Naked Lies
LIES
by
GORDON
Naked Lies
first published in 1999 by Hodder & Stoughton. Published as an
eBook in 2012 by Chimera eBooks.
ISBN
9781780802619
Chimera (
ki-mir'a,
ki-
) a creation of the imagination, a wild
fantasy.
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This work is sold subject to the condition
that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold,
hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior
written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in
which it is published, and without a similar condition being
imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The author asserts that all
characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of
age or older, and that all characters and situations are entirely
imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual
happening.
Copyright Ray
Gordon. The right of Ray Gordon to be identified as author of this
book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the
Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This novel is
fiction - in real life practice safe sex.
One
I am not what
I once was, nor ever again will be. Changes around me, changes in
others, rippling but relentless changes in myself, were to
transform me. Like a hapless butterfly in the summer sun I was to
be caught, laid bare, dissected - violated beyond belief. My
fragile peacock colour, my delicate femininity, my very soul
abused, erased, I was to die and metamorphose into an entirely
different creature.
What creature?
To this day, I am unsure. Winged or in cage, or in a cage with
wings, I am ignorant as to the nature of my being. All I know is
that I am a creature of great intrigue, of boundless heights and
depths, of great perversity. Do I wallow in the mire? Or soar in a
clear blue sky? Only time will tell.
Never would I
have believed that a plot was being drawn against me. A wicked plot
to rock my very core - to use me for debased sex. My naked body
chained, whipped with a leather strap, my buttocks thrashed with a
bamboo cane, every orifice plundered, I was to travel far beyond
the boundaries of what society believes to be normal sex.
But what is
normal sex? Is it the missionary position once weekly? The nightly
entwining of naked bodies in sixty-nine? And what is love? Are sex
and love so tightly bound together that they can never be detached?
Since my transformation, the two to me are as alien to each other
as the Earth and Mars. Before, I thought I knew love, that tender
alliance expressed through sex. Now I know only sex. Cold sex, as
devoid of the warmth of love as mid-winter.
Do I miss
love? For my soul, I would like to believe so. And what of sex -
cold sex? Sadly, gloriously, this new, perverse creature cannot
live without it. Will it always be so? I sometimes wonder in my
chains. Again, only time will show.
Casting my
mind back to more conventional days, I wonder who was more devious
than whom in perpetrating the plan against me. Who the wickeder?
That fateful summer morning almost a year ago was only the
beginning of a plan so incredible, so devious, that even now I find
it difficult to comprehend. That bright, sunny, normal Monday
morning when a loud knock sounded on the back door and changed me,
my life, forever, will remain etched as on granite in my
memory.
Who on earth
would go round to the back of the house rather than ring the front
doorbell? The dustman? I pondered, as that fateful knock sounded.
Tossing the sponge into the sink as I turned on my heels from the
washing up, I dried my hands hurriedly on a tea towel. No, the
dustman called on Tuesdays.
"Oh," I smiled
coyly as I opened the door to Den, our new neighbour. Wondering
what he wanted as he brushed his dark hair away from his deep-set
eyes, I opened the door wider. "Er... how are you?" I asked.
Clutching a magazine, he looked over my shoulder as if making sure
I was alone.
"Couldn't be
better," he grinned, pushing past me brusquely into the
kitchen.
I was taken
aback. He'd only moved in a couple of months previously and had
become pretty friendly with my husband Mat. I knew him only to say
hallo to, perhaps mention the weather should we pass in the street.
We certainly weren't on familiar enough terms for him to barge into
my kitchen like that!
What did he
want? I again wondered. He knew that Mat was at work, so what was
he doing here? A friendly visit to get to know me, perhaps? Closing
the door, I thought about offering him a cup of tea, but he didn't
allow me the opportunity for such an English pleasantry.
"You're a very
attractive woman," he remarked coolly. "A very sexy woman." My eyes
widened at his impertinent remark. So much for the friendly visit!
"You have a good body, Jane."
"Er... I'm...
I'm busy right now," I stammered, surprised and mystified by his
brash manner.
"The washing
up can wait," he winked, glancing at the dishes piled in the sink.
His eyes caught mine, his stare almost accusing. "I have something
that'll interest you far more than washing up. Take a look at
this," he grinned, eagerly opening the magazine.
Standing
beside him, I nervously hooked tendrils of my long blonde hair
behind my ears. His masculine frame towering above me, I realized
how good looking he was. Wearing a crisp white shirt and tight blue
jeans, he radiated an air of male prowess, strength, that I'd not
known before. But what was it he wanted to show me? A holiday
brochure? A car magazine?
"I don't want
to see that!" I gasped, focusing my startled eyes on a
familiar-looking naked girl sprawled across the centrefold, her
open vagina crudely exhibited between her parted thighs.
"Don't you
recognise her?" he asked, surprised.
I paused to
take stock of my whirling thoughts. "No, of course I don't!"
"You should,
Jane." He chuckled, holding the magazine closer to my face. "After
all, it's you."
My stomach
sank as he sat on one of the four pine chairs and spread the
magazine out on the table. A wicked glint in his eyes as he looked
up, he scrutinized me, my pert breasts teasing my tight blouse, my
long shapely legs. Noticing him staring at my thighs, I began to
tremble as fear gripped me. Alone in the house, anything could
happen. Alone, defenceless, vulnerable... But this was my
neighbour! Surely he wouldn't try anything?
A chill of
foreboding ran down my spine as his lustful gaze rested on my
thighs. I couldn't believe this was happening. Den, showing me a
dirty magazine, accusing me of being the naked tart blatantly
displaying all she had between her legs... I tried to convince
myself that I was dreaming, but the horror was all too real.
"Well?" he
finally smiled, dragging his lascivious gaze from my quivering
thighs, caressing the model's ice-cubed nipples with his
fingertip.
"Well what?" I
asked shakily, my heart racing wildly.
"Admit it,
Jane - it's you, isn't it?"
"No!" I
gasped, my breathing unsteady as my anxiety rocketed.
"How old are
you? Twenty-five, twenty-six? I reckon you were about eighteen when
this was taken. Nice firm tits, tight cunt..."
"Take your
filthy magazine and get out of my house!" I spat, flinging the back
door open. Glimpsing the garden, at least I now had an escape route
should he...
"It's a shame
you've adopted that attitude," he sighed. "I really thought... Oh
well, I'll show Mat the photograph. I don't suppose he knows that
his twee little wife was once a porn queen."
"I was not a
porn..."
"You can see
from a mile off that it's you, Jane. Look, the hair, the
features... Any fool can see that it's you."
"It is not me!
What the hell do you think I am?"
"I don't know
what you are now, but I can see what you were then." His eyes
seemed to deepen, reflecting a base inner desire as he stared hard
at me. "So, what's it to be?"
"What do you
mean?"
"Do I show
Mat, or..."
"Or what?"
"Or are you
going to pose for me, the way you posed for the photographer?"
My face
flushed, my hands trembling uncontrollably, I closed the door and
sank into a chair opposite my unscrupulous neighbour. Mat had
always been extremely suspicious and possessive - jealous in the
extreme. The blatant little beauty could well have been my double.
If he were to see the photograph... My chest tight, my stomach
churning, I swallowed hard. He'd never believe me if I denied all
knowledge of the lewd picture, that was for sure! Instinctively, I
knew that this was the beginning of a horrendous nightmare.
Gazing at the
pouting girl again, I focused on her vaginal lips, devoid of pubic
hair, swollen in arousal. It was inconceivable! What the hell was
this man trying to do to me? My heart banging hard against my
chest, I rested my arms on the table and clasped my quivering
hands. I had to put a stop to this nightmare, and quickly.
"It's not me!"
I asserted firmly.
"Take your
blouse off," Den instructed me unashamedly, grinning as he ogled me
across the table, my nipples clearly defined by the tight satin of
my blouse.
"No! Look,
Den..."
"No, Jane, you
look! This could ruin your marriage. If Mat found out that you were
nothing more than a tart, your marriage would be over." He paused,
obviously giving me time to think - time to sweat. "Well, what's it
to be?" he finally repeated.
"You can't do
this! Christ, you can't force me to..."
"You're right,
I can't force you to do anything. But I suggest you do as I ask or
you'll find your marriage destroyed."
Triumphantly,
he flicked over the page of the magazine, displaying a photograph
of the girl bending over, her bulging vaginal lips nestling between
the indents at the top of her shapely thighs, perfectly symmetrical
below her rounded buttocks. "Look, I'll make it easy for you," he
smirked, as if showing me some empathy. "Just take your blouse and
bra off."
My trembling
fingers toying with my hair, my eyes wide with fear, I stared hard
at my perverse neighbour. This had been a normal Monday morning,
washing up the breakfast things after Mat had left for work, my
best friend, Carole, coming round later for coffee... And then,
bang! My whole world blown into oblivion within minutes.
"If you think
I'm going to..."
"It's up to
you," Den interrupted me. "Either you do as I ask, or Mat sees the
photographs."
"But it's
not..."
"Of course
it's you! Stop playing games and admit it."
Admit it? Perhaps it was best to confess, I pondered in my
rising confusion. He'd go on and on, insisting that it was me, and
then he'd show Mat and cause no end of trouble. Gazing through
glazed eyes at the glossy photograph, a small voice echoed within
me.
Own up, Jane. Own up
. Was I listening to my thoughts?
"When you were
younger you were quite a tart. There was Brian Johnson; you shared
a flat with him. Then there was Derek, you lived with him for some
time."
"How do you
know that?" I asked incredulously.
"I know more
about you than you think. I'll bet Mat knows nothing of your sordid
past."
"My past is
not sordid."
"There was
James, the black guy you screwed around with."
"How do you
know about James?"
"As I said, I
know more about you than you think. Admit that it's you, Jane."
"I was at
university," I eventually sighed, wondering at my sanity. "There
was this photographer and... I needed the money."
"So you
stripped off and sold your body."
"I didn't sell
my... It was only photographic work."
"And I have
the evidence, Jane."
"Look, if you
show Mat, he'll..."
"I know only
too well what he'll do. Just your blouse and bra, that's all I
ask."
How on earth
did he know about my past relationships? He must have met someone
who knew me, I decided. What else did he know about me? Hopefully,
not the relationship I'd enjoyed with a considerably older man. If
Mat were to discover that, he'd go insane with jealousy!
My fingers
playing with the top button of my blouse, I knew that Den would
come back again and again. It wouldn't stop at my blouse and bra,
it would go on - my skirt, stockings, panties, and then... And then
sex. I wanted to die.
