The morning was a mad dash, there is no way that I can do the whole late night thing, even if it is such a delicious late night as I actually had.

My blushing began with walking toward the bathroom and seeing Guy sitting there doing his business, he was in the nude, I had the Rugby shirt on that I had worn the night before, Cary was totally comfortable with me seeing him on the loo and I was mortified. I even went to turn back and scuttle to the relative safety of the Japanese screen, "Don’t be silly, come back and do whatever it is you need to do", Guy said. I stopped and considered things, If I was right Gary and Leroy both watched as I was fucked during the night, the only thing that had been hidden from them was my face, I was being silly, it is only a body, I was certain sure that Gary had seen a thousand in his time. I showered, every so often I had the reminder that I wasn’t alone, Leroy followed Gary on the toilet, Woorow brushed his teeth and then climbed into the shower with me and shared the water stream with me, we even fooled around a little in the hot water, Woodrow ploughed a tiny furrow in my pussy while he soaped my breasts from behind. I wanted him to climax too but he told me there was little chance of him reaching his orgasm from a quick ‘stand up’ in the shower. I felt a little bad because he had given me my pleasure and I wanted to give him is in return but even my offer of hand relief was turned down. "It’ll keep until the next time we can be together", Woodrow said. Well that goes most of the way to explaining why the morning was a rush, in more ways than one.

I was dropped off at the car park near Staples Corner, handed over my ticket to the guard who opened the large mesh gates so that I could collect my car in time to fight my way north on the motorway. My phone rang within minutes of me entering motorway mode, that state where, hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that the blood stops flowing. Your eyes stop blinking, just in case something happens in that split second that your eyelids are down. Your foot turns to led and your accelerator and break peddles act like on and off switches, or rather stop and go buttons. I chatted to Woodrow for the whole of my journey to the office and Woodrow congratulated me on getting there on time. I hadn’t had a chance to look at the clock so I didn’t know if I was late or early, I assumed late because of the rush out of Woodrow’s flat and the crawl of the traffic from Woodrow’s flat to Staples Corner. I blew kisses down the phone at Woodrow and hung up on him. As I walked through the main entrance, thirty seconds to spare, my phone rang again, "Where the hell have you been?" the voice barked out of the earpiece, "And good morning to you too Harry, how are you today?" Harry was furious, he had wanted me for something the previous evening and because I didn’t have my phone on and I hadn’t let him know where I was staying he wasn’t able to do some mythical thing. In my mind I just thought, ‘he wasn’t in control of me, that’s what his problem was’.

I worked hard all day, I noticed a text message on my cell phone when I broke off for lunch, it said, "Hi baby girl, come and play at my flat tonight again, love Woody". I sent my reply, "Orders from he who thinks he is the boss of me, I have to go home tonight, he has a fig up his ass!" I expected a response while I ate my lunch but didn’t get one.

I spent the whole afternoon checking to see if I had received a response to my text to Woodrwo but nothing came, at four-fifty in the afternoon I sent an email to Harry, "Sorry darling, pressure of work means I have to work late this evening and start early in the morning so I’ll be stopping over in the same hotel as last night, love Tra." I knew he still didn’t know the name of the hotel I had supposedly stopped in the previous evening and I knew that within seconds of receiving the email Harry would be on the phone to me, so I turned my phone off.

I used all of my powers of recollection to work my route back to Woodrow’s flat, it took me far longer than it took him to get from Staples Corner to his flat which meant that it was almost eight-thirty by the time I reached it. Boy was I in for a shock, the first of two as it turned out, Woodrow, having been told by me that I would be going home and it being Thursday night and he having little or no work to do in the office until Monday had decided to slope off early and head up north to spend a long weekend with his family. "Shit", was about all I could say, I turned and walked back to my car even though Gary and Leroy both urged me to stay.

It was midnight by the time I got home, I couldn’t park on the drive as there were two cars on the drive already, because of the road we lived on, I couldn’t park outside over night either, I had to find a space in the road at the back and walk along one of the many footpaths that cut through from the estate behind us.

The house was in total darkness, the sink was full of pots, someone had cook a lavish meal, I didn’t tiptoe up stairs exactly but I didn’t put the light on or do anything that would be a tell-tail to the fact that I was home. I could make out the sound of sex coming from my bedroom, easing the door open slightly I caught sight of Harry’s ass pounding up and down as he screwed a woman in our bed. I couldn’t play the riotous indignation card, I had, after all been fucking my way around quite a few men recently myself.

It was fortunate that the couch was so comfortable, I slept well, better that the previous night, but then the previous night I had plenty of entertainment so as not to notice the lack of sleep so much. I woke with the dawn light streaming through the living room window. It was only five thirty so I decided to be a good wife and wash the pots and cook a nice breakfast. I had heard the bed creaking when I fell asleep and I woke at three am to the sounds of tired bedsprings complaining of their over working, I had assumed that the fucking had been uninterrupted and also assumed that after a night of bedroom Olympics both Harry and his guest would be ravenous by breakfast time.

I don’t know who was more shocked, Harry or his friend, when I walked in with a large tray with two cooked breakfasts, tea and toast, marmalade and butter. I left the room with as little fuss as possible, Harry, on the other hand managed to tip the breakfast all over the bed in his rush to get out of bed, into his pyjamas and out of the room after me in the shortest possible time. "Tracey, Darling, it’a all a..", I stopped Harry mid sentence, "Harry, that poor woman gave her all last night, the least you can do is have breakfast with her and not embarrass her while you try to placate me!" Harry was stunned into silence. I went to the kitchen and ate my breakfast, I didn’t usually have a large breakfast but I did like to make guests feel welcome and push the boat out for them. Harry was in the bathroom when ‘the other woman’ came into the kitchen with the breakfast tray. "Oh, you needn’t have bothered, I’d have brought that down later", I said, I watched the woman’s eyes scan the sink and draining board, she realised I had washed their dinner pots. She blushed a little as she said, "I have to say you’re taking this much better than I would", I thanked her, I couldn’t do any other, I wasn’t fuming, boiling up with jealousy or rage. It was, after all, just sex.

There was a long pause, the woman was obviously in need of something, I thought coffee, usually does the trick but in fact I think she was waiting for the fight that she thought she deserved. We both spoke at the same time, I asked if she wanted more coffee and she told me that her name was Sarah, she extended her hand to me, the way new acquaintances would while shaking her head in response to my question on the coffee requirements. "How long have you and Harry been friends?" I asked, "Not long" was the reply, not long, but long enough for Harry’s friends at Boot’s to think that she, rather than me, was married to Harry. "You sure you don’t want a coffee? I was going to have a sit for ten minutes before I go to work", I said. "Oh OK then if it isn’t too much trouble" Sarah said.

There was something to be said for Sarah’s demeanour, she was the ‘other’ woman, she was caught out and now she was going to take her punishment, funny, I was going to say like a man but it was obviously like a woman as the man in this equation was hiding himself, keeping out of the line of fire. "I was expecting you to scratch my eyes out", Sarah said after blowing her coffee into the middle of next week. "Why?" "It’s not every day a woman comes home in the morning to find another woman in her bed with her husband". I smiled my sweetest smile, nodded toward the dishevelled couch, I came home last night", I said. Sarah went the exact shade of red that I was thinking of painting the living room wall which the sun his most during the day, pity I couldn’t drag her off to a Dulux colouriser machine. "Oh my god, that’s much worse", "Why?" "Well..." I stopped Sarah, "It’s OK, really it is, I thought you did admirably up there, I doubt that I could have managed over three hours in one position with Harry the way that you did and still sound, convincingly, like I was enjoying it".

We sat in silence until six fifteen, I stood up, Sarah jumped to her feet as if in readyness for the eruption that a wife was expected to achieve with her husbands ‘bit of fluff’, "Time for work", I said, Sarah relaxed visibly, Harry was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, "I’m off to work now darling, if you get home before me tonight could you make a start on cleaning the guest room out for me!" I smiled my best smile at him as I pecked him on the cheek.

I was at Leicester, junction twenty-one at seven o’clock when my phone rang, I didn’t recognise the number on the screen but as the phone was set to auto answer I just said "Hi, who’s that?" It was Woodrow, phone problems had meant that he couldn’t phone me as we both drove Northward the previous evening. "Where are you now?" I asked, "At my mothers for the weekend", "So you don’t have a Mrs. Woodrow tucked out of the way up north?" "Well my mother is actually Mrs. Woodrow" I told him all about finding my way to his flat the previous evening, he apologised for not being there and I stopped him from explaining why he wasn’t, then I told him about catching Harry, in-flegrantae-delicto. "Does that mean you can come up to my mothers for the weekend?" I explained that I wasn’t going to use this situation as a stick to beat Harry with, after all we were both guilty of fracturing our marriage vows. "But I’ll be free any night during next week if you want to invite me down sometime", I said, I had just turned into the car park at work, "I’ll expect a message from you if you want me to sleep over with you one night", and I hung up the phone. It took two minutes to walk from the car park to the office and as I walked through the outer door my phone sounded to tell me that I had received a text message, I stopped to read it, "Tracey, please come to my flat in London on Monday after work, Woody" My phone beeped to say I had new messages all the way to my desk, the message was exactly the same except the day changed, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday and on and on until the SMS memory on my telephone overflowed and my cell phone died.

My strategy plan was formulated quickly, I had been putting four hundred pounds a week into my special car fund, that money was the excess travel expenses that my company was paying me so that I had the choice of travelling every day between Nottingham and Northampton or to stop over night in a hotel, I was receiving five hundred pounds a week and the petrol cost me around fifty pounds so every week I was putting the excess into a new bank account to pay, eventually, for a new car. For the first time in my life I actually had enough money to do things that I wanted to do on a whim. I telephoned talking pages from work, "I know it’s there, it’s a small company, ‘The Bed Shop’, or ‘Bedfordshire’, something like that, yes, Arnold, it’s in Nottinghamshire. I know it’s not a lot of help but it’s all I know, it’s about the third shop in on the left on Cross Street". I eventually got the number, I ordered a bed, there was a double bed for one hundred and fifth that they could deliver today, I chose one for seven hundred and fifty, my new car would have to wait two weeks, I offered to pay extra if the bed could be delivered at six o’clock, the assistant told me that it would be their pleasure to deliver the bed at six pm.

My day flew past, I wasn’t doing much work, more planning what I needed to do. I worked through my lunch and left at three o’clock for the slow crawl back to Nottingham, because I was a little earlier than usual I actually arrived home just after five. I basically de-junked the spare bedroom into the box room and by six o’clock there was enough floor space for the delivery men to squeeze the new bed into the smaller of our main bedrooms. It was a squeeze too, the bed had a huge headboard, "Part of the package madam" the delivery driver said, let that be a lesson to me, don’t buy anything over the phone withot knowing exactly what it is you’re getting. On it’s own the headboard looked hideous but when the divan base was installed it looked a little less out of place and with the mattress on it looked almost OK. "Excuse me, What are the cables for?" I asked the delivery man, "Heated pad and massage", he said, "Heated pad and massage!" I repeated, "All part of the package madam" was his stock response.

I realised why the bed had to have the overly large headboard with built in cupboards, it needed someplace for the ‘environmental control centre’, the heated pad control and the ‘Therapeutic enhancement module’, the massage unit. There was also an alarm clock radio / CD player unit too and a built in light on each side, the complete sleep centre for the person who wants to get everything to do with bedtime in one package. I dressed the bed before finishing oft the de-cluttering. It was seven o’clock and Harry still wasn't home from work, I guessed it was either cowardice, his inability to face me after I caught him out, or more like he didn’t want to have to tidy the spare bedroom, he expected me to get home at around seven and he would turn up at a quarter past. I had a small bet with myself, if I won, I’d go out for a night on the town, if I lost I would let Harry fuck me tonight. Fourteen minutes past seven, fourteen minutes and fifteen seconds, my watch was mocking me, its second hand was turning so slowly that each second was surly a minute. Harry’s key turned in the lock at the same instant as she second hand swept on to the twelve. I burst out laughing, it was frightening how predictable Harry could be.

Harry was amazed at the transformation I had made in the spare bedroom, my bedroom from that point on. Harry was all apologetic, one off thing, never happen again, all the old crap. "I do hope you’re wrong Harry", "What, why?" "I hope you’re wrong about it all being over between you and Sarah, I quite liked her, she looked like she was enjoying herself under you, you should keep her, I think she’ll be good for you". I eased Harry out of my room and closed the door, ‘what a pity you were so predictable Harry, your loss!’ I thought to myself.

I phoned Sandy to see if she was up for a night on the town, no baby sitter unfortunately, but she did know of a party that should have been good, it was starting at a small back street club in the city centre and it would eventually move on to a disused warehouse. "Aren’t those things illegal?" "Sure, but legal usually means no fun, where as illegal is usually fun to the max". "Do I need a ticket?" "No, I’ll ring up for you and leave your name on the door", sorted.

As I showered and changed I thought back, just a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have gone out to the shops at night alone, all the experiances I had over the past few weeks and now I was willing to go to a city centre party, totally alone, and with the prospect of not finding anyone at the party that I knew. I actually thought twice about going, I would probably not meet anyone I got along with either.

I was standing at the bus stop still arguing with myself about not going, I could just get off the bus at the White Horse, I was sure to meet someone in there that I knew, have a quiet drink and then home to bed for an early night. So why was it that I had already hobbled past the White Horse on my ridiculously high heels? The small club adjective wasn’t lost, the place was certainly a club, and it was extremely small. It was what I would describe as a closed club, not that it wasn’t open, you had to have a ticket to get in, it wasn’t a place that anyone could just walk into off of the street, I mentioned my name to the doorman, he checked his list and opened the door for me. The sound system almost knocked me off of my feet as the door opened, wow this would give me a headache if I stopped in too long. ‘Just a quick drink and I’ll head off home’ I said to myself. The room was packed, thick smoke hung in the air, it wasn’t just cigarette smoke either, it was far to thick and far too sickly sweet, weed, ganga, skunk, reefer, everyone was openly smoking cannabis resin, OK, maybe not a quick drink, I’d be better off just going.

On my way to the door I was grabbed by an afro-Caribbean guy, he didn’t ask, he just pulled me onto the dance floor and began to dance with me. Women were definitely in the minority at this club and women on there own seemed as rare as rocking horse shit!

After the music ended my self appointed escort led me to a seat, he almost pushed me into the seat, which was a long, padded bench seat that was open at one end and against a wall at the other. The table was out of the way of the main room, a dark corner with few people around, unlike the dance floor which was packed like sardines in a can. The guy was making small talk but not necessarily to me, he just liked the sound of his own voice, he was constantly scanning the main room beyond our little corner, looking for someone or something important.

Suddenly, my escort leapt to his feet, he went through all that ‘tribal’ ritual greeting that one Afro-Caribbean man does when meeting one of his ‘homies’. I tried to use the distraction to make a move and slip out behind the man but he must have had eyes in the back of his head as he had my wrist before I got three feet away. He introduced me to his friend, Simon, he didn’t introduce me to Simon though and Simon didn’t seem interested in knowing my name, I managed to pick up on the fact that my captor’s name was Isaac, just from his conversation with Simon. "You wan a drink?" Isaac asked, I didn’t answer, I didn’t know his question was aimed at me as he wasn’t looking in my direction. I only realised that I was expected to answer when the grip on my wrist tightened, I said, "No!" but this was obviously the wrong answer as the grip again tightened, "St Clements please" I blurted out.

Simon was dispatched to the bar to fetch the drinks, I watched him as well as I could, I saw him have a laugh with the barman and both of them looked over at me and had a good belly laugh once again. I was eased into the seat once again, there were two places and it was quite comfortable but when Simon rejoined us he also sat on our side of the table which suddenly became squashed and uncomfortable. I took a few sips from my St Clements and Isaac began to empty small bags from his pockets, there was a sudden rush as people were clamouring to buy something from Isaac, I guestimated that three thousand pounds crossed the table in around fifteen minutes and a hundred or so little bags went the other way. Simon did absolutely nothing the whole time, he just sat with one hand inside his jacket the whole time. Isaac told me to drink up, he still hadn’t looked at me and Simon stood up and stood in front of Isaac and I, best estimate I could make was that Simon was the door, and it was now closed. I did however notice that when Simon stood up there was something very large and black under his jacket, ‘My God, it was the grip of a gun and Simon was now standing with his hand resting on it’.

I had never been involved in anything like this before, my head began to spin and even though I was drinking my St. Clements I was feeling more thirsty not less. I knew that Nottingham had both a drug problem and a firearms problem and that the two were synonymous with each other.

Isaac pulled my arm, he was already standing and I hadn’t even felt him move. I began to follow him, well I felt that I was following him but I still hadn’t moved, eventually I was pulled bodily from my seat. Isaac was on one side of me, and Simon on the other. I was guided out of the club and into the cold street beyond.

A sleek black BMW Alpina pulled up at the curb-side as soon as the three of us stepped out of the club. I was bundled into the back, Isaac got in by my side and Simon in the front next to the driver.

I was totally awake, fully aware and was taking everything in, my cell-phone rang after the car had been driving for five minutes, I went to take it out of my handbag to answer it but my arms wouldn’t do what my brain was asking them to. I tried to speak, to ask, "What the fuck was going on?" But even my mouth wouldn’t work.

Isaac said, "Simon, what say we check out what’s under her hood?" There was a flash of white teeth spreading out of the darkness as Simon took up on what his boss had just said. There was a flurry of arm and hand movement from Simon and his hand suddenly stopped in the space between me and the driver, his hand now suddenly still, holding a metal object around seven inches long. The pause was for menacing effect but it was wasted on me, I had no idea what he held in his fingers until the button was pressed and a six inch blade fired out of the handle. ‘Oh, that’s what a flick knife looks like’, I thought to myself. Isaac took the blade in his left hand, turned towards me and pulled the waistband of my skirt towards him. The blade of the knife was touched against the material of my skirt and it melted through from waistband to hem like a hot knife through butter. Isaac laughed, "Nice taste in skirt but even my gran wouldn’t be seen dead in those knickers eh! Simon?" Simon looked over his shoulder and nodded in agreement, "Marks and Spencer have a lot to answer for, that’s why my woman’s not alowed to shop there!" Simon said, Isaac put his fingers into the waste of my knickers and said, "Well lets see if what’s inside them is more appealing then". I watched as the knife blade inched toward the flimsy cotton but the car drew to a halt outside a rather noisy club. The sounds, bright lights and lack of motion of the car took Isaac’s attention away from cutting my panties off. "I would say sit quiet Conchita but I doubt you will be able to make a peep for a few hours!" Isaac had touched the blade of the knife to my jaw as he spoke, there was no pressure, if the blade actually touched my face at all it was like the kiss of a butterfly wing against it but as Isaac handed Simon his knife back i noticed a spot of blood developing on the edge of my jaw line.

Simon exited the car first, his hand resting on the grip of the gun under his coat before he scanned the surroundings for threat and then when satisfied opened Isaac’s door. The two men were soon out of my line of sight, the only things I could actually move were my eyes. The driver waited a few minutes to ensure his boss was well ensconced inside the club before reversing back ten yards or so where we sat with the engine running.

During the next fifteen minutes my phone rang three times, it remained unanswered each time and then there was a feeble click, ‘the battery must be flat’ I thought. The phone clicked a few more times until the driver suddenly gunned the car’s engine and leaped to the kirb-side to collect his boss, the engine sound droning out any further sounds from my dying cell-phone. "Where were we?" Isaac asked of no one in particular, the flick knife was once again produced from Simons, arsenal like jacket. My panties were cut down both sides as the car moved swiftly down the road, the driver spoke for the first time, "Do you want me to take the river road boss?" Isaac slapped the back of his head, "We’ve got business to take care of first my man, this bitch aint goin no place till we’re ready to let her!"

The knife pressed to the material at the neck of my top and once again it slipped effortlessly from top to bottom. My top opened like a blouse and the knife was used to slit from cuff to neck on both sides. I was almost nude now, just my lace bra between me and total nudity. Isaac lifted the front of my bra on the edge of the knife, the extra thickness at the point where both cups of my bra met made it resist the knife a little but even that gave in no time, the two thin straps were gone in a fraction of a second. "Well there, that’s what I’m talkin about, I knew her tits would be worth all the trouble homie, just look at them melons boys!" the car stopped at a bar, Isaac placed his face menicingly close to my own face, kissed the place where he had cut me the at the previous stop, he pulled his face away so that I could see my blood streaking across his lips and then he kissed me, leaving a thin film of my own blood on my lips. As Simon opened the door this time Isaac wiped his lips on his handkerchief and I was left cold and frightened on the back seat of that powerful car.

The driver repeated his mantra of the previous stop, waiting a minute or so and then reversing thirty feet back along the road. This time though there was a car in the place that the driver wanted to use so he just double parked while he waited. I heard the weak clicks from my phone again once the powerful engine had quietened to a purr.

The driver seemed spooked as a large black Lexus crawled past on the other side of the road. I watched as his hands gripped and released the steering wheel over and over again, there was sweat now, forming all over his forehead as tiny beads. I felt his tension step up another notch as the same car cruised past slowly from behind us.

I saw Simon on the steps leading from the bar, the driver gunned the engine and caused the car’s wheels to scream in protest, Simon also reacted on instinct, I saw his gun for the first time, I didn’t know much about guns but a gun like that was so common on TV that I doubted that there was anyone in the world who wouldn’t recognise an Uzi nine millimetre. When Isaac and Simon got into the car the driver got a crack across his skull for causing tension needlessly. The front of the bar was suddenly crowded with punters all trying to see what had caused the commotion but apart from the most fleeting of glimpses as the door opened no one could see my nudity through the blackened glass of the BMW.

Isaac took a few minutes to compose himself, then he returned his attentions to me, he lifted my left leg, his hand behind my knee, I was telling my legs to close but he was able to ‘pose’ me as he willed, he grasped the cut edge of the material that had once been my skirt and pulled it towards him, I slid along the seat effortlessly, leaving my right leg where it was. I was almost doing the splits at this point but it wasn’t at all uncomfortable. Isaac placed his hand in the small of my back and eased me forward until my bottom was only just on the edge of the back seat. "Now lets see just how tight this bitch is eh boys?" Isaac jabbed his fingers against my vaginal opening and all four disappeared inside without resistance, "Fucking bitch, she’s a whore, you can have her if you like Simon but I’m not trying a well trodden path like that!" Simon shook his head and I saw the drivers eyes open wide through the rear view mirror, I had obviously been downgraded to drivers treat because of Woodrow’s huge cock and the way it stretched my womanly flower open.

We pulled up at another bar, as Simon was running through his ritual of checking for threats before opening Isaac’s door Isaac told the driver, "Hey gumbo, keep your eyes and your mind on the job, soon as you drop me and Simon off she’s all yours, just don’t fuck up in the mean time homey!"

As we reversed the customary thirty feet I noticed the front of the Lexus that had already passed us twice, it was parked in a side road opposite the entrance of the club. The driver was much too calm to have noticed it, he divided his time between looking at the door of the bar and at me through the rear view mirror. My cell-phone was clicking like mad now and the driver suddenly heard it over the purr of his engine. He turned and reached over into the back of the car, straining to try and reach my bag. If I had any control over my muscles I would have jumped out of my skin as the barrel of a pistol appeared out of nowhere and pressed into the back of his head, the words, "Armed police don’t move" where whispered into his ear and the driver was eased out of the car and moved off by unseen hands.

A police officer in kevlar helmet and body armour sat in the drivers seat and turned the engine off, I could see that his eyes were flicking from the bar to the rear view mirror, "It’ll all be over in a minute madam", he assured me.

I watched as the officer found the button on the ignition key fob to lock the cars doors, then a second press and the doors were double locked and a light blinked on telling the driver and anyone passing that the engine immobiliser had been engaged.

I watched Simon step out of the bar, his attention swiftly focused to the fact that the sleek BMW hadn’t leaped to his side, the police man began to turn the ignition key, the engine was turning but not firing up because the immobiliser was on. Simon had once again removed his Uzi from under his jacket and he began to run up the road toward the car. I could see from the look on Isaac’s face that he suddenly felt volnurable, alone on the steps leading down from the bar. As Simon reached the BMW, hurling abuse at the driver for ‘fucking up’ I watched two men who had been enjoying a quiet drink on the doorstep of the bar turn to Isaac and press their pistols against his chest. Simon suddenly realised that something was very wrong when he couldn’t open the passenger door of the BMW, he raised his Uzi towards the window and then he slumped to the floor, he fell before I heard the crack of a high powered riffle somewhere way behind me.

Isaac was protesting his innocence, he had nothing to do with the BMW, nothing to do with the guy that had just been gunned down in the street. I was being wrapped up in a blanket by a female police officer still sitting in the back seat while they moved an ambulance up for me, I managed to whisper, check his handkerchief as I breathed out. The woman looked at the small cut on my jaw-line and the dried blood on my lips and she shouted to her colleagues to check his pocket for a handkerchief. There in Isaac’s breast pocket was a linen handkerchief with his initials embroidered on one corner and my blood smeared across another.

I had left the house two hours earlier looking for a little excitement, I had a club and a party in mind, not a club, a rape and a shootout. I recovered in hospital, it took around two hours for me to regain my motor skills after the antidote to Rohipnol, the date rape drug had been injected into me. Sandy was at my side for around an hour of that two hours, she was apologising over and over again, she had felt guilty for setting me up with a free pass into the club and the party that I never got to go to but in her defence, when the doorman from the club phoned her to tell her that he had just seen Isaac and Simon slip me something and take me out of the club, she didn’t hesitate but call the police and gave them all the information they needed to trace my cell-phone and to give them a few possible stops on Isaac’s route.