UNHOLY ALLIANCES

UNHOLY ALLIANCES

After a sumptuous meal, all six diners, one by one, made their way into the magnificent library. Small talk, well oiled by unlimited champagne, broke out among the various attendees, scattered around as they were in the comfortable chairs and sofas that abounded. Three of the four walls were lined, floor to ceiling, with impressive tomes. The fourth side of this vast room was taken up by a huge fireplace and, as Horst, the butler, moved discreetly between the gathering, dispensing liberal amounts of bubbly, their host, Sir. Colin Satchwell, rose, took a final sip of champagne before placing his flute on the mantelpiece and, turning towards his guests, cleared his throat noisily before making his announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming to Woodbrooke, tonight, to celebrate my 70th birthday which will occur in...exactly two hour’s time at the stroke of midnight. I hope you have all enjoyed your wonderful repast this evening, most of which was grown, or shot, on this very estate, as well as the splendid vintage, direct from my vineyard in Alsace. After much consideration, I have chosen this evening to reveal something special to you all. Tonight marks a major milestone in my life and I have decided to make some key changes. I, therefore, announce, to one and all, that I am dissolving both my marriage and my business partnership.. "

There are gasps. People stare, openmouthed. Had they heard Sir. Colin correctly? In one corner of the room. Lady Satchwell, Edwina, who, as usual, had not been listening to a word of her husband’s speech, so engrossed in conversation with the young, Leila Atwell had she been, continued chatting and giggling until, finally, the eerie silence that had descended upon the room, broke through the cocoon of her privacy.

“What? What’s going on? Did I miss something?”

“Ah, Edwina dear. So good of you to join us. I was just informing our distinguished guests that I am divorcing you. Nothing for you to worry about, dear. You can go straight back to charming your lesbian lover”.

More gasps. All eyes turn to Edwina and Leila whose furious blushes seem to confirm the truth of Satchwell’s throwaway remark.

“Colin! Have you taken leave of your senses? I...I...don’t know what you mean...”

“Oh it’s quite simple, Edwina, my love”, he takes a large envelope from the mantelpiece and withdraws a black and white photograph which he holds up for all to see before passing it to George Pringle, his longtime business partner, who, after staring salaciously at the image, recognises a third person in the photo and, stunned, allows it to pass on to the man beside him, Sir. Colin’s nephew. The image, now being passed around, clearly displays an undressed Edwina being ravaged by an equally naked Leila. More pertinently, the third woman, nude also, shown feasting, simultaneously, on the mons pubis of Leila Atwell is none other than Susannah Pringle, the wife of George.

“Quite a menage a trois, don’t you think, George?"

Pringle stares maliciously at his partner. It’s one thing to be betrayed; quite another to have such betrayal made public. Has his partner completely lost his senses?

“What’s got into you, Colin? This isn’t like you at all”.

“Well, it’s been quite a week, old chap. Starting when, for some obscure reason, I got it into my head to have our accounts micro-scrutinised. What possessed me, I don’t know but guess what was discovered?”

George Pringle’s face reddens deeply as if he has not been embarrassed enough already, this night.

“Turns out that, you, Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, have been dipping into the company finances for several years-to the tune of one and a half billion, apparently. What say you to that, George, my best friend?”

“I...I...you...”

“Relax, old chap. You should have done the same check yourself. If you had, you’d have found that, during the same period, I had helped myself to almost three billion. So you’re still just a small, thieving fish, George, in a very big pond”.

The others, stupefied by the turn for the macabre that this delightful evening has taken, are completely oblivious to the slight figure of Horst as he moves surreptitiously among them topping up glasses.

Sir. Colin turns his attention to his nephew, Malcolm Atwell, husband of the now outed Leila who, mesmerised by the photograph in his hands, is staring, aghast, at the svelte figure of his wife pleasuring the much older, Edwina Satchwell while she, herself, is being devoured by the blonde Susannah.

“Can’t blame her really, can you Mal? I mean, my wife may be a gold digger extraordinaire but, you have to admit, despite the fact that she is almost sixty and has had three facelifts, Edwina still retains a quite wonderful body. And when was the last time you actually stuck your dick anywhere other than in George Pringle’s arsehole?”

Atwell, blusters. George Pringle, likewise. This is beyond the pale.

Leila Atwell looks across at her husband in disgust.

“Oh, its okay for you, Leila, is it? Don’t you dare look at me like that”.

Edwina Satchwell has seen and heard quite enough. She rises, imperiously.

“I’m going to bed”.

“Off you go, dear. But can you please take a moment to sign the divorce papers before you go? They’re on the table. Horst has taken the liberty of packing you an overnight bag and the car is waiting to take you wherever it is you intend to sleep tonight. The same goes for the rest of you. I won’t blame any of you if you don’t choose to travel home with your... partners... but cars are ready, nonetheless. I hope never to see any of you ever again. As for myself, I’m off to my bed. At my age, I need my beauty sleep more than ever. Horst, when you’ve seen the last of them out...I’ll be waiting upstairs for you”.

Horst smiles... and returns his lover’s wink.