Member Article:eastern_rose - Tracey Part 10 Post Your Comment

Don't like So so Good Very Good Excellent

What do you think?


eastern_rose - Tracey Part 10


Tracey part 10
by eastern_rose

The morning was a mad dash, there is no way that I can do the
whole late night thing, even if it is such a delicious late
night as I actually had.

My blushing began with walking toward the bathroom and
seeing Guy sitting there doing his business, he was in the
nude, I had the Rugby shirt on that I had worn the night before,
Cary was totally comfortable with me seeing him on the loo
and I was mortified. I even went t o turn back and scuttle
to the relative safety of the Japanese screen, "Don’t
be silly, come back and do whatever it is you need to do",
Guy said. I stopped and considered things, If I was right
Gary and Leroy both watched as I was fucked during the night,
the only thing that had been hidden from them was my face,
I was being silly, it is only a body, I was certain sure that
Gary had seen a thousand in his time. I showered, every so
often I had the reminder that I wasn’t alone, Leroy followed
Gary on the toilet, Woorow brushed his teeth and then climbed
into the shower with me and shared the waster stream with
me, we even fooled around a little in the hot water, Woodrow
ploughed a tiny furrow in my pussy while he soaped my breasts
from behind. I wanted him to climax too but he told me there
was little chance of him reaching his orgasm from a quick
‘stand up’ in the shower. I felt a little bad because he had
given me my pleasure and I wanted to give him is in return
but even my offer of hand relief was turned down. "It’ll
keep until the next time we can be together", Woodrow
said. Well that goes most of the way to explaining why the
morning was a rush, in more ways than one.

I was dropped off at the car park near Staples Corner, handed
over my ticket to the guard who opened the large mesh gates
so that I could collect my car in time to fight my way north
on the motorway. My phone rang within minutes of me entering
motorway mode, that state where, hands gripped the steering
wheel so tightly that the blood stops flowing. Your eyes
stop blinking, just in case something happens in that split
second that your eyelids are down. Your foot turns to led
and your accelerator and break peddles act like on and off
switches, or rather stop and go buttons. I chatted to Woodrow
for the whole of my journey to the office and Woodrow congratulated
me on getting there on time. I hadn’t had a chance to look
at the clock so I didn’t know if I was late or early, I assumed
late because of the rush out of Woodrow’s flat and the crawl
of the traffic from Woodrow’s flat to Staples Corner. I
blew kisses down the phone at Woodrow and hung up on him.
As I walked through the main entrance, thirty seconds to
spare, my phone rang again, "Where the hell have you
been?" the voice barked out of the earpiece, "And
good morning to you too Harry, how are you today?"
Harry was furious, he had wanted me for something the previous
evening and because I didn’t have my phone on and I hadn’t
let him know where I was staying he wasn’t able to do some
mythical thing. In my mind I just thought, ‘he wasn’t in
control of me, that’s what his problem was’.

I worked hard all day, I noticed a text message on my cell
phone when I broke off for lunch, it said, "Hi baby
girl, come and play at my flat tonight again, love Woody".
I sent my reply, "Orders from he who thinks he is the
boss of me, I have to go home tonight, he has a fig up his ass!"
I expected a response while I ate my lunch but didn’t get

I spent the whole afternoon checking to see if I had received
a response to my text to Woodrwo but nothing came, at four-fifty
in the afternoon I sent an email to Harry, "Sorry darling,
pressure of work means I have to work late this evening and
start early in the morning so I’ll be stopping over in the
same hotel as last night, love Tra." I knew he still
didn’t know the name of the hotel I had supposedly stopped
in the previous evening and I knew that within seconds of
receiving the email Harry would be on the phone to me, so
I turned my phone off.

I used all of my powers of recollection to work my route back
to Woodrow’s flat, it took me far longer than it took him
to get from Staples Corner to his flat which meant that it
was almost eight-thirty by the time I reached it. Boy was
I in for a shock, the first of two as it turned out, Woodrow,
having been told ny me that I would be going home and it being
Thursday night and he having little or mo work to do in the
office until Monday had decided to slope off early and head
up north t o spend a long weekend with his family. "Shit",
was about all I could say, I turned and walked back to my car
even though Gary and Leroy both urged me to stay.

It was midnight by the time I got home, I couldn’t park on
the drive as there were two cars on the drive already, because
of the road we lived on, I couldn’t park outside over night
either, I had to find a space in the road at the back and walk
along one of the mant footpaths that cut through from the
estate behind us.

The house was in total darkness, the sink was full of pots,
someone had cook a lavish meal, I didn’t tiptoe up stairs
exactly but I didn’t put the light on or do anything that
would be a tell-tail to the fact that I was home. I could make
out the sound of sex coming from my bedroom, easing the door
open slightly I caught sight of Harry’s ass pounding up
anddown as he screwed a woman in our bed. I couldn’t play
the riotous indignation card, I had, after all been fucking
my way around quite a sew men recently myself.

It was fortunate that the couch was so comfortable, I slept
well, better that the previous night, but then the previous
night I had plenty of entertainment so as not to notice the
lack of sleep so mych. I woke with the dawn light streaming
through the living room window. It was only five thirty
so I decided to be a good wife and wash the pots and cook a nice
breakfast. I had heard the bed creaking when I fell asleep
and I woke at three am to the sounds of tired bedsprings complaining
of their over working, I had assumed that the fucking had
been uninterrupted and also assumed that after a night
of bedroom Olympics both Harry and his guest would be ravenous
by breakfast time.

I don’t know who was more shocked, Harry or his friend, when
I walked in with a large tray with two cooked breakfasts,
tea and toast, marmalade and butter. I left the room with
as little fuss as possible, Harry, on the other hand managed
to tip the breakfast all over the bed in his rush to get out
of bed, into his pyjamas and out of the room after me in the
shortest possible time. "Tracey, Darling, it’a
all a..", I stopped Harry mid sentence, "Harry,
that poor woman gave her all last night, the least you can
do is have breakfast with her and not embarrass her while
you try to placate me!" Harry was stunned into silence.
I went to the kitchen and ate my breakfast, I didn’t usually
have a large breakfast but I did like to make guests feel
welcome and push the boat out for them. Harry was in the bathroom
when ‘the other woman’ came into the kitchen with the breakfast
tray. "Oh, you needn’t have bothered, I’d have brought
that down later", I said, I watched the woman’s eyes
scan the sing and draining board, she realised I had washed
their dinner pots. She blushed a little as she said, "I
have to say you’re taking this much better than I would",
I thanked her, I couldn’t do any other, I wasn’t fuming,
boiling up with jealousy or rage. It was, after all, just

There was a long pause, the woman was obviously in need of
something, I thought coffee, usually does the trick but
in fact I think she was waiting for the fight that she thought
she deserved. We both spoke at the same time, I asked if she
wanted more coffee and she told me that her name was Sarah,
she extended her hand to me, the way new acquaintances would
while shaking her head in response to my question on the
coffee requirements. "How long have you and Harry
been friends?" I asked, "Not long" was
the reply, not long, but long enough for Harry’s friends
at Boot’s to think that she, rather than me, was married
to Harry. "You sure you don’t want a coffee? I was going
to have a sit for ten minutes before I go to work", I
said. "Oh OK then if it isn’t too much trouble"
Sarah said.

There was something to be said for Sarah’s demeanour, she
was the ‘other’ woman, she was caught out and now she was
going to take her punishment, funny, I was going to say like
a man but it was obviously like a woman as the man in this equation
was hiding himself, keeping out of the line of fire. "I
was expecting you to scratch my eyes out", Sarah said
after blowing her coffee into the middle of next week. "Why?"
"It’s not every day a woman comes home in the morning
to find another woman in her bed with her husband".
I smiled my sweetest smile, nodded toward the dishevelled
couch, I came home last night", I said. Sarah went
the exact shade of red that I was thinking of painting the
living room wall which the sun his most during the day, pity
I couldn’t drag her off to a Dulux colouriser machine. "Oh
my god, that’s much worse", "Why?" "Well..."
I stopped Sarah, "It’s OK, really it is, I thought
you did admirably up there, I doubt that I could have managed
over three hours in one position with Harry the way that
you did and still sound, convincingly, like I was enjoying

We sat in silence until six fifteen, I stood up, Sarah jumped
to her feet as if in readyness for the eruption that a wife
was expected to achieve with her husbands ‘bit of fluff’,
"Time for work", I said, Sarah relaxed visibly,
Harry was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, "I’m
off to work now darling, if you get home before me tonight
could you make a start on cleaning the guest room out for
me!" I smiled mu best smile at him as I pecked him on
the cheek.

I was at Leicester, junction twenty-one at seven o’clock
when my phone rang, I didn’t recognise the number on the
screen but as the phone was set to auto answer I just said
"Hi, who’s that?" It was Woodrow, phone problems
had meant that he couldn’t phone me as we both drove Northward
the previous evening. "Where are you now?"
I asked, "At my mothers for the weekend", "So
you don’t have a Mrs. Woodrow tucked out of the way up north?"
"Well my mother is actually Mrs. Woodrow" I
told him all about finding my way to his flat the previous
evening, he apologised for not being there and I stopped
him from explaining why he wasn’t, then I told him about
catching Harry, in-flegrantae-delicto. "Does
that mean you can come up to my mothers for the weekend?"
I explained that I wasn’t going to use this situation as
a stick to beat Harry with, after all we were both guilty
of fracturing our marriage vows. "But I’ll be free
any night during next week if you want to invite me down sometime",
I said, I had just turned into the car park at work, "I’ll
expect a message from you if you want me to sleep over with
you one night", and I hung up the phone. It took two
minutes to walk from the car park to the office and as I walked
through the outer door my phone sounded to tell me that I
had received a text message, I stopped to read it, "Tracey,
please come to my flat in London on Monday after work, Woody"
My phone beeped to say I had new messages all the way to my
desk, the message was exactly the same except the day changed,
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday,
Monday and on and on until the SMS memory on my telephone
overflowed and my cell phone died.

My strategy plan was formulated quickly, I had been putting
four hundred pounds a week into my special car fund, that
money was the excess travel expenses that my company was
paying me so that I hadthe choice of travelling every day
between Nottingham and Northampton or to stop over night
in a hotel, I was receiving five hundred pounds a week and
the petrol cost me around fifty pounds so every week I was
putting the excess into a new bank account to pay, eventually,
for a new car. For the first time in my life I actually had
enough money to do things that I wanted to do on a whim. I telephoned
talking pages from work, "I know it’s there, it’s
a small company, ‘The Bed Shop’, or ‘Bedfordshire’, something
like that, yes, Arnold, it’s in Nottinghamshire. I know
it’s not a lot of help but it’s all I know, it’s about the third
shop in on the left on Cross Street". I eventually
got the number, I ordered a bed, there was a double bed for
one hundred and fifth that they could deliver today, I chose
one for seven hundred and fifty, my new car would have to
wait two weeks, I offered to pay extra if the bed could be
delivered at six o’clock, the assistant told me that it
would be their pleasure to deliver the bed at six pm.

My day flew past, I wasn’t doing much work, more planning
what I needed to do. I worked through my lunch and left at
three o’clock for the slow crawl back to Nottingham, because
I was a little earlier than usual I actually arrived home
just after five. I basically de-junked the spare bedroom
into the box room and by six o’clock there was enough floor
space for the delivery men to squeeze the new bed into the
smaller of our main bedrooms. It was a squeeze too, the bed
had a huge headboard, "Part of the package madam"
the delivery driver said, let that be a lesson to me, don’t
buy anything over the phone withot knowing exactly what
it is you’re getting. On it’s own the headboard looked hideous
but when the divan base was installed it looked a little
less out of place and with the mattress on it looked almost
OK. "Excuse me, What are the cables for?" I asked
the delivery man, "Heated pad and massage",
he said, "Heated pad and massage!" I repeated,
"All part of the package madam" was his stock

I realised why the bed had to have the overly large headboard
with built in cupboards, it needed someplace for the ‘environmental
control centre’, the heated pad control and the ‘Therapeutic
enhancement module’, the massage unit. There was also
an alarm clock radio / CD player unit too and a built in light
on each side, the complete sleep centre for the person who
wants to get everything to do with bedtime in one package.
I dressed the bed before finishing oft the de-cluttering.
It was seven o’clock and Harry still want home from work,
I guessed it was either cowardice, his inability to face
me after I caught him out, or more like he didn’t want to have
to tidy the spare bedroom, he expected me to get home at around
seven and he would turn up at a quarter past. I had a small
bet with myself, if I won, I’d go out for a night on the town,
if I lost I would let Harry fuck me tonight. Fourteen minutes
past seven, fourteen minutes and fifteen seconds, my watch
was mocking me, its second hand was turning so slowly that
each second was surly a minute. Harry’s key turned in the
lock at the same instant as she second hand swept on to the
twelve. I burst out laughing, it was frightening how predictable
Harry could be.

Harry was amazed at the transformation I had made in the
spare bedroom, my bedroom from that point on. Harry was
all apologetic, one off thing, never happen again, all
the old crap. "I do hope you’re wrong Harry",
"What, why?" "I hope you’re wrong about
it all being over between you and Sarah, I quite liked her,
she looked like she was enjoying herself under you, you
should keep her, I think she’ll be good for you". I
eased Harry out of my room and closed the door, ‘what a pity
you were so predictable Harry, your loss!’ I thought to

I phoned Sandy to see if she was up for a night on the town,
no baby sitter unfortunately, but she did know of a party
that should have been good, it was starting at a small back
street club in the city centre and it would eventually move
on to a disused warehouse. "Aren’t those things illegal?"
"Sure, but legal usually means no fun, where as illegal
id usually fun to the max". "Do I need a ticket?"
"No, I’ll ring up for you and leave your name on the
door", sorted.

As I showered and changed I thought back, just a few weeks
ago I wouldn’t have gone out to the shops at night alone,
all the experiances I had over the past few weeks and now
I was willing to go to a city centre party, totally alone,
and with the prospect of not finding anyone at the party
that I knew. I actually thought twice about going, I would
probably not meet anyone I got along with either.

I was standing at the bus stop still arguing with myself
about not going, I could just get off the bus at the White
Horse, I was sure to meet someone in there that I knew, have
a quiet drink and then home to bed for an early night. So why
was it that I had already hobbled past the White Horse on
my ridiculously high heels? The small club adjective wasn’t
lost, the place was certainly a club, and it was extremely
small. It was what I would describe as a closed club, not
that it wasn’t open, you had to have a ticket to get in, it
wasn’t a place that anyone could just walk into off of the
street, I mentioned my name to the doorman, he checked his
list and opened the door for me. The sound system almost
knocked me off of my feet as the door opened, wow this would
give me a headache if I stopped in too long. ‘Just a quick
drink and I’ll head off home’ I said to myself. The room was
packed, thick smoke hung in the air, it wasn’t just cigarette
smoke either, it was far to thick and far too sickly sweet,
weed, ganga, skunk, reefer, everyone was openly smoking
cannabis resin, OK, maybe not a quick drink, I’d be better
off just going.

On my way to the door I was grabbed by an afro-Caribbean guy,
he didn’t ask, he just pulled me onto the dance floor and
began to dance with me. Women were definitely in the minority
at this club and women on there own seemed as rare as rocking
horse shit!

After the music ended my self appointed escort led me to
a seat, he almost pushed me into the seat, which was a long,
padded bench seat that was open at one end and against a wall
at the other. The table was out of the way of the main room,
a dark corner with few people around, unlike the dance floor
which was packed like sardines in a can. The guy was making
small talk but not necessarily to me, he just liked the sound
of his own voice, he was constantly scanning the main room
beyond our little corner, looking for someone or something

Suddenly, my escort leapt to his feet, he went through all
that ‘tribal’ ritual greeting that one Afro-Caribbean
man does when meeting one of his ‘homies’. I tried to use
the distraction to make a move and slip out behind the man
but he must have had eyes in the back of his head as he had my
wrist before I got three feet away. He introduced me to his
friend, Simon, he didn’t introduce me to Simon though and
Simon didn’t seem interested in knowing my name, I managed
to pick up on the fact that my captor’s name was Isaac, just
from his conversation with Simon. "You wan a drink?"
Isaac asked, I didn’t answer, I didn’t know his question
was aimed at me as he wasn’t looking in my direction. I only
realised that I was expected to answer when the grip on my
wrist tightened, I said, "No!" but this was
obviously the wrong answer as the grip again tightened,
"St Clements please" I blurted out.

Simon was dispatched to the bar to fetch the drinks, I watched
him as well as I could, I saw him have a laugh with the barman
and both of them looked over at me and had a good belly laugh
once again. I was eased into the seat once again, there were
two places and it was quite comfortable but when Simon rejoined
us he also sat on our side of the table which suddenly became
squashed and uncomfortable. I took a few sips from my St
Clements and Isaac began to empty small bags from his pockets,
there was a sudden rush as people were clamouring to buy
something from Isaac, I guestimated that three thousand
pounds crossed the table in around fifteen minutes and
a hundred or so little bags went the other way. Simon did
absolutely nothing the whole time, he just sat with one
hand inside his jacket the whole time. Isaac told me to drink
up, he still hadn’t looked at me and Simon stood up and stood
in front of Isaac and I, best estimate I could make was that
Simon was the door, and it was now closed. I did however notice
that when Simon stood up there was something very large
and black under his jacket, ‘My God, it was the grip of a gun
and Simon was now standing with his hand resting on it’.


I had never been involved in anything like this before,
my head began to spin and even though I was drinking my St.
Clements I was feeling more thirsty not less. I knew that
Nottingham had both a drug problem and a firearms problem
and that the two were synonymous with each other.

Isaac pulled my arm, he was already standing and I hadn’t
even felt him move. I began to follow him, well I felt that
I was following him but I still hadn’t moved, eventually
I was pulled bodily from my seat. Isaac was on one side of
me, and Simon on the other. I was guided out of the club and
into the cold street beyond.

A sleek black BMW Alpina pulled up at the curb-side as soon
as the three of us stepped out of the club. I was bundled into
the back, Isaac got in by my side and Simon in the front next
to the driver.

I was totally awake, fully aware and was taking everything
in, my cell-phone rang after the car had been driving for
five minutes, I went to take it out of my handbag to answer
it but my arms wouldn’t do what my brain was asking them to.
I tried to speak, to ask, "What the fuck was going on?"
But even my mouth wouldn’t work.

Isaac said, "Simon, what say we check out what’s under
her hood?" There was a flash of white teeth spreading
out of the darkness as Simon took up on what his boss had just
said. There was a flurry of arm and hand movement from Simon
and his hand suddenly stopped in the space between me and
the driver, his hand now suddenly still, holding a metal
object around seven inches long. The pause was for menacing
effect but it was wasted on me, I had no idea what he held in
his fingers until the button was pressed and a six inch blade
fired out of the handle. ‘Oh, that’s what a flick knife looks
like’, I thought to myself. Isaac took the blade in his left
hand, turned towards me and pulled the waistband of my skirt
towards him. The blade of the knife was touched against
the material of my skirt and it melted through from waistband
to hem like a hot knife through butter. Isaac laughed, "Nice
taste in skirt but even my gran wouldn’t be seen dead in those
knickers eh! Simon?" Simon looked over his shoulder
and nodded in agreement, "Marks and Spencer have
a lot to answer for, that’s why my woman’s not alowed to shop
there!" Simon said, Isaac put his fingers into the
waste of my knickers and said, "Well lets see if what’s
inside them is more appealing then". I watched as
the knife blade inched toward the flimsy cotton but the
car drew to a halt outside a rather noisy club. The sounds,
bright lights and lack of motion of the car took Isaac’s
attention away from cutting my panties off. "I would
say sit quiet Conchita but I doubt you will be able to make
a peep for a few hours!" Isaac had touched the blade
of the knife to my jaw as he spoke, there was no pressure,
if the blade actually touched my face at all it was like the
kiss of a butterfly wing against it but as Isaac handed Simon
his knife back i noticed a spot of blood developing on the
edge of my jaw line.

Simon exited the car first, his hand resting on the grip
of the gun under his coat before he scanned the surroundings
for threat and then when satisfied opened Isaac’s door.
The two men were soon out of my line of sight, the only things
I could actually move were my eyes. The driver waited a few
minutes to ensure his boss was well ensconced inside the
club before reversing back ten yards or so where we sat with
the engine running.

During the next fifteen minutes my phone rang three times,
it remained unanswered each time and then there was a feeble
click, ‘the battery must be flat’ I thought. The phone clicked
a few more times until the driver suddenly gunned the car’s
engine and leaped to the kirb-side to collect his boss,
the engine sound droning out any further sounds from my
dying cell-phone. "Where were we?" Isaac asked
of no one in particular, the flick knife was once again produced
from Simons, arsenal like jacket. My panties were cut down
both sides as the car moved swiftly down the road, the driver
spoke for the first time, "Do you want me to take the
river road boss?" Isaac slapped the back of his head,
"We’ve got business to take care of first my man, this
bitch aint goin no place till we’re ready to let her!"


The knife pressed to the material at the neck of my top and
once again it slipped effortlessly from top to bottom.
My top opened like a blouse and the knife was used to slit
from cuff to neck on both sides. I was almost nude now, just
my lace bra between me and total nudity. Isaac lifted the
front of my bra on the edge of the knife, the extra thickness
at the point where both cups of my bra met made it resist the
knife a little but even that gave in no time, the two thin
straps were gone in a fraction of a second. "Well there,
that’s what I’m talkin about, I knew her tits would be worth
all the trouble homie, just look at them melons boys!"
the car stopped at a bar, Isaac placed his face menicingly
close to my own face, kissed the place where he had cut me
the at the previous stop, he pulled his face away so that
I could see my blood streaking across his lips and then he
kissed me, leaving a thin film of my own blood on my lips.
As Simon opened the door this time Isaac wiped his lips on
his handkerchief and I was left cold and frightened on the
back seat of that powerful car.

The driver repeated his mantra of the previous stop, waiting
a minute or so and then reversing thirty feet back along
the road. This time though there was a car in the place that
the driver wanted to use so he just double parked while he
waited. I heard the weak clicks from my phone again once
the powerful engine had quietened to a purr.

The driver seemed spooked as a large black Lexus crawled
past on the other side of the road. I watched as his hands
gripped and released the steering wheel over and over again,
there was sweat now, forming all over his forehead as tiny
beads. I felt his tension step up another notch as the same
car cruised past slowly from behind us.

I saw Simon on the steps leading from the bar, the driver
gunned the engine and caused the car’s wheels to scream
in protest, Simon also reacted on instinct, I saw his gun
for the first time, I didn’t know much about guns but a gun
like that was so common on TV that I doubted that there was
anyone in the world who wouldn’t recognise an Uzi nine millimetre.
When Isaac and Simon got into the car the driver got a crack
across his skull for causing tension needlessly. The front
of the bar was suddenly crowded with punters all trying
to see what had caused the commotion but apart from the most
fleeting of glimpses as the door opened no one could see
my nudity through the blackened glass of the BMW.

Isaac took a few minutes to compose himself, then he returned
his attentions to me, he lifted my left led, his hand behind
my knee, I was telling my legs to close but he was able to ‘pose’
me as he willed, he grasped the cut edge of the material that
had once been my skirt and pulled it towards him, I slid along
the seat effortlessly, leaving my right leg where it was.
I was almost doing the splits at this point but it wasn’t
at all uncomfortable. Isaac placed his hand in the small
of my back and eased me forward until my bottom was only just
on the edge of the back seat. "Now lets see just how
tight this bitch is eh boys?" Isaac jabbed his fingers
against my vaginal opening and all four disappeared inside
without resistance, "Fucking bitch, she’s a whore,
you can have her if you like Simon but I’m not trying a well
trodden path like that!" Simon shook his head and
I saw the drivers eyes open wide through the rear view mirror,
I had obviously been downgraded to drivers treat because
of Woodrow’s huge cock and the way it stretched my womanly
flower open.

We pulled up at another bar, as Simon was running through
his ritual of checking for threats before opening Isaac’s
door Isaac told the driver, "Hey gumbo, keep your
eyes and your mind on the job, soon as you drop me and Simon
off she’s all yours, just don’t fuck up in the mean time homey!"


As we reversed the customary thirty feet I noticed the front
of the Lexus that had already passed us twice, it was parked
in a side road opposite the entrance of the club. The driver
was much too calm to have noticed it, he divided his time
between looking at the door of the bar and at me through the
rear view mirror. My cell-phone was clicking like mad now
and the driver suddenly heard it over the purr of his engine.
He turned and reached over into the back of the car, straining
to try and reach my bag. If I had any control over my muscles
I would have jumped out of my skin as the barrel of a pistol
appeared out of nowhere and pressed into the back of his
head, the words, "Armed police don’t move"
where whispered into his ear and the driver was eased out
of the car and moved off by unseen hands.

A police officer in kevlar helmet and body armour sat in
the drivers seat and turned the engine off, I could see that
his eyes were flicking from the bar to the rear view mirror,
"It’ll all be over in a minute madam", he assured

I watched as the officer found the button on the ignition
key fob to lock the cars doors, then a second press and the
doors were double locked and a light blinked on telling
the driver and anyone passing that the engine immobiliser
had been engaged.

I watched Simon step out of the bar, his attention swiftly
focused to the fact that the sleek BMW hadn’t leaped to his
side, the police man began to turn the ignition key, the
engine was turning but not firing up because the immobiliser
was on. Simon had once again removed his Uzi from under his
jacket and he began to run up the road toward the car. I could
see from the look on Isaac’s face that he suddenly felt volnurable,
alone on the steps leading down from the bar. As Simon reached
the BMW, hurling abuse at the driver for ‘fucking up’ I watched
two men who had been enjoying a quiet drink on the doorstep
of the bar turn to Isaac and press their pistols against
his chest. Simon suddenly realised that something was
very wrong when he couldn’t open the passenger door of the
BMW, he raised his Uzi towards the window and then he slumped
to the floor, he fell before I heard the crack of a high powered
riffle somewhere way behind me.

Isaac was protesting his innocence, he had nothing to do
with the BMW, nothing to do with the guy that had just been
gunned down in the street. I was being wrapped up in a blanket
by a female police officer still sitting in the back seat
while they moved an ambulance up for me, I managed to whisper,
check his handkerchief as I breathed out. The woman looked
at the small cut on my jaw-line and the dried blood on my lips
and she shouted to her colleagues to check his pocket for
a handkerchief. There in Isaac’s breast pocket was a linen
handkerchief with his initials embroidered on one corner
and my blood smeared across one corner of it.

I had left the house two hours earlier looking for a little
excitement, I had a club and a party in mind, not a club, a
and a shootout. I recovered in hospital, it took around
two hours for me to regain my motor skills after the antidote
to Rohipnol, the date drug had been injected into me.
Sandy was at my side for around an hour of that two hours,
she was apologising over and over again, she had felt guilty
for setting me up with a free pass into the club and the party
that I never got to go to but in her defence, when the doorman
from the club phoned her to tell her that he had just seen
Isaac and Simon slip me something and take me out of the club,
she didn’t hesitate but call the police and gave them all
the information they needed to trace my cell-phone and
to give them a few possible stops on Isaac’s route.

Post Your Comment | Mark As Favorite

Member Responses Post Your Comment

Members can vote on this response!

God I love uninhibited mature women for hot , wet and down right nasty sex with plenty of filthy talk