Pop Goes the Weasel by M. J. Arlidge

sitting alone at the IKEA dinner table, felt much the same way. His ex, Samantha, had taken their daughter, Emily, to Disneyland for two weeks – with new man Sean in tow. And though he tried to block it out – by focusing on work, watching football, looking up old mates – in reality he thought about it all the time. The three of them having fun – eating candyfloss, screaming on the rollercoasters, snuggling up at bedtime after a busy day’s fun – fun from which he was utterly excluded. He had never called the shots in his marriage and now that it was over he was still on the back foot. He had put all his energies into bringing up Emily and providing Samantha with everything she needed, so much so that he had neglected his mates and family. When Samantha admitted her affair and ended the marriage, he had no one to fall back on, no one genuine at least. People looked sympathetic and asked a few questions, but their hearts weren’t in it. He could tell no one blamed Samantha for her choice. Jason wasn’t much to look at and was hardly scintillating conversation, but even so he had worked bloody hard tomake Samantha happy. And what was his reward? A lonely flat and a custody battle.
    Jason scraped the remains of his ready meal into the bin and walked into what the letting agent called the study, but he called a cupboard. There was barely room to swing a cat in here, but it was his favourite room in the house – the only room that didn’t seem empty. He liked its warm embrace and he settled down into his chair, firing up his computer.
    He looked at the BBC News site, then the sport, then checked Facebook. A quick glance, then he shut it down – he didn’t want to see pictures of other people’s happy lives. He checked his email – spam, spam and another lawyer’s bill. He exhaled, bored. He should go to bed really. He debated whether he could face an early night when he knew he wouldn’t sleep, but it was a false debate. He had no intention of going to bed. Opening Safari, he clicked on his bookmarks. Dozens of online porn sites presented themselves. Once they had been exciting, now they were just familiar.
    He sat at his desk, bored and disconsolate. Time ticked by slowly, taunting him. God, it was only 11 p.m. Another nine hours at least before he could turn up at work. The night stretched out in front of him, a long blank vista.
    He paused, then typed ‘Escorts’ into the search engine. Immediately lots of flash ads popped up in the margins, asking him if he wanted to meet girls in Southampton. He hesitated, weirded out that they knew where he lived, thenstarted to flick through them. They were all thinly disguised invitations to prostitution – girls pretending to be in search of company, but actually touting for business. Should he? He had never done anything like this and if he was honest he was scared to get involved. What if someone found out?
    He flicked through more, his arousal growing. He had the money. So why not? If he got a disease he could get it fixed – it wasn’t like there was anyone else to pass it on to now. Why shouldn’t he do something exciting for a change?
    His heart was beating faster now, scenarios playing out in his mind. He scanned escort sites, forums, video clips – there was a whole world out there, waiting to be explored. Why not take control? Use his money to get people to do what he wanted for a change. Where would be the harm?
    Picking up his wallet, Jason left the room, turning off the light as he went. The night was calling to him and this time he wouldn’t resist.



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    He gripped the bullwhip firmly and let fly. It bit into her back with a satisfying snap. Her shoulders arched then slumped, but she didn’t make a sound. Whatever pain she was feeling she swallowed it down. Raising her shoulders again, she braced herself for more, throwing down a challenge to her dominator. Jake obliged, cracking the whip again. Still she made no sound.
    It was now a couple of