"I want to tell you my story. I need for you to understand who I am. It's not a pretty story and I'm afraid of what you will think of me. But I can't ...ie to you, not ever. And not telling you what I have to say would be a form of lying."She sat there, on the edge of my bed while I told her my story. Holding her hand in mine I told of the years of happiness with Jean, the slow but steady sliding apart and the final, ugly ending. I didn't spare myself: I told her of how I almost killed Arturo,. She used the remote control to put some on some music and they half lay, half sat on the sofa in silence, sipping their drinks until they climbed the stairs to bed.The next two weeks were spent in pursuance of his plan – or rather Gwen’s plan.Celia and David usually had sex every other day or so, and it meant that David’s charm offensive did not arouse any suspicion in her. It was however clear that she was impressed with his attentiveness to her thorough contentment.There was the quickie,. More

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