I had known Helen since our school days. We shared classes, joined the same scout group, and made countless memories. But as adulthood called, life took us in different directions, Helen into nursing, me into the Armed Forces. Years passed, yet her laughter never faded from my mind.

It felt like the right move when I left the Forces and returned to my hometown. With familiar streets and old haunts, revisiting them would bring back good memories. I didn't expect to run into an old schoolmate, Allan, now married to Helen.

Back in school, Allan was the easygoing guy everyone liked. He was always cracking jokes and getting into mischief. He made people feel at ease, and Helen had always had a fascination for that. Seeing them together stirred something in me, nostalgia, maybe a twinge of regret, but mostly curiosity. Life had certainly moved on while I was away. 

Allan had quieted down since our school days. He was no longer the joker he used to be, sometimes at someone else's expense. As the rain started again, I suggested we duck into a small bar we had all frequented as teenagers. Allan was up for it, but Helen hesitated. Still, she came along.

She looked tired, a little drawn, not the cheeky, spirited lass the whole gang had once known and loved. 

Inside, things quickly became clear. I ordered the first round and turned to Allan.

“So, what’s your tipple these days?” I asked them both.

Allan loudly interjected, "I'll have a lager, thanks. She'll have a diet coke," he added, patting Helen's hip. She needs to lose a few pounds," he said, making a poor attempt to laugh at his own joke.

I smiled and glanced at Helen. She quickly looked away, her expression unreadable. Then, with a forced smile and a shrug, she replied, “Yeah, whatever.”

We sat down at a free table and started reminiscing about old times. Helen was frosty, her body language stiff. Clearly, she didn't want to be there with Allan.

Suddenly, Allan stretched and said, “Phew, I think I need the loo. All that coffee and now this,” before getting up.

"Me too," I said, rising to follow him. As I passed Helen, I quickly glanced her way, allowing her to secretly signal if something was wrong.

As I walked past the free jukebox, a familiar number caught my eye, one that had once belonged to us. I quickly punched in the code on impulse, and the machine whirred to life just as we stepped away.

It was an old Amen Corner song If Paradise Is Half as Nice. I could only hope she’d get the message.

We talked for another hour while the rain eventually stopped. Helen had been quiet for most of the time.

“Well, we must be going,” Allan said, getting to his feet. “Come on, get your coat.” He didn’t wait for a reply, just led the way.

Hmm, not much of a gentleman.

Helen looked over her shoulder as she passed the jukebox, hesitated for a second, and then quickly punched in a selection. 

What came on shook me. 

The Walker Brothers—Make It Easy on Yourself.

The message was clear: I'm struggling but don't know if I can leave.

I let the music play out, the weight of her unspoken words sinking in. Then, it was time to go.

Stepping out of the bar, I braced myself against the cold. The rain had brought a sharp chill, so I raised my collar and shoved my hands into my pockets for warmth.

My heart jumped. There was a beer mat in my pocket. I pulled it out slowly.

Written on the back in shaky handwriting were the words: “Please be careful.”

And below that, a mobile number.

I let it sit for twenty-four hours before calling. I chose the middle of the day, hoping Allan would be at work.

The phone rang. Then, a quiet, almost hesitant voice answered.

"Hello?" It was hoarse like she had been crying or coming down with a cold.

“Hello, Helen,” I said gently. “What’s been happening? I…”

She cut in, her voice cracking.

"Last night, we got into a heated fight. He always belittles me, saying things like, ‘You’re such a crazy cow,’ or ‘You’re lucky you have me.’ But last night was worse. He told me I’d better never leave him… because no one else would ever put up with my bitching.”

I clenched my jaw.

“Stop that, Helen,” I said firmly. “We need to talk face to face. I can and will stop him.”  

Two days later, they met in the back room of their old haunt, a pub they all went to back in the day. Helen was just old enough to visit pubs but not drink. This time, a Bloody Mary sat waiting to be consumed.

Hellen looked at me, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “You really think this will work?”

“I know it will,” I replied confidently. “He needs to see exactly what he's lost, and we'll make sure he never finds us again.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “God, I never thought I’d be plotting revenge. What happened to the quiet, sweet girl I used to be?”

“She’s still there,” I said, meeting her gaze. “She’s just been buried under all the crap he’s put you through.”

Her expression shifted, something like hope sparking in her eyes. “And what happens after?”

“After?” I repeated. “We disappear. New names, new lives. You start fresh. No more looking over your shoulder.”

“No more insults. No more feeling small,” she murmured.

“Exactly.”

Hellen smirked. “So, what’s the plan?”

I leaned in slightly. “We give him a taste of his own medicine. Film it. Make sure he knows exactly how it feels to be humiliated, powerless.”

She nodded, intrigued. “Something humiliating. Something he can’t deny or twist against me.”

“You in?” I asked.

For the first time in years, she grinned. “Oh, I am so in.”

“Good,” I said, my tone firm. “Because once we do this, there’s no going back.”

Her smile faltered for a moment before she nodded again, this time with more certainty. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Then let’s make sure he never forgets this.”

Hellen laughed, brushing her auburn hair back. A new energy crackled in her voice. “Damn, I missed feeling like this.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like me,” she admitted.

I smirked. “Took you long enough to return.”

She grinned. “You just reminded me I was never really gone.”

“Alright,” I said, shifting forward. “Let’s talk details.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s his biggest weakness?”

“His ego.”

Hellen chuckled. “Oh, that’s perfect. Let’s crush it.”

I leaned in, lowering my voice. “A video. Us on the marital bed. You being taken thoroughly.”

Her smile turned wicked. “I love it.”

I laughed. “You’re terrifying.”

She gasped in mock innocence. “Me? I’m just a poor, innocent little woman, right?”

I grinned. “Not anymore.”

Her laughter was real this time, her emerald eyes sparkling. “God, I forgot how good we were together.”

“That’s because you’ve been stuck in his shadow,” I murmured.

“Not anymore,” she whispered.

I met her gaze. “So, what’s the final nail in the coffin?”

She didn’t hesitate. “He always brags about how he runs the show in our marriage. Let’s show just how weak he really is.”

“We take his power,” I said firmly.

“And make sure he never gets it back,” she finished.

“Exactly.”

A thoughtful look crossed her face. “You ever think about us? About what we could have been?”

I held her gaze, my voice soft. “Every day.”

She scoffed, a small smile playing at her lips. “Why didn’t you ever say anything back then?”

“We were kids,” I admitted. “I thought we had all the time in the world.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I used to wait for you to notice me.”

I chuckled. “I did. I just didn’t think I deserved you.”

Hellen smirked. “Idiot.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

She leaned in slightly. “Well, I’m not waiting anymore.”

My heart skipped a beat. “No?”

“No,” she said, her voice certain.

I swallowed, my voice quieter. “So, what happens after revenge?”

She grinned, her expression turning wicked. “I think we go somewhere we can’t be found.”

A slow smile spread across my face. “Sounds like a plan.”

Hellen reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. “Let’s burn the past and never look back.”

I squeezed her fingers in return. “With pleasure.”

Two days later  

The pub was busy, and the hum of conversation and clinking glasses made it the perfect cover. Allan strutted in first, leading the way, puffing his chest like he owned the place. Helen followed a step behind, her shoulders slightly slumped, playing her part perfectly, the obedient, worn-down wife.

I was already at the bar, waiting, nursing a pint and watching as they made their way over.

"Hey, mate!" Allan grinned, clapping me on the shoulder as he slid into a booth. "Didn’t think you’d pass up free drinks, eh?"

"Wouldn’t miss it," I replied casually, not looking at Helen.

She barely met my gaze, just as planned. Instead, she slid into the seat opposite me, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

Allan draped an arm over the back of the seat, grinning. "Drinks on you, yeah?"

"Sure." All lunchtime, "Same as last time, right?"  

Helen’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached for her drink. A silent confirmation. It’s happening.

We made small talk, Allan boasting about work, about the idiots he had to deal with, about how lucky Helen was to have him keeping her in line. Each word stoked the fire in my gut, but I kept my expression neutral, playing along.

Then, while Allan was mid-sentence, Helen leaned forward just enough for her bag to brush against my leg.

The signal.

Without missing a beat, I reached under the table and took the small package she had slipped from her lap. Her jewellery. Her passport. Everything she wasn’t willing to leave behind.

I tucked it into my jacket pocket like a spare napkin.

"Anyway!" Allan’s voice boomed, oblivious. "What's the plan, boys? Are we getting pissed today?"

Helen gave a hollow laugh. "You know me, love. I am in the driving seat..."

Allan grinned, nudging her. "That’s right. Someone’s got to keep you in check, eh?"

I clenched my jaw, forcing a smirk. "Yeah, wouldn’t want her getting ideas now, would we?"

Helen met my eyes briefly, just a flicker, but in that second, I saw it. The girl I used to know. The fire that had been crushed for years.

When we met, Helen was sixteen. She was the kind of girl who turned heads without even trying. Her auburn hair, thick and cascading in untamed waves, caught the sunlight like fire, shifting between deep copper and rich mahogany as she moved. She had a wild, infectious energy, a girl who laughed with abandon and ran barefoot through summer fields without a care in the world.

Her emerald-green eyes always sparkled with mischief, framed by long, dark lashes that made them seem impossibly large. Her smile was radiant, the kind that made people forget what they were saying mid-sentence. She carried herself with natural confidence, her posture upright, her movements fluid and purposeful.

Then, she was carefree and utterly intoxicating. Her lightness made everyone around her feel joyful as if the world wasn't such a bad place.

Now, at thirty-two, Helen's beauty was still undeniable, but it was different. Time, and more importantly, life and Alan had changed her.

Her auburn waves were still there, but now they were tamed into something more controlled. The vibrant fire of her youth had dulled slightly, the strands carrying a few lighter streaks, whether from age or stress, it was hard to tell. 

She had filled out, her curves more defined, her once lanky frame now holding a quiet strength. The freckles across her nose had faded, but if you looked closely, they were still remnants of the girl she used to be.  

Helen still moved with grace under the burden she shouldered, but it wasn't the boundless energy of youth; it was controlled, deliberate. The spontaneity had been replaced with caution and hesitation as if every step required thought.

And yet, beneath the surface, that fire was still there, buried under years of restraint, waiting for something, or someone, to bring it back.

All it needed was a spark.

The big day had arrived. Allan was off with his mates at a football match, clueless about what was unfolding. We had precious hours, just enough time to set everything up.

I arrived as planned, dead on 10am, before I could knock, the door flung open.

"Come in, quick," Helen whispered, urgency lacing her voice. 

Before I could take a breath, she threw her arms around my neck, her body pressing into mine, and her lips crashed against mine, hungry, desperate, like she’d been holding back for too long. My hands instinctively pulled her closer, and for a brief, heady moment, I almost forgot why I was there.

My pulse thundered as I pulled away, forcing myself to focus. 

I worked quickly, setting up the cameras, my fingers shaking slightly, not from nerves but from the anticipation curling in my gut.

Helen disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of water running, drawers opening and closing. My mouth was dry. This wasn’t just sex. This was something more.

When she returned, my breath hitched. 

Helen leaned against the doorway, one arm lazily gripping the frame, her body angled just enough to tease, to tempt. Her legs were slightly crossed, the side slit of her dress revealing a sinful glimpse of her thigh. Her lips smudged cherry red, already looking kissed and ruined, curved into a slow, knowing smirk.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she whispered, her voice thick with mock innocence, dripping with wicked promise.

It was the final tease, the last flicker of hesitation before she let herself become someone else, dirty and forbidden.

Our eyes locked, and the air was thick with tension, the weight of what we were about to do.

"Yes, my darling," I said, my voice rough, aching with need. "I want you more than anything now."

A slow, knowing smile played on her lips.

"Then let’s do it."

She reached my eyes again and didn't hold back this time.

The camera is set up to capture a wide shot of her bedroom. It is clean, with bedding turned down and looking soft and elegant.

Helen switched on, looked directly into the camera, and delivered the speech of her life: "Babe, remember when you said that no one would want to be with me last night? I better be good and stay with you. Well, enjoy the show.” 

I stepped inside, the camera capturing me from behind as I shut the door. Helen lounged on the bed, her smudged lips curling into a wicked smile. Her bare legs parted just enough, an unspoken invitation. The dim light kissed her skin, casting sinful shadows over curves meant to be worshipped. Her eyes glistened, dark with mischief, with need.

“Come here,” she purred. 

I leaned in, our lips colliding in a deep, hungry kiss, tongues tangling, breath hot and desperate. Helen moaned softly, tilting her head as my mouth found her bare neck, tasting her, claiming her. My hands roamed, finally exploring those sinful curves, fingers trailing over soft, heated skin. She arched into me, nails biting into my back, silently begging for more.

"Don’t stop," she whispered, breathless.  

She fell back, breath hitching as I pushed her dress up around her hips, exposing the warmth of her thighs. Kneeling, I gripped her thighs, spreading her open. The heady scent of her arousal filled the air, intoxicating, raw. My mouth hovered just above her wet panties, aching heat, teasing, waiting.

I moved the material to one side and claimed her, my tongue teasing, tasting, devouring. She was at last mine.

Helen moaned loudly, her fingers running through my hair wantonly, pulling my face into her thighs. There was no doubt this woman was on fire.

Helen gasped, fingers tangling in my hair.

"Fuck—yes," she moaned, trembling.  

Leaning back, I let the camera drink in the sight of her, legs spread, body glistening with need. Slowly, I ran one finger along her slick, swollen pussy, teasing, stretching her gently. Then, I pushed inside, feeling her grip me, pulse around me.

One finger. then two.

Sliding through her sweet, dripping arousal, I curled them deep.

Helen writhed, back arching, thighs trembling, her moans raw, uninhibited.

“Oh, fuck—yes! More!” she cried, squirming, desperate for more. Her language was filthy.

She arched suddenly, her body tensing, tightening around my fingers, a deep, animalistic growl ripping from her throat. Her nails raked down my arms, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.

Then, like a wave crashing after the storm, she collapsed back onto the bed, her thighs still quivering, soaked in her own cum.

Helen's chest rose and fell, her lips parted, a sated, blissful haze in her eyes.

“Fuck…” she whispered, shuddering, trembling.

I smirked, fingers still buried inside her.

She pushed herself up, her chest still rising and falling, a wicked gleam in her eyes. With a slow, deliberate motion, she ran her fingers through her long, tousled hair, shaking it out as if casting off the chains of her past.

Then, she locked eyes with me, hungry and demanding.

"Get those pants off," she commanded, her voice dripping with authority and desire.

I smirked, my pulse thundering, my body aching for her.

"Yes, ma’am," I said playfully. 

Helen sat up, her eyes dark with mischief as she took in the sight of my straining cock, trapped beneath the thin fabric of my briefs.

With slow, deliberate movements, she traced her fingers along my length, pressing, teasing, owning me.

"Is this for me?" she purred, her lips curling into a wicked smile.

Then, without breaking eye contact, she licked her lips, slow, deliberate, sinful.

A promise of what was to come. 

She ripped down my briefs in one swift motion, my cock springing free, throbbing, eager for her touch.

Then, as if to make a statement, she turned her head slowly and locked eyes with the camera, then looked back at me. "Wait," she said.

Slowly, she got up and walked past the camera, returning with a hand behind her back, a condom in full view of the camera. She stopped to let the scene unfold before dropping it and walking over to me.

Her wicked smirk deepened, teasing, taunting.

Kneeling down, wrapping her fingers around my aching length, she held it close to her lips, her breath warm against my skin.

Then, with a sultry gaze and a slow, deliberate lick the full length, she whispered, "Mmm… let's ensure he gets a good view of what he'll never have again."

She paused, her eyes flicked between me and the camera, and she owned every second.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she ran a fingertip along my length, collecting the bead of slick pre-cum before bringing it to her lips.

She tasted it, tongue flicking over he bulbous end of my cock, savouring me with a low, satisfied moan.

Then, with a wicked smirk, she grasped my cock firmly, pressing the swollen, sticky tip against her lips, dragging it slowly across like a tube of lipstick.

"Perfect shade for a whore like me," she purred, licking the residue from the corner of her mouth.  

From that moment on, we lost ourselves in pure, unrestrained sex.

Helen took control first, turning to the bed and straddling me, her hips rolling as she sank down onto my aching length with a slow, torturous moan. She rode me with wild abandon, tossing her auburn hair, her wet, smudged cherry lips parted in ecstasy.

Then, I flipped her over, pressing her into the mattress, my hands gripping her thighs as I took her deep and hard missionary style. Her cries grew louder, her fingers clutching the sheets as I claimed her like I had always wanted to.

We explored every position we could, pushing each other to the limits, her legs wrapped around my shoulders, her back arched beautifully beneath me, her body pressed against mine as I took her standing against the wall, against the mirror where she could watch herself being taken.

The camera captured it all, every gasp, every whimper, every shuddering climax.

By the end, we collapsed together in a breathless, sweat-drenched tangle of limbs, her lips still swollen, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of our raw, primal need. I finished by shaking any drops left and rubbing them into her face.

"I love you," she growled before planting a kiss on my cock.

Helen turned to the camera one last time, a wicked, satisfied smirk curling on her lips.

"Hope you enjoyed the show," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. 

"Oh, by the way, meet a real gentleman," Helen purred, turning to the camera with a wicked grin. She reached out, running her fingers over my chest before cupping me possessively. I smirked, looking straight into the lens, letting Allan see exactly what he had lost.

With a deep, satisfied sigh, she flopped back onto the bed, her body still glowing from the aftermath of our relentless, uninhibited lust. Her legs open and towards the camera, letting all our mixed juices seep from a still swollen and bruised pussy. The sheets were a mess, smeared with sweat, slick, and the evidence of our party.

She stretched like a cat, completely unbothered. 

"I’m showering first," she announced, swinging her legs off the bed. As she stood, she tossed a glance over her shoulder. "And I’m not cleaning up. Who fucking cares?"

I watched her disappear into the bathroom, water running as I packed the camera equipment. 

With one final touch, I grabbed a sticky note, scrawled two simple words, and slapped it onto the memory stick, leaving it right on the dresser where he’d find it.

"This is your copy, divorce papers in the post."

Then, with a smirk, I grabbed my jacket.

It was time to disappear.