by Nigel May
It was approaching 3am by the time they returned to their hotel. Tanya could feel the effect of the evening’s drinking causing her to sway as they vacated their taxi and made their way into the lobby and up to their room. Devon protectively held her steady as they walked, much more stable on his feet.
Once inside their room, Tanya removed her clothes and let them fall to the floor as soon as she could, happy to be liberated from their constraints. She was tired, beyond drunk and if she was honest, more than ready for sleep. Seeming to read his wife’s thoughts Devon scooped her into his arms and carried her lingerie-clad body to the four poster bed at the centre of the room where he lay her gently against the silky covers. The freshness of the material felt good, enveloping her in an organza bow of comfort. In a matter of a few seconds she drifted into sleep.
The next sensation Tanya felt was a sharp, almost painful digging into her wrists. It took a moment for her to register where she was and what was happening. She tried to move her hand. She couldn’t. It was attached by a cord to one of the four bedposts. Her other hand was also tied, the cord again attached around the bed frame.
It wasn’t the first time Devon had used the art of bondage for their bedroom activities but something worried Tanya about her current situation. It didn’t feel like one of their normal playtimes; a red light was flashing in her mind. As she tried to move she realised with horror that her feet were also bound. She tried to call for Devon, but no voice came, just a muffled cry as she found that her mouth was also gagged. She could see the clock on the far side of the room. It said 4.15am. She must have been asleep for about an hour. The lights were still on but there was no sign of Devon.
Tanya writhed around trying to free herself from her imprisonment. It was in vain; the cords held her in place. Her mouth felt dry as she tried to shout, her lips straining in an effort to form the words.
It was then that Devon appeared, naked and coming out from the bathroom of their suite. In his hand he held a large rubber dildo, something that again they had used in the past as part of their love-making. But the look on his face was not a look of love, far from it. This was the expression of a man on a mission, a man who knew what he intended to do. The thought sent a frisson of abject fear through Tanya’s body.
Without saying a word, Devon climbed onto the bed and placed his free hand across the pair of panties Tanya was wearing. With one sharp tug he ripped the knickers away from her body, leaving the lace tattered and torn. As he moved his fingers urgently into her, the feeling Tanya experienced was far from sensual. Despite Devon’s evident arousal as his cock sprung into life in front of him, not one of the many nerve endings housed between her legs erupted with horny delight. Instead all she could feel was a sense of abomination as Devon continued to work her pussy. A solitary tear fell from each of her eyes as she tried to understand what Devon was trying to achieve. Until he spoke she was clueless. But no words came.
Taking the dildo, he placed it between her legs and let the head of it rest against the outer lips of her sex. He withdrew his fingers and then slowly but surely inserted the dildo into her. Normally she would find this pleasurable but this was no normal night. She closed her eyes in vain attempting to think of Aaron to see if that helped, but the total fear she felt outweighed any lascivious thoughts she tried to conjure up about the gardener.
Why was Devon doing this to her? He could see that she was not enjoying it. Why was such a kind, gentle caring man behaving in such a way? She expected it of others but not from him.
Devon worked the dildo into her, the lack of moisture between her legs making its passage difficult and awkward, as if ripping tender flesh within. Unable to object, unable to move, she was helpless to put up a fight. She looked deep into Devon’s eyes. Was that sadness she could see there too, amongst the anger? Maybe it was. But why? What was he gaining?
She could only watch as Devon pulled the dildo from her and then positioned his own body over hers. His cock, still erect, hovered over her sexual opening. He placed his hands either side of his wife’s body and brought his face down until it was just a few inches away from Tanya’s. She blinked, causing more tears to tumble from her eyes.
The tears seemed to act as a catalyst. As hers fell, so did his own, suddenly unleashed from within. Long pitiful sobs erupted from his throat and he sat back up, kneeling between her legs. His cock had shrivelled back to its flaccid state, all thoughts of any penetration gone. She had never heard Devon cry like this before. It was a heart-wrenching sound. For a second she felt a moment of pity, but it was quickly eclipsed by the nightmare of the ordeal he had just put her through. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. She wouldn’t allow herself to, for fear of what might come next.
A still sobbing Devon got off the bed and pulled open the bedside drawer. Tanya turned her head to see what he was doing. She wished she hadn’t as her husband removed a gun from inside the drawer and pointed it in her direction.
Thirty-Nine
Victoria had been thinking about Scott and their moments of happiness together. Having upped her dose of anti-depressants to try and cope with the truth about his infidelity with Chloe, Victoria would often find herself lying on her bed, almost stoned on the combination of uppers and painkillers. It was those hazy dreamlike moments under the influence that made her happiest and it was during those moments that she would remember just why she had loved her husband, and despite everything, still did.
She needed to get rid of Chloe. Victoria had chosen her moment. Scott was at work, the twins were at school and she and Chloe were alone. And seeing as her last painkiller was just beginning to wear off, Victoria was in no mood to suffer fools. Especially ones who thought that they could shag her husband behind her back.
The pain in her side was still making it difficult for her to move freely around the house. She placed that morning’s opened post that Scott had brought up before leaving for work on the bedside table. One bill, some junk mail and an invitation from Evie to a charity party in a few weeks’ time. The thought pleased her. If she was well enough, which she was determined to be, and if Scott and she were back on form then a night out with Evie and her celebrity friends was maybe a perfect band aid for their marriage woes. Not that Scott knew that she had any. And that was how she intended to keep it.
Victoria called down for Chloe to join her. About half a minute later Chloe entered the room and moved to the side of the bed. Her smile was saccharine sweet. She scanned the post on the table, her eyes automatically drawn to the celebrity name on the invitation.
‘Did you want something?’
‘I need my painkillers. Did you ask Scott to fetch me some from the doctor?’
Chloe seemed confused. ‘Oh, did he not tell you? The doctor said that you weren’t to have any more and that you should just take ibuprofen from now on.’
Bomb-like, Victoria’s fury exploded. ‘Ibu-fucking-profen. Is he kidding me? My insides are in agony.’
‘I don’t know what to say, sorry. He asked yesterday so I assumed he would have told you. It must have slipped his mind. Do you want me to go and see if he’s put some in the medicine box?’
It was too much for Victoria and as another bullet of pain shot into her side she let rip. ‘The only fucking box he’s been putting something into is the skanky one between your legs. I’ve had it, Chloe, just pack your bags and go.’
‘But … I … I …’ stammered Chloe, the fact that Victoria knew about her and Scott’s guilty secret slashing her like a knife.
‘I saw you. The night before last. Downstairs. So don’t try to deny it.’
She didn’t. ‘But what about the children?’ asked Chloe. ‘I love this job and they really like me.’
‘So did I, until you started sucking my husband’s cock. Just get out. I’ll tell Scott that you had to leave because of a family crisis. You can be gone by this afternoon, can’t you?’
Victoria doubled up on the bed as she spoke, her body obviously succumbing to a spasm o
f agony. The sight of it shocked Chloe.
‘Are you okay?’ It was a stupid question.
‘What does it look like, you dumb whore? I will be when you’re gone. Now get the fuck out.’
But Chloe wasn’t going down without a fight. She liked her job, loved the children, and over the last few weeks had become incredibly fond of Scott. A rich boss with a sexless wife and a straying length of cock was one of the best gigs she’d had in a long time and she had no intention of giving it up. In fact, she wasn’t against the idea of being with Scott long term. He liked her, showed her affection and made her feel special. And she certainly looked a lot better than Victoria did of late. No, she was not going to give all of that up. Scott had feelings for her, she knew it. She just needed more time with him to work out exactly how strong they were. She could feel her brain whir into action. As it did, a potential solution presented itself.
‘What about if I manage to get you a continuous supply of painkillers to stop your agony? No questions asked. I’ll supply you and you let me keep my job.’
Before she even had a chance to hate herself for saying it, Victoria heard the words come from her lips. ‘And my husband?’
‘He’s off limits. It only happened once and he regretted it straight away. That won’t happen again, you have my word.’ She was lying, but her poker face gave nothing away.
As another incision of pain slammed into her ribs, Victoria already knew what her decision was. If the only way she could beat the pain was to keep Chloe on the payroll then maybe that would be just what she had to do. For now.
‘How soon can you supply me the tablets?’
Chloe looked at her watch. ‘Give me a few hours. So if I do this, can I keep my job?’
‘For now, yes. But I want some strong fucking painkillers by the end of today. And if I ever catch you even laying so much as a finger on my husband again I swear it won’t just be the pain being killed around here. It’ll be you too. You hear me?’
She did. As a smiling Chloe left the room she heard the voice of a pitiful wife who was evidently more reliant on a mixture of pills than she realised. And if keeping Victoria high meant Chloe keeping her job and maybe keeping her man then she would maintain a constant supply of the little white miracles. She knew just where to obtain them.
Forty
‘So the police aren’t doing anything about your poor friend?’ bemoaned Nova to Georgia as they sat in the much-needed shade of a palm tree on a sunken garden terrace at the Chevalier Bel-Air home.
‘Not really, the police around Hell’s Canyon say they’ve reached a dead end. And I spoke to the police here in LA but they seem to have let it slip down their priority list. I’m going out of my mind. I believe Mitzi is out there. I can feel it in my heart and I need to try and work out how to find her.’
‘Well, if there’s one thing LA is more than good for it’s a continual supply of crime,’ said Jacob, joining the women and handing them freshly made Manhattans. ‘Between the murders, drug crimes and the carjacking, the police do seem to have their hands full.’ Georgia found herself slightly annoyed at Jacob’s air of almost dismissiveness.
‘What about this girl’s information about Mitzi heading to Mexico?’ asked Nova. ‘Surely that changes things?’ Georgia had been filling Nova and Jacob in.
‘Well, the police in Hell’s Canyon said they would talk to Alice, the girl at the hotel, and take a statement from her. And the police here in LA just added the information to the file on Foster and Mitzi and said that it would be considered with their on-going investigation. But to be honest they couldn’t have sounded more disinterested if I’d just told them I was trying out a new colour of nail gloss.’
‘I’ve a good mind to phone them up myself and order them to find some results. There must be clues out there,’ snapped Nova, her words a tad theatrical.
Jacob was quick to answer. ‘You will not. The last thing this show needs is any scandal attached to it, Nova. One scent of anything dodgy and you’re off the air.’
Georgia appreciated the gesture but she knew that Nova’s hands were tied.
‘So, what are you going to do?’ It was Jacob who asked.
‘Well, Charlie arrives tomorrow and I was thinking we could take a visit to Tijuana. I’ll print off some photos of Mitzi and take it from there. Stick them on every street corner if I have to. I was checking Mitzi and Foster’s twitter feeds and there are a few photos of their holiday before they disappeared so I’ll use those. There’s some photos of the big camper van they were using so maybe the border police have records of it being driven into Mexico. To be honest, I don’t know what to do. I’m a weather girl, not a hard-faced investigative journalist so this isn’t my field of speciality. I just have to do something to keep my hopes afloat. Anything.’
Jacob aired his concerns. ‘It’s a long shot. There are over a million people in Tijuana and it’s famed for its violence. I really don’t think you and Charlie should go.’
‘Neither do I,’ piped Nova, draining the last drops of her Manhattan. ‘But I do understand that you’ll do whatever you think you can for your friend, even if she might be …’ Nova considered her words before completing her sentence, ‘… on the run.’
‘Of course I’ve considered that, but it’s not even a possibility as far as I can work out. Mitzi adored Foster and they had so much to live for. All couples argue but not enough to end in bloodshed, not those two.’ The thought was more than alien to Georgia.
‘Do the police suspect her?’ asked Jacob.
‘Of course, especially after the hotel girl’s new information, but until they find Mitzi they’re as clueless as we are. They think it’s more likely that some passing chancer attacked Foster but they need to find Mitzi, dead or alive, to even try and eliminate her from their list of suspects.’
Nova was determined to lighten the mood a little. ‘Well, you and Charlie are going nowhere until after the party tomorrow night for the ratings. It’s going to be wonderful and I want to use it as a welcome home to Charlie. We’ll have some big names there and we can spend a few hours just being a family without all of this talk of murder and violence. So all thoughts of Mexico will have to wait until then. You need to slow down a bit, Georgia. You’re moving about faster than a tropical cyclone and as a weather girl, you know how dangerous they can be.’
Indeed she did. And she knew that the chances of finding any kind of information in Tijuana were slimmer than the wispiest of isobars. But she had to try, even if it meant heading into danger. What was it she had read about Tijuana?
‘So close to America, yet so far from God.’
Forty-One
Slipping the ring onto his finger, Jack Christie held up his hand in front of his face and whistled an exclamation of sheer and utter laddish delight. The chunky silver piece was shaped like a bird’s head, as close to a jackdaw as possible and was a one-off. The two eyes of the bird were highlighted with deep green emeralds. It was perfect and just as he had commissioned.
Life post prison was turning out to be, as he had said to Andy, ‘fan-bleeding-tastic’. The robbery jobs the two men had teamed up on had, so far, gone without a hitch and the bond and understanding between them was growing stronger every day. They worked well together. Just as they always had. And for the villainous birds of a feather the rewards were turning out to be measurable.
Andy had upped his game since reuniting with Jack. Instead of two bit smash and grabs on corner shops and post offices, the pair of them had set their sights higher, targeting homes where cash was definitely there for the taking. And it was cash that enabled both men to reward themselves accordingly. Their taste in clothes had suddenly gone from Superdry to Savile Row and the flat now seemed to house more high end gadgets than a 007 flick.
But the ring was Jack’s pride and joy; a symbol of their success, but also a symbol of his own identity. The rich spoils of spoiling somebody else’s life. And he loved the way it looked. Big, bold, unmistakable and unique.
He also figured it could cause some serious damage if he punched somebody while wearing it, a thought he was more than looking forward to trying out.
Andy was out, seeing some wannabe girlfriend and doubtless getting his end away so Jack had the night to himself, not that he would be alone for long. A surprise text had proved that earlier in the day. ‘Heard you’re out. Long time no see. Where are you these days?’ It was a welcome blast from the past and one that he intended to act upon. He had replied straight away.
He checked the time on his phone – 7pm – yep, she was due any minute. Right on time, the flat intercom buzzed. Feeling a twitch of anticipatory horniness run through his cock, he answered it.
The voice was just as he remembered it. ‘Hi, it’s Chloe, can I come in?’
Chloe Alexander was 16 when she first met Jack Christie in the none-too-glamorous surroundings of a London fish and chip shop. But despite the overpowering odour of frying oil in the air and the scattering of chip forks strewn across the floor, as far as Chloe was concerned it was as romantic a meeting place as a gondola ride in Venice or a secret rendezvous at the top of the Empire State Building. Not that Chloe had done either, of course. She’d never actually been outside of London. When you have to play housemaid, cook, cleaner and mum to a younger sister, the chances of grabbing your passport and checking out foreign climes were non-existent. The closest she came to anything vaguely continental was making spaghetti Bolognese, a dish which had become her signature meal ever since she’d been thrust into the role of woman of the house at the age of fourteen when her mum had done a runner to move to Glasgow with a pub landlord.