A Modern Love Story

"Smile, Kelly," I heard Carl say, "You're on Candid Camera!" But my beautiful wife wasn't smiling. On the contrary, she was weeping. And she wasn't the only one. I switched off the video and wiped my eyes.

Of course! It was all so obvious in retrospect, why he had bought the villa and why it was so secluded. It was a perfect location for filming. That explained Jeff. That explained the Californian connection. I tried to collect my thoughts. One thing was certain. Kelly must never know about the video. I remembered her demeanour when she'd arrived home from Majorca. No wonder she was unhappy. Carl and Jeff had creamed on her that very morning! And she'd said something about… now, what was it? Yes I remember. 'No one felt degraded in fantasies.' She'd obviously felt terribly humiliated. And in an effort to make her understand that she was not a tart I had depicted a pattern of behaviour, the very pattern that she had just exhibited on the video! But I could not blame her for it; it was all my fault and there was no denying it.

That was a year ago. We have moved on a long way since then. Our adopted daughter, Petra, has given us more joy than we could ever have imagined and Kelly and I have never been happier. I love Kelly so much that it is hard to put into words. And I honestly believe that she loves me in return. I am so lucky to have her for my wife. But now I tell other people, before they tell me! And our sex life is fantastic too, so good in fact that my collection of porn videos is superfluous and is gathering dust in the loft. However there is one video that I do watch from time to time. It seems to exert a malign influence over me and I find myself drawn to it. I think of it as my secret video, a secret shared only by me, by Carl, by Jeff and by a few hundred other men! When I watch it, I imagine that I am married to a porn star and it never fails to get me going.

As for Carl I have had no further communication from him and I hope it stays that way. Our circle of friends has increased significantly since we adopted Petra. Do any of them watch videos? Who knows? But of those that do, what are the chances of any of them seeing Kelly's video? Surely the odds must be a million to one, at least. But if someone of our acquaintance had seen it, how would I ever know? Would you tell your friend that you'd seen his wife in a porn movie?

Epilogue

Dave read the last page. He had been quite affected by it all. He had been sexually aroused for sure but he had also smiled and even felt a degree of sadness at times. He was sure that it was a true story, not least because of the accompanying videocassette. He turned it over in his hand and inwardly smiled when he reread the title, 'Majorcan Pleasures'. There he'd been, thinking that it was merely a video guidebook for holidaymakers! He had half a mind to take it home and look at it. He could return it in the morning when he came back to finish the work on the house. He decided against this course of action for three reasons. Firstly, it was totally unethical to take an item from someone's house, even if there was every intention to return it. Secondly, he had already formed a picture of Kelly in his mind. He didn't need to know what she looked like. She was certainly quite a girl, of that he was certain. The third reason was the most compelling. He did not have a videocassette recorder! They had been superseded in much the same way as turntables and vinyl records had previously. Now it was all DVDs and films down the telephone wire. Nothing was released on videotape anymore and he did not know anyone who still possessed a machine.

The wet pages had dried out, as had the envelope. He put the papers and the videocassette back into it and placed the whole package in the lighter of the two wooden boxes. He completed the rest his work that day on autopilot, he could not seem to get this Kelly out of his mind.

Two days later Dave was in the office preparing for his next job. Jim Brown, the owner of the company walked up to him. He was holding a letter and smiling.

"Morning, Dave! You remember that job you did for Mrs Mayhew. Well she has written to me. For some reason she is very complimentary about you. It looks as if you've really scored with her. And she's a widow, too. I reckon you could be well in there, my son!" He winked at him.

"Oh come on, Jim," Dave replied. "Have you seen her? I know she is a nice lady, but she is at least seventy if she is a day! She's as old as my grandmother!"

"So you don't want to read her letter?" Jim went to walk away.

"Oh give it here then."

"What about your manners!" Jim was still smiling.

"Would you please let me read the letter from Mrs Mayhew. I would be most grateful."

"Oh, you want to read it, Dave. Why didn't you say?"

Jim handed over the letter with an exaggerated gesture. Dave accepted it with a theatrical bow. The first thing he noticed was the very neat handwriting.

'Dear Mr Brown

Just a short note to say how impressed I am with your company, and in particular

with Mr Dave Parker. He was the model of tidiness and was very conscientious.

He was also very reliable and is indeed a credit to your organisation.

I would be happy to recommend your company to anyone.'

It wasn't so much the letter that surprised him. Brown & Co had received such letters before. It was the signature at the end of the letter. She had signed it 'Kelly Mayhew'.

The End

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