by Harry Blue
‘Well, you’ve come to the right place,’ replied the receptionist. ‘My dad’s a member, has been for almost twenty years, and he says that it’s the pride of the town.’
‘That’s great, erm...?’
‘Sandra.’
‘Yes, right, Sandra. Glad that I’ve found you.’ He put out his right hand to shake hers, which she took. ‘I’m thinking of moving down here, and would love to join a silver band. Is there just the one?’
‘Yes, that’s right, founded eighty years ago. Meet at the Methodist Church Hall, the band owns the hall, you know, earns good money from it, and last year we came twelfth in the county silver band championship. My dad played ever so well, we were all proud of him.’
‘That sounds great, something to be pleased about. So, is there a band leader?’
‘Yes, Mr. Johnson, he’s been with the band longer than dad. He’s such a lovely man, they love playing for him. Could be better, but it’s the playing that counts, don’t you think?’ said Sandra
‘Oh, every time,’ said Thomas. ‘I’d love to have a chat with Mr. Johnson, where could I meet up with him?’
‘He’s retired now, but used to be a an accountant. He goes in the Criterion Hotel bar on the seafront for lunch most days. He used to do their books, and they give him lunch.’
‘That’s great, Sandra. You’ve been most helpful. Hope to see you again. Bye.’
Rick Thomas returned to his hotel and told Cedric about his good fortune, as well as his impression of the town and its surrounding area. The next lunchtime found them in the bar of the Criterion Hotel. Cedric had his inevitable pint of lager, Thomas not indulging, sipping at a glass of sparkling mineral water. They had their backs to the bar, watching the seafront, with its wild waves crashing onto the beach. They could see through reflection in the plate glass windows what was occurring in the bar, which was empty apart from them, even though it was now 12.30pm. An older man came in, went to the bar, having a conversation with the young lad, and ordered his drink and food. He was in his late 60s, quite well dressed, with raincoat over his arm. He wore an old dark brown jacket, checked shirt, knitted tie, dark brown trousers, and brown leather shoes. He was about five feet six inches, slim, with what hair he did have cut short, no parting. He was clean shaven, and the overall impression was of an average man, retired, living alone. He wouldn’t be eating his lunch in a hotel bar if he had a wife, was the reasoning of Thomas. Cedric and Thomas didn’t have to look or nudge each other to realise that this was their quarry. After a while the food was at the bar, and Mr. Johnson went to collect. That was Thomas’s cue to go and order another round.
‘Morning,’ said Thomas.
‘Strictly speaking, it’s afternoon now, but happy to be a good morning to you,’ said Johnson with a smile.
‘Not much of a trade in here. Care to join us?’ asked Thomas.
‘Why not. I’ve already read the paper, and I was only going to talk to Artur, here, but I know already all his family history, where he comes from, and what he wants to do in the future. No offence, Artur, but this is new company.’
Artur the barman just smiled, as Johnson took his food and followed Thomas.
‘You must be a local, if you know Artur so well,’ said Thomas
‘Yes, been here for many years. Semi-retired, now, but I used to be quite an active accountant. I love living here, it’s a great place to be, and there’s no-where else in the UK that I would rather be.’
‘Wow, that’s some recommendation. We’re thinking of moving down here, me and my business partner, which is why we’re staying here out of season. Like to see a place at its worst before deciding. If we like it now, we’ll like it all the time.’
‘Good point. And if it’s not a private question, what line of business are you in?’ he asked, steadily munching on his sandwich.
‘We’re both antique dealers. My speciality is musical instruments, we both go to the markets, and we’re thinking of starting up some kind of antiques fair on a regular basis along the coast somewhere. Haven’t decided where yet, still looking, hence the visit to here.’
‘That’s interesting. What kind of musical instruments?’
‘The smaller the better, brass usually, the carrying kind.’
They continued their conversation, gradually eliciting information from each other, with Cedric contributing very little. After over half an hour, Johnson said
‘It’s time for me to go. Good to meet you, hope to see you again some time. Here’s my card, I might have some business for you.’
With that he was gone, leaving both men with a pleased look on their faces. They had Johnson’s home details, all they need to complete their task. That night at 8pm found them parked up outside Johnson’s house, in a poorly lit side road further along the seafront two streets off the main road. It was mid terrace of five houses, and the only light on was a downstairs one. They got out the car, walking to the front door. Thomas, taking the lead, rang the bell. The porch light came on, with a dim energy saving bulb. Good.
‘Oh, hello, it’s you two again. You’ve taken me by surprise. What can I do for you?’
‘Hello again, sorry to bother you so late, but something came up, and we wondered if we might have a chat with you.’ He gave Johnson little chance of resisting, walking past him into the small front room. There was no other occupant, which bore out Thomas’s original assessment, with no sign of any other person having been in this room. The little man followed them in, and was taken aback by Cedric propelling him into his armchair, then standing over him aggressively.
‘We thought it might be a good idea to discuss your terminal illness.’
‘But..but, I haven’t GOT a terminal illness.’
‘Ah, but that’s all you know,’ bullied Cedric. ‘We know you’ve got one, and that’s sufficient. You see, if you stay in town, then you will have a terminal illness. Like death. Let’s explain this to you. We are your worst nightmare, because you have something that we want. You are in charge of the silver band, and we want to take it over. No, you can’t know why, that’s for us to be aware of, not you, all you need to know is that you’ll be telling everyone that you have to go away because you can’t stand living by the seaside any more, the sound of the waves is driving you mad, or you can tell them that you’ve come into money, which of course you haven’t, or you can tell them that you have decided to retire completely. Whatever happens, we have decided that you are going to move away, with us inheriting the band. But we know that you won’t take us seriously at first, so we have to show you that we mean business. And it is business, there’s nothing personal. You could always tell everyone that you have an upset tummy, your reason for going, and require specialist treatment. That won’t be a lie, about the upset tummy, I mean.’
Cedric lifted the small man out of his chair with one movement, swiftly followed by another movement with his fist straight to Johnson’s stomach. He lay on the floor, gasping for breath.
‘Now Andy,’ he paused, ‘you don’t mind me calling you Andy, do you,’ continuing straight away ‘you see, I can predict the future. I knew you were going to get a poorly tummy, and, lo and behold, you’ve got one. Next, I know that you’re going to move away, leaving the band in our capable hands. I know that you can’t speak at present, but just nod your head Andy if you understand.’ Johnson nodded. ‘That’s good, you’re listening. So, we’re not unreasonable people, we’re going to leave you now, and come back some time in the not too distant future. Sorry, but can’t warn you beforehand, that wouldn’t do, but at least you’ll have our visit to look forward to, friends and all that, so we can say bye bye to you.’
The two men left Johnson’s small house, leaving him on the floor, slowly recovering.
Chapter Nine
The guest house had a full complement tonight of holidaymakers. It had an excellent rep
utation, with many regulars staying time and time again.
Roger’s parents had been married for almost thirty years, and were both in their early fifties. They were fit, active, and content with their lives. A rarity, they had never known any other partner, meeting when they were in their teens when their own parents had been based in Italy in the Diplomatic service. Roger’s father, John, had also been a minor consular official after he left university, and they had honeymooned in Venice, a place that always held dear in their hearts. This is where Roger had been born, as his parents had been on holiday there when his birth had arrived prematurely. He owed his life to the skill and care of the Italian medical profession, as he had arrived after seven months and been in an incubator for the first six weeks. It was touch and go, so the baby’s birth had been registered in Italy, and he had dual nationality. He had spent a gap summer in Venice before going to college, applying successfully for an Italian passport. His mastery of the Italian language was more than proficient, and certainly enough to get by with, as he had studied the language from the age of seven. He would love to spend some time there later on, but there was enough to do at present.
Roger’s parents ran their guest house together with the aid of the cleaning lady, who sometimes came in the evening to wait at table if Roger wasn’t available for one reason or another. Roger prepared the vegetables during the afternoon so mum and dad could take a break. There was usually a choice of two starters, a meat dish as a main course, or omelette, or salad, and something with custard or ice cream to finish. The meal came as part of the price of accommodation, and the guests were usually more mature people who were easy to please. The guest would choose in the morning before leaving for the day’s activities, and Roger loved the solitude of cooking. He would play some of his favourite music loudly, as he prepared everything, rolled out the pastry, crunched the bread for the crumble, leaving all ready with nothing to do but turn on the oven as appropriate. He was finished by four, so went for a session at the gym. It was a fabulous day, and he hummed a tune to himself in his bedroom as he stripped to his boxer shorts, getting ready. He was clean shaven, always using his electric razor in the morning, as he hated to have stubble. On went the white socks, trainers, gym shorts, singlet, he gathered his towel, while on his way out stopped in the kitchen to raid the fridge for a bottle of water.
He spent the next two hours in ultimate pleasure, running on the way to the gym, running back, with a lovely hot shower when he returned. He dressed in smart casual clothing, and reported to his parents in the kitchen for evening duty.
‘Had a good day, dear?’ asked mother
‘Yes, excellent thanks. You know that Sue, who’s a member of the silver band, she’s off to Belgium week after next, playing in a competition with the band, leaving on the Friday, returning Sunday, and I wonder if you can spare me?’
His parents looked at each other. As parents do, they had quietly discussed his sex life, wondering if he was being sensible, wondering if he was serious, wondering what he going to do when he left college, wondering what he was going to do with his life.
‘No problem, son,’ said dad, ‘what are you going to be doing?’
‘Drive the minibus, with some of the band members, their luggage, their instruments. Maybe even get to play a little, as they are sometimes short of a trumpet man.’
‘That’s good. Wondered if you were ever going to try the instrument. I remember when I first learned to play...’ Both his wife and son gave exaggerated groans. ‘All right, all right, you’ve heard it before. But suffice to say that I was a good, if not very good, trumpet player when I was younger, and I still have the lip, you know.’
‘I am sure you have, dear.’
Roger tapped his watch. ‘I’ll pop upstairs and see to the guests.’
Three tables were already occupied, and so Roger served the water to them, then returned downstairs. The next hour passed pleasantly, with Roger running up and down stairs with the dishes, his father washing up as they went. Roger then said ‘right, I’m off now if you don’t need me any more,’ and was gone. He walked briskly along the seafront to a church hall, with his trumpet in its leather bag, under his right arm, wondering what tunes they were going to murder tonight. He walked in to the strains of Strangers in the Night. How appropriate, he thought, as all the band members didn’t seem to know each other. He sat at the back, listening, but not learning. His mind wandered away from the band, as he wanted to think about something separate from awful music. Inevitably he thought about Sue, and the way that their physical relationship was developing. He was delighted that she showed signs of being adventurous, wanting to please and satisfy her partner. Roger knew that the secret of a successful physical relationship was to give pleasure as well as receive, but all too often his previous partners had been selfish women. Mrs. Walker had been the exception, and he had grin on his face as he secretly recalled their sex. Wow, that had been good. But Sex with Sue was developing along excellent lines, with Roger really enjoying giving Sue as much satisfaction as she could take. He had no illusions about how Sue hoped it would develop, as a lot of young women just saw sex as a means to trap a bloke into marriage. Sue however was either playing a very crafty game, or she genuinely wanted nothing long term from the relationship, appreciating the time spent together. He suspected that Sue was playing a long game, one that Roger was more than happy to join in with. So far, he liked what he saw.
The next two hours went fast, one tune sounding just like the next, until it was time to finish. Nine thirty, and he was hungry.
‘Eaten yet?’ he asked Sue, as they left together.
‘No, didn’t have time. How about a McDonald’s cheeseburger, fries, and Diet Coke’.
‘Why have a diet drink when you’re having all those calories?’
Sue playfully hit him on the arm. ‘Because that’s what people do. I’m going there, coming too?’
‘Of course, and I’ll have a chocolate milk shake.’
They took their snack to the seafront, sitting on a bench overlooking the sea, saying nothing, happily munching away. When they had finished, he disposed of the rubbish in a handy nearby bin, returning to Sue, placing his arm protectively round her back.
‘So, I’m coming to Belgium with you lot Friday week.’
‘Yes, Mr. Thomas announced before we started the band rehearsal. Good news, especially as you and I are both having single rooms. We can do something about that, I am sure.’
‘You know me, I’m always up for something like that. Talking of which, how about going for a walk along the beach tonight. It’s lovely and warm, you won’t catch a chill, and I’ll guarantee you that I’ll keep you warm.
‘It was a bit public, the last time, how about somewhere a bit more private?’
‘Well, the guest house is out, because mum and dad are there.’
‘Why, are you ashamed of me?’ she asked, semi-seriously.
‘No,’ Roger replied firmly, ‘I have already told them about you, and they want to meet you. Tonight is for us, and I don’t want them to be embarrassed. You know what old people are like.’
Sue giggled. ‘Okay, we can always go the shelter further along. There’s a bench, it’s more private, and not many people go that end at night.’
They got up, and walked along, arm in arm, until they got to the covered shelter. There were no windows in the front, just the frame, as it looked like a little house. It was mainly used to protect walkers from showers, had a wooden bench, concrete floor, with brick walls. It was dark inside, nice and dry, private from the eyes of people walking along, not that there had been any that they had seen so far. Roger and Sue were wearing normal clothing, no band uniform, and he sat on the bench at the back, first making sure it was nice and clean. Sue sat on his lap, arms round his neck, as they kissed passionately and intently, slowly at first, and then faster as they got more carri
ed away. She stood up, rolled her slacks down, revealing that she wasn’t wearing anything else underneath.
‘I came prepared,’ Sue whispered, sexily.
‘So did I’ replied Roger, as he slid his trousers down, revealing his big prick, erect and ready, nothing restraining it.
‘We’d better do something about it, then,’ said Sue, as she sat on his lap again, this time unencumbered with clothing, and sliding her wet, willing, and waiting pussy over his erection. Sue die all the work, sliding up and down on his pole, staring intently into his face as her own climax got ever closer. She was ready for this, and hadn’t wanted to wait. She had KNOWN that her climax was going to come early. Suddenly, she had stopped moving up and down, not moving her pussy, feeling such intensity that she could hardly bear it, and then, after what seemed like ages, but in reality was only a few seconds, she involuntarily juddered and shuddered, out of control, unseeing eyes staring intently as her pinnacle continued. Then she collapsed into his arms.
Roger had a huge grin. ‘I can take it that was good, then.’
Sue was still breathless, but she managed to gasp ‘that...was...the...best..climax..I ...have...ever...experienced.’
There was a round of applause from the doorway, and standing there were two lads and a girl, who had obviously seen the lot. Sue moved off Roger’s still erect prick, and the girl in the doorway said ‘fancy sharing that with me, love,’ as she looked at Sue, pointing at Roger’s erection.
It wasn’t easy for Roger to see her properly in the half darkness of the doorway, but from what he could see she was only small-ish, short hair, dirty denim jacket, and as she spoke he could see metal in her face glinting in the small amount of light available. One of the lads was taller than the other, both about the same age of late teens, poorly dressed, and obviously out for trouble.
‘Only if he shares her with us,’ said the taller of the lads, obviously the leader.