‘Hi, you surprised me!’ I replied, knowing exactly why she was waiting for me.
‘I’m Becky,’ she said. ‘I don’t know your name yet ...’
‘Pete,’ I said, looking into her eyes. There was no doubt about what she wanted.
‘I felt we didn’t have time to get to know each other in there,’ she picked up. ‘Fancy a nightcap?’
I thought back to Ellie. This is how it had begun last time. A casual fling with a woman I’d only just met. A hot, sexy woman at that. Becky was something else. She was much younger: 27, 28, something like that, and nothing like the kind of woman I’d normally go for. But she seemed so confident, it was obvious that she wanted to sleep with me, there was no chatting up or dancing around. Becky had sex on her mind.
I thought about Ellie and how badly that had gone. I recalled Steven’s warnings in the supermarket earlier that day. And I considered Alex, who I’d have to pick up the next day. I also gave a fleeting thought to Meg. We’d been married when I’d slept with Ellie, and there was no doubt in my mind that I’d been wrong. But now we were separated, permanently as far as I knew. I considered myself a free agent.
Becky would be on her way to wherever it was she lived the next day, out of my life forever from 10 o’clock on Saturday morning. I could almost see her knickers, her skirt was so short, even though I had only the light of an outdoors lamp to guide me. The way she was looking at me, it was a wonder she could restrain herself. I’m not used to that with women, not ones who barely know me. Women usually need to get more familiar with me before their lust is unleashed.
I thought about Meg, Ellie, Alex and Steven one more time, eyeing up Becky’s beautiful smooth breasts, which she’d made very little effort to conceal in that figure-hugging T-shirt. Then I thought ‘Sod it!’ and decided to sleep with her anyway.
It took me a while to open my eyes. It was light in the room, I must have slept in late. Outside the caravan I could hear the sounds of car boots being slammed shut and vehicles driving off. It had to be before 10 o’clock. At least I wasn’t too late for Alex.
Then I remembered. It had been one hell of a night the night before. She was still in my bed, asleep. I played dead, replaying what had happened after we’d headed back for our nightcap.
There was no nightcap, of course. We’d kissed by the arcade, leaning against the large glass window, the machines still flashing, and our hands began to explore under each other’s clothing. We walked over to my caravan, chatting and flirting. The minute I’d got the caravan door open, she walked over to the curtains and drew them.
‘Close the curtains in the bedroom,’ she ordered.
I walked along the short corridor, entering the main bedroom at the end and drawing the curtains as Becky had instructed. Then I walked up the corridor, excited by what was coming.
Static caravans have wide semi-circular settees in their lounges, they’re made to seat several people at once and double up as beds. Well, Becky had discovered a new use for mine.
Her small handbag was sitting on the edge of the sofa, open. She’d removed her bright red lacy G-string and it was sitting to the side of her, together with her bra. I could see her nipples through her white T-shirt. She parted her legs slightly and I caught a glimpse. She was almost completely shaved. There was a touch of shaving rash there still, it looked like she’d prepared for this night out.
I could feel the bulge in my boxers. Whatever the rights and wrongs of this, it was too late for me, I was in too deep.
I knelt by the sofa and began to kiss her. We immediately gelled, there was no awkwardness, it was as if we had kissed before, it was sure, and confident, full of passion. My hand slipped up to her right breast, cupping it first, then gently caressing her nipple. I wanted to feel her flesh. I moved my hand up her T-shirt, hesitating a moment before touching. She was waiting, she took my hand and placed it there. It was smooth, soft, beautiful. Exciting. Our lips moved faster, our kissing became more frenetic, and I moved my hand down to her skirt. She was ready for me. Moving down to lick her nipple, still gently rubbing her, she sat forward and removed her T-shirt.
‘Fuck me!’ she said, and I unbuttoned my trousers, pulled them halfway down, then my boxers. I was still kneeling and had no intention of standing up to take them off.
She hitched up the rest of her tiny skirt and I entered her. She raised her legs up, so that her feet rested on the sides of the sofa, and it allowed me to move closer and push deeper. We kissed again, our tongues caressing, my hand sliding down to the curve of her buttock as I thrust gently. She tensed and let out a cry as I exploded inside her.
I held Becky as we slowly relaxed. I awaited her cue for what would happen next, and I was surprised when she said, ‘I want you to take me again.’
I wasn’t sure that I could, so soon. She might have been in her late twenties, but I generally needed a bit of recovery time. I slowly moved away from her, and she lifted her legs up, so I could see where I’d been. I moved towards her once again, she sat back pushing her hips towards me. I began to move my tongue lightly, she moaned with pleasure and I felt myself begin to harden again. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. For a moment I’d been concerned that I might let myself down.
She reached into her bag and brought something out of it. I was still busy with my mouth and tongue, the top of her skirt resting on the tip of my nose. She’d brought out masks. Venetian masks. This was about to get kinky.
‘Put this on,’ she said, gently placing her hand to my head to indicate that I should move away.
I’d seen these on the TV. They were on sale all over the place when Meg and I had gone to Venice. I’d had a secret fantasy then, wondering if Meg would go for it. I’d always wanted to make a porno to upload to one of those sites. There was no way I was doing it with faces exposed, but how sexy would that be, your own porn video online and nobody knowing it was you?
Now here was Becky wanting me to place a masquerade mask on my face. I followed her lead. Her mask was brightly coloured, mine with black and white chequers. This was the stuff of fantasies.
Becky stepped up and picked up her bag.
‘Get properly undressed, join me in the bedroom,’ she said.
She walked away, sliding her skirt down as she did so, leaving it there on the floor.
I took my clothes off as quickly as I could, following her through to the bedroom. There’s no elegant way to enter a room with an erection, but it didn’t matter much since Becky was lying front down on the bed, looking up towards me.
‘Use the oil,’ she said, looking over towards the baby oil that she’d left on my small dresser unit. This woman came well prepared for a night out. I thought for a moment about whether we should have used a condom. There was no way I was interrupting this encounter with one of those things. The single mums always made me wear one, they were probably afraid of getting pregnant again. Becky seemed to have no such worries.
I took the oil, warmed it in my hands, and began to rub it on her back. My hand moved around her shoulders, along the base of her neck and by her tattoo. Gradually I moved down to her buttocks, tentatively exploring around her cheeks and wondering how far she’d let me go. There was no resistance, just a quiet sensual moaning. The masks were turning me on big time. I couldn’t believe that within a matter of minutes I was ready to take her again.
She turned over, I trickled the baby oil between her breasts and with smooth strokes, caressed her nipples.
I worked my hand between her thighs, trickling more baby oil onto her breasts, then moving my hand to gently massage it into her smooth skin. The sheets were going to be a mess. I’d have to do something to hide them from the cleaners. I’d work it out later.
Now completely covered in baby oil, her smooth skin looking even more sensual, she took me in her mouth and I closed my eyes, luxuriating in the feeling, as she expertly kissed and gently sucked. When she felt me about to come again, she gently pushed me down to the bed.
‘This
way,’ she said. ‘I want to watch in the mirror.’
My head was resting at the end of the bed. I could see the mirror of the dressing table. She slowly straddled me. She began to rock slowly backwards and forwards. I placed my hands on her breasts, they were oiled and sensuous, my fingers glided around her nipples as she continued her slow rhythmic movements. She was looking in the mirror. I could see myself moving in and out of her.
‘Take off your mask,’ she said, moving her hand to my face and pulling the mask so that it dropped to the ground. At that moment I didn’t give a damn what she wanted to do, my fingers had moved around to the curves of her arse and I was past the point of no return. It only seemed to fire her up even more, she was moving faster and faster as I felt my own orgasm become closer, nearer, more urgent. I’d come before, it took longer for me second time around, so I could relax, make sure that she was fully satisfied before finally releasing myself inside her. Our bodies were tensed, ecstatic in the moment, not wanting the sensation to end.
I fell asleep like that. I was aware of Becky moving off me, doing something with her phone, going to the bathroom. My neck was uncomfortable. I turned around and, somehow, we ended up the right way around in a bed that was covered in baby oil and semen. I wasn’t complaining.
It was the sound of the pigeon that had woken me.
‘Becky? Becky?’ I said.
She stirred. Like me, she was awake already, dozing.
‘Hi,’ she replied, turning over and smiling. ‘Now that’s what I call a good Friday night out.’
I knew what she meant. The lovemaking had been hot. We’d clicked immediately, there was none of the usual awkwardness of a first-time encounter.
‘Do you have to be out of your caravan?’ I asked. ‘It must be nearly 10 o’clock.’
‘No, it’s fine. I’m here for two weeks, there’s no rush.’
Now that might get awkward with Alex around.
‘Which zone are you staying in?’ I asked, anxious to see how close we were. It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed the previous night, but I hadn’t expected it to be an ongoing arrangement.
‘Red,’ she said. ‘It goes with the underwear.’
I smiled. And what hot underwear it was too. I’d need to manoeuvre carefully here, I had to pick up Alex from the station, but I didn’t want Becky to feel that I was casting her aside. I also had to do something about my sheets. I couldn’t let the cleaners get their hands on those. Vicky might find out.
I explained to Becky that I had a female visitor coming, a friend, not a romantic attachment, and that I’d need to keep her entertained for a couple of days. She seemed to have got the message.
‘When does she leave?’ Becky asked.
‘Wednesday,’ I replied. ‘I’ll be able to see you again before you go.’
I meant it too. If there was a chance of spending a couple more nights in bed with Becky before she left, I was well up for that. But I didn’t want to complicate things with Alex.
‘I need to sort these sheets out too. Any ideas?’
‘I’ll let you have the sheets off my bed. I’ll say that I had my period and threw them away. I’ll pay the fine on my breakage deposit, they’ll probably let me off anyway.’
‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘That’ll save us any embarrassment. You certainly came prepared last night.’
I looked at the discarded masks on the floor and the baby oil bottle opened at the side of the bed.
‘I’ll admit it,’ she said. ‘I spotted you earlier in the week, and I’ve been watching you from afar. You’re a nice guy, you’re kind to people. You’re hot too, although I don’t think you know it!’
I was quite flattered by that. What a nice thing to say.
‘Are you here alone? It’s unusual to see somebody on their own like this.’
‘Yes, we used to come here when we were kids. I needed a break, I fancied my own company for a couple of weeks. I like it here, it’s simple. Shall I go and get those sheets – what time is your friend coming?’
‘I need to leave here at midday,’ I replied. ‘Alex is here until Wednesday. How about we exchange mobile numbers and I’ll keep in touch?’
Becky jotted down her number and took mine too. We then bundled up the sheets into the supermarket bags that I’d saved from the day before. She retrieved her clothing and underwear from around the caravan and I checked for any evidence that Alex might spot. The bedroom stank of sex and baby oil, I opened the windows slightly to encourage it to waft away.
As I was opening the curtains to the lounge area, I saw a couple of coppers walking towards my part of the park. Not unheard of. They got trouble every now and then, the occasional break-in or skirmish, but they seemed to be heading in my direction.
I kept watching until it became a sure thing.
‘That’s odd, the police are here,’ I said to Becky.
‘Shall I keep out of the way?’ she asked.
‘Might be a good thing.’
Becky went into the bedroom and I opened the door to see two uniformed officers outside.
‘Mr Bailey?’
‘Yes,’ I replied, waiting to see what bad news they’d got for me now. I rapidly scanned through the possibilities. A break-in at the house. That wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe my mum had had an accident. I hoped not. Perhaps news of Meg? I didn’t know.
‘Can I help with anything?’
‘I’m sorry to have to inform you, sir, that there’s been an incident at your property, the one that you own at Ashbourne Drive. A body was found there this morning.’
Chapter Seven
What was it Steven Terry had said?
‘Your house is not yet finished with the killing. There is more evil waiting there.’
His words came back to me as the police officer indicated that he’d like to come into the caravan. I could see Becky standing at the end of the corridor. There were two doors in my static, one that brought you directly into the lounge area, the other at the far end of the unit, which was the equivalent of the back door.
Becky pointed to the second door, asking if I wanted her to go. I looked at her, gave a slight nod, and as the two cops entered at one end, she nipped out the other. She’d got the sheets too, that was great. She’d no doubt pop in the replacements later.
The police officers seemed serious. It was probably a crappy way to start a Saturday shift, the usual drill would have been releasing pissheads from the cells where they’d have had a night to cool off.
I sighed, not really in any mood to hear the news.
‘So what’s happened? Can I get you both a tea or a coffee?’
They took me up on the offer, so we spoke as I worked in the kitchen. Static caravans are mostly open-plan in nature; the kitchen adjoined the lounge, so I was able to hear what they’d got to tell me straight away.
‘A neighbour telephoned the station to say that a car had been parked in the drive overnight. The driver’s door had been left open and they thought that the property was presently unoccupied. A couple of beat officers called in in the early hours of this morning. They discovered the body of a single male.’
‘Do you know who it is?’
I asked the obvious next question, thinking through who it might be, panicking in case the horrors of what had happened previously had come back to haunt me. But who was left? Everybody was dead.
‘We’re not at liberty to reveal that information yet, sir. The body still has to be identified.’
‘What car was in the drive? You can tell me that, can’t you?’
‘It was a silver BMW.’
I couldn’t think of anybody who drove a silver BMW, nobody that I knew well. All the broadcasting team were far too poor to drive BMWs. There’s this strange idea that if you work on radio or TV you’re instantly rich, due to the perceived glamour of the job. Well, journalists work on pay scales like everybody else. And like everybody else, those pay scales continually get eroded. The HR department are usually in the vicinity when
it happens.
I couldn’t think of anybody who drove a car like that. My boss, Diane, maybe? No, she had something much more modest. I couldn’t think what it was, but I’d have noticed if it was a BMW.
‘Have you had any access to the house recently, sir?’
‘No, I never go there. I haven’t been there in six months, not since the original murders. It’s all handled through the estate agents now. I’ve got one local agent on the case and two of those internet sites listing the property. There are three boards outside. Elliot’s is the local agency managing the property. Did they break in or cause any damage?’
What had happened? I’d had a few communications from the police, mainly relating to weirdos and sightseers. They’d had the same problems at Fred West’s house, and it was demolished in the end. Cromwell Street is forever engraved on the consciousness of the UK population; my house was in danger of following suit.
There had been vandalism in the property, nothing major. Either I’d have to put it right before the house was sold or I’d knock a small amount off the price to allow the new buyers to fix it. Nothing that a bit of wood filler and sandpaper wouldn’t solve.
‘The property was unlocked, sir. There was no forced entry. I’m sorry, sir, I know that you’ve had to go through this before.’
What has life come to when you know the name of the company which will remove the fleshy debris and bloodstains from your living room floor? They hadn’t told me how he’d died yet. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions.
‘Where did he die?’ I asked, realising that it might not have been in the lounge. Why should it have been?
‘The victim was found in the main bedroom. I’m unable to share any more details at this moment in time, I’m afraid.’
I had a sudden burst of inspiration. Glenn Elliot, the estate agent. Did he drive a BMW? He’d be the sort of person who did. Glenn’s office had emailed me to let me know that there was a viewing the day before. We’d had a couple that week, but I was learning not to get excited, most people were only there to take a snoop around the local murder place.
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