by Bill Ward
“What am I supposed to do? Just let you use me as you want. I don’t think so. For all I know, you wanted me to come back because of what I have seen and know about Dimitry. Maybe you just wanted to silence me.”
“Dimitry has left the country. You will not see him again. I wanted you back because you are good business. As you say, you are pretty. Men will always pay good money for you.”
“Then do we have an agreement?”
“How much money do you want?” Stefan asked.
“Fifty per cent.”
“I find the customers and provide the room. A room in Brighton costs good money. I also have to make payments to the local police and others. I will give you twenty pounds for every customer who stays half an hour and thirty pounds for an hour. That is a generous offer and I will not negotiate further.”
Afina was excited by the thought of making more money in a day than she could make in a month at home. “Agreed. One final point, I want to be treated with respect. I may be your whore but I am not your slave.”
Stefan downed the rest of his coffee. He held out his hand. “We have an agreement. Keep the men happy and I will treat you well.”
Afina shook his hand and smiled. She knew from talking to Emma and Becky what you could earn working in a bar. Working for Stefan, she would be able to earn twice as much. She still didn’t trust Stefan but she was pleased to hear Dimitry was no longer around.
She felt sorry for the policewoman but she had to look after her own family. With this work she could afford to send money home every month. Within a couple of years, if she saved carefully, she would have enough money to return home and get her own apartment. She was feeling a little more positive about the future.
Emma was home alone when the two police officers knocked on the door. She’d had a very liberal upbringing by parents who, if they’d been borne a generation earlier, would have been called hippies. She had therefore inherited her parent’s mistrust of authority in general and police specifically.
“What can I do for you?” Emma asked.
“I’m Chief Inspector Brown,” the older man wearing a suit introduced himself and showed his identification. “And you are?”
“Emma Jackson. Why do you want to know?”
“An emergency call was recently made from this address. Were you the caller, Miss?”
Emma was genuinely surprised and confused. “We don’t have any emergency.”
“Can we please come in?”
Emma stepped back to allow the policemen to enter. She showed them through to the lounge. “I think you’ve made a mistake,” she said as they all sat. “We really don’t have any emergency.”
“Do you live here alone, Emma?”
“No, I live with my partner.”
“So it’s possible he made the call?”
“My partner’s name is Becky.”
“Sorry, could she have made the call?”
“Look, what is this about? I can assure you neither of us have called the emergency services… And we don’t make joke calls.”
“Has anyone else been in your house in the last couple of days?”
Emma couldn’t hide her sudden realisation of who must have placed the call. “There was one girl here for a short time. Her name was Afina. She told us she had been nearly raped so we invited her back for a drink. I suggested we order her a taxi but she didn’t want us to and just before she went, she asked to use the phone. She also asked me to show her how to block the caller ID. I had no idea she was calling the police but I guess it makes sense.”
The chief Inspector took a photo from his pocket and asked, “Is this the girl you know as Afina?”
It was a bad photo but it was definitely Afina. “That’s her,” Emma confirmed.
“Can you tell me how I can contact this Afina?”
“Is she in trouble?”
“Is that relevant?”
“I suppose not. I’m sorry but I have no idea how to contact her. We were just playing good Samaritans and she was very private. We suggested her calling the police but she said it wasn’t necessary so I don’t understand what changed her mind. She left yesterday morning.”
“So you’re certain you have no way of contacting her again?”
“None, sorry. She didn’t even own a phone.” Emma wasn’t going to give them any extra information. She wasn’t sure what had truly happened to Afina but if she wanted the police to help, she would ask.
“Did she say where she was from? Afina doesn’t sound like an English name.”
“She said she was from Romania.”
The Chief Inspector adopted his most serious voice and said, “We believe her life may be in danger so if you hear from her again, please contact us immediately.” He handed across a card with his contact details. “Any time, day or night, ring me immediately if you hear from her.”
“Okay, I will,” Emma agreed but had no intention of doing anything of the kind.
She was wondering what was in the letter Afina had written and left in her care. She was fairly certain Afina hadn’t told her and Becky the whole truth about who she was running from the night they found her or why she was moving out. However, she had called and said everything was okay as she promised.
The Chief Inspector interrupted her thoughts. “I have to go now but my Detective Sergeant is going to stay behind and take a detailed statement from you. He will need the same from your partner.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I’m Danny,” he said, as the girl answered the door.
“Welcome Danny, I’m Mara. Come with me.”
Danny followed her up a flight of stairs and she directed him into a bedroom on the first floor. She closed the door behind them.
His immediate reaction on seeing Mara had been relief. She had the sort of dark looks he normally associated with Italian and Spanish girls, though her profile had said she was neither of those nationalities. There was no doubt however, she was the same girl he had chosen after looking at dozens of profiles online. He had wondered if the pictures were genuine or just any pretty girl and when you turned up you were met with someone rather less attractive with too much hair, but Mara more than lived up to his expectations. The research he’d done on the internet had been worthwhile.
It was the first time he had ever visited an escort or paid for sex and he was surprised by how easy it was to arrange. A call to a mobile number and he was provided the address, which was just two minutes from the Churchill Square shopping centre, where he’d just parked. He had walked past this house several times in the past and never had any idea what was going on inside.
“Is this your first time here,” Mara asked.
“Yes it is.” Wouldn’t she remember if I had been before? Obviously not, which probably meant for her it was a bit like working on a factory line. His expectations of good sex were not high.
“How long do you want to stay?” she asked.
“An hour, please.”
“That’s one hundred pounds.”
Danny handed over the money.
“Do you want any extras?” Mara asked.
“Such as?”
“Anal is an extra thirty pounds. Maybe you’re into something kinkier like bondage?”
Danny smiled nervously. “Thanks but I just want a blowjob and sex.”
“Do you want a shower?”
“I had one just before I left home but if you want me to have another, I will.”
“That’s okay. You get undressed and I’ll be back in a minute.”
Danny certainly found Mara attractive and he’d enjoy having sex with her, as long as she didn’t just lie on her back like a block of ice.
He had undressed to his boxers just as Mara returned.
She smiled appreciatively as she saw Danny’s body. “You’re in good shape.”
“For an old git you mean.”
“You’re not old, just mature. Actually you’re a lot younger than many of the men who come here and much better
looking. One of my regulars is over seventy!”
Mara closed the distance between them and kissed him lightly on the lips, which then turned into something much more passionate. She slid her hand down his shorts as she kissed him and stroked his cock. After kissing him for a couple of minutes she kneeled in front of him and removed his shorts before taking him in her mouth. He was quickly fully hard for her.
“I’ll cum if you keep doing that,” Danny warned.
Mara nodded encouragingly and kept sucking. For Danny it had been a long time since he’d experienced anything similar and he soon reached the point of no return.
Mara could tell he was about to cum and at the last second moved his cock away from her mouth and pointed him at her breasts.
She waited for a few seconds until he was completely finished then stood up and reached for a packet of baby-wipes on the bedside table. She started wiping herself down and passed him a couple of tissues to clean himself.
Mara propped up the pillows and lay on the bed. She patted the space next to her and Danny joined her.
“So is this the first time you ever visit an escort?” Mara asked.
“Yes it is. Was it that obvious?”
“What’s your name?”
“Danny.”
“Well Danny, I like you. You were a bit nervous but you have a nice body and your cock works well so I’m happy.”
“I’m just a bit out of practice.”
“Well get your breath for a minute and then we can try again.”
“Where are you from?” Danny asked.
“I’m Romanian.”
“How long have you lived in Brighton?”
“Two years.”
“Do you like Brighton?”
“Yes, it’s very nice.”
“Are there lots of Romanians in Brighton?”
“A few.”
Mara started to stroke Danny’s thigh.
“Are they all like you?” Danny laughed.
“Of course not. I’m very special.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Afina’s first day of work for Stefan had gone well. There had been five men and she had earned one hundred and forty pounds, an absolute fortune back home. All of the customers had wanted vanilla sex except one who wanted anal. He wasn’t too large and he had been gentle, at least at first, so she was happy enough. She had even negotiated with Stefan for an extra ten pounds for providing anal as he charged the customers extra for it.
Most of the men had been old enough to be her father and were probably married. She wondered if their wives knew they were having sex with someone else. Probably not, but how many would care if they discovered the truth? The men often complained they weren’t getting enough sex at home but still loved their wives. When she was older and married, she would not accept her partner paying someone else for sex. Money was too precious to throw it away on some momentary pleasure with another woman.
She was surprised to find men of such an age were even wanting to have sex. She thought that by about fifty, people stopped having sex. Perhaps after doing this work for a year, she would become a marriage guidance councillor and teach women how to keep their men happy in bed.
During a quiet spell in the afternoon she had gone downstairs to see Mara. They had a coffee and talked about home and laughed about men and some of their stranger sexual desires.
“How long have you been doing this?” Afina asked.
“ In England about two years, before that another five years.”
“That’s a lot of fucking,” Afina laughed.
“Sure is! I’ve seen every shape and size of cock imaginable.”
“Have you ever had a really huge one, like you see in porn movies?”
“There was one guy had a cock as long as my arm.”
“Oh My God! Did you have sex with him?”
“Yes, we went at it very slowly with loads of lube.”
“What was it like?”
“More pain than pleasure. I was lying there hoping he wasn’t going to tear me and put me out of work for weeks.”
“Do you ever get any good looking men you actually fancy?”
“Not many but there have been a few. Actually I saw a nice guy yesterday. He was older but he had a great body. I tell you what. If he comes again and I think he will, I’ll see if I can get him to have a threesum with us.”
“If we have a threesum, do I have to… you know… do it with you?”
“Would that be so terrible?” Mara asked mischievously. “I would go down on you better than any man ever has.”
“It’s just I’ve never done it before with a girl.”
“Don’t worry, you can just concentrate on the guy. Anyway, it may never happen.”
“How many other girls does Stefan have working in the building?”
“Afina, I like you but you ask too many questions. It is Stefan’s business and I don’t talk about Stefan’s business with anyone but Stefan. Most of the girls come and go quite quickly so you don’t have time to make friends. But I’m always here and Stefan tells me you will be staying so we can be friends.”
“I’d like that,” Afina confirmed. Then added, “But I won’t be your friend if you ever beat me again like that.”
“There’s always a new girl passing through we can volunteer for the pleasure. Victor especially likes trying the new girls.”
Afina decided to change the subject. Though she had no wish to ever endure Victor again, neither was she comfortable with the thought some other girl was going to have to go through the same experience. Afina hoped she would never be asked to beat another girl for Victor’s pleasure. She liked Mara but she also recognised they were very different.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Powell had been sent the photos of both Dimitry and the girl, who the police now had reason to believe was called Afina. He found it very hard staring at the face of his daughter’s killer for the first time. It was a face he would never forget. A face he knew would haunt him in his dreams until he’d been brought to justice. Powell was used to studying and interpreting faces. This was the face of a stocky, dark man in his late thirties with the arrogance to believe he was somehow superiors to others. A man who had no qualms about killing an innocent, young woman. He would kill again if he wasn’t stopped and had probably killed before. Bella wouldn’t have been the first time. Powell would never be able to rest until he had looked in those dark eyes and told him that he was the father of that young girl he stabbed. Then Dimitry would know there would be no compassion, no mercy.
The girl in the photo was young, probably no older than Bella and she was pretty like Bella. She was skinnier and had different colour hair but like Bella she deserved more than life had so far dealt her. He prayed she was alive, that Dimitry hadn’t found her later and killed her. Powell resolved that, as important as it was to bring Dimitry to justice, he also needed to find this girl and ensure she was safe. Bella had died saving this girl from possibly a similar fate. Bella’s death would be for nothing if he couldn’t find this girl and help her. That she needed help, he was in no doubt.
The newspapers, both local and national, had been calling, pestering him for interviews and wanted pictures and his life story but he had told them all to leave him alone to grieve. The last thing he wanted was his picture appearing in any newspapers. He had grown older but was still recognisable after twenty years. Some people had long memories.
Powell had decided to visit the spot on Western Road where Bella was killed. His head told him he didn’t expect to learn anything new but his heart still had a strong compulsion to visit. It was a road he regularly travelled by car and on foot, linking as it did his bar in Hove and Brighton town centre.
It was a warm June day and Wimbledon was in full flow. In the past he would have watched some of the tennis on television and had even been to watch a couple of times with Bella. Wimbledon always reawakened, at least for a short time, their personal rivalry on the tennis court and on warm Sunday afte
rnoons they would play in Preston Park. Afterwards, they would go for a late roast lunch. That had been the normal way to spend a Sunday in the Summer but never again. This was not a normal summer and it was not just the dreams of the English players knocked out in the first round, which had been crushed. He realised he had no one to share anything important with any longer. There was no shortage of acquaintances but on a planet of billions of people he felt very alone.
He purchased a bunch of flowers and walked slowly and apprehensively from the car park, unsure if he would be able to identify the exact location of her death. However, as he came close to the spot, he saw dozens of bunches of flowers lining the side of the road. There was also a police sign asking for any witnesses to come forward. He placed his flowers alongside the others and read a few of the tributes that had been left. He was touched by the fact complete strangers had taken the time to leave messages of sympathy.
Powell was absorbed in reading the notes and didn’t pay any notice to the pedestrians passing him by on the pavement.
“One less pig to worry about,” someone said over his shoulder.
Powell turned in shock. “What did you say?”
There were three men with shaven heads and more than their share of tattoos confronting him.
“I said, it’s one less pig to worry about,” one of the men sneered. He was large and looked like he spent plenty of time pushing weights.
“You should be more respectful,” Powell replied, standing up straight and looking the man who had spoken, in the eye. Even at six feet two inches tall Powell was still probably an inch shorter than the excuse for a human being he was facing.
“You going to make me?” the man taunted.
Days of stress were aching to escape from Powell. He knew there would be a momentary release of tension from hurting these three fools but he was torn by the knowledge it would not be what Bella would want. They were just dumb jerks.
“This is your lucky day,” Powell said, retaking control of his emotions. “I don’t want any trouble.”