told me to look on top of the wardrobe in our bedroom and I’d find her knickers where he’d thrown them after he’d wiped his spunky dick on them. I told him I wouldn’t pay until I was sure, but I assumed that there was no doubt – he would hardly have made that up. When I got home I went straight upstairs to the bedroom and climbed on a chair to look on top of the wardrobe. You can imagine how pleased I was when I found nothing but dust up there. But as I climbed down Jenny was standing in the doorway with a furious look on her face. She told me I was a fool and that she had to go out and that I was to puit the kids to bed. I tried to protest but she was down the stairs and out of the door before I could stop her. She arrived home after midnight. I was waiting up in the sitting room. I asked her where she had been and she told me she didn’t want to talk about it. She went upstairs to get ready for bed, leaving me furious downstairs. Then I heard her on the stairs and she came back into the room. She flung a pair of kickers at me and said ‘Terry says you’ll be wanting these’. With that she turned on her heels and, telling me to sleep in the spare room, went to bed. The knickers were covered in stains. The next morning I got a call from Terry asking me to meet him for lunch and bring the money. When I arrived he told me that he had told Jenny over lunch that I had so little faith in her that I would believe she had gone to bed with him that afternoon. She had laughed and said that she knew I knew her better than that. He told her to put her money where her mouth was and she bet him £500 against a night of sex that I would laugh at his suggestion. Switching off her phone had been part of the agreement and the knickers on the wardrobe was to be the proof. I paid my money and left. Now Jenny and I are barely speaking and, two weeks later, I am still sleeping in the spare room. The bizarre thing is that all my fantasies now centre around Terry fucking my wife. I have been trying to keep an eye on her movements, but I have no idea what she does in the day since, given our present relationship, I can hardly keep calling her.