Shake That Tree

by Jodie Halliday

“Sure I will, I’ll go first, and scroll nice and slowly.”

  As promised, while Harry scrolled, Lydia told him about the initial email correspondence, the long chats over Messenger and the planning for the first meeting. She confessed that she had been curious to start with about what other couples did that might have passed them by, but had then been led on by Joe into deeper and darker things. As she related the experience of the previous night the study became the scene that neither would forget. Lydia’s increasing realization of the stupidity and danger of that night came across in her story as she slowly shook her head with each new detail of the location, the things that they had done and her terrifying escape back to his mother’s. With each revelation she continued to slowly stroke his cock and gaze with adoration at the images on the screen. Harry listened to his wife but their attention was fixed to the images that appeared as if on some heavenly conveyer belt. If neighbours had indeed been looking in through the study window they would only have stared at the scene after making sure their children were safely locked in their bedrooms.

  Harry’s narration contained similar sections of risk and pain, especially as they both reviewed the baseball bat attack and how he could have easily inflicted permanent damage on the girl. He tried to make light of the sex they had in Holly’s bed, and didn’t mention the explosive orgasm she had given him in the lounge. While Harry didn’t actually say that he had sex with her out of compassion and as part of her education, that was the inference from his words and neither of them believed it for a minute. Lydia however was happy just to hear that he too had sinned but in such a wonderful way that after he had finished reliving the moment he came inside the girl she knew that she needed him more than anything else in the world.

  Chapter 18 – Take it Easy

  As her father trudged out of the room Holly shut the door quietly and sat down at her PC, the chair turned towards her namesake. A brief scan of the remainder of the room suggested it hadn’t been ransacked for which she was thankful. She looked over at the young, tanned girl, slumped back down on the bed, her lightly-curled hair spread out over most of her pillow. As though she had sensed her gaze the girl opened her eyes and smiled weakly.

  “I’ll give you your bed back, sorry,” she said, making only a slight move to get up.

  “No. No really, you stay there, it’s fine.” She walked over and sat on the side of the bed, looking at the bruise on her arm. “My Dad did this to you? Really?”

  She nodded. “And another one on my leg.”

  “What?” said Holly , once more shocked that her father could do such a thing.

  “Here” she said, slipping the sheet up over her leg.

  “Oh shit, that looks painful!” she said, touching it. Her skin was warm and Holly’s gaze wandered up towards where she thought her knickers should have been. Her hand remained on the girl’s leg, moving slowly around the edge of the bruise.

  “I deserved it. Your Dad was right, I broke in.”

  “But that doesn’t mean he had to injure you!” she said, looking back at the long, smooth leg which ended prematurely at the edge of the sheet.

  “He thought I was some gang member or something, not sure.”

  She looked over at the girl and studied her carefully. “What’s you real name, I assume it’s not Holly?”

  “Jules. I saw the name ‘Holly’ on the fridge and thought I’d use it.” Holly nodded then placed her hand on Jules’ leg as she made a move to get out of the bed.

  “You stay there, you need to lie down more than I do.”

  Jules smiled and shifted away from Holly. “There, enough room if you need to lie down too.”

  Holly grinned at the offer. “Are you hungry?”

  “I could do with some tea or coffee, we had lunch hours ago.”

  “Ok, stay there, I’ll be back.” Holly went downstairs and stood silently outside her father’s study. There was no sound coming from within but she decided that knocking wasn’t the right thing to do in the circumstances. “Mum, Dad, I’m getting something to eat for us.”

  Her mother eventually answered. “OK dear. Is everything OK Hol?”

  “Yep, everything is fine. Holly’s staying the night, she can share my room.”

  There was a moment of silence and then “Oh. Well, OK then.”

  “Night!”

  Holly rummaged through the fridge and found a plate of sliced chicken which had been covered in Clingfilm. She made some quick sandwiches, grabbed a couple of slices of cake and put them on a tray. With the addition of pickles, serviettes, knives and two mugs of warm milk she carefully made her way back upstairs.

  She saw that her guest had changed into nightclothes. That was her nightie, the only one that she had that she would even consider wearing. There was no point in asking for it back, so Holly simply sat the tray down on the bed and leaned back against the wall to eat, while Jules sat cross-legged against the pillows underneath the duvet. They chatted amiably for over an hour as they ate but the conversation naturally turned to her arrival, the injuries and what drove her to leave her home in the first place.

  “Do people know you’re safe?” asked Holly.

  “Yeah, I think so. I sent an email from your Dad’s computer to a friend, so she’ll have passed the news on.”

  “Wanna Google your name, see if anyone’s reported you missing?” Jules laughed and said that she could wait for that. Holly drained the last of her milk and stood up, placing the tray on the floor. “OK, It’s almost nine, I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Oh, that sounds nice,” said Jules as she placed her mug on the bedside table. “I’ll have one after you if that’s OK.”

  Holly registered a slight disappointment that she hadn’t been given the option to share the bathroom together but then realised that they had only known each other for about three hours. It then dawned on her that she was going to have to get changed in the room and was quite unused to stripping in front of anyone, even another girl. She thought immediately of Billy and how they had indeed stripped, and dressed and stripped again between Saturday night and Sunday morning. She pulled a long t-shirt out of her drawer and was about to grab a pair of knickers when she decided that something elegant might be in order and searched the drawer below for something silky.

  The next challenge was where she should change. She would need to take off her jeans, shirt, bra and knickers to use the shower. If she did that in the bathroom that would seem strange. She could sit on the bed but that was too close to Jules, or she could stand by her mirror. She glanced over at Jules and saw her eyes move away to the mug on the nightstand although she felt sure she had been watching her. A little thrill registered, startling her for moment before she pulled the bedroom curtains closed and stood by the mirror. The jeans plopped onto the floor and she bent down to pick them up and hang them over her chair. As she unbuttoned her shirt she heard movement over by the bed, sheets rustling which stopped as she cast the blouse into a dirty laundry hamper by her desk. She cursed the fact that she had closed the curtains and would have dearly liked to have spied in the reflection to see what Jules was doing. She sensed the attention however and reached behind her back to undo the clasp to her bra. It too went into the laundry hamper and she squeezed her breasts dramatically as though easing out the aches and pains of the long drive. Her nipples were hard and she smiled to herself as the t-shirt caught on them as she slipped it down over her head.

  “Oh Holly, you’re so pretty. Your Dad said you were and now I see why.”

  “Oh, thank you. He said that?”

  “I think he said you were a truly beautiful person,” said Jules, stretching the truth.

  “Ah, that’s so sweet of him,” she said, pulling her knickers down. She debated for half a second on whether to crouch down and pick them up, or bend down, or use her feet to shift them into the dirty pile. Straight-legged, she bent down, grabbed them and dropped them in the hamper. There was a slim chance that Holly had seen her buttocks and the outl
ine of her pussy below the t-shirt and that was enough to titillate her. She pulled on her new underwear and made for the door.

  “Back in a min,” she said, facing Jules who lay smiling in the bed. She knew there was no doubt that she could take a peek at the shape of her pussy through the elegant underwear and was pleased beyond measure when she saw her eyes dart between her legs.

  Holly took more than a minute but hurried as quickly as she could to get back to her room and the visitor who held a certain fascination for her. Jules showered immediately afterwards and while she was in the bathroom Holly took the opportunity to check the email accounts that she didn’t have on her phone. Jules reappeared and had washed her hair and now had it bundled up in a towel.

  “Hey, sit here and I’ll dry your hair for you,” said Holly, relishing the idea of touching the girl with a valid excuse. Jules sat as directed and Holly used a brush to part her hair, then started to dry it, running her fingers through the curls as she worked the hair drier. Jules leaned back, sighing with the pleasure of being treated so well and when Holly rested her hand on the girl’s shoulder she quickly covered it with her own and squeezed gently, a thank you communicated more effectively than trying to compete with the whine of the drier.

  Holly switched it off and leaned over Jules to place it on her desk. Her breast brushed against the side of Jules’ face, just as planned. She leaned back up and ran her fingers through the girl’s hair on the pretense that she was checking for any damp patches that she may have missed. The hair was strong, curly, an exhilarating feeling as it ran through her fingers.

  “All done,” chimed Holly, leading the way back to the bed. She wanted to claim a space on the bed rather than sit on the floor or the seat by her desk. Jules climbed up next to her and they sat side by side. Holly had so many questions for the girl but wanted to proceed carefully as it took a certain level of desperation to break in to someone’s house.

  “How’s your leg?” she asked, looking down at the ugly mark on her thigh.

  “It doesn’t hurt so much this evening. Last night it hurt like hell,” replied Jules, gently touching it.

  “I can’t believe he did that, you know.” She watched with delight as Jules traced her fingers up over the angry bruise and up towards her knickers.

  “He thought I was from up the road or something. Apparently you have a punk problem around here.”

  Holly laughed, knowing what her father had referred to in his comment. “He could have cracked your skull,” she said seriously.

  “I know, he was so apologetic after he dragged me into the kitchen.”

  “Dragged you?”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t walk. Fucked up leg and so hungry. I was really dizzy. I just lay in the floor watching things move around.”

  “Jules!” she said, touching her ankle.

  “It’s OK, he fed me, got me into the shower then put me to bed.”

  “Yeah, that would be my Dad,” she said, nodding and smiling over at Jules but wondering about the shower scene.

  “Did you really run away from home?”

  “Yeah, days ago. I should have done it years ago though.”

  “But your parents must have been frantic?”

  “My Mum maybe, but my father was probably delighted, one less mouth to feed.”

  “Really, I can’t be.,” she said but Jules grabbed her arm.

  “Hol, you can’t imagine. You have such a wonderful life here, a family who allow you to explore, experiment but always with a watchful eye over you, who love you. My Dad keeps a watch on me in the shower only.” Holly put her arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, sensing this was the beginning of a longer story that needed to be told. Jules didn’t disappoint or hold back. “When I was about ten it really started. Until then I was just ignored. I don’t think I ever learned anything from my father, he never showed me anything or taught me about stuff in the world. Then one day, Mum was out and he was in the lounge watching TV. He called me in and told me sit next to him. He had a blanket over his lap.”

  “Jules,” whispered Holly, pulling her closer, “You don’t have to.”

  “I do, I need someone to know other than my Mum. He told me to move the blanket and his cock was there, hard. It looked so disgusting, like unhealthy although I’d never seen a real one before. He took my hand and got me to hold it and I cried as I knew it was wrong and that he would hit me if I ran away. After that he gave me money and said that was about the only way I would ever make a living. It went on for ages, he would walk in when I was having a shower and just go about his business as though I wasn’t in the room. Fucker.”

  Jules shook her head as though trying to block the flow of tears but they came anyway and she leaned in closer to Holly who herself was feeling emotional from the story and Jules’ reaction.

  “I think he used to tell his workmates too, saying things to get them to come round and gawp at me, make crude suggestions. I hated home so much, and even my mother seemed at that time to keep out of the way. She thought she could either be on my side and protect me or stay silent and keep her husband and the roof over her head. She chose the second one. Then he started exposing himself to me whenever he could, bumping into me, making me scream. I used to be scared to fall asleep in case he sneaked in and touched me. Hol, he’s a financial adviser at a bank, not some bloody workman or pimp. He’s well qualified.”

  Her sobs now punctuated her story so much that Holly began to rock her gently, soothing her but also helping to get the whole story out. A tear formed in Holly’s eye and slid slowly down her cheek and into Jules’ hair. “You poor baby.”

  “Holly, I’m adopted. I think that’s half the problem. My Mum wanted a child and my father didn’t. She won and he wanted to prove that it was a bad decision, but he did that constantly.” She wiped her eyes on the nightie and continued. “I went to a party once with some girlfriends from school. Turned out to be some video game enthusiast’s party and there were some very strange people there, some were from my Dad’s bank. One guy had a bottle of vodka or something and a group of us went out the back of the house and drank it with him and his buddies. This guy, Emil I think he was called, sat down against a wall and pulled my head into his lap. He was old, you know, like forty-something? I assume he expected me to get his thing out, but the smell coming from his trousers was disgusting, like he hadn’t washed for weeks. I threw up all over him. He hit me so hard in the face, his fist felt like a brick. All his buddies were laughing at him but nobody thought to help me or even pick me up. I went home and my Dad looked at me and just said something like ‘I see you’re learning. About fucking time’.”

  She paused, breathing hard for the next installment.

  “It’s like everywhere I go people gawp at my body but never bother to talk about anything interesting. I told your Dad there was this fat bastard of a guy who owned a restaurant where I worked. He cornered me in the wine cellar and groped me, had his fucking hands in my knickers as though he owned me. When I told him to fuck off he said I’d never get anywhere, all I had was my body.”

  She wailed through the last sentence, coughing for air as though feeling the pain, the humiliation and rejection all over again. Holly hugged her tight, kissed the top of her head and whispered soothing words but the shaking and sobbing continued. She was at a total loss what to do but held onto the girl, trying to absorb some of the pain.

  “My Dad said I was useful only as a tax deduction, a good number to add for his allowance each year.” With that final outburst Holly rolled her onto the pillow and curled up next to her with her arms still wrapped tightly around her shaking frame. Jules’ cheeks were red, smeared with the tears that flowed relentlessly. Holly rocked her slowly in her arms, feeling her warmth through the thin nightie and when she looked down, the gentle curve of her breasts were visible, the soft rise of each mound gently parting from the valley of her chest then disappearing under the nightie’s pale blue material. Holly breathed in hard, again trying to s
top herself becoming emotional but still a single tear fell from her eye as she cursed herself for her lack of control.

  “Jules, let’s get into bed, it’s a bit warmer there,” said Holly as she pulled her hands away from under Jules. They both stood slowly and Holly pulled the covers back and gasped.

  “What’s that?” she said with concern, looking up at Jules. In the middle of the bed was a large, dark red palm-sized patch.

  “Oh god Hol. I’m sorry!” said Jules, looking at her with embarrassment written all over her tear-streaked face.

  “Are you on your period?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?” asked Holly, staring back at it. “Oh shit! You didn’t?”

  “Hol,” she pleaded, getting into bed and beckoning Holly. “Please, I can explain.” Holly slowly got into bed, avoiding the patch and against her better judgment, pulled the duvet up over them. She snuggled into the pillow and looked to Jules for comment.

  “Is it what I think it is?” asked Holly. Jules nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly as she bit her lip. Holly noticed no sense of contrition, just a feeling that Jules was going to tell her that these things happen. “You slept with my Dad?” Jules nodded again and Holly rolled over onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “You had sex with my Dad, in my bed, wearing my school clothes? Am I right?” she asked, a little louder than necessary.

  “Yes,” said Jules, her voice firm.

  “My Mum will go freaking bananas when she finds out!”

  “Hol, remember that twenty-four hours thing?”

  “The thing you mentioned when we got back?”

  “Yeah. I mean, if your Dad still feels bound by it then he’ll have already told your Mum. They don’t seem to be throwing pots and pans at each other, right?”

  “Jules, why my Dad, eh, why fuck him?” she said, ignoring the sweeter tone from Jules.

  “Hol, the last day has been like Christmas and birthday’s for the last ten years all rolled into one, it’s like all the presents had been stored up and given to me in one big celebration. You can’t imagine the difference between my home, my days walking after I left and the kindness that I discovered here. Your Dad could have given me to the Police, or ripped my clothes off and gawped at me, or just thrown me back over the fence into the woods. But he was a gentleman, he kept his hands and eyes to himself and looked after me.”