After a number of drinks, my wife was feeling really horny, and asked me did I want her to flash the other guys in the room. I knew what she wanted, so told her to go ahead.She went to the loo and removed her panties. She wasn't wearing a bra under her dress, a favourite, as it was so easy to show whatever you wanted. She was facing the room, where there were five men who obviously knew each other.My wife slowly pulled the top of her dress to one side, revealing more of a breast. The men noticed, so she let her dress slip across her leg, showing a great deal of her leg almost up to her panty line. She was hot as hell now, smiling to the five guys, and slowly moved her dress to totally reveal her breast. The guys were enthralled, and when she moved the lower part of the dress to reveal her wide open, soaking wet pussy, I didn't know who was more excited. Me, her, or them.The five guys came and sat closer to us, and when my wife started to touch herself, one hand teasing her breast,. ”Using my hair, she tossed me backwards into my chair. Standing up, she gave me a very cold stare. “Whatever happened, they’re gone.” Her eyes were full of ice: no empathy, no compassion. “Best you get on with your life and forget about them.” She picked up my file and walked out of the room, her gait displaying a slight hitch.Mr Pritchard’s face declared his distaste for her demeanour. He watched the door close behind her and then took a deep breath, looking at me almost apologetically. “She’s extremely good at her job, but her ... experiences ... in the war cauterised her humanity.”I sat, trying to take on board what had been said, but all I could think of was that Col and Mutti Frida had disappeared behind the Iron Curtain.And I would never see them again.Mr Pritchard stood up. “Right, let’s get you out of here.”A few minute later, I was standing on the Embankment, dazed by the emotions running through me. I walked up on to Vauxhall Bridge and stood leaning against the balustrade,.
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