My husband used to own a high tech engineering company in the Midlands, supplying mainly to the aerospace and high-end motor industries. The company had been founded by his grandfather, built up to a market-leader by his father and inherited, at a too young age, by my husband Rob. (for Robert). I joined the company when I married him, I had no office training, I was dogsbody. I was the receptionist, I ran errands, made tea, answered the ‘phone, did the filing any typed letters using two fingers. One afternoon, from my vantage point at a window in my office on stilts in the factory, I saw a dark green Bentley pull into our visitor space. The driver got out and opened the rear passenger door, from which stepped an expensively suited man. He glanced up at my window, then headed for our door. Seconds later he entered my office; “ My name is Richard Forster,” he said. “ I am here to see Mr Edwards.” “ Is he expecting you?” I asked. “ No, but he'll see me.” I buzzed Rob; “ A Mr Forster to see you.” “Oh shit,” he burst out. “ Send him in, make coffee, the good stuff. And biscuits.”. He added. I showed Mr Forster to Rob’s door and went off to make the coffee. When I returned, tray in hand, I could hear raised voices from behind the door, I knocked. The shouting stopped and Rob asked me to come in. They were silent as I placed down the tray and left. As soon as the door closed, the shouting started again. After about 15 minutes, Forster stormed out, nodded to me and was gone. I went into Rob's office, he had his elbows on his desk and his head in his hands. “What's up?” I asked. “ We’re fucked, that's what's up.” He replied. “Close the door, sit down.” He said. He told me the sorry tale,: Apparently, when his father died, his mother had wanted to sell the company, she had remarried and wanted to live on the proceeds. Rob thought this disloyal, he loathed his stepfather and by extension, his mother for marrying him. Rob borrowed heavily to buy her out. Then the recession hit, his hated ‘family’ were living in luxury in New Zealand, on money that was needed by the company. I had been told none of this, I had no access to the company accounts. When the banks refused to extend Robs loans, he turned to Richard Forster, a one man investment banker who specialised in bailing out high tech companies. Now he too, wanted his loan repaid. “You could mortgage the house.” I ventured. “Already mortgaged.” He replied. The house, our house, had also been inherited. “I will offer Forster the company, but the bank loans remain.” Robert concluded. Back home, we talked into the night, but could see no option. The next morning I prepared for work as usual, but Rob said; “ No point in you coming in, I am going to give the lads the news. It won't be pleasant.” I was already dressed, I saw Rob off and made tea, the universal cure. Then I had an idea, I would find out where Forster's office was, go there, and beg for another chance. The lives of several families would be ruined if he closed us down. I Googled him, his office was in a posh part of London, I could be there in under two hours by train. I caught a bus to the station. I was at Euston by eleven and at the door to his office by half past. I took a deep breath and walked in. The office was modern and plush, behind a desk was a glamorous receptionist. “ Can I help you?” She asked. “Richard Forster?” I replied, watching her eyes. She subconsciously looked at one of the doors leading from reception, I made a beeline for it and opened the door without knocking, the receptionist following, protesting. Forster was seated behind a huge desk looking at an equally large computer screen. Standing alongside him was a well-dressed, very attractive blonde woman. They looked up in surprise. “I'm sorry Mr Forster, she…” grovelled the receptionist. Forster recognised me. “Mrs Edwards, whatever are you doing here?” He said, then; “It’s alright Karen, she can stay.” He indicated a chair in front of the desk. I sat. “I'm here to beg you to reconsider,” I blurted. “Not for me or for Robert, but for all the men who will be out of work, and their families.” “Your husband should have considered that before he started destroying the company,” he said. “I am not a cruel man Mrs Edwards, but nor am I a fool, your husband is a very bad businessman.” “ But a very good engineer, and the failure of the company is not really his fault.” I went on to explain the family schism that started the rot. “ He was honouring his father and grandfather, and trying to continue their tradition.” The woman put her hand on his shoulder and bent to whisper in his ear. He looked at me for a long time, then turned back to the woman, she nodded slowly. He got up from his chair saying; “Will you excuse us for a few minutes Mrs Edwards?” He led me to the door. “Get Mrs Edwards tea or coffee Karen,” he instructed the girl outside. The minutes ticked by, I began to have hope. After twenty minutes the intercom buzzed and the girl showed me back into the Inner office. The woman now sat alongside Forster. He indicated that I should sit and introduced her; “This is Christina, she is my business partner.” I nodded to her. Forster began by saying; “You have her to thank for this, this is my final offer, there can be no variation, your husband must accept it accept closure. “ I Will support your company for two years, but the structure will be very different, instead of being the sole owner, he will own forty-nine percent, I will own forty-nine percent and you will own the rest. This cannot be changed until after two years, then we will re-assess. “You will have the casting vote in the case of any dispute, I am banking on the fact that you have more sense than your husband. The company will be managed from here, the works will be just that, no office.” “And me?” I asked. “ You will come here to work for me.” “Doing what?” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, “As your husband has discovered,” he began. “There is more to being successful in business than simply having a good product or service, your competitors are likely to have that. You need something they have not, an edge. “Mine is that I am able to provide something that they find hard to get. Over many years, I have built up a network of contacts on a sort of ‘mutual back-scratching’ arrangement. I can obtain tickets to sporting events, or to the latest West End musicals, the hottest plays, the best restaurants, even entree to the most fashionable clubs. “Most, but not all, of my business associates will be in town unaccompanied and their enjoyment is enhanced if they have a beautiful woman on their arm.” “So I'm to be your whore?”. I said “Companion,” said the blonde. “ We are companions.” “We?” “Yes, we. Being a companion is part of my role here, and the part I enjoy most. Who would not want to go, say, to Wimbledon centre court? And yes, of course there is sex, I enjoy that too. Forget being the little woman, we have what men want, they have what we want. There is no coercion, just mutual pleasure. Open your mind.” “And my legs?”. I muttered. “ You won't have it for ever, exploit it while you can.” She concluded. “ Go and have some lunch,” said Forster, think about it. If you don't come back I will take it as no. But consider the alternatives.” I left the office in a daze, there was a restaurant on the ground floor, but out of my price range. I turned down a side street, found a 'sell everything’ store, and bought a banana and a bottle of very expensive water. The street led to a small square, it was a fine spring day, I sat down on a vacant bench, and thought. My head was bursting with conflicting ideas, would Robert accept the offer? He really had no choice. A piece of a second chance or nothing at all? As for the other part, with me subsidising him using my body, would he go for that? Would any husband? I suppose it would not be the first time that a man has pimped his wife. There are even cultures who offer their wives to visiting strangers as part of hospitality. I couldn't imagine Robert doing that. No, this was going to have to be my decision and mine alone. Either way I think we were finished as a couple, I could not see myself living in a freezing Garrett living on scraps warming ourselves around the candle. Forget La Boehme, it doesn't happen. There was a possibility of living with my parents, they still lived in Hertfordshire, but they were not wealthy, they were getting by on their pensions. We could have gone there. Imagine that, no income, living with parents at our age? Not a chance. And what would we do for work? Who would employ a lame dancer with questionable office skills and a highly specialised engineer? In the current financial conditions? I might be able to go back to modelling. That would mean moving back to London anyway and possible living with my parents, but I was a year and a half older, would they still want me? And then of course, there was the downside of that life. I had enjoyed some of the attention, but others, whom I had to tolerate for the sake of work, I had to lie back, eyes closed, and think of England. Plus I was now married, Robert would never accept that. I just had to face up to the fact that I was married no longer, Robert would have the business and not me, or me and absolutely nothing else. And that couldn't last long. I quite liked the idea of the life of luxury, I could imagine having the best of everything, being taken to eat in the best restaurants in London, visiting the theatres, musicals, possibly even ballet. Sports? Well some sports are okay, I couldn't see myself enjoying football. But nevertheless these are the things that people would give a lot for and it seemed to that if I had to pay for it on my back, I would prefer it to be in the bedrooms of luxury hotels rather than on worn out sofas in dingy offices, or worse still, the broom cupboards where I had been 'seduced’ when I was modelling. I made my mind up. It had to be done. When I got back, I was kept waiting for about 15 minutes before being called in to the inner sanctum. The seating arrangements had changed slightly, ‘my’ chair had been moved away from the desk, Forster and her, the blonde, sat side by side behind the desk. It was almost like an interview and I suppose that is exactly what it was. He indicated that I should sit down and said; “you clearly have made a decision.” “Yes I think so.” I replied. He leaned forward in his chair and said; “Do you enjoy sex Mrs Edwards?” I felt myself blush. “Yes, I think so.” “When did you last make love to your husband?” Now he was getting personal “Six months ago probably.” “Nothing since?” “No.” “What about with another man?” “Not since I've been married.” “Do you masturbate?” Now I was blushing profusely, but I decided to be completely honest. “Yes.” “Frequently?” “Probably most days.” “That’s good,” he said “Keep yourself primed and perfectly healthy.” “Do you like oral sex.” “Giving or receiving?” I fired back. I was getting into this, actually feeling quite aroused. “Both.” He answered. “Yes. Yes I do.” “Do you swallow?” “Yes.” “Have you ever had sex with a woman?” “Not what you'd call sex, a grope and a kiss when I was at college, but no genital contact…” I paused. “Unless you count…” “Unless you count what?” “When I was at college I shared a room with another girl. One night I could hear her clearly masturbating and I joined in. We didn't touch each though, it was mutual masturbation. After that we did it every night.” “Did you have many men during that time?” “Yes.” “Have you ever had two men at the same time?” “Yes.” “Tell me about that.” “One night, after one drunken party, I found myself in a room in a strange house with two men. I couldn't make my mind up which one I fancied so I fucked them both, one after the other, not together. The other one watched and wanked.” “Do you take it up the arse?” That shook me . “Yes,” I said. “But never with my husband.” He raised his eyebrows “No?” “No he doesn't like it . He says that the practice is for queers. He's a bit strait-laced .” “So would you say that your sex life with him was good?” “Yes, until the company started going bad it was very good, I have never known a man like him, it wasn't sex, it was love making and I couldn't get enough of it .” “You're unlikely to get that again.” “Yes I know.” I said sadly. “Does this kind of talk arouse you?” “Yes it does.” “Describe it.” “My nipples are hard and I'm wet.” “Show me.” “What ?” “Take your clothes off, we need to see what we're paying for. Show us your stiff nipples and your wet cunt.” I stood up and very self-consciously began to strip. There was a woman watching as well remember. I was wearing my business suit, white blouse, hold up stockings, heels, not high. I started with the jacket, then the skirt, then the blouse. Popped the bra, then turning my back on him, wriggled out of the knickers. I stayed bent forward to give them a perfect view of my backside. Then I turned, placed one foot on the chair and as sensually as I could peeled off the stocking, then the other. I was now absolutely naked. On an impulse I reached down slipped my hand over my pubic bush, pushed my middle finger between my lips, which were very wet, showed them the sticky finger and then sucked it clean. “Good,” he said. “Men like that.” He told me to walk towards the desk until I was up against it, in front of it, and to place my hands flat on the desk. Then he stood and walked around until he was standing behind me. I heard his zip. “What are you going to do?” I asked. “I'm going to fuck you of course, what did you think? Always try before you buy.” The girl also stood, placed a hand around each of my wrists and held me . Then I could feel his cock pushing into me and it felt good. After six months of celibacy, six months without anything other than my fingers inside me. It felt wonderful. He reached under to cup my tits and fucked hard and fast. The blonde was looking directly at me. I caught her eyes and held them until he finished with a grunt, discharging into me. He then zipped himself up, walked back around the desk and sat down. “There's a bathroom over there, you can clean yourself up.” He said. I did so, put my clothes back on and came back to the room. They were in deep discussion when I returned. “I think you'll do, Chris thinks you’ve certainly got the makings.” He said. She nodded and said; “I'll enjoy training you.” “Go home and break the news to your husband,” he said. “What is your name? I can't keep calling you Mrs Edwards.” “It's Fliss.” “Short for something I presume ?” “Short for Felicity.” “That's better. You will be Felicity from now on, for as long as you work for me. Go home, come back on Monday to prepare for your new career.” Only then did I realise that my ticket was only valid before 4 o clock said something to the effect. The man I was now told to call Richard, pushed a button on the intercom on his desk. “Can you come. In Lea? I have a job for you.” After a few minutes in walked the man who I recognised as his chauffeur. “Take Felicity to…” He looked at me. “Euston.” I said “Euston,” he repeated. Buy her a first class open return ticket to wherever she came from.” I never travelled second class again. In the station I switched my phone back on. There were several missed calls and texts from Robert. I texted him back telling him the time the train would get there and could he meet me? And then turned it off again. He was there when I arrived, greeting me with; “Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been worried sick.” “Saving your bacon, I have been to see Richard Forster.” “You had no right to do that.” “You had no right not to tell me we were broke, I think bankruptcy involves us all.” “So what did he say?” “Wait till we get home.” When we arrived home I outlined the plan, adding; “It's our only hope.” He said nothing, just walked out of the room into the room we call the office and I didn't see him again till morning. At breakfast he said; “You do realise that this will be the end of us?” “Not necessarily,” I said . “A lot of working girls go home to their husbands and boyfriends and have a perfectly loving relationship.” “Even though they are 100 miles apart? If you are going to do it,” he said cruelly, “You might as well fuck off now, you're no use to me here.” I was hurt. I still had deep feelings for him ,but I could understand how he felt. Perhaps in a few months’ time he would come round? He never did. We drove in to work together, I needed to clear out my desk. There would be no need for office staff in the new arrangement, the works would purely be an engineering organisation. I telephone Chris she was my contact “Will it be alright if I came on Friday instead of Monday?” "I'll have you picked up, you will I be staying with me at my flat. We will be flatmates."