The problem of keeping a low profile is that you must always remain within the mainstream, not drinking in the Pub can single one out as unusual as can drinking too much or even drinking the wrong brand of beverage. I am afraid I must have got it wrong,

I was struggling to get my degree at the local University, I had to re do a year when I crashed my motorcycle and had three months in hospital, and the financial situation was getting really bad, I was behind on the rent for the bedsit in the house I shared with four other lads, you can only economise so much on food without dying, but I needed a few beers just to get through the day.

Then it all changed, the building I was cleaning as an evening job was raided. I had arrived about 9 turned off the alarms, locked the door behind me and headed for the roof for a smoke break in this smoke alarmed block, I heard a muffled explosion, and I froze, what the hell had I done. I kept watch, as I looked down I saw people in balaclavas leave in a hurry, the place had been robbed, and yet nothing happened, no alarm, no police, nothing. I went down and saw a door forced in a second floor office and a safe, the door blown open, with cash, securities and Gold Bars strewn across the floor, testimony to a rapid exit.

Should I raise the Alarm, ring the Police, well perhaps I should just a borrow a few spare notes, before I knew it I had tidied away the money in my trolley, and was worrying what to do next, but as the minutes ticked away it became clear no one was coming, of course I had turned the alarm off, when I came in, I was wearing rubber gloves and remembering office 42 on the top and fourth floor was empty I quickly unlocked it and stood on a chair removed a ceiling panel and stuffed money and securities into the void above, then I took the two gold bars to the roof and as a car passed dropped them to the Car Park.. Still no one came. No CCTV.

I went down reset the alarm, pulled the door shut unlocking and relocking the door where it had been forced open and after raising a drain cover and dropping the gold down it I went round to my other building which I cleaned thoroughly rang the office to say I had finished.

I returned to the crime scene, I unlocked the outside door and turned the alarm off, no one came, then I wrenched the alarm box off the wall and thoroughly trashed it before re-locking the door and rushing around like a headless chicken until someone came, I saw an elderly couple across the road “Its been robbed”, I shouted. Soon I was charging around leaving handprints as the old couple called the Police who thought they were mistaken, anyway the police came round eventually. They spotted the broken alarm, and promptly sent me home.

They took a statement from me and eventually they caught the criminals who admitted everything, and after a few weeks over a few nights the securities found their way to my room in my digs, under the wardrobe, and the cash two hundred and fifty thousand..

Keeping a Low profile, do you understand why I needed to keep a low profile.

Keeping a Low profile, I spent a lot of time at Uni, but I kept expecting to be arrested or questioned, I had to keep the cleaning job but I was suffering, my course work dropped off, the worry, you see the thieves were arrested and on remand, then I was to be a witness, my regular pint at the Student union started to become four and I was warned for being late at work, So I changed to having just the one pint at the Grapes near my digs, the guys were always trying to sell knock off gear, but I could just relax, among strangers, in anonymity. But my plans misfired, I was not anonymous, I was a student, a youngish white English guy, some Asian guys took an interest in me, they assumed I was gay,

“No Sorry pussy man me,” I explained.

“No matter, you’re short of readies I hear,” the older one said, late thirties maybe, leather jacket you know the type.

“News travels, but yeah.”I agreed.

“Right, how about a chance to earn some serious dosh, and do us a favour,” he suggested as I sipped my pint one Saturday,

“If it’s not knock off or drugs I might be interested,” I agreed.

“No it’s a cock up,” he said earnestly, “We need someone to marry a Russian, Ileana or something only her visa is ending and she is desperate to stay here, you’re not married,” I shook me head “Five hundred up front Ok,” he handed it to me, I took it “Good man, we will be in touch, I never even asked how much the total was.

They sorted some details, I was told to tell the University that I lived at her flat now, the university needed to have the information in case immigration checked, it was straight forward enough, and the five hundred pound advance took care of the rent I owed, except five from the robbery paid the rent, and the extra five was spends for me, and things were looking distinctly promising.

The wedding was all planned immaculately Witnesses, Honeymoon, well one night in an Hotel in Bridlington, stretch limo, no reception, even a photographer, and I was ordered to be at the Metropole Hotel at six in my best suit to meet Ileana for a chat, I expected a spiky haired lesbian in Jackboots but Ilena was something else completely.

I could scarcely believe it, her flame red hair flowed around her shoulders her neck was perfect, aristocratic even she had freckles around her nose, her teeth were the whitest most perfect imaginable and her breasts were just perfect and her legs, well they just went on and on. I suddenly realised I was in love and began to wish I had actually worn my good suit instead of the twenty years out of date ten quid special from Oxfam and especially I regretted not wearing a clean shirt.

And then she spoke, she was so cold so clinical, she made my blood freeze. “We marry Saturday, you have learned facts about me,”

“Yes” I agreed awkwardly, “We meet Saturday and never again,” I agreed.

“Unless immigration sniff round” said Kevin the older black guy.

“Fine.” I said and meant it.

Saturday came and feeling a total prat I caught the bus to town in my best suit with a suitcase and stood at the registry building waiting for my future wife, she arrived in a smart tailored business suit, she gave me a swift kiss on the cheek, and we tried to look like we were in love for the Registrar not a huge problem for me, and we did the paperwork, and then, business over, we headed for the stretch Limo where arrangements were made to pay me.

“You get the money tomorrow morning,” Ileana insisted,” We must spend the night together.”

The journey to Brighton was a nightmare then we booked into a small Hotel where we ate Dinner in almost complete silence and spent the evening relaxing in the bar before transferring to our room, hardly a Honeymoon Suite, at a suitably late hour.

We had room service send up a light supper, and champagne, and she announced her intention of going to bed, and as she turned to hang up her jacket the light caught her and suddenly I remembered how beautiful she was with her gorgeous swan neck and her flame red hair swinging, those, slim, nicely shaped breasts, but her expression was again cold, hard, severe, but the soft light softened even this.

I smiled at her as my manhood stiffened, and as it did so I realised she had noticed my crotch bulge “Don’t get ideas” she ordered, “This is business only” but I saw a slight smile.

“It’s Ok I don’t go for older women.” I lied and she scowled, we both knew she was only three days older than I, but she just ignored me and she just went into the en-suite bathroom showered and when she appeared she was wearing a beautiful white ankle length night-dress.

She scowled at me, “You take a bath,” she said she simply climbed into the bed and pulled the bedclothes over her. “You don’t get any funny ideas you sleep on floor” she ordered.

“Are you with KGB or something” I muttered heading for the shower.

I showered and thought about the situation, Ok I was being paid but she had no need to be so rude. I dressed in an Hotel Bathrobe and crossed to the bed throwing the covers back and slipping in beside her she put down her book, “Sleep on floor,” she insisted.

“But we are not properly married yet until we have sex,” I countered, “You will pay me for work I have not done unless I make love to you,” I put my arms round her cupping her breasts to wind her up, she reacted violently wrenching herself free and raining a barrage of punches and slaps on me, I sat up and caught her wrists, she seemed suddenly small and frightened.

My bathrobe had become displaced open down the front and my manhood was now very aware of her proximity, leaking pre cum and standing obscenely to attention, I let her go and adjusted my dress as they say, but as soon as I released her ams she started hitting me again until I grabbed her wrists until she stopped struggling, then I moved my head near her ear “You saw mine now show me yours!” I joked.

“Let me go,” she insisted but I kissed her ear.

“And you will show me yours!” I insisted.

“No I will not” she insisted.

“Oh what a shame, still this is nice,” I said as kissed her ear again,she was warm and fragrant and I struggled to remember when I had last had a woman and my manhood strained and I felt the warnings that I was about to cum.

Oh god I was cumming. Great gouts of creamy cum shot out as my tool emerged through the gap in my bathrobe and cum splashed all over the front of her nightdress.

“Oh God sorry, Ileana, Oh I did not do it on purpose, sorry” I said releasing her as I realised my cum had soaked her expensive night gown from crotch to bust and beyond.

“You filthy bastard, you will lick it off me,” she insisted cruelly.

“No I bloody well wont,” I replied

“Yes” she said scooping some on a finger and pushing it at my mouth, “Come on lick” she said, “You gay boys like cum.”

“No way!” I insisted.

She licked her finger absent mindedly “Its not too bad for English, so you eat other men’s seed but not your own.”

“No I don’t eat men’s seed,” I protested.

“Are you not Bi sexual,” she asked, “They promised Homo or at least Bisexual, they say you would not be interested in sex.”

“Interested in Girls, yes, Men no, you” I paused, “Definitely!” I thought a moment “I tried not to but my body disagrees.”

“I too have this trouble” she admitted, “Look!” she pointed to her nipple, standing erect straining brassiere and night gown, “We must remain alert or our bodies will do sex while we sleep” she slid from the bed her expensive white gown emphasising her curves, and she disappeared to the bathroom and reappeared in a hotel bathrobe carrying her gown, “This is ruined I think, we shall sleep now yes ” she suggested and she pulled the sheets over her.and switched off the bedside light.

I sort of dozed and felt exploring fingers, my bathrobe’s belt the first target then my chest which she carefully traced with a fingertip.

My fingers loosed the knot on her bathrobe, I searched in vain for the waistband of her panties and for her bra and carefully checked her breasts and belly for blemishes before establishing she was so wet below she was leaking on to the sheet, and oh so gently pulled her to me as I manoeuvred to be on top on top of her and still she made no effort to resist, so I eased her legs apart, eased the soaking petals of her labia apart with my finger and gently eased my straining manhood into her.

We rocked with the rhythm of passion silently, two separate people making one being, perhaps creating another being form our love, I sensed she was near the moment of release of her inner tensions that orgasm was nigh and I came, seemingly gallons of boiling cum flooding her parts, she cried out then stilled and slowly gently I withdrew, and so as not to disturb her as she lay in the middle of the bed, I curled up happily on the floor.

I dreamed of Jack and the Beanstalk, with my erect penis being the beanstalk and woke as a smooth silky warm and wet Russian cunt descended on it , And I paid a return visit to the bed entering her as dawn broke, “Good Morning Mrs Fisher,” I greeted her.

“Good morning my Husband.” she locked her legs around me “You may kiss the bride you know.”

“Yes my love,” I joked as I greeted her, “Do you like being Mrs Fisher”

“Yes I think I do,” she agreed

“Why?” I asked

“Because my body tells me you are the one for me” she explained.

“Not your heart.” I suggested.

“Yes my heart,” she agreed, “My head says run away.”

“I have a confession,” she said before breakfast, “I have not the money I owe you, I shall earn it but for now it is not there.”

“And the men who set this up?” I asked.

“I owe them two thousand too, they will have to wait.” she explained, “I am not dishonest but I am desperate.”

“Any other debts, boyfriends girlfriends, I need to know about?” I asked

“Ten Thousand for loan and I have to find rent right now.” she apologised.

“So in fact you have a reputation for being rich and no money?” I probed as the absurdity of the situation sank in.

“Yes, why are you laughing?” she asked.

“Because I have money I should not have, and.” I explained but I was getting hard again.

She sensed my intentions, “Later,” she suggested. “Look Dan, Mr Fisher, the fairy tale ends here, I cannot pay, you have no money, the beautiful fantasy is over, I never intended for us to have the sex but you must please face the truth.”

“No, It’s not a problem,” I replied.

“It is, we have no money, please do not pretend that you do.”

“Ileana, please.” I insisted, “I do have money!”

“Go home Mr Daniel Fisher, I wish it was different but it is not” she explained

“I’ll look you up when we get back home!” I promised.

“But we don’t know each other, you know nothing about me!” she insisted, “This is crazy, you must give me some space.”

“Ok, a week, I’ll give you a week, but keep in touch Ok.”

Then she paid the bill and we set off for home separately, it turned out she never went back to the address we gave, it was there all right but a Somali family operated it as an accommodation address, but at least they had forwarded a disc to me with the wedding pictures on it.

News of my wedding had spread through Uni, and girls who had treated me like dirt suddenly revised their opinions as they believed me to be a gigolo sponging off my rich wife.

I got a car, a very nice Mercedes convertible with the power hood, silver, two years old 48 000 miles of course I had to rent a lock up garage for it and keep a low profile about the fact I still shared a bedsit with th guys.

I expected somebody to report us to the immigration authorities, but nobody did, but it was the Asian guys that arranged the marriage who came looking for me. They found me at the campus library, they waited until I came out.

“You really are a piece of shit!” I was told.

“Yeah, right, why exactly?” I asked.

“Your woman owes us,” the younger one said.

“How much?” I asked.

“Ten Thou and the rest.” he said.

“Right,” I agreed, “She’s gone away.”

“Yeah, as far as Reed Street, you’re pimping her out right?” he asked.

“Shit, no, no I’m not, look I haven’t seen her since the wedding?” I explained.

“We saw the car, man, you never earned that through a student loan!” the younger one asserted.

“Yeah right,” he said, and he handed me a card from a phone box.

My heart sank, but I pulled my mobile from my pocket, dialled the number and waited.

She answered my heart skipped, “I saw you advert, you do bondage, humiliation yes?”

I asked.

“Yes, what do you want?” she asked.

“Ropes, gags that sort of thing?” I suggested.

“Yes,” she agreed, “Do you wish to make an appointment?”

“Sure do, like do you do Hotels or anything?” I replied.

“No, you can come here,” she countered.

“When can I come, like the sooner the better?” I asked.

“Half an hour, beside the second hand bookstore by the Station, ask for Ileana.”

“Ileana, classy,” I said disguising my voice,” Half an hour is a bit tight how about half past eight?”

“Yes is good, an hour?” she said, “Is One fifty pounds.”

“Half past eight!” I agreed.

I switched the phone off, “Sounds like her,” I agreed, “She just sends me money.” I thought a moment, “So why don’t you find her?”

“Because you don’t mess with those guys do you?” the older one suggested, “Not when you can do it for us.”

“Ok,” I agreed, “I’ll find her, give me a call, maybe tomorrow, I don’t suppose you want to hand out your number?” I handed him my business card., and he peered closely at it and they walked away.

I took a taxi to the station, and saw the bookstore as we passed by. I walked around with my collar turned up for a few minutes and right on eight thirty I rang the door bell in the rotting brown door. The place was more than seedy, a three storey block across from the London bound side of the station.

An apparently prematurely aged women answered, “Ileana,” I asked.

“Yeah she ‘s waiting,” she said, “Top floor room three.”

I climbed the mushy stairs, mushy, springy like rotten, and made my way past the nicotine stained nineteen thirties wall paper of the stairwell to the top floor, I knocked on the door, she opened it, she wore a nurses coat over black stockings, and as far as I could see little else.

“One hundred fifty pounds please.” she greeted me, she closed the door behind me and watched as I took the three fifties from my pocket and handed them to her, and it was only as she smiled that I realised she wasn’t my Ileana.

“You’re not Ileana!” I protested, I had been so sure that it would be her in the room but it wasn’t my Ileana, this girl’s hair was auburn,but shone red in the light, she was shorter, her breasts larger, not so shapely.

“So call me something else I don’t mind,” she replied.

“No, Ileana, Ileana with the red hair, and.” I suggested.

“No, no red heads work here, why?” she asked.

“She’s my wife.” I said, “I want her back!”

“Hey don’t get so stressed, why don’t you just sit on the bed and.” she suggested.

“No,” I replied, “I was wrong, keep the money, I guess you’d rather watch TV or something, but thanks, ok.”

“No!” she said, “Don’t go, most of my clients are shall we say, not in their prime, so?”

“Blow job?” I asked.

“Not so much fun for me,” she said, as she removed her coat to reveal back suspenders and a black half cup bra. She smiled, “Perhaps sir would prefer?” she said and pushed three fingers of her left hand into her vagina, “Pussy?”

“No!” I insisted but I had to adjust my rapidly swelling bulge.

She took my hand, “Come!” she said leading me to the bed, her hands now working to remove my belt, slip my dark grey trousers and underpants down and free my erection.

She rolled the condom onto me and she grinned as she lay back, my self control evaporated, and I climbed on top of her and slid into her slippery wetness.

I closed my eyes, it still couldn’t be Ileana, but, well, at that moment I didn’t really care, ok she was a whore but she was still a woman and I knew she would fake an orgasm but that still didn’t stop me trying to give her a genuine one but oh she was good, working her pussy muscles trying to milk the cum right out of me, so I let her do the work, I just had a bit of a think about how to track down Ileana, as I just rocked fairly gently and then when she started to get frustrated I decided to teach her a little lesson.

“Are you going to cum for me?” I asked.

“Grow up!” she hissed, so I ground my pelvis into hers “Ouch that hurt stop it!” she whispered.

“So stop trying to make me cum.” I whispered back.

“All right!” she said, “You want to try doggy style or anything?”

“Why are you getting sore?” I asked.

“Yes!” she said.

“Ok,” I agreed and I pulled out. and she rolled over pulled a pillow under her self and looked round at me. I scrabbled around behind her and slid right in.

“Oh that’s good,” I complimented her, and then she did her squeezing and it was too late, “You bitch!” I complained, but I was cumming and cumming, “Ohhhhhh my god!”

“You see,” she turned and grinned at me, “I’m the best!”

I was absolutely drained, it was only a quarter of an hour since I walked in.

“Shall I see you again?” she asked as she handed me the bin for the used condom.

Not in a million years, I thought, but I said, “Well maybe, but I am seriously looking for Ileana.”

“Do you have a photograph,” she asked.

I grabbed my wallet and showed her the wedding photo.

“So you’re serious, you’re really looking for your wife?” she asked.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“I have honesty never seen her,” she insisted, “Sorry!”

I went home.

I waited for the inevitable call from my Asian friends, “You find her?” it sounded like the older one who asked.

“Sure, ten thousand was it,” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied suspiciously.

“Because Ileana said it was six.” I insisted.

“Interest,” he replied.

“Are you sure?” I asked again.

“Sure, ten grand.” he said.

“Ileana will pay eight,” I offered.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Cash, but I need something to show her that I paid you.” I suggested

“Sure, you hand over the cash,” he agreed, “You get a bit of paper.”

“You sign. I go to the cash point.” I explained.

“Sure, eight, better than nothing,” he agreed.

“How about we meet in McDonalds at twelve thirty tomorrow?” I suggested, “The one by the station?”

And so it was agreed, I walked nervously Mc Donalds by the station carrying eight thousand pounds in cash and after ordering a Big Mac and fries I waited until they arrived, and then I exchanged a big wad of cash for a piece of paper which he signed, “Paid in full £ 8000!”

“Maybe when the divorce comes through we can do business again?” I suggested, but they just slipped away wordlessly.

I wondered how to find Ileana but the immigration people saved me the trouble, and she rang me.

“Mr Fisher, I need your help!” she admitted.

“Where’s the rest of my money?” I asked.

“You too will go to prison,” she warned, “The immigration want to see us,”

“Fine, where?” I asked.

“They send to the address, they find we are not there,” she babbled.

“So where do they want to see us?” I enquired.

“My house, will you come, bring things so they think you live here please?” she asked.

“Sure my pleasure!” I agreed, “Just email me the address,” we exchanged email addresses and arranged to meet next day at ten a.m.

I was impressed, when I saw her place, it was quite a smart apartment, two bedrooms big living room, walking distance from Uni.

I took a case with some of my things, actually it was a good way to free up space in my bedsit

“This is only for the authorities” she warned me, “Don’t get any funny ideas!”

“I think we need to talk,” I told her, “A little matter of my money.”

“I don’t have it,” she whined, “My business is not good, I have not the money.”

“What business?” I asked.

“Art, Antiques, Russian Art, that sort of thing.” she said.

“A little bird told me you were a prostitute?” I probed, I didn’t expect the slap across my face.

I staggered back in surprise but then I grabbed her wrist, “It’s not true then?”

She shook her head, “Ok, I was desperate,” she said, “Just a few times, I have to eat.”

“You fucking stupid bitch,” I told her, “Why the hell didn’t you come to me?”

“You can’t help!” she replied.

“I paid the eight grand you owed for the wedding!” I informed her.

“No!” she replied, “But I am hiding from them.”

“Well, how much do you charge Ileana, fifty pounds?” I asked.

“Don’t be so cruel!” she exclaimed.

“Did you always use a condom, every single time?” I asked seriously.

“Yes, of course,” she agreed.

“Be honest,” I said, “No more lies.”

“If you stop pretending about having money.” she insisted.

“Because you can repay me in the sack, fifty pounds a time, Ok?”

“Oh no, no way,” she protested

“Why not, you sleep with anyone else?” I asked.

“You pig!” she squealed.

“No, you’re the pig, wallowing in filth sleeping with any man with a few pounds, where’s your self respect!” I asked.

“In Russia!” she snarled.

“I was doing all right until I marry you,” she said, “I buy sell, then they want too much money so there is only the one way.”

“Ileana, I have money, but I need you, your business as a cover.” I explained, “The car, you think that was free with Corn Flakes!”

“No I suppose not.” she agreed.

“So how much do you owe?” I asked.

“Ten thousand, I have paid some, but still ten thousand.” she admitted.

“I already paid the money for the wedding, see?” I showed her the hand scrawled receipt “So I guess I have sole rights to fuck you, is that Ok?” I tried.

“No, you must have stolen the car.” she said, “You are really kind Daniel but I need wishes and not money, I mean I need.” I silenced her with a kiss.

“Wait here!” I ordered, and I shot down the stairs to the Mercedes, I pulled the trim off the inside of the passenger’s door and extracted a wad of notes from the bottom of the door below the window winder and then I put everything back and went upstairs, “Money” I said as I threw the bundles of notes at her,

She just stared, stared in disbelief, “It was all for nothing, you were telling the truth all of the time?” she gasped. “Oh my god, do you love me that much?”

“I suppose I do,” I admitted,

She smiled, I didn’t waste the moment, I’m afraid, I just swept her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom, her pink blouse tore off real easily, and I popped her tits out of her bra and dragged her short white skirt and black thong off her, she squealed, I wasn’t interested in why, only in making sure she knew she was mine.

“My you’re so masterful!” she gasped, as I struggled with my belt, “Hey let me.” she suggested, “It’s ok, calm down!”

I somehow struggled out of my trousers, kicked my shoes off, and had my shirt over my head before she collapsed in helpless laughter, this wasn’t in the plan.

“Daniel slow down, make love to me properly,” she insisted, “There is no hurry.”

“Ok, are you saying I don’t have to leave?” I asked.

“No you don’t have to leave,” she said, “You are my husband after all.”

It was hardly beautiful love making, she squealed s I pushed her onto the bed and spread her legs so I could drive deep inside her, she never tried to push me away, in fact she locked her legs round me so I couldn’t escape and she wailed in what sounded pretty much like an orgasm just before someone rang the door bell.

Well I ignored it as long as I could, but after I had cum in her and the noise continued I felt I had to answer. I pulled my trousers on and answered the door bare chested and bare foot. A fresh faced girl not much older than me wearing standard council officer uniform of boring twin set and bouse was waiting impatiently, “Mrs Ileana Fisher?” she asked.

“Do I look like an Ileana?” I asked, “Ileana it’s for you.” I shouted.

“And you are?” she asked clutching her clip board.

“Dan, Daniel Fisher, Ileana’s husband.” I replied, “Why?”

“Immigration,” she said, “We were told you had separated,” she explained.

“Oh yes, well its rude to come to the door entwined,” I replied. She took a moment for what I said to sink in.

“Yes we were fucking,” I explained, “Those noises like a pig dying, her orgasm ok.”

“Oh!” she gulped.

“You want a threesome?” I asked, and she thought it over for a second.

“Better not!” she said, almost sadly, “I have to check, we had information that you had separated.”

“No, we just moved, is that a problem?” I asked.

“Er no,” the woman agreed, “No, no problem at all, sorry to disturb you.”

Ilena stood behind me, “Goodbye,” she said theatrically, “Come back to bed Daniel!”

Well I didn’t need asking twice!

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