‘Well, no more. I will always love you, I will always be your friend, but I won’t be doing anything like that again with you…unless there’s a ...ing involved.’ Uh oh, problem time. We had talked numerous times about me leaving my wife, but we had an understanding it wouldn’t happen. Her dad’s money was one thing, but there were the kids and dozens of other reasons. It had never been a problem before, at least not in recent years, so I stood there dumbfounded. Oh, I begged, I pleaded, I even. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of champagne and we took it in turns to swig from the bottle, I felt free, the relief was almost tangible, it was brilliant, absolutely fucking brilliant!"Wait" I shouted and he looked at me in alarm, but I'd suddenly realized that I was wearing designer jeans, I think they cost about two hundred pounds, my blouse must have been a bout a hundred, the shoes at least ninety, even my bloody bra had cost about fifty pounds and if I remembered rightly, my. More

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