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A few days passed by; he was alone; walking the shores of uncertainty, while strange emotions stormed his heart without respect or mercy.
He still had Sara’s number in his wallet and had debated with himself when to call her. Today, he would call her, what was the worst thing that could happen… she could hang up? He’d had that happen a few times before, but this time he felt that something was different, his gut reaction and her body language said more… a lot more.

Wednesday was one of those days, as soon as he got up, his thoughts turned to the shimmering woman at Mario’s, and he decided to call her around eleven. It would be the best time in the office; he always functioned better after sorting out his day and the effect of three coffees had hit his system.

He dialled Sara’s number, it rang a few times, then he hung up…’this is crazy’ he told himself.
But he hadn’t been able to put thoughts of her aside, since meeting her on Saturday night – it was a sheer act of willpower that he had waited this long to call her. He pressed redial and to his amazement a soft, purring voice answered.
“Hi,” just one word and his pulse was racing.
“Hi there, is that Sara’ he began, then mentally kicked himself for stating the obvious.
“Hello,” she replied, still purring. “I wondered if you’d call?”
“Did you enjoy your evening at Mario’s?” he asked, hoping to find out more about her. “It was a little more rowdy than usual,” she stated dryly.
“Sara, would you like to meet for a drink sometime?” he’d meant to sound casual and unhurried, but was fumbling around like a teenager. He wanted to charge round and see her now.
“Yes, I’d love to…. I work in town, maybe we could meet at The Marx bar, near the train station?”
“Ok I know where that is.” he replied.
“How does Friday lunchtime sound, around 1 o’clock?”
“Fine with me.” he agreed smiling to himself, noting she’d chosen a daytime rendezvous, instead of an evening. “By the way,” she continued softly, still purring. “do you have a name?”
“Oh sorry, it’s Jake Morgan.”
“Well Jake, I’ll see you there...”
The phone went dead; he sat in his office chair, lost in thought, but not for long. The phone rang again and forced him back to reality. “I’ve been trying to get through for ages!” declared a sharp voice on the other end of the line, it was his latest client.
“Tony,’ replied Jake, “Don’t flap, I’m on the case and should have some news for you in due course.”
“I’m not paying you by the hour Morgan, just on results!” He rang off before Jake could add anything further.
Jake wasn’t proud of it, but he was a professional entrapment guy. His job remit translated into being paid a generous fee by jealous partners like Tony, to trap their wives, husbands etc. It could pay very well at times, but it didn’t always make up for his overwhelming ‘Judas’ complex, which on occasions would consume him. This in turn led to much self-castigation and general feeling of being a low-life.
He didn’t really understand how he had got into this line of work, just an ill-advised bet with a friend at first, wagering that he couldn’t pull the barmaid, but of course he took on the bet and won hands down. Sadly, the barmaid ended up with a broken arm and a black eye. It transpired at a later date, that his so-called friend was seeing the barmaid and had done so for a year or two. But she had grown tired of his jealous rants and tried to dump him. Out of spite he’d had the bet with Jake and lost.
Despite his feelings of betraying the barmaid, he admitted that he sort of got a kick out of the game play. As a result, he’d put the word out to an old ex-cop friend, that he was willing to act as a honey trap – it was all a bit sad when you looked at it stone cold sober, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
“A honey trap with a bitter after taste!” was how Frankie the ex-cop described it, but he wasn’t averse to using Jake when the occasion arose.

However, the latest contact he had been given had thrown him totally off balance. There was something about Sara that tore at his heart and soul, he never allowed work to become personal, but this time Sara had invaded him beyond his understanding. He paced the floor, if he had a belief in God; he would have pleaded for clemency in the silence of his night…‘why do I feel like this?’
This time, perhaps he had taken on more than he could handle. Sara was beautiful, not just English rose beautiful, but drop dead gorgeous, and he wanted her deeply.

The guy on the phone was Tony, Sara’s husband. He was currently away on business in China, the new up and coming economy. He’d be away for just over three weeks; Jake knew that because he had met Tony at his golf club, to be told when the coast would be clear. Tony was a typical overweight businessman, who no doubt indulged in long lunches and too many after hours drinks parties. He was full of self-importance and men’s room banter. He reminded Jake of a toad in his multi coloured golfing pants and matching Slazenger sweater. Tony had handed him a fistful of cash, a ‘grand’ up-front, and the other £4,000 would be payable when Jake met with him again, to hand over the ‘evidence’…. A collection of photos and receipts from bars, cafes and hotels used in the liaisons. Once Jake had delivered the proof, he would get the rest of the cash, dirty money, but it paid the bills…

Since their first rendezvous at the Marx café, almost three weeks ago, there had been many meetings with Sara in cafes, restaurants and hotels and many photos taken. The more they met up, the more the line blurred between reality and the fantasy world he had created. He couldn’t imagine not being able to see her, hold her and hear her laugh.
They had made love for the first time, just over a week ago and while she lay languidly on the bed afterwards, he had stared into the bathroom mirror at his unsympathetic reflection. A strange poetic pain danced inside his head... ‘I kissed such beauty in my dreams, dusky, sultry; she faded into the darkness of the night. Returning to the jealous shadows in the corner, I awoke and felt her kiss upon my morning lips and wept as no man should weep for she had gone’.

Click here to see Chapter Three >