By SemperAmare
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Sit back, relax, maybe have a drink, and enjoy a little escapism with us. Damned sight better for you than getting high or drunk; cheaper too. Oh, and much more fun than anal retentive nit-picking and comparing to real life dramas.
For livers in the imperial world, we’ve used metric measurements as we live in the enlightened world, where only babies, alcohol, and cocks are measured in the old system. For the sake of ease, a metre is as close as damn-it to a yard and a kilometre is a little over half a mile.
Many thanks to Jim, Joe, and Charlie for checking our logic.
*****
IT WAS PERHAPS ONE of the most bizarre tableaux in history.
Lucy was sexually excited. Very sexually excited. She was sure she could feel her own juices running down the inside of her leg. Or was it the lube she’d recently squirted into her own anus, before inserting a finger to smear it around? She could certainly feel something sliding from under the fire-engine-red, slinky, and ever so short, evening dress she’d chosen for the occasion. The cowled neckline plunged in a sharp V to her navel. Definitely, no bra possible. The trickle now felt like it was half way to her right knee, its path not hindered by panties; something else she’d decided to forgo for the night. The fluid tickled, and normally she’d be horrified and reach down to wipe it away. Not now, though. Not while handcuffed to the bonnet of one of her husband’s company cars as she was.
Looking around, unworriedly, she wondered which of the dark bushes Dirk and his accomplice would emerge from. Then her mind flitted to wondering what the other guy would look like. The stranger that Dirk had organised. A travelling salesman, apparently, who had only been in town since yesterday and who would be gone tomorrow. Gone with absolutely no idea who he’d fucked this night. Dirk had assured her the guy was well hung, so it hadn’t occurred to her to ask whether he was short or tall, fat or thin. Lucy was so aroused that she didn’t give a damn. In fact, in a weird way, it would enhance the fantasy if he was ugly. All that mattered was having that fat dick of his jammed up her drooling pussy, while Dirk lubed up his more modest cock, before mounting her from behind.
Come on, Dirk, I’m ready.
She and Dirk, had been planning every detail of the role-play event that was about to begin, for weeks. He knew exactly what she wanted and had gone to extraordinary lengths to make it happen. Not only finding some nameless, faceless guy to help him but getting two police uniforms from god only knew where.
Lucy marvelled at how far she’d come in the last year, on her journey from vanilla to… this. If there was a switch for kink in the brain then Dirk had certainly switched on hers. And it seemed like with every encounter it grew. What had started as a drip was now a flood. Hell, the dam walls had been broken. Far from what she’d ever expected when her last fledgling had flown the nest.
Lucy scanned the bushes again and moaned in frustration against the gag across her mouth. Where was Dirk?
Sure, the setting wasn’t one-hundred percent accurate for the fantasy, but a moonlit glade, kilometres from town was far safer than anything more realistic. Yes, she could have done this at home, but the familiar surroundings would have detracted from the fantasy. Her outfit was perfect; sexy but slutty and teamed with CFM pumps. Even the masquerade mask she’d donned matched the dress, being red and studded with fake jewels. The latter in place to ensure that there was no possibility of the stranger recognising her from a billboard or newspaper.
Was the gag justifiable? Maybe not, but it sure added to the feeling of helplessness that she was trying to immerse herself in. She wanted to truly live her role. She looked down at her late-forties body. Would guys still pay for a body like this? Lucy smiled to herself. Yes, they would. Hours at the gym, in the yoga studio, and under the needle had seen to that.
Whatever was running down her leg was tickling her again, her skin made hypersensitive from excitement. Lucy wished Dirk and his friend would reveal themselves. She desperately needed one of them to get busy licking her clean.
It had been a frustrating four weeks since Dirk and she’d last had sex. First her girls only road trip to deliver her youngest to university, then his business trip. No wonder she was gushing. All that had happened for that month was planning today, or should she say, tonight, and what was about to happen. She hoped he’d remember all his lines. She needed him to play his part so she could lose herself in hers.
She was dressed provocatively because in her fantasy she worked as a prostitute; top-of-the-range, of course. In the scenario, a client had hired her for the night and driven her into this secluded glade. Before they had time to do anything, though, two policemen had rumbled them. The client had taken off as fast as he’d been able. The police gave chase, but he’d gotten away. Then the policemen, one of whom was very decently hung, would return to get the hooker, the one they’d handcuffed to her client’s car to prevent her escaping as well. Frustrated by their unsuccessful chase, they’d take out their anger on a helpless victim. Lucy almost fainted as her pussy and ass clenched in anticipation of being at their mercy.
She looked around the moonlit scene once again. Come on, Dirk, your slut is ready.
******
MEANWHILE, BEHIND A BUSH, under the same moonlight, Dirk made some adjustments as he eyed his objective. The blue trousers he’d rented from the costume shop were too tight and he couldn’t do the button up, so he tightened the belt and tucked the band under it. They only needed to last half a minute, after all. That’s how long it would take to get from where he was to where she waited. Unlike the trousers, the hat was too loose; but, so what if it fell off during the excitement? Seeing all was ready, it was time to go. Giving his co-conspirator a nudge and a nod, he stepped from the bush and strode toward their target.
******
FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLIER AND from a different bush, John watched as a woman drove into the clearing, cracked the door of the car open a little, triggering the internal light to come on. The light revealed her texting someone. He saw her read a reply, smile, then clamber out. She looked familiar.
He lost sight of her as she walked to the rear of the vehicle and opened the trunk. A minute or two passed. John wondered what the hell she was doing. After closing the trunk, she stepped to the far side of the car. Her head disappeared. John could just make out her scantily clad bottom jutting past the rear of the car. She was crouching and doing something under her short dress.
John raised the camera dangling heavily from a strap around his neck and expertly focused on her, trying to ascertain what she was doing. It didn’t help; the wheel and body of the car blocked too much of her out. John shrugged, it didn’t matter. With the camera’s 300-zoom lens he knew it was going to take some great photos. Hell, you’d be able to see every freckle.
She reappeared on the near side of the car. John suppressed a gasp. She was in what he could only describe as a fuck-me dress. It was so short he could see the beginning of her arse and there was no way she could wear a bra—the neckline plunged all the way to her navel. Ironically, her best covered feature was her face. Over it she’d placed a fancy mask that went from her top lip to her brow. Her blonde hair, which had been loose, was now in a jewelled hair clip as well. It, along with the mask, glinted in the moonlight. Through the zoom, John saw her straighten and slip a tube of something into a drawstring pouch she was holding. John clicked away.
He saw the strange woman rest the bag on the hood, reach in and remove a strap. He watched incredulously as the vaguely familiar person then did something even more bizarre. She wrapped the strap around her own mouth and cinched it up. WTF?
Reaching in the bag again, the mystery woman withdrew a short length of rope with a loop at each end and a shiny object. Without hesitation, she threaded the rope through the bars of the radiator grill before attaching the handcuffs; yes, John could see them for what they were now, then snapped them to one loop and one wrist at a time. She was now anchored to the car with about half a metre of freedom provided by the rope. As a last act, she pulled a phone from the bag and rested it on the bumper of the car, then sat on the same bumper and stretched her long legs out.
John was reeling at the thought of the voyeuristic scene he was almost certainly about to witness if he stayed. When he’d been anonymously tipped off to be hiding at this remote glade, at this precise time, he’d no idea what to expect. It certainly wasn’t this, though.
He heard his phone chirp quietly. The search he’d initialised while the strange woman was busy at the trunk of the car, had borne fruit. The registered owner of the car in the clearing was Mr. D. Berwick, much admired owner of the town’s biggest medical centre. The same man whose blonde, leggy wife was behind just about every charity within miles and who was about to receive the local Australia Day award for Citizen of the Year. John looked at her scantily clad form again. Lucy Berwick certainly didn’t dress like that for the society pages. No wonder he’d had trouble placing her.
After thrusting his phone back in his pocket, John placed his hand on his camera again. He gripped it but didn’t raise it to his eye. He had a choice. He could walk away right now without any truly compromising photographs. He could leave a reputation intact. Or, he could take some photographs that would be worth $5K in the morning, but closer to $50K the day after, when the national tabloids got a whiff of the juicy scandal involving a local celebrity.
John was uncomfortable with the decision, so he decided to defer it. In the meantime, he’d stay put and just take the photos. He could always delete them later. He made the final adjustments to get the best outcome from the low light conditions. All the while his head swam with his newfound personal revelation. Who the fuck would have guessed that the Berwick’s were into dogging? Lucy Berwick’s current behaviour aside, it was an open secret that the glade was a dogging site. John thought everyone knew.
John knew enough about the sordid underbelly of society to know that adherents of the hobby came in two distinct types. One set liked to fuck their partner while anonymous voyeurs looked on. The others either invited the onlookers to join in or liked to watch while their partner took on all comers.
‘Oh, well,’ John thought, ‘it takes all sorts to make a world.’ Still, he was shocked; he’d always thought highly of the well-known couple.
John had been hiding in his little bush since 9:00 p.m.—two hours. Even before Lucy Berwick showed up, he’d been aware of other people in the vicinity. One had walked right past him and taken station halfway between his hiding spot and the car. If it was Lucy’s husband, then he was obviously going to be one of the anonymous guys that fucked his wife or wanted a grandstand view of the action when it happened. John stretched his legs while he waited for events to unfold in the light of the bright full moon.
******
NOW TEN METRES FROM his bush, Dirk reached down and unzipped his fly to adjust his throbbing erection. He didn’t bother zipping up again. Why bother? He fixed his eyes on his target and strode toward it with purpose; his newfound friend a step behind.
******
LUCY HAD HER OOZING pussy facing the grill of the car, looking over the roof to where she thought Dirk and his stranger would emerge from. Too late, she heard the snap of a twig from behind her. Before she could turn, a pair of arms grabbed her from behind, spreading her arms wide on the hood, an upper torso forced hers forward, a face pressed into the back of her neck. The smell of the man behind her was unfamiliar so Dirk was obviously allowing the stranger to go first. The man’s right hand released her arm and disappeared to lift the skimpy skirt of her dress, exposing her bare arse to the sultry night air. A foot impatiently nudged her legs apart. Lucy had no sooner adjusted her stance when she felt what was unmistakably a cock prodding her crevice. It landed in that sensitive spot between the holes. So much for foreplay. Lucy stood on tippy toes and thrust back cautiously to ensure entry to her vagina.
The guy behind her entered her none too gently, but that was fine. She wasn’t here to be made love to; she was here to be fucked. Dirk had done well, the guy felt big. Arching her back, she basked in the thrilling sensations. This was better than her best imaginings. The guy’s hands grabbed her hips, pulling her back against him with each thrust to ensure maximum penetration. With any luck, she’d be able to time her orgasm—it was building nicely—to the stranger’s. It would have been nice to feel his big cock explode inside her, but she’d made Dirk promise that wearing a condom was a non-negotiable condition for his pick-up. Oh well, she couldn’t have everything.
A third hand slipped between her buttocks and the body behind her; going lower every time her buttocks separated from her lover’s. It must be Dirk; the other guy was still holding her hips. At least Dirk wouldn’t have to use a rubber.
Come on, Dirk, you know what I want.
She felt the new hand extend one finger, then two, and inch, when movement made it possible, toward her anus. After four more cycles it reached its goal. Lucy forced herself to relax as she felt two fingers enter to at least the first knuckle. She was in heaven as they matched pace to the guy’s thrusts. She knew what was going to happen next. It had consumed her dreams for a long time. The knowledge pushed her over the edge and she screamed her orgasm into the gag.
From her high, she wasn’t exactly sure what happened next, but some shuffling had occurred. The guy in her cunt had withdrawn, inserted himself between her and the car hood, seating himself on the bumper. He dragged her down on him. It was an awkward angle and he could only get a couple of inches inside her, but that was enough. Lucy squeezed her eyes tight shut. She didn’t need to see the stranger, he was just a cock to her. Bracing herself for what was to come, she splayed her legs wider, just as Dirk’s cock behind her nudged her lubed sphincter. He’d been that route many times before and she panted in anticipation. She wouldn’t even mind him being a little rougher than usual to play along with the fantasy that this wasn’t consensual. Two uniformed strangers taking what they could.
Searing pain suffused Lucy’s bowels and the breath was driven from her lungs. This time, the scream into her gag wasn’t that of pleasure. Sensing Dirk’s head just behind and above her left shoulder, she did a reverse nod in that direction. Pain, she had to inflict pain on him. Anything to relieve the burning agony splitting her bowels, caused by too fast an entry.
Dirk must have anticipated the move, however. He ducked his head sideways, his chin against her neck. That’s when she felt it: his beard. It scratched the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.
Beard? What the f…? Dirk didn’t have a beard.
Turning her head to maximise her vision between the eye holes of the mask, she saw what she saw and didn’t see what she didn’t see. The arms grasping her waist weren’t clad in police blue. In fact, they were bare. Except for the tattoos, that is.
Dirk didn’t have tattoos either.
A rough voice came to her from about three metres beyond her right shoulder. It obviously didn’t belong to the short guy grunting away underneath her or the big guy sodomising her quickly and painfully.
“Take it, slut.”
Even though it was exactly what Lucy had been hoping to hear a few minutes ago, it filled her with dread now. Glancing in that direction, she confirmed two things that made her heart sink further. The new guy standing there stroking his cock with a sickening leer on his face wasn’t Dirk. He wasn’t wearing blue either. He wasn’t part of her fantasy.
None of them were.
******
DIRK ADJUSTED HIS HAT and put his hand on the door knob of the house’s back door. He could hear the rough breaths of his partner-in-crime behind him.
He was surprised that Lucy knew anyone in this, the seedier part of town, but, apparently, she did. Her friend going away for the weekend, asking Lucy to housesit and look after her dog, provided them with the golden opportunity to live out their fantasy. The house was now a brothel and he was the policeman raiding it. She was going to wantonly fuck her way out of a police record with every hole she had.
Simultaneously turning the doorknob and putting his shoulder to it, Dirk excitedly threw the door open while raising the toy cap pistol he’d scrounged from his children’s old toy box.
******
JOHN LOWERED HIS CAMERA, still eyeing the scene before him. Instinct told him that things were no longer going the way Lucy Berwick had intended. John made a snap decision. There were three of them and only one of him but he couldn’t do nothing. He fished his phone from his pocket he sent a text to a contact he had in the police department suggesting they make haste to the dogging site to rescue a solitary woman. Within seconds he received a thumbs up reply.
John replaced the phone. He intentionally avoided looking at Lucy Berwick again. He’d seen enough. Photographed enough. It hadn’t proved to be the voyeuristic delight he’d imagined. In the cold moonlight it had seemed more sordid that erotic. But, to each his own. One man’s turn-on was another man’s turn-off. Either way, what was on his camera’s memory card was newsworthy-gold.
As quietly as possible John backed out of his hiding spot and crept to his car.
******
LUCY’S SCREAMS OF PAIN, into her gag, toned down as her arse went numb, to be replaced by frustrated cries of anguish. She screamed through the guy behind her unloading in her arse and staggering backward. She was unfeeling of the mini tidal wave of cum following his cock being pulled out. Any idea of escape was curtailed as the guy underneath reached around and trapped her to him. Sensing something to her right, she turned around and watched in disgust as the unparticipating voyeur stepped in and wanked a load onto her right thigh. Funny how the context changed everything, turning arousal and pleasure to pain and revulsion.
Before she could recover from the shock that was numbing her soul, the guy underneath tensed and unloaded. As he manoeuvred out from under her, Lucy looked down in horror as his semen dripped out of her red and stretched sex.
Tears streamed down her face at the destruction of a year of dreams, months of hopes, and weeks of plans. Now, instead of the pleasant memories of multiple orgasms to lull her to sleep for months to come; she knew she had months of sweating, waiting for the various STD test results to come back. Where the fuck was Dirk? Using a protruding corner of the hood, she rubbed the gag off her mouth and below her pretty chin. She shouted his name around the now empty clearing. Nothing.
The chirp of an incoming text and her phone screen lighting up in the darkness drew Lucy’s sick and worried attention. She used her restricted movement to get her phone from where it had fallen off the bumper and under the front of the car. As she hit the standby button, she saw she had a message. It was from Dirk. It simply read, ‘Had to go home in a hurry. See you at usual place, at the usual time’. Irate, but still following the rules to never ring, Lucy bashed a reply text on the keyboard. Come back and get me NOW! The device remained silent, until a good two minutes later came, ‘Sorry, can’t. With C.’
A heartfelt, “Fuck,” screamed into the woods as Lucy realised her predicament. The keys to the handcuffs were in her purse, on the front passenger seat of the car. She foolishly hadn’t put them in the drawstring pouch along with the other necessities for the night. She was tethered to the grill. She grabbed the only straw she had; the phone. Who to ring? Her sister? Best friend? Father? Mother? The police? For more inspiration, she opened the contact list. Fuck! She’d forgotten; it was that phone. There was only one number listed. Dirk’s. Like most people these days, she relied on her phone to remember numbers she was too lazy to lodge in her mind.
The idea of being found in broad daylight the next morning, created terror in Lucy. She’d been a good gymnast in primary school and done yoga most of her adult life. If she stretched out full length on the hood of the car, she would easily reach the door handle with her toes. Opening the door that way, she could then use her foot to try and snag her handbag and hopefully get it within close enough reach to extract the handcuff key. It was a long shot, but it was all she had.
Looking uncharacteristically inelegant, she extended her big toe as a hook. What happened next caused her to double-take. The indicator lights flashed twice, there was a tweeting sound, simultaneous with the sound of the car doors locking. Lucy thought she must have the car keys in the pocket of her dress and rolling around on the hood had caused the locking button to be pressed. Cursing her luck, she rolled onto her back and felt one side after the other. Realisation hit. She banged her head on the bonnet. What had she been thinking? There was hardly any dress to speak of, let alone room for pockets. And there were definitely no keys. That left her with no idea of why the car had locked itself.
What there was, though, revealed in the beam of the headlights that came on and stayed on for half a minute after the car was locked, filled Lucy with dread. At least six men were approaching her. Their steady approach was arrested by the sudden glare. She knew she had to ring someone and do it quick. She had exactly two numbers. Two choices. One number programmed into the phone, that she was absolutely forbidden to ring, the other memorised since childhood—000; the police.
Unhesitatingly, she rang the former. Fuck the rules. Once he knew her dilemma, Dirk would come back and save her. It answered on the third ring and the voice, not the words, used in greeting hit her like a banshee’s screech. She shook her head, baffled, and pulled the phone away from her ear to confirm it was, indeed, the burner phone and the saved contact said, Dirk.
Lucy’s mind was in a flat spin. What was Dave, her husband, doing answering her lover’s phone?
******
WITH POETIC SYNCHRONICITY, AT the same time Lucy asked herself this question, her lover, Dirk Prentice, was busy dying, about fifteen kilometres away from the isolated but crowded piece of bush where Lucy was imprisoned.
Five seconds before that, with a final adjustment of his uniform, and one last glance at his partner-in-crime, Dirk twisted the doorknob and pushed the door inwards, while raising his gun.
“Police, freeze… oh fuck!”
Dirk gaze registered in an instant the three rough looking men turn from the table where they were busy carefully measuring white powder into little plastic bags. What he didn’t see was the fourth man, standing in the darkness of the lounge room, who promptly shot him in the chest.
As he lay on the ground, drowning in his own blood, he heard, rather than saw, his companion running for his life, his gait made uneven by the need to clutch the bullet wound in his side.
******
DAVE LEANED BACK IN his chair, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee. It tasted good. Very good. Even better when accompanied by that morning’s news headlines.
‘DOG-GONE IT, LOCAL CITIZEN OF THE YEAR CAUGHT IN COMPROMISING ACT’
Equally satisfying; ‘LOCAL BUSINESSMAN SHOT DEAD IN DRUG DEN’
One article he was all too familiar with, the other, a satisfying read.
Dave took another sip of his coffee, contemplating the long, emotional journey he’d undergone from his moment of discovery of Lucy’s affair to the gloating satisfaction he now felt at her suffering the consequences of her actions.
Dave thought back to when he initially found the phone. The shock, the confusion, the sudden weight in his belly, and the overwhelming feeling of disappointment at having been proven right in his suspicions.
And then when he’d read the texts…
At first he hadn’t recognised the emotions swirling in his gut. He only knew he didn’t like them.
He didn’t like the vile, bitter taste in his mouth.
He liked the heat pulsing through his body with every thud of his heart even less.
It wasn’t the pleasurable heat of passion. It wasn’t even the uncomfortable heat of humiliation. This heat didn’t warm him. It didn’t awaken him. No, this heat burned and scorched, leaving destruction in its wake. It was like a forest fire erasing everything in its path.
He remembered his shock at realising the swirling inferno scorching his insides was a mix of jealousy and rage, and the pain of betrayal.
Of course, he knew of such emotions, but never before had he experienced them, and certainly not all at once. The reality was devastating. Its fiery power had hijacked his mind, demanding the perpetrators be punished for the abuse of love and trust. The ruination of two families.
That was when his planning had begun. The headlines were mere confirmation his plans had borne fruit.
He closed his eyes and replayed his last conversation with his wife.
“Yes, my dear, how do you think I can help you on this fine night?”
“D-D-Dave?”
“Yes. This is Dave, your husband. I thought we’d established that.”
“But, why aren’t you Dirk?”
Dave relived his satisfaction at hearing Lucy’s disorientation. She was clearly very confused. He knew what she was like when you threw her off her game. She wouldn’t be able to think. Wouldn’t be able to organise her thoughts. Only fair, he decided, after the month of confusion and pain, not to mention, humiliation, she’d caused him.
“Unfortunately for you, my dear, I found your burner phone about a month ago. Remember that night? You were dyeing your hair and I needed your odometer reading for our car insurance renewal. You got quite agitated when I wouldn’t wait for you to be finished but went right out to your car to get the reading myself. That, and your recent moodiness, aroused my suspicions so I had a look around to see what I wasn’t supposed to. I would never have found it though, it was very well hidden. If it hadn’t chimed with an incoming text right then, I would have given up and berated myself for doubting you. Reading all those texts from my supposed friend to my supposedly faithful wife later that night just killed all the love I ever felt for you.”
Telling her he felt no love for her was a lie, but Dave wanted to hurt her the way he’d been hurt; take something from her that she’d taken from him. Make her feel abandoned, alone and unloved; a taste of her own medicine.
“Remember the party at Dirk and Claudia’s house a few days later? That allowed me to check his car. How cute to have matching sewn pouches for your phones, and how clever to use Velcro to hide them under the seats. Did you sew those? Well, after that it was easy. After having another little read of your exchanges, I bought a burner phone of my own, so I didn’t feel left out. Just for a bit of fun, I reprogrammed my number under Dirk’s name on your phone and under your name on his burner phone. Every time you’ve sent each other a text this last month, you’ve actually been corresponding with me. You can just imagine what a hoot it’s been, I do so hope you appreciate the irony, Lucy. I certainly do. You’ve just been burnt by a burner phone. I always wondered why they were called that.”
Dave recalled hearing the soft series of thuds when Lucy repeatedly banged her head against the bonnet. It had been such a satisfying sound. A salve to his heart that had been battered so much by her betrayal, it had broken.
“Are you remembering all those texts, my dear? What a dirty girl you ended up being. And who’d have thought you’d enjoy grungy, sordid motels so much? I bet that would surprise all your high society friends, not to mention, Mummy and Daddy. You and Dirk really went on a wild ride, didn’t you? Such a kinky minx. Did all the planning for tonight get you wet? I hope so. I did my best to be as Dirk-like as possible.”
Dave smiled at the movie playing in his mind. He saw again, Lucy lifting her head and scanning the bushes. Heard again her gasp as she took in the slowly approaching men.
“Are you here, Dave? Can you see me?”
“Yes, I can see you. And what a sight you are. Definitely one to hang above the mantel piece—not.”
“Thank god. Help me. You have to help me.”
“But isn’t this what you wanted? Didn’t you want to be treated like a bad girl? Didn’t you want a nice, sordid, public fucking by strangers? Didn’t you want to feel helpless and used? I’m sure you said that in one of your texts.”
“Please don’t do this. Please help me. Unhandcuff me or call Dirk or call the police. Do something!”
“I’m afraid Dirk has no idea where you are. Oh, and there’s the little fact that while you were indulging in your little fantasy, I set Dirk up with his very own. It’s not dissimilar to yours, but I think you’ll appreciate the subtle differences. I, er, arranged for him to surprise some people who really don’t like surprises. Like, violently don’t like surprises. You bought a burner phone, my former friend, bought an inferno phone.”
Dave cringed a little at the memory of the satisfaction he’d felt at his poor-tasted joke at the time.
He remembered Lucy’s silence. Maybe she was seeing a change in him. A change she’d created. He was now capable of hurting people, not just saving them. He hoped she was as shocked at the change as he was.
“Bu… but how could you? He has a wife, Claudia. Our friend. H-h-his kids grew up playing with our kids.”
“Our friend? That didn’t stop you from fucking her husband did it? Or him from fucking you. It didn’t stop either of you from breaking hearts and destroying families. Anyway, to answer your question, it’s quite simple, wife dear. When I told Claudia last week what the two of you were up to, her exact words were. “The arsehole…he’s at it again. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t live with the never knowing. I hope the randy cunt dies, at least that way he can be useful for his life insurance payout.” I predict some good news shortly for our good friend Claudia.”
All conversation had ended at that point for a reason totally out of Lucy’s control, but not out of her husband’s.
*****
LUCY WAS IN SHOCK, stunned by the conversation with Dave. Her mind flipped back and forth from the danger Dirk was in to Dave knowing everything.
She was so caught up in her own head, she’d totally forgotten the physical danger she was in. A pair of groping hands grabbing her ass as the first and boldest of the second rank of perverts reached her, reminded her.
Lucy wasn’t to know it, but this particular guy was usually satisfied with just masturbating while watching the dogging action, but tonight his juices had been stirred by the semi-violent DP he’d witnessed her participating in a mere five minutes before. He’d decided she was a slut who obviously got off on being forced.
Lucy shrieked at the touch and dropped the phone.
*****
LUCY’S SHRIEK WAS MUSIC to Dave’s ears. However, as much as he hated Lucy for her destruction of every happy family memory he had, and the perceived eradication of the possibility he would ever trust a woman ever again, Dave wasn’t about to commit her to being raped. Yes, technically, she’d been raped by the two guys the first time, but it had started consensually. For that reason, he’d called the police on his second burner phone prior to his conversation with Lucy.
After Lucy dropped the phone, Dave was busy for a few minutes but kept a close enough eye on his wife to know she was holding the perverts off. If they’d been smart, they would have teamed up on her. He could only assume dogging voyeurs were naturally solitary animals. His reading on the subject suggested that common to all men who preferred watching a woman get fucked to actually fucking them themselves, such as voyeurs and willing cuckolds, they were unsure of what to do with a woman when the opportunity arose. Most, to Dave’s eyes, looked like they just wanted to touch Lucy’s nakedness. A novelty for them, perhaps.
Even with her arms anchored, Lucy gave a good account of herself, kicking and using her legs to push. Dave could tell it was physically draining. He saw she was pretty much exhausted eight minutes after the assaults began.
Luckily for her, when the wail of the police siren pierced the air, and flashing lights lit the glade in alternating shades of red and blue like a rave party, her assailants scattered into the bush like cockroaches under the glare of light.
Observing from a tree line eighty metres away, Dave watched Lucy’s face morph from momentary relief to one of dread as the realisation of her predicament hit her. He could only guess at her horror.
Dave was panting as he’d only just made it back from his mission to the company car Lucy was tethered to. He’d had to sprint the last distance to safety and anonymity when he heard the approaching police cars.
Knowing Lucy was now rescued, Dave walked the half kilometre to where he’d stashed the trail bike he’d arrived on. He rode into town, throwing Lucy’s burner the phone in a river, and went back to the all-night poker game attended by his three closest friends.
*****
THE POLICE TOOK ONE look at Lucy; cum drying on her legs, wrists chafed from the handcuffs and came to entirely the wrong conclusion. She explained that the keys to the handcuffs were in the car, and that the car had somehow locked itself. She was bemused when it opened to the first officer’s touch. She burst into tears at the released fear and relief.
The police freed her, then gently bundled her into the back seat of the patrol car. One officer drove her to the hospital, the other stayed to guard the crime scene, handing the phone he’d picked up to his partner, before he drove away.
*****
ON THE DRIVE TO the hospital, Lucy feigned a swoon in the back seat. On the twenty-minute drive, she concocted, then flaw-probed a story. Two men had kidnapped her and taken her into the bush. There, she’d been restrained, before they’d sexually assaulted her. Once they’d had their fill, they’d run off, leaving her to the predations of the local perverts. Only in the last three minutes before arriving at the hospital did Lucy spare any thought for Dirk, and then only in the context of him possibly saying something that might contradict her story.
In casualty, Lucy’s wrists were dressed, a rape protocol was run, and the duty counsellor called. She gave them her parent’s number, rather than Dave’s, explaining he was travelling and uncontactable. They arrived shortly after and Lucy practiced her story on them. Her mother cried at her daughter’s suffering. It was after midnight when the same officer who’d saved her, took her statement, accompanied by a detective, and after 2:00 a.m. when she was released from the hospital to be taken back to her parent’s house.
*****
MEANWHILE, THE CRIME SCENE investigator examined the body of Dirk Prentice in the trunk of the old beater car.
He knew from what the discovering officer had told him that it appeared the drug dealers wrapped the victim in a blanket and then stuffed him in the trunk of their car. It looked like they’d packed up their cocaine, cash, and meagre belongings, before torching the house. The general consensus was they’d been on their way to dispose of the body. It was just their rotten luck they’d run a red light in front of a police car and been pulled over just as the alert had come over the radio. A travelling salesman had reported being shot two blocks away.
The investigator, following protocol, looked for any identifying information. Finding a mobile phone in the victim’s pocket, he removed it and placed it in an evidence bag.
An hour later, Detective Inspector Swanson, having been assured all forensic physical information had been retrieved from the phone, looked at the one and only entry on its contact list, simply listed as, ‘L’.
He dialled the number while composing a question in his head. That thought process was interrupted when he heard a curse and clatter behind him. His colleague, Detective Sergeant Dickins, had been about to start pushing buttons on the phone retrieved from the scene of the evening’s rape—it could have belonged to one of the rapists—when it rang in his hands, startling him.
Recovering from the shock, he accepted the call and said hello to the stunned colleague standing no more than two metres in front of him.
The two detectives read the message exchanges on the phones with mounting horror. When they read the local papers, delivered to the station at six in the morning, they were sickened. Their shift was supposed to end at seven, but after talking to their boss, DCI Stephens, they kept on.
Hitting Lucy’s parent’s house just after nine, they knocked and asked to talk to the alleged victim. They were invited in by parents who were glad their daughter’s rape was being taken so seriously. No doubt because of her fame and her father’s standing as a prominent businessman in the town. They were a little bemused when the senior detective showed a cheap cell phone to Lucy and asked if it was hers. Exhausted after a sleepless night, Lucy said yes. Bemusement turned to shock at their next words.
“Lucy Berwick, I am arresting you for making a false statement to police and conspiracy to murder Dirk Reginald Prentice.”
Lucy and her parents were too shocked to notice the vehemence in the officer’s tone and demeanour. The frenetic activity from the police stemmed from the initial report that the body in the trunk was that of a fellow policeman. Even after the error was corrected, that rush continued. The combination of what they’d read on Dirk’s phone, seemingly from Lucy, and what they’d read on Lucy’s phone and read in the papers, painted a sickening picture. Lucy indulging in a sick sexual fantasy while the killing she’d seemingly organised was carried out. No, there would be no sympathy from the authorities this day.
When Lucy’s parents reflexively came to their daughter’s defence, the detective threw a morning paper in front of them. They recoiled in horror at the heavily censored photographs of their daughter’s activities of the night before. The exact nature of the acts weren’t absolutely clear; the look of rapture on her face, however, was.
EPILOGUE
THE TWENTY-EIGHT HOURS THAT Lucy was remanded were humiliating and busy. With the aid of the lawyer provided by her father, she explained her version of the story and her husband’s alleged part in it. She could never explain why the burner phone she had showed text conversations she’d never seen before and included none of the ones she’d had with Dave, thinking it was Dirk she was corresponding with. She never did guess that her clever husband was one step in front of her the whole way along. Anticipating that Lucy might drop the phone in the melee, he’d crawled underneath the car after he’d seen it drop, while she was distracted fending off the attack by the perverts. Once there, he’d switched his phone for hers. His phone that he’d previously wiped half the sent and received texts from.
By the end of the day, the public prosecutor decided there was insufficient evidence to proceed on the conspiracy charge, but ample evidence of the making a false statement charge. In frustration, they also successfully charged her with the rarely used, ‘wasting police time’. Both the charges stuck but only resulted in small fines. They checked out her story with Dave, but with his denial, no physical evidence, and a watertight alibi, it went nowhere.
On her release, Lucy was so bombarded by the media, that her parents packed her off to stay with an uncle on the other side of the country. Even in her absence, allegations and gossip were aired mightily. The conspiracy charge may have been dropped, but the stigma of it remained until she changed her name, legally, and disappeared far away from home and her support network. Even three years later, when she attended her father’s funeral, the local media showed they had long memories. The pictures of her being hounded from the cemetery didn’t make it to the national and international newspapers this time, though.
Dave, with a month’s head start on the divorce, had done an excellent job of hiding many of the assets and putting his business in a trust. So, when the courts awarded Lucy half of the assets, it was only enough to last her a couple of years.
Strangely, her father was much more supportive after the events than her mother. The latter found it almost unforgivable that their daughter had blatantly lied to them about being raped. Between Lucy’s siblings having young children and continuing to enjoy a good relationship with Dave and Lucy’s offspring, Lucy’s mother had enough grandchildren to spoil that she found she didn’t need much of a relationship with her eldest daughter.
Lucy’s running for her sanity after the media circus didn’t help her relationship with her children. She tried via phone to excuse her behaviour but when they were witnessing first-hand what the effect was on their father, sympathy was in short supply. Her son blatantly refused to talk to her until she came up with a convincing reason why.
Dave, suddenly the town’s most eligible bachelor, had no end of offers of comfort. He enjoyed the hell out of being comforted regularly for the next two years. Then he had the fortune to meet and settle down with a lovely lady who taught him how to trust again. They retired early to a cabin on a lake, an hour from the town they’d lived in all their lives. There they were popular hosts for visits by children, grandchildren, and eventually even great grandchildren from both previous relationships.
One day he was bouncing a five-year old granddaughter on his knee, when she innocently asked how he got the fading scar on his knee. He smiled as he told her an exaggerated white lie of fighting lions in Africa.
Well, he could hardly tell her the truth, could he? How do you tell a five-year old that you’d gashed it against a rock while crawling under your ex-wife’s car, using the distraction coming from the front of the vehicle where said ex-wife was fending off advancing perverts, in order to unlock the vehicle and swap his burner phone for hers.
THE END
NOW, TO EASE YOUR JOURNEY FROM FICTION BACK TO COLD, HARD REALITY…
Vandemonium1’s joke.
Little boy gets home from school and says, “Dad, I’ve got a part in the school play as a man who’s been married for 25 years.”
His Dad replies, “Never mind, son. Maybe next time you’ll get a speaking part!!!”
CreativityTakesCourage’s joke, that almost made Van1 disown her.
A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands she open the sperm bank vault.
“But, sir, it’s just a sperm bank!” she says.
“I don’t care. Open it now!”
So she opens the door to the vault and inside are row upon row of sperm samples, neatly labelled.
The guys says, “Take one of the samples from that shelf and drink it.”
“But they’re sperm samples.”
“I said drink it!”
The nurse braces herself and drinks one sample.
“That one there, drink it as well.”
Again, the nurse obeys and drinks one of the sperm samples.
Finally, after having made the nurse drink four samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, “See, honey, it’s not that hard.”