The problem of keeping a low profile is that you must always remain within the mainstream, not drinking in the Pub can single one out as unusual as can drinking too much or even drinking the wrong brand of beverage. I am afraid I must have got it wrong,

I was struggling to get my degree at the local University, I had to re do a year when I crashed my motorcycle and had three months in hospital, and the financial situation was getting really bad, I was behind on the rent for the bedsit in the house I shared with four other lads, you can only economise so much on food without dying, but I needed a few beers just to get through the day.

Then it all changed, the building I was cleaning as an evening job was raided. I had arrived about 9 turned off the alarms, locked the door behind me and headed for the roof for a smoke break in this smoke alarmed block, I heard a muffled explosion, and I froze, what the hell had I done. I kept watch, as I looked down I saw people in balaclavas leave in a hurry, the place had been robbed, and yet nothing happened, no alarm, no police, nothing. I went down and saw a door forced in a second floor office and a safe, the door blown open, with cash, securities and Gold Bars strewn across the floor, testimony to a rapid exit.

Should I raise the Alarm, ring the Police, well perhaps I should just a borrow a few spare notes, before I knew it I had tidied away the money in my trolley, and was worrying what to do next, but as the minutes ticked away it became clear no one was coming, of course I had turned the alarm off, when I came in, I was wearing rubber gloves and remembering office 42 on the top and fourth floor was empty I quickly unlocked it and stood on a chair removed a ceiling panel and stuffed money and securities into the void above, then I took the two gold bars to the roof and as a car passed dropped them to the Car Park.. Still no one came. No CCTV.

I went down reset the alarm, pulled the door shut unlocking and relocking the door where it had been forced open and after raising a drain cover and dropping the gold down it I went round to my other building which I cleaned thoroughly rang the office to say I had finished.

I returned to the crime scene, I unlocked the outside door and turned the alarm off, no one came, then I wrenched the alarm box off the wall and thoroughly trashed it before re-locking the door and rushing around like a headless chicken until someone came, I saw an elderly couple across the road “Its been robbed”, I shouted. Soon I was charging around leaving handprints as the old couple called the Police who thought they were mistaken, anyway the police came round eventually. They spotted the broken alarm, and promptly sent me home.

They took a statement from me and eventually they caught the criminals who admitted everything, and after a few weeks over a few nights the securities found their way to my room in my digs, under the wardrobe, and the cash two hundred and fifty thousand..

Keeping a Low profile, do you understand why I needed to keep a low profile.

Keeping a Low profile, I spent a lot of time at Uni, but I kept expecting to be arrested or questioned, I had to keep the cleaning job but I was suffering, my course work dropped off, the worry, you see the thieves were arrested and on remand, then I was to be a witness, my regular pint at the Student union started to become four and I was warned for being late at work, So I changed to having just the one pint at the Grapes near my digs, the guys were always trying to sell knock off gear, but I could just relax, among strangers, in anonymity. But my plans misfired, I was not anonymous, I was a student, a youngish white English guy, some Asian guys took an interest in me, they assumed I was gay,

“No Sorry pussy man me,” I explained.

“No matter, you’re short of readies I hear,” the older one said, late thirties maybe, leather jacket you know the type.

“News travels, but yeah.”I agreed.

“Right, how about a chance to earn some serious dosh, and do us a favour,” he suggested as I sipped my pint one Saturday,

“If it’s not knock off or drugs I might be interested,” I agreed.

“No it’s a cock up,” he said earnestly, “We need someone to marry a Russian, Ileana or something only her visa is ending and she is desperate to stay here, you’re not married,” I shook me head “Five hundred up front Ok,” he handed it to me, I took it “Good man, we will be in touch, I never even asked how much the total was.

They sorted some details, I was told to tell the University that I lived at her flat now, the university needed to have the information in case immigration checked, it was straight forward enough, and the five hundred pound advance took care of the rent I owed, except five from the robbery paid the rent, and the extra five was spends for me, and things were looking distinctly promising.

The wedding was all planned immaculately Witnesses, Honeymoon, well one night in an Hotel in Bridlington, stretch limo, no reception, even a photographer, and I was ordered to be at the Metropole Hotel at six in my best suit to meet Ileana for a chat, I expected a spiky haired lesbian in Jackboots but Ilena was something else completely.

I could scarcely believe it, her flame red hair flowed around her shoulders her neck was perfect, aristocratic even she had freckles around her nose, her teeth were the whitest most perfect imaginable and her breasts were just perfect and her legs, well they just went on and on. I suddenly realised I was in love and began to wish I had actually worn my good suit instead of the twenty years out of date ten quid special from Oxfam and especially I regretted not wearing a clean shirt.

And then she spoke, she was so cold so clinical, she made my blood freeze. “We marry Saturday, you have learned facts about me,”

“Yes” I agreed awkwardly, “We meet Saturday and never again,” I agreed.

“Unless immigration sniff round” said Kevin the older black guy.

“Fine.” I said and meant it.

Saturday came and feeling a total prat I caught the bus to town in my best suit with a suitcase and stood at the registry building waiting for my future wife, she arrived in a smart tailored business suit, she gave me a swift kiss on the cheek, and we tried to look like we were in love for the Registrar not a huge problem for me, and we did the paperwork, and then, business over, we headed for the stretch Limo where arrangements were made to pay me.

“You get the money tomorrow morning,” Ileana insisted,” We must spend the night together.”

The journey to Brighton was a nightmare then we booked into a small Hotel where we ate Dinner in almost complete silence and spent the evening relaxing in the bar before transferring to our room, hardly a Honeymoon Suite, at a suitably late hour.

We had room service send up a light supper, and champagne, and she announced her intention of going to bed, and as she turned to hang up her jacket the light caught her and suddenly I remembered how beautiful she was with her gorgeous swan neck and her flame red hair swinging, those, slim, nicely shaped breasts, but her expression was again cold, hard, severe, but the soft light softened even this.