Triad

by Simone Leigh

  “He was a brute and a stupid one. He enjoyed mistreating the kids far too much and at times he went well beyond his authority. His job was to keep them obedient, not terrorise them into panicking entirely. Whatever happened the day he died, fourteen-year-old girls don’t behave like that unless they have been pushed over the edge.”

  “In fact, Bech, I agree with you. But he was convenient, and he got results.... most of the time anyway. Kept them quiet until we could move them along.... Now, get the men out of the picture. Let me know if you learn anything else.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  *****

  James

  “I'm enjoying being like this, on top of you, between your thighs.”

  She moves under me, warm and welcoming, her fingers tracing a line behind my ears and over my neck. “That’s as it should be, Master.”

  I kiss her. “As you say.”

  “Master, I'd like you inside me.”

  My shaft is pressed against the cleft of her thighs and I am throbbingly hard. “I'd like to be inside you too, but it's been too long. That blast last night wasn’t nearly enough to slow me down yet. I'll only last a few seconds once I'm in you.”

  She laughs, a low chuckle. “That's alright, Master. We're going to have plenty of time at Christmas to practice and slow you down a bit.”

  “Now there's a pleasant thought, but for now, we have only this weekend. And I want you to come before I do. I want to see that smile of yours.”

  Her face is soft as she reaches up again, stroking my cheek. “My smile is always yours, Master.... Um...you haven’t er... relieved yourself while I’ve been away?”

  Feeling foolish, as though I am confessing, “I didn't like to. It felt like.... It didn’t feel right.”

  Her eyes widen, and she moves under me, her thighs opening further and her hips easing upwards. I nudge against her, the tremble of her flesh resonating through me as my cock-head brushes against her entrance, wet and hot and open. Her eyes half-close and she whimpers.

  “You alright?”

  “It's been just as long for me, Master....

  So it has....

  “.... One night in a hotel is lovely as a treat, but I’ve missed you both.”

  “No, it’s not the same is it...” I murmur. “Turn over.”

  She rolls, allowing me close in behind her. I tug her hips upwards a little. But still, I don’t enter her. Instead, my shaft pressed against her already warm and wet pussy, I reach around to finger her clit.

  “Master?”

  “Shhh....” I kiss her cheek. “I’m only going to enter you at the last moment, then we both get to the finish line.”

  She chuckles. “That bad, Master?”

  “That bad, Charlotte, yes.”

  She’s growing rapidly wetter, my fingers becoming slippery as I paint circles around her bud. Her breathing intensifies, echoing deliciously though my chest where I press close behind her....

  “Are you going to Come for me?”

  “Oh yes, Master. No problem.”

  “Good girl.” I kiss her cheek again, now thumbing back the sheath of her clit, intensifying my rubbing. She gasps and trembles, her body contouring to mine.

  To her drawn-out breath, I ease forward and in. Sinking gradually into her, I slowly sheath myself in her warm flesh....

  It is exquisite, enthralling and quite excruciating....

  “Master?” But her words are shaky....

  And with almost no effort from me, she Comes, her warm flesh pulsing around mine, her body flexing against my arm where it still curves about her waist, holding her to me.

  And her climax releases mine. With a gasp, I tremble and spill into her, breathless with the sheer ferocity of the Rush, intense almost to the point of pain. It ripples through my groin, pulsing through muscle and bone as I spurt deep and long into my Jade-Eyes.

  As it passes, I lie atop her, panting as she strokes my hair and shoulders, then kisses my cheek. My heart slowing and my breathing returning to normal, I roll to one side, then pat the sheets for her to lie alongside me. “I feel like some fucking fourteen-year-old who's discovering that his balls aren't just ornaments anymore.”

  She bursts out laughing. “Master, you can fuck me five times a day over this weekend if you want to.”

  He came. He saw. He came again....

  “Less of the mirth from you, Madam. You have your other lover to satisfy as well. Do you want to spend the whole of the weekend with your knees in different time zones?”

  “On which subject,” comes a voice, “Move over. There’s room for another in that bed.” Michael stands there, leaning against the bathroom door, his hair still damp from the shower, good humour writ large.

  Oh, God... How much of that did he hear?

  As I settle beside her, “How long have you been there?”

  He cocks a brow at me. “Long enough to know that you and I are in about the same condition.” He turns to Charlotte. “You feeling sore at all?”

  “Not a bit.” She holds out her hands, smiling, opening and raising her knees suggestively.

  “There’s my girl.” He smiles widely, stripping off his tee-shirt and unbuckling his belt. As he kicks away shoes and steps out of his pants, he says, “I hope you don’t mind walking bow-legged for a few days after James and I er.... make up for lost time....”

  She grins and drops a wink. “If it hurts to walk, I’ll just have to lie down again, won’t I?”

  “That’s the spirit. Now, prepare to be boarded.” She shrieks with laughter as Michael bounces on top of her and almost bounces into her. Her cries turn wild as he rams home, supporting himself above her on his arms and allowing her to move as she swings her pelvis up to meet him.

  His breathing grows heavy. “Think you could come again?”

  “Um... not yet, no.”

  “Mmmm.... Shame. I’d have liked to hear you squeal a bit more....”

  He pistons into her. She’s enjoying it, but it’s mainly for him. After only a short time, still pumping, he lowers himself, his arms tightening around her. Touching his lips to hers, a soft touch, he almost breathes a kiss. Then groaning, hips grinding, he drops his head to the crook of her neck.

  “Ah, Jeez, Charlotte.” His tone is strangled. “We came to visit you for the weekend and we’re....”

  She giggles. “I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine. Why don’t we have some wine and chat for a bit and in an hour or so....”

  “Excellent notion,” I say, swinging out of bed.

  *****

  Sixteen Years Ago

  The market is busy, bustling with people out and about their business, the crowds thick enough, perhaps, for no-one to pay too much attention to a small girl, perhaps eight years old. She wears a dress, once brightly coloured but now faded, the thin fabric worn and shabby. She looks nervous, her glance darting from side to side, then over her shoulder.

  The girl walks through the market, trying to look casual, but she's hard to miss if anyone’s paying attention. With her brilliant ginger hair, she is eye-catching, easily spotted. The hair swings long and loose down to her waist. One day she is going to be a beauty, but for now, she is too noticeable by far.

  Withdrawing into shadows between the stalls, she eyes young women and teenagers, walking in the sunshine, browsing stalls. Many are in fashionably cut jeans and pretty tops. Some are wearing hats and scarves.

  There is a stand a little way along selling cheap jewellery, fake designer clothes, wraps and shawls. Slipping quietly behind the stalls the girl makes her way to the back of the stand. Moving a little distance away, her eyes travel the cheap fripperies on offer....

  .... and she waits....

  After a while two women come up to the front of the stand, the stall-holder turning his attention to them as they try on bangles and bracelets then haggle over the price.

  The small ginger-headed girl strolls forward, passing close. Her hand flashes out, snagging a scarf in neutral shade
s of brown and beige, then again, a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt. Without a break in her stride, she continues walking to vanish through the entrance to the public lavatories.

  A few minutes later a different figure emerges, slightly built in jeans a little too short at the ankles but otherwise unremarkable. And a scarf around the head conceals any sign of the hair underneath.

  Bread and cakes lay enticingly displayed on another stall. Mouth wet, the figure eyes them, watching from a hidey-hole under one of the tables.

  Her view slightly obscured by an overhanging cover, she watches as a large, fat woman fills a basket with pastries, pasties and iced buns.

  Is it worth the risk?

  The little girl looks away, then back, then away again. Finally, she picks up a pebble from the side of the road, rubs grit off against her thigh then pops it in her mouth, sucking it from one cheek to the other.

  From a cafe at the edge of the street, appetising odours drift. The skinny figure looks through the plate glass window at people sitting down to plates of eggs, sausages and bacon, mugs of coffee and tea, racks of toast slathered in butter. She stares in.

  There is a side alley. Narrow and dark, litter makes small whirlpools in the breeze and she wrinkles her nose against the rank smell of urine. Still, it leads to the rear of the cafe. Spitting the pebble onto the roadside, she ventures down.

  It leads to a gate, but she scrambles up and over to land on cracked concrete in a small back-yard. The concrete is green and slippery, and a matching green stain draws lines down the wall from cracked guttering.

  But there are bins, metal with lids clamped down tight against rats and alley toms. She darts forward, tugging at the metal clamps with small fingers.

  They don’t budge. She tries again, whimpering with effort, the metal making red welts against bony fingers, but the clamps still don’t move.

  She stands back, staring at the bins, then sniffs back a sob....

  .... then another.

  There is a click and a finger of light stretches across the yard as a door opens. She looks right and left but with nowhere to go and no time to run she steps back into the shadows.

  A tubby figure in white overalls trundles out carrying an armload of bulging plastic bags. He drops them on the ground, effortlessly clicks back the clamps of the nearest bin then dumps the bags inside. Dropping the lid back in place, he fumbles with the clamps...

  “Service....” A voice drifts from the brightly lit interior.

  “Coming....” He struggles again with the clamps.

  “Tom, where the hell are you? Get these plates out.”

  He mutters a curse then abandons the clamps, disappearing indoors.

  As the door closes, she dashes forward, scrabbling at the metal lid, askew from its bin. It falls to the ground with a clang and she freezes, but there is no response from inside.

  The whites of her eyes showing, she watches the door for a long moment then tears into the plastic of the top bags. She pulls out half a bread roll, dripping brown sauce and soaked in fat. Pushing it into her mouth, she gulps hard, her hands scrabbling through the trash to pull out bacon fat cuttings and ketchup-soaked left-overs.

  *****

  The door bangs open and light streams over the bins and a small dirty figure wearing a filthy scarf around the head. The figure is skinny to the point of emaciation, uncertainly male or female. Clothes hang on scrawny arms and bony ankles poke from too-short jeans. Standing by trash cans its own height, the figure has something in its hand.

  “Hey stop! Don’t! Don’t eat it!”

  Whatever it was is dropped and the figure dashes for the gate, but as it tries to scramble over, hands catch it at the waist, pulling down. The figure screams.... the scream of a small girl.... and struggles, fighting back.

  “Hey, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  She stares up at him, eyes cloaked with suspicion. A man in a white hat and apron squats down by her.

  “I’m sorry if I frightened you, but there’s poison in those bins. When the trash kept getting raided, I thought it must be cats or rats. I put rat poison in there this evening.”

  Her mouth makes an O. So do her eyes, a pair of emerald green O’s.

  “Have you eaten anything out of there tonight?”

  The green Os shake from side to side.

  “You’re sure?”

  The O’s nod.

  “Tell you what... Why don’t you come into the kitchen with me? We’ve got all sorts of good things cooking in there. Puddings too. You pick what you want and let’s get something inside you, eh?”

  The face lights up. Nodding enthusiastically, she follows him inside. “What does poison look like?”

  Five minutes later, she is spooning up pasta and tomato sauce in huge volumes.

  “You sure we should have her in the kitchen, chef? She’s filthy.”

  “Yes, I can see that, but what was I supposed to do? Leave her to go raid someone else’s trash? Now, while she’s eating, you go call the local police. Tell them we’ve got a runaway. They’d better call the Social....”

  *****

  James

  “Charlotte... Charlotte!”

  This time it is Michael shaking her awake. She sits up in the half-light of the lamp we left switched on by the bed.

  Jeez.... How are we going to deal with this...?

  She’s going through hell every time she sleeps....

  Michael’s holding her, murmuring quietly to her. I fetch the flask of hot chocolate I had pre-prepared....

  .... just in case....

  .... as I pour three cups, I’m glad I thought to do it.

  She doesn’t say much, simply sips half her drink and drops off to sleep again. I spoon around her, holding her as she sleeps.

  *****

  I wake.

  “What are you looking at?” It’s Charlotte’s voice. She’s still in my embrace, but it’s not me she’s speaking to.

  Michael’s voice, “You, asleep. I’m enjoying having you near.”

  Michael is already dressed, sitting in an armchair next to the bed with a pot of what looks like strong black coffee. He smiles at her, reaching out to take her hand, stroking the fingers.

  “I’ve got to go back this morning you know,” she says. “I have lectures at ten o’clock.”

  “I know. Come on, I’ve run you a bath and I ordered breakfast from room service.”

  *****

  I kiss her. “I’ll look forward to Christmas.” Then I release her to Michael who envelops her with his arms.

  “Take care. You hear? And drive sensibly too. I don’t want a repeat of that performance back at the beach house.”

  She grins, her smile all mischief....

  .... That’s my Charlotte....

  .... and slaps him on the chest. “Don’t worry. I was only showing off that day. I’d just been given a car. What else was I supposed to do? I don’t usually drive like that.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. I’m usually very careful.” She turns serious, gazing up into his face, stroking his hair. “I love you. I’ll miss you.”

  He drops his face to hers, holding her tight and saying something quiet to her, I stare at the patterns in the carpet, trying to give them a little privacy.

  “Come on,” says Michael, picking up car keys. “Let’s get you back to your digs.”

  *****

  We drop her off back at the student house. No-one says very much. I am equivocal about the results of the last couple of days. Michael too I think. He’s clearly much reassured about Charlotte’s attitude to us, but as for the rest...

  “Am I dropping you off at the office or are you coming back home?” he asks.

  “Home I think. I can work from there and I could do with some more sleep.”

  “Mmm... me too.”

  “Feeling better after the weekend?”

  Michael takes a deep breath. “Ambivalent real
ly.” He rubs a finger behind an ear. “Yes, it was great to see her, and I’ll admit that a couple of days of not surfacing from the bedroom was just what I needed, but those nightmares....” His voice trails away.

  “Disturbing isn’t it....”

  “Mmmm, yes. I wonder how much of that is going on and she’s not saying?”

  “Perhaps we should have night lights?”

  “I think so, yes. I should have thought of it before.” He scratches his head. “It just never occurred to me.”

  “How long before we have electricity?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll sort something out by the time she’s back with us; candles, batteries, solar power.... something....”

  *****

  Back at our mountain home, “Want to eat?” Michael asks, yawning.

  “Yes....” I eye him. He’s pale, with shadows under his eyes.

  “How long were you awake last night?”

  He doesn't reply, instead rummaging through the larder. “We need more bread. Can you pick some up while you're in the City tomorrow?”

  “You stayed awake, didn't you? All night.”

  “Eggs and milk too.”

  *****

  I tap the number into my phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Beth. It’s James. Is Richard there?”

  “Hello, James. No, I’m sorry, he’s not, but I’m expecting him soon. Can I pass on a message for you?”

  Damn....

  “Um, no not really. It’s just that I’ve got the printouts with me for the projected costs on C-Site. I’m on my way back from checking out some of the suppliers. Could I drop them off with you there on my way back? It’s easier for me than going into the office tomorrow.”

  “Yes of course. Are you alright? You sound done in.”

  “Yes. It’s been a long couple of days. I’m rather tired.”

  “Would you like to stop for dinner when you get here? You’ll feel better with a meal inside you.”

  Wonderful....

  “That would be great, Beth. Thanks. I’ll be there in about an hour.”