JamesRoss is apologetic. "I'm sorry, Mr Alexanders. With the short notice, I didn't have the time to make a better meal.""Ross, it hardly matters. If you served me a cheese sandwich, I'd be a happy man."We sit to steak, perfectly pink inside, steamed vegetables, a chowder starter and fresh fruit salad for dessert.What would he have served with more time?"Listen, James." says Richard, "My apologies if I was out of order earlier, but the fact is that with events last summer, and… other things...." He glances across at Beth, so like my fire-haired beauty. ".... I have an interest in Charlotte and I'd like to help if I can."He's right....They're too alike........ In appearance anyway....It can't be a coincidence.…I drop my eyes in tacit acknowledgement of his apology. "I'm not sure how you can help, Richard. I understand your reasons for putting this forward and I do appreciate your intervention. There's no good way to bring the subject up with her, but doing
JamesCharlotte's here. Michael messaged me to say she'd arrived, so, despite dismal weather and a hairy drive up the mountain on icy roads, I'm smiling. I keep finding myself laughing for no reason........ No reason at all....As I pull in, she's there, waiting....Outside? In this weather?.... and I steer the car to one side so as not to splash her with the liquid mud that is taking over the site.As I step out, she's here and close to me. I embrace her, kissing her lightly, but am conscious of many pairs of eyes watching us: builders, plumbers, men operating the earth-movers and mini-diggers.... or trying to....And my nose tells me a lot of what I want to know....Michael's already had her........ He's a fast worker...."Welcome home," I say quietly to her. "Um, not too private here, are we?" She glances around with an expression that clearly says they can all go jump....I take her hand, noticing her icy fingers....How long was she waiting outside?
James.... and now she does move. As I penetrate her, she rises on the soles of her feet, her spine curving up and over against her restrained wrists. And the sound she makes.... somewhere between a gasp and a wail….... It's a good sound....Michael's voice, "That's a nice smile," he says. "We must be doing something right, eh?"I look up from my pleasant spot by her pussy. She's reaching to kiss him, and he drops down to her, open-mouthed, fingering at her tautly crinkled nipples. She moans again through their joined lips and I help things along by turning my attention to her clit. Small, red and nubbed, it slides under my tongue. So small a thing, so tiny a part of a woman's body, but she reacts, wailing out, her thighs spreading as she offers herself to me.She's quaking. A palm against each of her thighs, her muscle tension transmits through........ She's close........ but she's not coming yet....I meet eyes with Michael and we both break away, to leave her l
It's late. In the road, there is the raucous sound of drunks leaving or being thrown from the bars.One by one, lights wink out from the windows of takeaways and restaurants, and bit by bit, late-night diners and revellers vanish from the street.To the rear of the restaurants and cafes, there is clanging and clattering from the kitchens, which gradually dies down. Eventually, this turns to the rattle of closing shutters and the snap of bolts being drawn into place.As all falls dark and silent, a figure emerges. Standing silently, looking right and left before moving far from the shadows, she makes her way to the rear of one of the restaurants.Showing every sign of knowing where she is, familiar with the route and the lack of gates or bars, she lifts the lid from one trash can after another, glancing over the contents with a practised eye, before reaching in to pull out a waxed carton. She opens it, briefly inspects the contents, sniffs, then closes the lid and vanishes once
JamesCharlotte smiles, but the smile is a bit wan, made more so by her nose which is bright red in the cold, close to matching her hair.How do I explain to my emerald-eyed wild-child that Beth, for all her beauty, her polished manners and her elegant ways, holds not a fraction of the attraction for me that she does?Beth's a true sub....You're a sub when it suits you to be........ and only for me....My flame-haired mermaid has already proved she is a survivor. Could Beth have done the same?I wrap an arm around her shoulder. "If I wanted someone like Beth, I would be with someone like Beth.""But she's so beautiful," she protests. She looks close to tears.Can it really bother her so much?"You're beautiful too. And not just on the outside. The things I want from you, Charlotte, all come from the inside. And no amount of expensive clothes or nail polish can replace that."She looks doubtful but sucks her lower lip and nods."And don't suck your lips. They'l
JamesMichael, who was turning to the house, swivels back, frowning a little.Charlotte, her throat working, says, "Um.… Beth was working as a maid in the hotel, cleaning the rooms...."Beth was a hotel cleaner?".... I think it was the one where you had the apartment. It was hot one day, and she used the shower in the Penthouse, where Richard was staying. He'd gone out, but he came back early and caught her in his shower, um, naked...."Oh, God.... I can see where this is going....Michael's face is beginning to crack....Charlotte continues, "Then.... er.... he tied her to the shower and um…"I'm gaping. Michael has his forehead in one hand, his shoulders shaking.He didn't....I double up. "I get it. No wonder he was so relaxed about you and me."You did the right thing, Jade.... Keeping that quiet for him........ But it's still fuckin' hilarious....She nods, but continues, "There's a bit more to it than that."More?"Really?"She pauses, I think ch
A fine day, bright sunshine, the buzz of the City:A gangly ginger-haired teenager skulks in the background, wandering from one place to another. Always on the move, never stopping anywhere long, she travels the City. Passing through the crowds, the buzz and the confusion, never part of it, she keeps walking, always walking.Arms folded, head and face down, her long red hair swishes with her movement. She's tall for her age, built like a beanstalk with no traces of a developing woman's figure. And thin, with no flesh to her arms and legs, her face is pale and has only a promise of beauty to come.In the backstreets, the lost and the lonely lie stretched out in sleeping bags or on cardboard. As she sees them she crosses the street to pass by on the other side of the road.She keeps walking.At last, streets and houses give way to green spaces. Fields stretch as far as the eye can see, cut off only by the mountains rearing up on the horizon.She halts, looking intimidated. Sh
JamesMichael stamps into the room, shaking sleet off himself like a dog.He makes for the larder, rummaging around before he fishes out a can, waving it at me, brows raised."Mmm… yes. Thanks."He reaches for another, plonks it on the table beside me then flops down onto the chair at the other side. Flipping open the ring-pull, he sucks out half the can in one go, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Ah, that's good. One thing about living in primitive conditions. Old stone larders are a good way to keep beer."I open my own can and take a gulp. "Hard day?"He swipes a hand back through sweaty, grit-filled hair. "Mmm, yes. Long day too. And the short winter daylight isn't helping either. We're having to do a lot of the work on lights and cables." He nods down at the stack of files and papers next to me. You working late too?""I'm reading reports.""Reports? About what?""Blessingmoors. And wishing I could get my hands on the bastards that did this."His face clo