It’s 10:00PM when I finally get home after spending the evening with my lover.  I’ve been cheating on my husband for years, actually. It’s not that I don’t love him in my own way, but it’s simply that I’ve frankly always been a sort of slutty girl who loves doing naughty things. My husband knows I’ve been cheating on him. He’s pleaded with me for years to stop, and he does, I promise him it will be the last time, but then I see some lovely boy-toy someplace that I just have to have. I am 40 years old myself, incidentally, though I usually lie and claim to be 37 or 38. Even younger for the boy-toys, though they know I am lying.
To my surprise, my husband has got some sort of little party going, with several guests. They are having a good time. Several of the guests I know; my husband’s lawyer is there, my lawyer is there also, and my best friend Sandra and her husband. There is an Asian woman I have never met and a mysterious, rough-looking man who I know I want to be my next sexual adventure.  I don’t know what the occasion is, but pretty soon, my husband pulls me aside and we go into his office. Our lawyers join us, and the rough looking man I now want to fuck. My husband introduces him as Gunther Schmeisser, a private investigator he’s hired to follow me.  I immediately get the sense that this little meeting will end very badly. Shchmeisser places a folder of photographs on the desk in front of me and leaves the room without another word. There is now only my husband, the two lawyers and myself in the room. I calmly open the folder and look at the photos dispassionately, without a word. When I am finished, I look up at him, still saying nothing.

“I begged you; I pleaded with you to stop. For years I did this, and for years you lied to me. I pleaded with you more, and still you promised to stop cheating and always you were lying. I never mistreated you. I never laid a hand on you. I treated you like a queen, a goddess, but no more. Tonight it ends.”

He turns to his lawyer and gives him a silent nod. The lawyer gently slips another folder in front of me.

“So what do we do now?” I ask without opening it. “Divorce?”

“That’s one way of dealing with the problem,” answers my husband. “But it’s a long, drawn out and messy process that will drag your name through the mud, expose your many affairs, and expose your lovers. Some of them are nobodies, but others are….ah, wealthy and powerful men who would be even more embarrassed at the revelation you were sleeping with all of them than I would be.”

“Is there no other way?” I ask now, looking at my lawyer as I speak.

“As you know, consensual executions and self-hanging are now legal in this country, assuming you sign a declaration that your hanging is purely voluntary. If you sign the papers in front of you and agree to be hanged tonight in front of witnesses, then there will be no divorce proceeding and the investigator's files will be turned over to my office for destruction. Your name will remain unblemished, and your lover’s names will stay out of the courts and the newspapers.  The papers are in the folder in front of you,” she answers.

Most people would have refused the offer and gone to divorce court, but I am not most people. I am above all, an incorrigibly naughty woman who has always loved doing things I shouldn’t do.  I have already attended several hanging parties, always in the company of one of my younger lovers and I confess that at each one, I was thoroughly stimulated, thrilled actually to see these men and women get hanged.  It was getting to be a popular thing in our country now that it was legal. Often times, guests would be invited and games of chance would be played, with the losers being required to hang themselves, often naked in front of the other guests. Some chickened out, but most went through with it, signed the necessary forms and hanged themselves.  Once or twice, when the host was wealthy enough to afford their services, a professional executioner would be on hand to perform the execution. It didn’t change much, because most of these hangings were short drop hangings designed to maximize the entertainment, and of course the suffering of the condemned, but their showmanship added to the entertainment value of the event.  After every such party I attended, I wondered if I would ever be the main attraction at this sort of party and the thought sort of thrilled me a bit. Now I had my answer.

“Very well,” I answer after a moment. “Where do I sign?”

"You understand that once you sign the papers," replies my lawyer, "it goes completely out of your control and your husband has a legal right to have you executed by hanging?"

 "My life has always been something that is out of anyone's control," I answer. "This will be the first time anyone really controls it. Where do I sign?"

My husband’s lawyer points out all the places to sign on the form, and both lawyers sign the papers as well. When this is done, everyone but my husband leaves the room, leaving us alone for a few minutes.

“I never meant to hurt you,” I tell him sincerely.

“I know,” he answers, “but you did anyway; a great deal in fact.”

“And this will make things right between us?” I inquire.

“Yes, I hope so.” he answers. "I will allow me to finally put you behind me."

“Do I have time to take a bath first?” I ask.

“Yes. The execution is scheduled for midnight.”

“Will you be the one executing me? I ask.

“No,” he answers. “I brought someone in for that; the Asian lady in the other room. She’s carried out many hangings in Tokyo, and in America before that. She’s quite good, I’m told.”

“Is she expensive,” I inquire.

“Not compared to a lawyer,” he answes flatly, making it clear that my execution tonight was also a matter of money. Divorces are more expensive than hangings.

“I’d like to speak with her before my hanging if I may,” I say in reply.

“Of course,” he answers back.  "She’ll come in and help you with your bath and to prepare for your hanging, so you’ll have someone to talk to during the wait. I’m sure she’s already set up the noose and chair by now,” he replies. He then gets up and signals me to follow, offering his arm as he does. I could tell that he still loves me deeply but has given up on reforming me and for certain he is right. I will never change as long as I was alive, but I also feel very guilty about hurting him as much as I have. He has always been good to me, and as far as I know, loyal, though I have given him no reason to be loyal.  I take his arm and we walked out into the living room, and to be certain, the noose and chair had been set up while we were speaking in the office. My husband must have been very confident that I would choose to hang rather than go to court. I guess he knows me well enough by now.

He leads me over to the executioner, and introduces her as Kamiko Takahara most recently from Tokyo. We exchange pleasantries for a moment or two, and then I lead her to my bathroom.  She stops along the way to pick up a bottle of brandy and two snifters, explaining that the brandy would help make things a bit easier for me in the end. Once my bath is ready and I am enjoying the hot soapy water, she pours us both a drink and we starts to to chit-chat. Small talk at first, but it gets deeper very quickly. I am surprised by her honesty, warmth and compassion. She must kill me shortly, but never ceases to talk as though she was simply a guest at the party, meeting me for the first time.

“Have you done this many times?” I ask. I guess it's a natural question when facing your executioner as you take a bath.

“Yes,” many times she responds. "To the death, over a hundred times. To unconsciousness or less for paying clients wanting to experience the noose without death, I've frankly lost count."

"Might I ask how and why you became an executioner?" I pry.

"As near as can tell, I was born to it," replies Kamiko.  "The noose is a thing of hidden beauty that reveals its beauty to only a small percentage of people. It revealed itself to me when I was twelve or thirteen and I first started hanging myself for as long as I could stand the pain not long aftewards.  It was an awakening, both emotionally and sexually, as I find the noose and hanging supremely erotic, above all other things."

"And from there you became an executioner?" I ask.

"No. It took many years. I kept hanging myself for a while, always promising myself to stop, though as I got more and more used to the pain, I found I could do it for longer and longer. But I buried this habit; I denied my nature for many years when I became a soldier; a mercenary really in California. But eventually, I was called upon to execute enemies of the state as part of my duties, and that served as a re-awakening. Even when I was ordered to hang one of my best friends, who had run afoul of the tyrant I worked for, I enjoyed it. I shouldn't have, but I did."

I let this last statement  sit with me for a while. Here before me, speaking plainly and sweetly, sits someone who's hanged a close friend and still somehow got turned on by the act. I begin to feel myself being turned on as well.

"I begin to sense," ventures Kamiko that the noose has revealed itself to you as well, though you are only now coming to understand this."

I'm doing this to please my husband," I reply. "I've been wronging him terribly for years."

"No-one disputes this," replies Kamiko, "but I'm told you've attended several noose-dancing parties yourself. Did you enjoy them?"

"Yes," I reply quite honestly, "but it was always other people being hanged at them, not me."

"But you must have asked yourself what if it were you that lost the bet or drew the short straw and ended up on the chair with the rope around your neck, no?"

I admit now in all honesty that I have frequently thought about it since attending my first noose-dancing party a few years ago. I had also fantasized about the idea of hanging for some terrible sin I had committed, I admit, though I point out these thoughts were only fantasies.

"Then the noose has revealed itself to you also, and tonight, your fantasy will become reality," she shoots back. "Here, have another brandy," she continues. "It will make things a bit easier when the time comes."

"Do you think it will hurt less if I drink it," I inquire.

'Not one bit, "she answers flatly. "it will hurt like hell, only you won't care quite so much."

I thank her for her honesty and pause to think about what she's said to me thus far. As I do, she senses that I am also very afraid. She slips one hand into the water and grasps my left hand, pulling it out of the water then squeezing it gently with both of her hands.

"Most people who hang, even today, hang themselves alone and lonely. They are in misery when they do so and often for many years, and most sadly of all, they face those final moments by themselves, which is all wrong. They hang themselves for the wrong reasons; to end their misery rather than atone for sin or for the pleasure of others or to experience the thoughts and emotions one can only experience on the way down the rope knowing it will be the last time and that no-one will save you. You will not hang alone. I will be there to help you along and there will be others here to support you and maybe a couple who you've wronged in the past who will genuinely take pleasure in your death. The noose has called you and you answered it when you signed those papers. You could have walked away and taken the divorce, but you preferred the noose and it wants you. It wants us all."

"Does it want you?" I ask, half knowing the answer already.

"Yes of course it does," she answers. "I've been in love with it most of my life, and unless I die in some other messy way, always possible given the life I've lived and the enemies I've made, it will eventually have me. I don't know when or where, but I do know why and I so do you. But in the meantime, there's many others what needs hangin'," she says with a smile on her face, putting on her best American Southwest accent. "And you be one of them," she immediately adds.

I laugh for the first time in the evening, then hand her my glass as I step out of the tub. She hands me a towel and asks me if I want to wear anything special.

"i thought it was customary to hang naked at these things," I reply.

"There is nothing in the contract I have with your husband that says you must be hanged naked," she answers. "it only says you're hanging has to be slow, and lethal."

I smile and go to my wardrobe in the bedroom which adjoins the bathroom. There I pick out my favorite dress, stockings and lingerie. Kamiko hands me the items one at the time as I dress. When I am done, I apply my makeup very carefully in the mirror. Kamiko is very patient through all of this, though she does check her watch regularly to make sure we are on schedule. When I am done, I ask her how I look and she looks me over very carefully and points out a flaw, which I correct. We are down to five minutes or so now and she explains that she is required to bind my wrists before we go out and instructs me to put my hands behind my back. I do so, very trustingly, accepting that once tied up, there is no point in even trying to resist. My first act of surrender to the noose was to sign the contract. This is my last. She binds my wrists securely with a restraint he had in her purse. Still a minute to go, we position ourselves in front of the door. She pours me a final big shot of brandy and holds it to my mouth, instructing me to drink it down as quickly as I can. I tip my head back and she pours the drink down my throat, being careful not to mess up my lipstick. We pause for a moment as I shake myself. When I am composed, she leads me out. The alcohol is beginning to hit me now. The guests are lined up outside the door, waiting to greet me as though I am the guest of honor at some sort of banquet or something. First is my friend Sandra and her husband. She feigns kissing me on both cheeks then smiles at me, beaming.

"John and I are so happy you are doing this," she whispers in my ear. Of course they are. I slept with her husband, more than once I might add and was a better fuck for him than Sandra ever was. My death is the only way she'll know for sure he won't fuck me again. He's pretty glad I'm sure, as once I'm dead, maybe Sandra will let him out of the doghouse.

Kamiko leads me by the arm, pausing by each guest, allowing him or her to say goodbye. I am now a dead woman walking. At the end of the line stands my husband. He talks me by both shoulders, leans over and kisses me on the forehead before thanking me for freeing him when it is in truth he who has freed me. Tomorrow, he will still have a tortured existence I think as he struggles to find the happiness he could never find in our marriage. He could have left me long ago and tried to find happiness in some other woman's arms but lacked the courage to do so because all the time I wronged him, he still loved me. I know he still does now and thinks he is freeing himself but in reality, I will take his heart and soul with me to the grave when I die. I hope Kamiko is around for him when he realized that he can never be happy without me and needs the noose for himself. Kamiko has been a better friend to me in the last hour and a half than all of these clowns have been in the last twenty years. I know that when the noose calls her home, she will find both pleasure and satisfaction at the end of the rope and that her end will befit her life. But I hope it's not for a long time because as she said, there's plenty of other's need hangin'." Most of the people in this room would do well with one, I think.

Finally, we are beside the chair. The brandy is really hitting me now and Kamiko was truthful when she said it would help me care much less.  I am perfectly calm as I stare up at the beautiful noose that Kamiko has prepared for me and it reveals itself to me once more as it has never done so before.  It beckons me, calls to me and I begin to long to feel the hemp around my neck. In fact, I am aching for it, much in the way I ache for sex with younger men. It will be my last, best lover.  She helps me to climb the chair, then pulling up another one behind me, she climbs up on hers to slip the noose over my head and position it properly. She tightens it gently, then whispers in my ear that I am allowed to say a few final words if I want to now. I am tempted to recite Shakespeare's "Tomorrow and Tomorrow soliloquy from Macbeth, but instead, I simply thank everyone for coming by tonight, as though this were just another party and I am the hostess. I turn to Kamiko and tell her I am ready. She kisses me goodbye behind the ear and steps down from her chair, which she puts back in place before walking back to mine and standing behind it. I feel her put her hands on the back of the chair and after a slight pause, she pulls it out from under me.

I fall and hit bottom, but in that fraction of a second in which I start to feel the fall and the jerk as I find the bottom of the rope I experience a range of emotions I had not known I could feel. To understand this, you must take that journey yourself, as I cannot describe them to you and would not if I could. I am still feeling them as the rope bites into my neck. I understand now what Kamiko was saying about the excruciating pain, but I am not sorry I am feeling it. My legs and feet desperately kick by pure reflex, seeking a floor they will not touch again in my lifetime. I spin about in my death throes, and I can see how my audience is enjoying this, especially my husband. I feel Kamiko reach under my dress from behind and pull down my panties. In a moment, I understand why as I loose control of my bladder and a warm stream of urine shoots out of me. I feel it on my legs and feet, and try to kick some of the piss at the audience. I think I succeed, as they give themselves a bit of room. I continue to struggle as Sandra takes out a small camera and shoots some photos of me as the noose makes loves to me. Perhaps she wants to keep them as a reminder for her husband of what happens to anyone he sleeps with but her. Or maybe she wants to pin them up on her refrigerator door. I guess she has no idea how much I am enjoying this now that I understand the noose. She cannot tell, indeed no one can tell from my face that I am having an orgasm right now. My final one, as chance would have it, and it is my best. It helps keep me conscious longer as I come. More time both to suffer and to enjoy my pain. I understand now why Kamiko does this again and again to herself and why she wants to spend her final moments this way. Things are getting harder. My lungs feel as though they'll explode at this point and every second seems like it's a hundred years, but now that I know, now that I know, now that I understand the joy I am also feeling, I would not wish to see another sunrise anyway. I start to spin in the other direction now and force myself to open my eyes. I see by the clock on the wall that I have been hanging for a full five minutes now. The guests have started to get bored with it and are returning to their seats and their drinks, striking up conversations. I hear one of them say that my face is now purple, and soon after that my eyes close for the last time. I can no longer open them, but I still hear the voices of the guests as they speak, but they are getting dimmer and dimmer and finally nothing. The noose has taken me.