"After all, luv, it's a promotion," John pointed out. "Can't be standoffish."



"Oh, I know, dear," Liz agreed. "We've got to fly the flag for this one."

They dressed, John in his tuxedo, Liz in an off-the-shoulder, full length gown of midnight blue. Her blonde, shoulder length hair set the dress off to perfection. She was tall, nearly John's height and as straight as an arrow.

"God, you look beautiful," he breathed. "Positively regal."

"Don't look so bad yourself, darling," she said, looking him up and down. "Let's go and knock their socks off." She smiled as he kissed her gently on the cheek. "Watch my make-up, lover boy."

"I don't suppose there's time - "

"No, there isn't," she chuckled, tapping the end of his nose with a long forefinger. He held the car door for her and helped her arrange her dress. He settled himself in the driver's seat and away they went.

The party was being held at the Managing Director's palatial residence on the edge of town. A long, tree lined driveway led to an elliptical parking area, in the middle of which was a huge flowerbed, where a number of cars were already parked. John drove in carefully and stopped his car, taking care not to block anyone in.

The inside of the house was magnificent. A huge hallway, to the left of which was a great, sweeping, staircase and straight in front of them they could see the ballroom where the party was being held. They were announced;

"Mr and Mrs. John Reader."

The place was by no means full yet, and a few couples turned and looked curiously at the newcomers. John and Liz smiled what they hoped were welcoming smiles and mingled with the rest of the guests. A white coated waiter appeared as if by magic at their side, proffering a tray of tulip glasses filled with champagne.

"Come on, love," John murmured to Liz. "Better go and meet the boss man."

The Managing Director proved to be tall and distinguished, balding, with grey hair at the temples over which he had a habit of running his hands. His wife was a short, round lady, with a kind face that had obviously once been beautiful. They paid their respects, the Managing Director complimented John on his promotion and said a few nice things to Liz. Then, they mingled.

John became aware of a particularly beautiful woman eying him from across the room. She wore a sarong type of dress, slit to the hip, offering the occasional glimpse of peach coloured thigh. Slowly, languorously, with rippling cat-like movements she made her way over to John.

"It's a lovely night." Her voice was husky, smokey.

"Yes-yes, isn't it?" John stammered. She took his arm.

"Come. Let's have a walk in the garden."

As if in a dream, he allowed her to lead him out onto the patio and thence down the steps onto the soft grass.

"But my wife--"

"Is fine," that husky voice murmured in his ear. "She's talking to another couple. Come."

He felt as though he were driving a car, trying to stop, but the brakes weren't working.

He allowed himself to be led to a summer house. As soon as they were inside, she wrapped her arms about him, found his lips with her own, and set him on fire. Time didn't exist. Her passion enveloped him. He felt himself falling, falling -- A sudden gasp behind him.

"John. What-why-oh my God!"

He flung the woman from him. She flitted out of the door. Liz stood there, her face in her hands. John re-arranged himself quickly, clumsily, guilt washing over him.

The drive home was accomplished in rigid silence. Even when they arrived at the house, no words were exchanged. Liz threw him a couple of blankets and he spent the night on the sofa. He didn't turn the drawing room light on. He was afraid of catching sight of himself.

He lay in the blessed darkness, his eyes wide open, guilt twisting his stomach like a great serpent.

Sleep came at about 5 o'clock, a fitful, dream-filled state. He was jerked awake by a sudden thud. Liz stood over him, and he could see her suitcase in the hall.

"I'm going to Mum and Dad." Her voice was toneless, empty.

He swung off the sofa and went to embrace her, but she backed away.

"Why, John? My God, aren't I enough for you?"

"Darling, of course you are. Liz, you know how much I love you. I--"

"Yes. I saw how much last night." She turned, picked up her suitcase and left the house. He'd been caught 'in flagrante delicto'. God, he wanted her so desperately, wanted the previous night to simply vanish. But of course it wouldn't. How was he to make up with her?

Copyright (c) 2009 Mike Bond