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Thursday, 7 January 2016


Keith’s face was unsmiling, but his eyes were alight.  He looked down at her, then bent down to kiss her nipple.  Jason ran his tongue down her shoulder to her other nipple.  Together, each men sucked on her nipples, and she felt the electric tangles reach down to her groin, to the tips of her legs.  Just when it seemed it would be too intense, Jason moved to her mouth, and kissed her.  This time he was passionate.  Urgent.  She felt his desire and in turn it kindled her own.  The tortured, pain-filled couplings her father had forced her to endure ebbed to a dim memory, like a film she’d once seen long ago.  Here—now—she was desired, by two different men, one with brown hair and eyes, the other blue-eyed and blond; one a street kid, the other a millionaire with a title.  Her father was just some distant evil goblin, vile and perverted and corrosive, like some chemical.  But far away.  She was safe.  Her heart and her body opened.

Keith, used to her jeans, undid the button and the zip and slid his hand inside to feel her pussy.  So warm, so firm, so kind.  He started to stroke her through her thong, sending ripples of pleasure through her body.  

The two men stopped and looked at each other.  They leaned over her and kissed, and then just looked deep into each other’s eyes.  Without a word, they moved down to the end of the bed and took off her trainers and her socks.  Jason lifted her carefully, his strong body doing it easily, and Keith pulled her jeans off.  On their knees, the two men turned and smiled at her with a palpable air of “aren’t we clever?”  She couldn’t help it: she giggled.

Tuesday, 5 January 2016


The orange light from the sodium street lamps was shining into the room through the gap between the curtains.  Jason sat down on Keith’s bed, still holding Keith’s and Esmé’s hands.  He patted the bed next to himself.  Esmé sat down, and he put his arms round her.  Keith lowered himself to the bed and kissed her on her cheek.  Still they didn’t speak. 

Jason began to lift her T-shirt over her head.  As he lifted it, Keith kissed her on her tummy, each kiss making her shiver with need.  Jason pulled the T-shirt over her head, and then re-arranged her hair which had got mussed.  He kissed her on her lips, while Keith kissed her body, in a line up from waistband to her breasts.  Jason went on kissing her lips, his mouth warm and flavoured with Cointreau, and Keith moved round behind her, kissing her shoulders.  She could feel his hands, caressing her skin, and then undoing her bra straps.  Keith lifted the bra off her.  Obediently, she raised her hands so that he could.  Now it was Jason kissing her front.  His mouth brushed against her left breast, his tongue tracing out the shape of her nipple.  Keith moved round from her back and his mouth found her other nipple.

“Yes,” she breathed, and lay back on the sheets, with her arms spread.

Monday, 4 January 2016


Jason lay on the edge of the bed in Keith’s flat.  Next to him, between him and Keith, Esmé snored with a cat-like purr. 

After finishing the bottle of champagne at the restaurant, Keith had invited them both back to his flat for a nightcap.  He’d poured them small glasses of Cointreau and offered them tea.  No point in coffee: he didn’t have an espresso machine.  Cafés made coffee so much better than he could. 

They talked a little, but the real conversation was unspoken.  Each of them could sense the electricity in the air, the joint attraction which drew them together and linked them with wires of desire.  They were reluctant to end this suspended, magical interlude, where so much was promised, where the future seemed potentially so full, and the now so exciting.
Jason had always felt a little uneasy with women.  He had been able to have sex with his girlfriends but it had never been simple, or fun.  But Esmé had been a friend first.  After what she had suffered at the hands of her father, he felt that she needed to be loved and cared for.  He admired her prettiness, the way her eyes shone, the sweet curve of her neck and her breasts, her curly brown hair.

He looked across at Keith, whose face was solemn, and their eyes met and locked.  Then he leaned over and kissed Esmé on her lips.

They didn’t speak.  Taking her hand and reaching out for Keith’s, Jason tugged them through to the bedroom.

Sunday, 3 January 2016


The killer kept his gun trained on them.  Luigi debated whether the killer was close enough to jump.  Could he knock the man over before he pulled the trigger?  Could he throw something at him, to distract him?  Could he dress slowly, to give the police more time to get there?  Feverish thoughts coursed through his mind while he dressed.

“Hurry up,” said the killer softly.  His quietness was far more terrifying than yelling would have been.   Luigi looked at him under his lashes.  He’d been avoiding the killer’s eyes so far.  But he noticed now that the killer was staring intently at him.  Luigi could feel his heart pound, and sweat prickled on his face.  Terror made his mouth dry.

Cody’s mind had emptied.  He knew that this was it.  The killer had found him again.  This time he wouldn’t escape.  This knowledge gave him an odd tranquillity. If he was going to die anyway, he would do what he could to save Luigi.  Narrow-eyed, he calmly observed the killer, waiting for his chance.

Friday, 1 January 2016


Too late, he remembered with shock that the key to the bedroom door was on the outside, not the inside of the door. 

He grabbed his mobile and speed-dialed Jason.  But Jason didn’t answer.  Messagebank started.  “Please leave your message after the tone”.

He managed to say, “Jason, it’s him!  He’s in the flat!” before the bedroom door opened and the killer appeared.

He had a gun in his hand, pointed towards them both.  The really weird thing was that he looked quite normal.  Except for his eyes.  They were cold and empty—and utterly terrifying.

“Get dressed,” he said quietly.  But the soft way he spoke didn’t reassure.  His voice carried real menace.

In silence, they grabbed the clothes they’d dumped on the end of the bed the night before and started dressing.  The killer’s eyes were fixed on Cody, not on Luigi.  Luigi turned his back on the killer, and palmed his mobile into his undies.  He didn’t want a suspicious square bulge in his pants pocket.  He might just get a chance to use his mobile to let people know where they were.

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