Alone in the audio-visual room she took a deep breath and pressed play. There was an almost unbearable pause of black screen before the images finally came onto the screen. Her face crinkled into a frown as she saw and recognised the two stars of the show. They were in a well-lit bedroom, a sumptuous divan off to the left. Standing to the right of the screen was Marcus Vine, in his now familiar guise of The Masked Intruder, with his trademark erection thrusting out of his leather trousers towards his victim. Claire felt her breath catch involuntarily and her thighs squeeze together at this latest glimpse of his unerringly iron-stiff member.
By the bed some six feet away, clad only in her underwear, was the wife of Mr Arbosh Anwar. She wordlessly pulled down her silk knickers to expose the
