Horse's Arse (9 page)

    'I
can only begin to imagine what you're going through and how you must be
feeling. I promise you that I'll be here as long as you need me and that I'll
look after her for you. But a lot of strange things have to happen now. Lots of
people you've never seen before and will never see again will come into this
room and look at her. They're going to ask you questions that you may find
offensive and unnecessary. They're only doing their jobs and I'll be here to
help you. Can I get you anything now? Do you want me to contact anyone?'

    The
man shook his head.

    'I've
got to get things rolling now. I'm going to have to ask you both to come
downstairs with me. I need to get some details from you. Come on,' H said
gently.

    The
man and woman got very slowly to their feet and stumbled past H out of the
room. They were empty shells. H followed them downstairs, and once he'd got
them settled in the kitchen he went out into the back garden to use his
personal radio. He took several deep breaths before transmitting to be sure his
voice was steady and businesslike when he spoke.

    The
day was nightmarish. As was normal in such a case, a police doctor attended to
pronounce life extinct, CID officers interviewed the parents to rule out foul play,
a Scenes of Crime Officer took photographs of the child in her cot and of the
nursery in general, and finally undertakers arrived to remove her to the morgue
to prepare her for the inevitable post-mortem. Neighbours alerted to the
tragedy by the comings and goings began to arrive at the front door, well
meaning perhaps, but only adding to the turmoil. H dealt with them all,
fulfilling his promise to the parents to look after them and their dead child.

    He
returned to the station long after the rest of the Relief had gone home and sat
alone in the report-writing room with his head buried in his hands as the image
of the distraught parents saying goodbye to their child in the hospital's
chapel of rest constantly replayed in his mind. He completed the double-sided
Sudden Death report, underlining the heading 'No Suspicious Circumstances',
posted it in the coroner's officer's pigeon hole and went home, absolutely
shattered and close to tears. His daughter was asleep on his arrival, but he
stood alongside her cot in her quiet, dark nursery for a long time, watching
her breathe and occasionally touching her face with his trembling fingers. He
went to bed without talking to his wife. The Dream came that night.

    He
was lying naked on a bed, spread-eagled on his back. It was dark and he was
bathed in sweat. He was listening to hugely amplified breathing which filled
his head. He knew he was listening to his daughter. As he listened the
breathing became laboured and short, and after a while stopped. He knew his
daughter was dying and went to rise from the bed to help her but couldn't move.
He was paralysed, only able to raise his head. He tried to call and shout out,
but no sound would come out. He began to thrash his head from side to side as
he desperately tried to free himself from the invisible force holding him back,
but to no avail. He could hear his daughter dying and could do nothing about
it. He threw his head back and screamed silently to the heavens as his eyes
bulged and every muscle and sinew in his body strained with the effort. It was
the same every time he went to sleep. He feared sleep.

    Bovril
had been hanging around in a lay-by for nearly half an hour before he saw the
greengrocer's van pass him on his way to his shop, nearly an hour away. Bovril
hoped he'd overslept and wasn't running late because he'd had an early morning
shag. It was one thing to shag another bloke's bird; quite another to stir his
rice pudding.

    He
waited until the van was well out of sight before driving the short distance to
the vicinity of the greengrocer's house. He parked up a street away and walked
quickly to the back gate. He paused to make sure no one was around and no
curtains were twitching before hurrying up the garden path to open the unlocked
kitchen door. He stepped into the dark kitchen and stood waiting for his eyes
to adjust to the gloom. As he waited he heard footsteps upstairs and a woman's
voice called out, Alan, is that you?'

    Bovril
smiled, walked into the hall and called up, 'I saw him hotfooting it along the
Manchester road a few minutes ago. This is your friendly milkman come to get
payment in kind.'

    The
girl laughed and hurried down the stairs to greet him. 'His alarm didn't go
off,' she said, to his enormous relief. She was about twenty, very pretty with
short dark hair and a dazzling smile. Her dressing gown parted slightly as she
ran, showing her firm breasts briefly. She gathered the dressing gown together
and threw her arms round Bovril's neck as she stood on the bottom step. She
kissed his lips and neck hungrily as Bovril's hands stroked her back and buttocks.
Bovril could feel himself begin to swell and harden as her firm, lithe body
pressed against him.

    'I
thought about you all night, David. I was so worried you weren't going to come
today,' she whispered into his ear.

    'I've
been thinking about you too, darling,' he replied, holding her away to look at
her. 'God, you're beautiful. I get horny just thinking about you.'

    'Oh
yes? How horny?' said the girl, reaching down to his groin to stroke his penis,
which reacted immediately to her touch. Bovril groaned and buried his lips in
the side of her neck. 'You feel huge,' she laughed.

    'It's
going to fucking burst if you don't do something about it,' he pleaded.

    She
didn't answer, but dropped down on to her haunches, pushed up his waterproof
jacket and began to tug at his trouser belt. She unbuckled it, slowly pulled
the zip down and allowed the weight of the belt to drop his trousers to below
his knees. Bovril's penis was now thrusting above the elastic waist of his
underpants and she gently pushed it flat against his stomach as she tugged his
pants down to his trousers. Bovril held the banister firmly with one hand and
braced the other flat against the wall as she began to slowly roll his foreskin
back and forth over the bulging tip. She then gently pushed his penis down to
her mouth and flicked her tongue around the end. Bovril began to roll his head
and closed his eyes.

    'Is
that good, David?' she asked, looking up at him with big blue doe eyes.

    Bovril
didn't speak, but groaned in response. He began to slowly thrust his hips back
and forth to encourage her to take all of him. She needed no further
persuasion. Guiding him deep into her mouth, she began to move her head back
and forth in time with his thrusting. Bovril took his hand off the wall and
gently held the back of her head as she blew his socks off. She cupped his
balls with her hand, and her forefinger went further between his legs to the
velvet spot behind his scrotum. Christ, this girl could suck a golf ball
through a straw, thought Bovril. He began to feel the telltale tingle and knew
he was close to coming. Too soon, too soon, he told himself. He looked down at
her bobbing head.

    'Slow
down, honey. I'm very close. I don't want to come yet. My turn now,' he said
breathlessly.

    The
girl looked up, hot and flushed and with a sparkle in her eyes. She kept a firm
hold on the object of her desire. 'Oh, yes, please,' she said smiling at him.

    Bovril
helped her to her feet and pulled her close. He tugged her dressing gown open,
reached inside and ran his hands over her hips and flat stomach. She pushed
closer as he cupped her buttocks, gently lifting and parting the cheeks. Her
breathing quickened as he brought one hand back to her stomach and began to
trace circles with his fingers. He allowed a finger to lightly brush over her
soft, downy pubic hair, tantalisingly close to where she desperately wanted to
feel it. She opened her legs slightly to encourage him but Bovril wasn't ready
yet. He slowly pushed her back up the stairs until she was several steps above
him and sat her down. Throwing the dressing gown wide open, he gently parted
her legs and began to run his tongue along her calf, behind her knee and up her
inner thigh. She grabbed his hair as his mouth passed across her lips, which
were moist and swollen. She felt his hot breath on them and gasped as he
continued across to the other thigh and then down to her calf. She dug her
nails into his scalp as she felt his mouth returning to her core and gave a low
cry as his tongue flicked at her moist rose. She began to try to thrust at his
tongue and caught her breath as his tongue found her little trigger. Bovril
began to force his tongue up and down her lips and as deep inside her as he
could. She screamed as her first orgasm racked her whole body and he felt the
warm gush against his mouth.

    'I
need you inside me, David, I need you inside,' she said, urgent and wide-eyed.

    Bovril
remained where he was for several moments, sucking gently on her soaking lips
and flicking his tongue inside. Then he put his forefinger at the opening and
she began to moan quietly and grabbed at his hand to force his finger in. He
pushed it in slowly to the knuckle and felt her pelvic bone. She screamed again
as another huge orgasm gripped her.

    'Come
on,' said Bovril, reaching down to take her hand and helping her unsteadily to
her feet. 'In the kitchen.'

    As
she walked quickly to the kitchen, with Bovril waddling behind like a penguin
with his trousers round his ankles, he removed her dressing gown. As he
hurriedly tore his jacket off and dragged his trousers over his shoes, she
turned to face him.

    'Where?'

    Bovril
led her to the breakfast bar and faced her towards it. Then he lifted her right
knee on to the tabletop, pushing her upper half flat on to the surface. She
felt his fingers probing her exposed moistness and spread her arms wide and
flattened her face against the worktop. She felt his iron hardness against her
lips and orgasmed again as the tip easily slipped into her, and then she felt
all of him slide deep inside her. He moved slowly, holding her hips gently, and
then began to push her up and thrust faster into her. She was moaning with
pleasure as the thrusts got deeper and quicker, and then he stopped pushing,
leaving the tip poised at her lips.

    'Tell
me what you want,' he whispered, gently rubbing and squeezing her writhing
buttocks.

    'Fuck
me! Fuck me hard,' she shouted.

    'Do
you want me to fuck you really hard?' he teased.

    'Oh, fuck
me hard, fuck me, hurt me, just fuck me,' she pleaded.

    Bovril
thrust himself deep inside and she shuddered and whimpered as she came again.
He kept up the long, deep strokes, moving slightly from side to side to change
his angle of entry.

    'Oh,
David, I'm coming again. Stop, no more, I'm coming again,' she gasped.

    'I'm
close too, honey,' he said, increasing the tempo as he sensed his second
swelling and he felt as hard as steel. At the point of no return, he stopped
moving and clamped himself deep inside, firm against her buttocks as he spasmed
and then exploded. He shouted involuntarily and she screamed aloud as she felt
him flood into her. His head slumped into the small of her back as he shook and
trembled as his orgasm spent itself.

    'Jesus
H Christ,' he whispered, 'my fucking heart nearly stopped. That was
unbelievable.'

    After
a few minutes during which neither spoke, but stayed gasping for breath with
racing pulses, he withdrew from her and stood upright. His legs were still
trembling and beads of sweat shone on his forehead. She lifted herself from the
breakfast bar, turned, and buried her head in his chest as he held her tight.

    'Oh,
David, that was wonderful. I can't tell you how much I needed that. I thought I
was never going to stop coming.'

    'It
was good, wasn't it?' agreed Bovril, who was beginning to feel something for
this girl that made him slightly uncomfortable. It wasn't just the sex, which
was the best he'd ever experienced; there was something else about her that was
different from all the other women he'd known. He dismissed it from his mind;
just post-shag euphoria, he reasoned. They stood holding each other for a while
before he kissed the top of her head.

    'I'm
going to have to make a move, darling,' he said softly.

    She
looked up at him watery-eyed and whispered, 'OK.'

    He
realised that he didn't want to go. He'd happily spend the rest of the day with
her, and the night, and the next day ... Jesus Christ, what's happening to me,
he thought. He'd only ever been to visit her when he was on duty and it
occurred to him that he had only ever seen her in a dressing gown. They'd met
when he'd taken an early morning call to her house to deal with overnight
damage to her boyfriend's van, and now he wondered what she looked like when
she went out: how she dressed, what she liked to do, where she worked, what her
last name was.