Rosemary slowly drifted awake in her down-soft bed. She stretched luxuriously, yawning, toes clenched, arms stiff above her head, fingers interlinked. She was feeling good, with good reason. She was going to see her lover, Clive, today.

She was possessed by a deeply contented, warm feeling, secure in the knowledge that all her worldly needs and wants would always be taken care of by her husband, Donald, whilst unknown to him, the physical excitement and lust which she also needed in her life, and which Donald did not fully supply, was provided by Clive - and never the twain would meet.

Clive gave her the freedom to play the `games` she so yearned for and little did Rosemary realise those games would soon lead to her downfall, until one day a parcel arrived that threatened to destroy her cosy, comfortable, two-timing life. The only question was, would she do whatever it took, no matter how painful and demeaning, to keep her sordid secret from Donald, her husband, or would the truth come out...