We met at a club, high about the Cape Town CBD. The mountains to the south the sea to the north and millions of lights in between creating a golden glow. I was a happily married man with a career and a lifestyle to be envied. I was there with my wife whose company was celebrating a successful completion of contract and I was on my very best behaviour.

She was there as the partner of one of the clients senior management, a trophy woman I believe. I was dancing with my wife when I noticed her, deep eyes that a man could drown in, beautiful hair and a body made for love. An arching tattoo that started on the sole of her right foot and curled slowly upwards, dragging my eyes up to hem the micro mini she wasn't really wearing, to disappear to who knows where. I watched her in fascination. Never in my life had I had such completely irrational lust for a complete stranger. I dragged my eyes away, turned my back but I knew she was there, it was scary. Then she moved into view and when I looked at her face, I realised she was looking straight back at me and the look in her eyes reflected what I was feeling, in my stomach, in my hips, all over. I rubbed my body against my wifes and she responded immediately sexily. I closed my eyes, but the womans image seemed to have been burnt into my retinas. I tried to avoid her, but the club was small and there was no escaping eye contact.

I could not escape home, we had to stay for the speeches and all the bonhomie and goes with such events. I was trapped and feeling completely out of control. Foolishly, I drank a little too much and so my inhibitions were starting to take a holiday. A snake formed on the dance floor and my wife grabbed me by the waist and pushed me onto the end of the snaking line of people. I hate those snake things, I get lost, I stand on peoples toes and generally mess up. After an extra glass of whiskey it was nightmarish stuff. It was only are a number of curves and twists that I realised that I was holding onto the waist of the trophy woman and there was no way I could escape. The heat rising from her hips, the scent of her body, the movement of her hair on her bare shoulder, burnt into my soul like a blow torch. Breathing became a trial by fire. As we passed a mirror on the wall the trophy woman, looked up and saw who was holding her waist. She staggered once, tried to pull away but the man in front of her grabbed her hand and held her in place. The dance went on forever. I could feel my arousal transmitting down my arms and into her waist. She was responding, I could feel it, the sways becoming more sensual, she thrust her buttocks back at me. Once she turned suddenly and my hand slid forward across her belly and I felt a breast brush against the top of my hand, and she bent forward slightly and then slowed abruptly as the snake hit a crisis of direction. I found myself pressed against her, my erection must have been all too obvious, because she twitched and then slowly rubbed herself against it before moving off. My wife seemed not to have noticed and soon the snake broke up and we went to sit down.

"Nice little piece of ass you had in your hands there. I thought you were going to impale her at one stage."
I swallowed hard. "I nearly did, that damned snake stopped so suddenly."
She laughed, "So long as I score later on tonight I don't mind. But stay well away from her. You making a pass at her would be career limiting move for me and divorce courts for you."
"You know her?"
"Of her. She is the client's MD's new squeeze. Seems she does all the things that make the MD sit up and take notice."

"Now why should I take notice of her when I have you right here? Hmmm?"

She only smiled and we dropped the topic.

As the party was winding down I had to make a pit stop, the alcohol was demanding to be released. I wove my way a bit unsteadily down the dark corridor toward the gents, as I passed the ladies, she lurched out, also slightly unsteadily and seeing me stumbled. I grabbed her arm to stop her falling and before I knew what was happening her lips were brushing mine, her tongue probing my teeth for a way in. I retaliated and our tongues slithered over each other. She broke free after a few seconds,
"Shit. Go wipe your face. I must go back and do my face again."
I went into the gents and sure enough there was a red smudge on my lips.
I washed very carefully and headed back to my waiting wife.
We went home and my wife scored, big time. I had the trophy woman etched on my retinas and I raged across my wife's body leaving her arched and gasping.
When sanity returned my wife was in bed with me and smiling.
"I should introduce you to sexy ladies more often."

That, as far as I was concerned was the last of it. For six months my wife and I continued on with our idyllic life. Partying, living, loving. The trophy woman disappeared from my immediate memory and I breathed sigh of relief. Meeting her again would be dangerous. I did not think I could meet her and not show something of the energy that single kiss had created. She lives in Johburg so the chances of bumping into her were fairly remote. I was relieved.

It was early summer and I was walking up Government Avenue. The sun was illuminating the new green oak leaves so the shade was dappled and green and cool. The occasional flash of sunlight illuminated the edge of the leaves and the air was still with warm, turned earth and mowed laws smells. It was stunningly beautiful.

Then she was just in front of me. I recognised the smell, her hair, her hips, the sway of her body. I tried to turn away but I couldn't. The allure was too strong. I fell back a bit as she walked, checking for companions. She was alone. I followed discretely watching, waiting. When we reached the Art Gallery she turned left down a fairly deserted alley way lined with oaks. I followed. Half way down the alley she slowed and I touched her shoulder, unable to speak.
She swivelled toward me. "I wondered if you would just follow me or if you would take me."

She tilted her head up slightly, lips parted, teeth showing, lipstick glossy in the shady light. I fell into her eyes, her mouth yielded to mine eagerly, she pushed herself against me, rubbing hard tipped breasts against my thin shirt. My hands found her waist, her buttocks and then as we slid behind an oak tree my hand got a grip on the hem of her skirt, pushed it up, swept the panties aside and felt her lips against my finger tips.
Her mouth found mine and her nether lips opened to my gentle probing. She was wet, hot and pumping against my hand. She rubbed my erection through my trousers, then slid the zip down, grasping me firmly and pumping slowly. Suddenly she broke away, "Someone coming and it isn't you. Yet. Remember me. We are fated to be together. Remember me."
And she was gone.

I walked Government Avenue regularly, waiting for her to appear. I dodge work, I go home late, but she never reappears.

I am almost ready to give up when she reappears, we walk side by side to a secluded spot and the clinch is hotter, more desperate, again not consummated. frustration grows in me. We oart,

Again I stalk the Avenue, not seeing her.

I become obsessed. My wife becomes cold, distant. I cannot stop, I must touch the woman, feel her, consummate our lust.

She is gone again.

Then without warning, she is back. The short mini, the arching tattoo, the walk, everything is right.

I hurry up to her, I reach out to touch her, to turn her toward me. She turns, it isn't her. A stranger. She steps back, screams, stumbles, falls backward to the ground. Before I know what is happening, someone has grabbed my shoulder, is shouting, he hits me, once, twice. She is screaming, "Don't hit me. Don't hit me. It is over. We are finished" I raise my hands and try to back away, I trip and I smash my head, the world goes cold, dark and then fades away.

She sits, a widow of 6 months at her desk, gazing out of the window, remembering the last time the company had celebrated the end of a contract and the awful effect it had had on her life. Her husbands obsession, his attack on an innocent woman, her partner pushing him and him hitting his head, shattering his skull and dying.

There is a gentle tap at the door, she looks up and is slightly startled to see the UNIX administrator standing there. He has emerged from his dark kingdom where he does arcane things to the machines he seems to worship. Cadaverous, shaven head, dressed in black. A groups name emblazoned in silver and red blood on the black tee shirt. She doesn't recognise the name, but the genre is fairly obvious, death metal, thrash metal, metal metal, but a heavy, heavy metal band.

He looks quite sheepish and completely out of place.

"Can I help you?" Not her country, but he is standing at her door so she does the polite thing. One of the secretaries walks past and looks just as startled as she feels.

"Can I come in? And, er, and close the door?"

"Yes, I suppose so, but why close the door?"

Furtive now, "Got something to show you. Could get me into trouble if we handle it wrong." He guardedly shows her a flash drive with a skull badge on it.

Now curious she nods. He scuttles in, fast for a big man. Closes the door firmly and gestures to the computer. "Can I ..."

She nods again.

He does arcane things with the computer including entering a password that suddenly seems necessary and a folder displays.

He looks even more furtive, defensive. Then nods, and grows confident.

"You are a good woman. Seen you around, not like the rest of management."

She blinks at this curious change of direction.

"Wouldn't be here if ...."

The pause drags on.

He sighs. "You see I was following up on some decryption stuff on the web and someone asked me to decrypt a memory card from an iPhone. It had some fairly simple encryption and I cracked it easily. Didn't think too much about it. Then I got another request, and another. Turns out these guys," waves his hand vaguely "buy stolen memory cards and see what they can get off the card. I should have stopped then, but they had started to pay me for my time, so I just kinda skated around the ethics of it. It was the challenge see?" He looked doubtful. She was not feeling much happier either.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Well you see, I started to get curious about what was on the memory cards. Mostly family snaps, travel snaps, you know the sort of thing. A couple of raunchy pictures,  too. The videos tended to be quite interesting so I used to skim them to see what was on them. A bit voyeuristic." He looked abashed.

"Go on." She was now intrigued. What had he seen? Why had he come to her?

"I got a new memory card in and started looking at the videos on it. Your hubby wasn't the only one who noticed the blonde with the tattoo at that party. I like tattoos, so I noticed hers. So when I saw her tattoo I thought "That has to be her." Except it wasn't her. Then I saw that same tattoo and this time it was her. Two women with the same tribal? Strange. I watched all the videos on that memory card. That tattoo appears in each video. Here is one."

The screen of the computer started to flicker then settled. Now sound arrives. A man hurries up behind a woman, grabs her by the shoulder. the woman pulls away, stumbles backwards screaming "Don't hit me, don't hit me. It is over. We are finished." the man is wrestled to the ground. She now sees his face. It isn't her husband, someone else. The man is restrained. Threatened with exposure. Videos taken to be shown to wives, bosses, whoever would be interested. The video ends. Blackmail.

"There were four like that."

"Was he in one of them?"

"No. He wasn't, but that seemed curious, the modus operandi was the same. Where was that video. Had to have been deleted. So I went back, scratched around in the file cemetery, found a deleted video and resurrected it. He is in that. You want to watch?"

"NO! Yes, yes, play it."

The same scenario. She recognises the way he moves, the flick of his hair everything. Her man. He grabs at the womans shoulder, she pulls away, stumbles, falls back screaming “Don't hit me! Don't hit me. It is over. We are finished.”. The partner knocks him over, but he falls badly, hits his head on a rock, jerks suddenly and then collapses in on himself, eyes flicker, blood dribbling out of his right nostril and ear. The cameraman continues filming and suddenly there are people all around. She can see the woman with the tattoo running up her leg, but as the techy said, it isn't her. Fatter, coarser somehow. As she watches a second woman arrives, same tattoo and this time it is her. The woman speaks, "Fuck, you have killed him. Are you fucking crazy. Switch that video off and delete it." The video ends abruptly.

She sits sobbing.