An hour passed, then two, and finally a third. He should do something - go in after her, confront the man that took her inside, insist she return with...him to their own home, to their own bed. Why had he allowed this in the first place? What kind of man gives his wife to a stranger, and then waits for him to finish with her? Her face haunted him, so youthful when they met, and even now, years later, it still cheated the passage of time. She remained an innocent Lolita with the body of a mature,. "And put some clothes on girl, ye'll catch yer death of cold." He pulled the door closed behind him, leaving Ingrid to find some Irn Bru and HP sauce. Exactly two hours later there came a knock on the door. "Come in," shouted Sir, having exited his bedroom and finished buttoning his shirt. Ingrid entered, beaming. She carried a silver tray with a triple decker bacon sandwich, a bottle of HP sauce, a large glass and an ice bucket filled with ice, with two tins of Irn Bru sitting on top. Sir. More

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