The Bet

You must all have heard about the gambler who having lost all of his money in a card game then stakes his car in an effort to recover all that he has lost. He loses and, unable to imagine life without a car throws the deeds to his house into the pot. The losing run continues. The gambler is wondering how to tell his nubile young wife that they have nowhere to live when she walks into the room carrying refreshments. Looking down the loser finds that he has just been dealt his best hand of the night and asks what will you allow me against my wife. Looking lasciviously at the proffered prize, the winner says, "All that you have lost so far."

So the loser stakes his unknowing wife and finds that he is against the best hand possible in the game. I would not have done that. I am not querying the nature of his bets but every seasoned gambler knows never to chase his losses.

Sally and I have been married just over six and a half years. Seven-year itch - hell no. We both felt as if we were still on honeymoon with her as hungry for me as I was for her. With her lovely figure, pert full breasts and a face to die for, Sally is the best looking girl that I have ever seen, bar none. I am employed by an estate agent, at an office unfortunately situated in a completely different area from the insurance company where my wife works. Although both she and I earn well we are always rather short of money because we rather over stretched ourselves on the house that we are buying. This meant that our socialising was severely limited but this was no hardship because we were so happy with each other's company. Our lives, (for that read sex lives), were so good that we deliberately avoided having a child for fear that a third person in the equation might spoil the rapport we had enjoyed since the first moment.

The first small cloud appeared on the horizon one night during our even meal when Sally announced, "I think I'm being followed."

I laughed and said, "Whatever makes you think that?"

Sally didn't think it was funny. "Well three times I have looked back and seen the same car moving slowly a long way behind and on another occasion I saw it parked near the office where I work. It's a very flashy car, a low slung two seater in a bright metallic blue with darkened windows."

"You have probably seen different cars and just assumed it was the same one because it's a bit unusual."

"No it's definitely the same car because I saw the registration. It's a private number DONN 1 - it was the same every time."

"It's probably someone who works in the same area and who is therefore on the move at the same time as you. I admit it looks a bit suspicious but there is almost certainly a simple explanation."

Sally accepted this at the time but late the following week she said, "I definitely am being followed. I've seen that car outside my work at 5 o'clock three times this week. Also, since the hot weather started a crowd of the girls go to the park at lunchtime to eat our sandwiches - well every day except the first, the blue car has been parked just outside the gates. I'm sure that he is in the park somewhere near - he knows me but I have no idea what he looks like."

"You say 'He' - how do you know that there is only one person in the car?"

"I just know and I also know that it isn't a woman. It's some kind of instinct and I am also convinced he is watching me. I can feel it - I also feel it when I'm in the park. The park might be imagination but the other isn't because I can feel it before I even see the car."

The following week she reported seeing it at least once every day and on the Friday she said it had been parked outside the railway station when she set of for home. I pretended to take all this seriously but secretly believed that it was someone who had recently started working in an office near my wife and who followed a similar routine. I found that I was mistaken on the Saturday afternoon when Sally ran to where I was working on my PC shouting that the blue car had just been in the street. All of the houses in our cul-de-sac have minuscule back gardens so all the young wives tend to do their sunbathing on the bit of grass at the front. It was a gloriously sunny day and Sally had been out in her bikini taking advantage of the weather. Rolling over she saw the blue car standing in a position that allowed the driver an oblique view of her through the open gate. Realising he had been seen, the driver drove away and turned the car round at the end of the road. Sally had jumped up and stood watching him drive slowly back but was perturbed when he stopped just the other side of the hedge. For about two minutes they engaged in a staring match even though she could not see him. Sally says that she was mentally challenging him to lower the window and reveal himself but although at one point she thought he was going to, he drove off instead.

On the Sunday, despite the incident of the previous day, my wife insisted that I go down to the pub as usual while she prepared Sunday lunch. I was half way through my first pint when a voice called out "Daniel" and the next moment a complete stranger had rushed up to slap me on the back and start vigorously pumping my hand. "Danny, Danny Hall, what the hell have you been doing with yourself all these years, you old rogue?" he asked with a grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

It took me several minutes to convince the man that I was Phillip Pope and not who he thought I was. The main difficulty was that for a time he was convinced that I was just winding him up with my denials. In the end he apologised and added, "Dan was a good looking sod like you that's how I got mistaken. You know, I still can't believe that you look so much like him - or at least how I imagine him to look after twelve years." I mumbled for him to forget it and tried to turn away but he grabbed my arm and said, "Look mate, I've made a right fool of myself - the least that I can do to make amends is to treat you to a pint."

It would have been churlish to refuse and we started chatting. My new friend introduced himself as Damien Hurst and explained that he and my look-alike Dan had been best mates all through school but had lost touch when they went to different universities. Damien was about two inches taller than me and slightly heavier but although he had an appealing face it was far from being classically handsome. He was about my age, well spoken and pleasant, if possibly rather over enthusiastic. I bought him a pint in return and while drinking this he reminisced about Dan. "Everybody referred to us as the two D's and what a team we made. We went through the sixth form girls like a knife through butter - with his looks and my personality we couldn't miss. Look, if you are free, why don't we meet up tonight - it will be nice to feel like the old team again even though you're not him. Look I can absolutely guarantee you a really fancy piece of tail if you come with me."

I refused the offer, pointing out that I was married, but then, against my better judgement, allowed him to buy me another pint. "With all the beautiful women about in the world, I think that men who get married are stupid, especially a good looking guy like you."

"I have a beautiful wife and I am very happy with her. I very much doubt if I could ever get another woman as good."

"Course you could," he stated emphatically. "I am hardly film star material but I can get any woman in the world so I never go with a female who is not top of the range beautiful. There are thousands out there waiting, like ripe fruit on a tree - I just choose the one that I want and then I pluck her."

"And to what do you attribute this irresistible power over women?" I asked sarcastically. "What have you got - an inexhaustible supply of chat up lines?"

"I don't rate chat up lines much because they antagonise some women - no my secret is an in depth understanding of female psychology," he answered seriously.

It sounded like bragging to me. "Come on," I said, "You've got to be exaggerating. I believe that you do all right for yourself but you must have had some failures."

He shook his head, "Not that I remember - and I would remember because if that ever happened I'd be mortified."

I still didn't believe it. "Surely a proportion of the beautiful females you fancy must be married and in love with their husbands."

"Doesn't make the slightest bit of difference," he stated categorically but then paused and added, "Actually married women are easier. Single girls have a built in resistance to men approaching them but the married ones are out of practice and therefore more vulnerable."

He was beginning to annoy me. "I don't believe it - I know you couldn't seduce my wife for a start."

"Is she worth seducing," he asked guilelessly.

"She damn well is. Sally is as least as good looking as any one of your so called conquests," I almost shouted. To prove the point I took out my wallet and slammed it down on the bar in front of him open at the picture of my wife.

He looked at it a bit too long and then conceded, "Very, very tasty. I admit that I could easily be tempted to offer her the pleasure of my body."

"You've no chance - never in a million years." Now sick of his company, I started to move away, prepared to abandon the beer remaining in my glass.

"I bet I could - easy peasy," he insisted.

The word 'bet' snagged on my old long suppressed gambling vice. I turned back towards him but said contemptuously, "And what are you prepared to risk, five pounds - a tenner."

Instead of answering he asked, "What is the most fabulous holiday that you can imagine?"

"That's easy, "I said. "Less than a month ago I was looking at a brochure advertising a three month luxury cruise round the Mediterranean and Aegean. Very nice but it cost over £20,000."

"I will pay for that holiday and throw in £5000 spending money if I lose," Damien said simply.

I couldn't believe it but I could see from the man's face that he was completely serious. It was unbelievable - how often do you get the chance to win the equivalent of £25,000, betting on an absolute certainty. "What do I have to risk on my side?" I asked, looking for the snag.

"Nothing financial at all - if I win then I just go on the holiday with your wife instead of you."

"She'd never go with you."

"I think that if I had already seduced her there would be a strong possibility that she might," he smiled

I had a strong urge to punch his smug face but instead I said, "You're on - it is going to give me great satisfaction to see you taken down a peg."

Damien stuck out his hand. "It's a bet then."

"You bet it's a bet," I said, adding "There ought to be a time limit though - if you haven't succeeded in a month then I think it's fair to say that you will have lost."

Damien thought a moment and then said, "A month is a bit tight but I agree. You will have to introduce me and allow me to work my charm, I can't win if I don't get a bite at the cherry."

"That's fair," I agreed, "but I don't want you pestering her outside. You can come to the house to talk to her but you must do it with me listening."

"That is sensible but I have to insist on two or three hours alone with her. A public place such as a restaurant would be fine."

"I can't object to that - have you any other conditions?"

"It's not exactly a condition but it might be an idea not to mention the bet to your wife because women don't like being the subject of things like that. You can say that I am an old school friend you met at the pub and as for the restaurant, I will book a table for three but when we get there you will have arranged a telephone call dragging you away. At the end of the evening I will send your wife home in a taxi."

The final agreement was that Damien would visit for the evening on four successive Friday's and that the restaurant visit would take place on one of the intervening Wednesday's. To counter a doubt I had expressed, he promised to bring on his first visit a receipt for the holiday together with documentation that would prevent him backing out of the bet."

I returned home with a mixture of elation and trepidation - elation at the thought of the holiday that was as good as won and trepidation from the fact that I was returning home almost an hour late to a meal that was certainly spoiled. As expected Sally was not very pleased but I said that something rather unusual had come up and that when I explained she was going to think it worth while for me to have delayed. Despite her pleas, I refused to say anything more just then but promising that she would know everything when we had finished eating.

We struggled through the food and then having set the scene with drinks in our hands I said, "Remember the holiday brochure that was pushed through the door about a month ago and that fantastic cruise that that was advertised in it - well, you are going to be on it."

Sally looked at me blankly. "How can that be possible - you know we haven't got that kind of money."

"We are not paying for it, someone else is," I said smugly.

"So who is mysterious benefactor, a little green goblin, a fairy godmother or some other figment of your imagination?"

"Honest it's a real guy. It started in the pub when he mistook me for someone else. We started chatting, one thing led to another and it finished with him offering to pay for the holiday - and provide £5000 spending money. He's called Damien Hurd." Even as I spoke I realised how implausible this sounded."

"Who exactly is Damien Hurd?"

"I don't know," I said. "I've never seen him before."

"Let me get this straight," Sally said sceptically, "This stranger mistakes you for someone else and then offers to finance a holiday for old time's sake even though you are not the person he thought you were."

I had no choice but to tell her the full story. "Phil, how could you - it's obscene," she said when I had finished. "Well I am having no part of it - you can go straight back to the pub and tell him that the stupid bet is off."

"He did say that I shouldn't tell you about the bet."

"Well at least he has more sense than you in that respect."

"I thought it was only fair that you should know the full picture."

"No - you thought I might be more vulnerable if he was allowed to creep up on me. Apart from that - if he can't win then it is immoral to take his money."

"You haven't seen him," I protested. "He is a braggart with more money than he knows what to do with and he has a very high opinion of himself - thinks that he's God's gift to women. It will serve him right to pay for his mistake. Anyway, we left the pub at the same time so we will have to cancel the bet when he arrives Friday evening - if you still want to."

Sally nodded her agreement to this saying, "I must admit that I am interested to know what he's like."

I was very reluctant to let Damien off the hook so in the days that followed I kept dropping insidious little remarks like, 'We will never be able to afford a fabulous holiday like that but I bet he can pay for it without blinking an eyelid.' On the Thursday she asked me, "Haven't you ever thought that he might win?" I told her 'Not for one second'. For a moment she looked enigmatic as if I might be wrong, then rushed forward to give me a big kiss for my confidence in her.

Damien arrived dead on the stipulated time. I let him in and effected the introductions, describing him as an old school friend. He took my wife's hand and kissed her fingers in an excess of gallantry but in no other way did he give the impression of being the great seducer. The exuberance from the pub had gone and instead he seemed nervous and almost overawed by the situation. On prompting by Sally, he related incidents from our supposed schooldays together, most likely true but featuring Dan not me. My wife never let on that she knew this was a charade, at times aiding the illusion by turning to me and saying innocently, "You never told me about that Phil." Damien behaved impeccably throughout the evening except that he did gaze at Sally more than was polite but this was at her face rather than her body and more like a lovesick swain than a lothario.

The moment he left I asked, "So what do you think of him?"

"He is not at all like you described him. I thought he was nice - very nice in fact," she said but then on seeing my mouth tighten, she laughed and quickly added, "But I don't have the slightest urge to jump into bed with him."

"But he's coming again - the bet is still on. Have you changed you mind about cancelling it?"

Sally grinned and said, "I've been looking at the holiday brochure again and it is very tempting. Seriously though, he is pleasant company so I don't mind him coming other evenings and at the end of the month if we do find out that he really can't afford it, we can tell him to forget it then."

I mumbled, "A bet's a bet," partly under my breath and I'm not sure if she heard me.

I should mention that at a point during the evening Damien had produced a certificate from the bank stating that two cruise tickets were deposited there. He had also brought two documents upon which I had to append my signature alongside his. On one document my signature was designated A and on the other B. The agreement was that the loser was honour bound to sign the winners release form.

In bed I think that we were affected by the ambience of the evening because an excess of passion was indulged and in consequence both slept late the following morning. I held a senior enough position in the firm to leave weekend work to underlings but it was a direct call from a potential client that woke me. He said that he had been given my business card and was ringing on recommendation. I was about to suggest that he contact the office until he said that he was interested in the Pembroke estate and needed to view urgently as he was flying back to Dubai on Sunday. This was a country house that had been empty and on our books for over four years, it was priced a two and a half million and the purchaser would undoubtedly need to spend another million on renovations. I could smell oil money and the thought of a massive bonus was enough to get me out of bed.

When I got home, Sally asked eagerly how I had done. I shrugged and told her that I didn't know. The client had been very enthusiastic at the start, demanding to see everything including documentation but then started to waffle and finally left saying he would let me know. The disappointment did not affect her because she had news of her own. "Damien called while you were out," she said.

"The cheating swine. Well he's sunk himself because that invalidates the bet. We will carry on with it but at the end of the month I'll tell him that the bet is void."

"Even if he has lost?"

"Well no," I said and then stopped having betrayed the fact that I had considered the possibility of losing."

Sally grinned at my discomfiture and then said, "I don't think he invalidated the bet anyway. He behaved very properly. For a start, on finding that you were not at home, he tried to run away like a scared rabbit."

"Tell me exactly what happened," I demanded, reluctantly prepared to reserve judgement on whether Damien had violated our agreement.

"I answered the bell and Damien was there. He seemed upset to see me and asked to speak to you. When I said you were at work he got a look of panic on his face and said that he would come back later. I asked if I could pass a message and he blurted out that he had lost his wallet and was hoping against hope that it had fallen out of his pocket last night. I told him to come in and check but he just stood there insisting that it wasn't allowed. I got a bit annoyed and said, 'Listen Damien, I have no intention of being seduced by you, you don't look like a rapist and I'm damn well not going to let a stupid bet dictate who can come in my house.' He came in very reluctantly but we soon found his wallet down the back of the settee. The poor guy was weak kneed with relief so I told him to sit down while I made a cup of tea. He was a bit uneasy but agreed to stay. He didn't come on to me at all so we sat chatting very pleasantly and I told him something about myself."