Lust Quest (12 page)

“Oh, it's turning scarlet,” I grinned. “And it’s all soft and limp. You obviously didn't enjoy the ruler. There again, I don't enjoy being called a tart and being cheated and betrayed.” He pulled on his bonds as I struck his crimsoned cock again. “It's no use, Alan,” I whispered threateningly. “You can't escape me. I'll tell you what I'll do.

I'll go out for a drink and leave you here for the evening. When I get back, I'll wank you and make you shoot your spunk all over your stomach. But only if you're good.”

The doorbell ringing, I leaped to my feet. “Don't go away,” I grinned. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is and then give you a good cock thrashing before I go out.”

Jackie was standing on the step grinning. Wearing her microskirt and revealing blouse, she was obviously ready to go out. Not sure what to do as she stepped into the hall, I closed the lounge door and asked her to wait in the kitchen while I got ready.

“Hurry up,” she said, wandering into the kitchen. “It's late enough as it is”

“I thought you were going to ring me,” I called from my bedroom as I changed.

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“Was I? I thought we were going to the pub and ... What does it matter. I'm here now.”

“OK, let's go,” I smiled as I walked into the hall. “I'll tell you all about Angela's visit.”

“She came here?” she gasped.

“Yes, for a chat. I'm looking forward to having a drink. Having been stuck in the flat working for the past couple of days, I'm really looking forward to going out.”

Closing the front door, I followed Jackie down the path. I'd deal with Alan when I got home, I decided. Leave him to ponder on his wickedness for a few hours, and then thrash his cock and his balls. Wondering whether his rectum could take two carrots, I could hardly wait to get home.

106

lan had gone by the time I'd got home from the pub. Jackie had suggested A coming in but I'd told her that I'd wanted to go straight to bed. The last thing I needed was her finding Alan's naked body spread-eagled on the lounge floor. Alan had left me a note informing me of his anger and threatening to deal with me, whatever that meant. Screwing the note up, I climbed the stairs and slept like a log.

Waking early the following morning, I slipped out of bed and drew the curtains. The sun shining, it was going to be another beautiful day. But I had work to do. I couldn't waste time sunbathing when I had a book to write. Pondering on chapter six as sleep left me, I went into my den and switched the computer on. I couldn't believe what I'd written as I flopped into the swivel chair and brought the chapter up onto the screen.

“The brown entrance to her anal canal stretched tightly around his wrist, he repeatedly thrust into her shaking body as she begged him for mercy. The other man's fist bloating her vaginal cavern, she coughed and spluttered as the huge penis fucking her mouth shot out its copious flow of white spunk.” They weren't my words, I knew.

It just wasn't my style. Having said that, what I'd done to Alan was hardly my style.

Looking down at my naked body, I decided to have a shower and dress. I'd planned to spend the day writing, but if I was going to churn out several thousand words and not have a clue as to what I'd written ... I must have had some sort of memory lapse, I concluded as I wandered into the bathroom. What I'd done to Alan 107

could hardly be called a memory lapse. But, seeing as I was angry, I supposed I'd acted out of character. I must have been more than angry, I pondered as I stepped into the shower. I must have been enraged to the point where I'd lost control of my senses.

I wrote for a couple of hours, repeatedly reading each page to ensure I knew what I was doing. They were my words this time, and I again thought that tiredness and anger had influenced me during chapter six. I wasn't convinced, but could come up with no other explanation. Deciding to have a ten-minute break, I grabbed a can of cola from the fridge and sat on the patio.

The carrot and lengths of washing line were still in the lounge. Making a mental note to remove all signs of my sexual debauchery before I had any visitors, I chuckled as I recalled Alan's face when the carrot had slipped into his bum. Although my behaviour had been totally out of character, I found the evening hilarious. Shaving him, slapping his cock with the ruler, forcing a carrot up his bum ... It served him right. I doubted that he'd be back in a hurry.

Swigging from the can, I almost choked as I looked down the garden and saw a young girl's face emerge from the bushes. Standing and walking towards her, I was determined not to take my eyes off her. If she was going to disappear, then I wanted to know which way she went. As I approached her, I frowned. Her pale face was screwed up with anguish. She appeared to be frightened, her pained expression reflecting torment. As the phone rang, I instinctively turned and looked at the back door. By the time I looked at the bushes again, my visitor had gone.

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“Shit,” I breathed, searching the bushes as the phone continued to ring. There was no sign of the girl, and I finally dashed back to the house and leaped into the kitchen just as the phone stopped ringing. “It’s always the bloody way,” I murmured.

As I was about to return to the bushes in search of the girl, it rang again. It was Alan the ex, Alan the ex-pubes. And he was far from happy.

“You're a bitch,” he hissed.

“And you're a lying, cheating bastard,” I returned. “But you have a lovely cock. I was looking forward to sucking you off when I got home, but you'd gone.”

“You weren't going to do anything of the sort. You ... you were going to torture me, for fuck's sake.”

“Don't be ridiculous. Torture you? I was having some fun, Alan. I thought that's what you wanted?”

“I didn't want to be shaved and then left tied up while you pissed off out.”

“So, I take it that you won't be coming to see me again.”

“I don't know. I mean, I'd like to but I don't want ...”

“You can visit me whenever you want to. But the sex will be the way I want it.”

“What, stuffing a carrot up my arse?”

“If that's what takes my fancy, yes. I don't know why you're complaining. I thought you were into the kinky stuff.”

“Yes, but ... I have to go, the boss is on the warpath. I'll call you some time.”

“I'll get some fresh carrots in,” I laughed, and banged the phone down.

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He hadn't complained nearly as much as I'd thought he would. I reckoned that he was looking forward to coming round again as I wandered down the garden. Next time, I'd allow him the pleasure of shooting his spunk into my mouth, I mused as I searched the bushes and checked the fence. I couldn't understand where the girl had got to. I'd only turned my back for a few seconds. There was no way she could have dashed past me. Pondering on ghosts again as I ambled back to the kitchen, the notion didn't seem so far fetched. A ghost, or thought projection? Whatever the answer, I decided that the girl wasn't human.

I cleared up the lounge and spent the rest of the day hammering the keyboard in my den. I couldn't stop thinking about the girl in the bushes, her tormented face continually looming from the depth of my mind. Had only I seen her, I would have questioned my sanity. But Jackie and Angela had seen her. If she was a ghost, and I thought the idea ludicrous, then she must want something. Unless ghosts hang around in bushes just for the hell of it. Hell?

“Yes?” I snapped, grabbing the ringing phone.

“Guess what?” Jackie asked.

“Jackie, I am not in the mood for guessing games,” I returned.

“Oooh,” she giggled. “PMS or just a bad hair day?”

“I'm busy, Jackie. What do you want?”

“It's about your ex-boyfriend. I don't want to say anything on the phone so ...”

“Don't play games. I'm really busy and haven't got time to ...”

“I'll be there in ten minutes. This is something that'll blow your bollocks off.”

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“Jackie, for your information, I don't have any bollocks. Men differ from women in several ways, one of them being ...”

“OK, it'll blow your ovaries off. See you soon. And put the bloody kettle on.”

What with ghosts, my shaving Alan's pubes off and spanking his penis, and now Jackie playing mind games, I began to wonder in which direction my life was taking me. I'd been a quiet girl minding my own business and writing my romantic novel without the hassle of relationships and ... I'd sucked two men off, fucked one of them, had lesbian sex with my best friend, started writing dirty books - and been subjected to the antics of the dead. Shaking my head despondently, I ambled into the kitchen and filled the kettle.
I might as well open a bloody coffee shop
, I reflected, grabbing two cups.
And a knocking shop.

Jackie arrived bubbling over with excitement, but I also detected an element of seriousness in her tone as she blabbered on about Alan the ex. She wasn't making any sense so I ordered her to sit at the kitchen table and start from the beginning. She was obviously eager to tell me her news, but wanted to play her mind games.

“You'll never guess what,” she repeated for the umpteenth time.

“OK, OK,” I sighed. “It has something to do with my ex-boyfriend, right?”

“Right,” she beamed.

“You arranged to meet him in the park and he fucked you senseless?”

“No, of course not.”

“I wouldn't put it past you.”

“I'll tell you.”

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“No, you won't. You've been asking me to guess and I'm going to.”

“Actually, it's not funny,” she murmured, her smile fading.

“Go on, then.”

“Crystal Marshall, right?”

“Right.”

“She was a prostitute.”

“Yes.”

“She had clients.”

“Jackie, if she didn't have clients, she couldn't sell her body for sex. If she couldn't do that, than she wasn't a prostitute. It's like calling someone a shopkeeper when they haven't got a shop.”

“One of her clients was Alan.”

“
My
Alan?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“I was talking to a girl whose boyfriend knows someone who ...”

“OK, cut out the friend of a friend of a friend crap. Alan visited Crystal Marshall?”

“Yes, he was a client.”

“I can't believe it.”

“It's true. The police are trying to track down Crystal's clients. It's pretty obvious that one of them abducted her. You'd best keep away from Alan.”

“He's not a killer,” I murmured pensively. “But he is the link.”

“The

link?”

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“The link between Crystal and ...” I decided not to mention ghosts. “It was just something Alan was saying,” I smiled.

“I wonder where he's living now that Angela's thrown him out?”

“I don't know, or care.”

My mind wandering, I imagined that Crystal Marshall was somehow influencing me. She'd wanted to get back at Alan, and had used me as a tool. I'd never have tied him down, shaved him, spanked his penis and shoved a carrot up his bum.

That was Crystal's doing. What would she influence me to do the next time he came round? Perhaps she wanted to get back at men for the way they'd used and abused her.

Perhaps she’d influence me to kill him. But who was the girl in the bushes?

Had Crystal influenced me when I'd been wondering what to call the girl in my book? I thought that my imagination was running wild. Ghosts influencing me?

The way I'd behaved was down to talking to Jackie about sex, reading the book David had given me and writing my own erotic fiction. But why had I enjoyed lesbian sex with Jackie? Pushing my face between her warm thighs and licking her erect clitoris to orgasm had driven me wild. That was most unlike me.

“Heard anything from the Alan you met in the pub?” Jackie asked.

“No, nothing,” I replied, wondering where he'd got to. “I thought he might be in the pub last night. I expect his busy with his band.”

“Probably.”

“Jade, I can't stop thinking about Crystal. I never saw her around town.”

“She lived in one of those old cottages near Turner's Farm.”

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“A cottage?” I echoed, my heart sinking.

“You know, the ones along the lane leading to the farm.”

“God,” I breathed.

“What's the matter?”

“Let's go there.”

“Now? What for?”

“I have to check something out. Come on, we'll take my car.”

Jackie didn't stop questioning me as I drove to the farm. I didn't want to say what was on my mind until I'd made sure that I was right. I hoped to God that I wasn't right as I pulled up in the lane. The pieces were beginning to fit together. The name, the cottage ... Climbing out of the car, I stared at the row of cottages. The one with a policeman guarding the door catching my eye, I turned and gazed at Jackie.

“That must be the one,” I said.

“Yes, but what's this all about?”

“Look at the front garden. There's a laburnum tree. And a well.”

“So?”

“Crystal, the girl in my book. She lives in a cottage with a laburnum tree and a well in the front garden.”

“We played here as kids, Jade. You probably remembered this place and ...”

“No, I don't think so.”

“I remember this place only too well. The haystack used to be through the trees over there. Shall we take a look?”

“You go ahead. I'll catch you up.”

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“OK,” she murmured, heading for the trees. “Don't be long.”

Gazing at the cottage, I imagined Alan visiting Crystal. He'd have parked his car in the lane and ... Trying to think back to when I'd started the book, I wondered exactly when I'd come up with the name of the heroine. It was after Alan the ex had visited me. Had he mentioned the name? I wondered. He certainly wouldn't have mentioned the cottage. No, he hadn't talked about Crystal, or uttered her name. It was coincidence. I'd dreamed her up, and the cottage. As I was about to follow Jackie and take a look at the site of the infamous haystack, the policeman guarding the cottage wandered over to me.