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time. Yet whatever
that woman now had against Kevin, Esther didn't care any more.
Madam Tisset's business card had been given to her in the true
spirit of spite, but it wasn't going to wreck her marriage, it was
going to save it, even if the manner of achieving it was going to
be one hell of a shock to dear Kevin. Esther hummed as she washed
up, and found herself getting very excited.
    Twenty minutes
later, hands on hips, she surveyed her dearly beloved. Kevin would
have been shocked at the expression on her face - had he been awake
to see it. The potion Madam Tisset had given her had worked a
treat. He was lolling back in the chair, arms draped over the
edges, television forgotten, and the empty wine glass on the floor
beneath his hand. Esther picked it up. 'Naughty boy,' she said
softly, seeing the little damp patch of wine on the carpet. 'Madam
is going to have to punish you for that.'
    Kevin felt
hands pulling at his shirt. He tried to wake himself from the
strangest lethargy he had ever felt, but could not. Dimly he heard
a voice he had never heard before, one filled with the harsh ring
of authority.
    'Don't try to
speak, slave, just listen and obey my voice. You've been a naughty
boy, gadding about with lots of other women, and your mistress is
going to put a stop to all that, do you hear? Now, push yourself on
to your feet. Come on! Get on with it, I can't lift you on my
own!'
    Kevin vaguely
recognised the voice of authority, and made an effort to assist,
not that he was aware of what he did. Esther had learned how to
inflect her voice with just the quality that would make a man jump
to her bidding; Madam had been quite thorough in her teachings.
    Slowly he
gained his feet, but could not quite focus his mind. His eyes
wouldn't quite seem to open, but he felt himself clamber into a
car, and heard the engine cough into life. The motion of the car
began to send him to sleep. Bloody hell, he was tired. She was
right, whoever she was; he really should have more respect for
Esther, only he just couldn't seem to stop himself going after the
other women. It was the excitement factor. Damn, he couldn't think
straight. What was the matter with him? He didn't know where he was
or where he was going, and couldn't recall which of his flings this
was, but if she thought he was going to get it up tonight, she was
going to be very disappointed; he needed to sleep.
    The car
stopped. Esther was alarmed when he began to snore. 'Not yet,' she
snapped. 'Stand up! No, don't fall. Move forward! That's right.
Hang in there! Keep moving. Two more steps. Good boy.'
    Then his knees
began to buckle. 'Can't stand any more,' he slurred.
    'You can sit
down now. Gently does it. There, the bed is behind you.'
    He flopped
thankfully onto the softness of his bed. The voice was familiar
somehow, yet he couldn't place it at all. It was most confusing,
yet rather nice, in a way. The voice was authoritative, not
allowing him to lie down, and he felt like a child again, being
mothered. He felt gentle hands creep up his front, undoing his
shirt button by button. He realised she was undressing him. Putting
him to bed. Hands caressed the hairs on his chest. Vaguely
interested, he tried to move his arms, but they were like lumps of
iron glued to his sides.
    'Lean forward.
Just a bit, whoa, not too far...' The shirt slid down over his
shoulders and was gone. 'Now you can lie down.' He wavered
thankfully and slumped onto his back. She lifted his feet, twisted
his legs onto the bed, took his shoes off. Then her hands crept to
his trousers, unbuckled his belt, unhooked the clasp. His hips
moved fractionally in response to the feather-light touch of the
zipper sliding down, and there was a faint stirring of interest
from between his legs. But no - it didn't want to play again so
soon. He vaguely recalled fucking Alicia, but what the hell had
happened after that? He couldn't recall, but damn it felt good.
    'I don't think
I can...' he tried to say, perturbed by his own