Wicked Wives. Anna-Lou Weatherley

days, Tom. Give you and that little piece you brought along time to get to know each other better.’ He gave a good-natured laugh that was as flimsy and transparent as a cellophane wrapper.

      Tom took pleasure in the knowledge that Marvin Katz was seriously pissed; pissed that he’d won big and pissed that he had a pretty, insatiable twenty-something on his arm who would quite happily suck his dick all night long without breaking a sweat.

      ‘And how’s your wife these days, Marv?’ Tom carefully enquired, wondering how Marvin would react if he knew that Tom had once given his wife, Elaine Katz, a mercy fuck in the back of her Mercedes a decade earlier. Not that he’d been given much choice in the matter. She’d practically lampooned herself on his dick, almost chewing half his ear off in the process.

      ‘Can’t complain,’ Marvin replied tightly, grimacing as he swallowed back the bourbon.

      ‘Send her my regards, won’t you?’ Tom said. ‘Is she still driving a Mercedes these days?’

      Marvin glanced at him, thinking it a strange question. How did Black know what car his wife drove?

      ‘Yes,’ he nodded, suspiciously, ‘E-class cabriolet. She upgraded to a new model some years ago – never looked back.’

      ‘Bet you wish you could say the same thing, eh Marv?’ Tom clapped him on the back again. Marvin Katz detected the lightest smirk upon Black’s face and felt an urgent need to wipe it off.