Date: Sat, 8 Sep 2012 08:50:25 +0200
From: Amy Redek <adultreading@gmail.com>
Subject: The Horseshoe. Part Two.

      This story is for persons of eighteen years or over.  All comments,
good or bad, are welcome and all will be answered.

Part Two.

   Both men exchanged glances as they watched her saunter back up the
drive. But before they could exchange words, a large limousine pulled up at
the gates and the horn sounded. The driver's window came down and the head
of Phil, Sven Dali's bodyguard showed.

   `Open the fucking gate man,' he called out.

   Mark operated the switch for them to open, and as the car swept in, Phil
shouted out again. `Don't keep us waiting next time, or you'll be out of a
job,' as the car continued up to their house.

   `Fuck you too,' said Karl as the gates started to close after the car
was inside.

   `Get a load of that,' Wesley said, seeing Judy walk up her drive, as
they turned into theirs. `She can sit on my face anytime she wants to.'

   `She'd probably think it was the sofa, you hairy mutt,' Phil answered.

   `Who was that then?' Sven asked as they got out of the car.

   `I think it was the kid from number six,' Lars replied.

   `She's no kid,' said Paul, `that man, is ripe pussy. Just the kind I
like. Clean and fresh. Not like the dirty scrubbers you seem to pick up,'
he said as he aimed at punch at Lars who ducked and caught Paul with a left
hook into his midriff. Paul managed to head butt back as he bent over from
the blow. Wesley got between them as they both fell down on the drive.

   `Cut it out and get inside. You're creating a bad image with the
neighbours,' he said, standing over them. He shook his head wondering why
he bothered being a bodyguard. He seemed to spend more time keeping them
apart from each other than protecting them from their fans. Phil pulled up
Lars by the scruff of the neck and propelled him towards the front door
that Natasha had opened. Sven looked on with amusement, and stroked the
cheek of Klaus.

   `I'm glad that you don't fight like them. Mustn't spoil your pretty
looks, must we,' he said. Klaus pushed the hand away as he went inside, not
looking at Natasha to see the look of distaste on her face.

   Damien flustered about getting everyone into the house, and wiping his
face with a large handkerchief when they were all inside and the door
closed. They trooped into the lounge and all sprawled out in various chairs
and sofas for the meeting that Damien had called for.

   `Fix some drinks Phil, Wes,' Sven called from the sofa, `and have one
yourselves.' They went to the drinks trolley while everybody settled
themselves down. Lars and Paul sitting on opposite sides of the room. Sven
pulled Natasha down next to him and whispered into her ear and she shook
her head, but stayed next to him.

   Phil handed round the drinks and then with everyone having a glass in
their hands, Damien stood up and started to pace the room as he talked.

   `You all know what the future plans are, but in case it has slipped
anyone's mind, I'll just give you a recap as of this moment. We're only
four days away from finishing the latest disc recording. Then we are going
to have a small party here before we have the big promotion at the
B.B.C. studios at the end of the month. Following that, there are four gigs
lined up before we can have a week off before we start on the American
tour, timed with the release of this latest album.

   Any questions so far, because if there is, I don't want to hear
them. The only excuse I'll accept is if it comes from the morgue, and it's
being made on your behalf. You two,' pointing at Lars and then at Paul,
`cut out the fighting in public. Also, while I'm at it, stop balling the
underage chicks, pick an old broad like Natasha here.'

   They all sniggered at that, while she bristled and shouted out that she
wasn't old, spilling her drink over Sven as she did so. He slapped her for
that and said, `He didn't call you a slut, so that's a bonus.' She started
to say something else, but as he raised his hand, she closed her mouth and
slumped back into her seat.

   `Sorry Natasha,' Damien said, and carried on, `but you others' know what
I mean. Then comes the drugs. No one, but no one is to carry anything into
the U.S., and I mean nothing. No crack, smack or grass. Not even a damned
Aspirin. Do I make myself clear?' He looked at everyone in turn as he drank
from his glass.

   `We go through customs clean, understand! If you want anything, you know
damn well you can find it over there without carrying the damned stuff. Now
about the chat shows.' On he went about what to say and what to keep quiet
on. Then about the forthcoming gigs etc. He talked for nearly two hours and
he started to lose them.

   Lars and Paul had rolled some joints and were smoking them. Sven had
Natasha's tit out of her dress and was playing with the nipple. Wesley and
Phil were steadily drinking, and it was only Klaus who was really listening
to Damien's speech.

   `Well I hope that's now understood by you all,' he finished off, `now
let's have another drink and something to eat.'

   `Come on girl,' Sven said, pushing her exposed breast back into her
dress, `be a good girl and go get us dinner. Klaus! Go and help her.' He
then reached out and took the roach from Paul and leaned back smoking it.

   It was late in the evening before a taxi arrived, and Damien, Paul and
Lars went off, back to London. Natasha was annoyed that Sven asked Klaus to
stay over for the night. She knew what that meant and as the others left,
Wesley and Phil made sure the place was secure as Sven and Klaus staggered
upstairs, half drunk and half stoned. Natasha said goodnight to the heavies
and slowly went upstairs herself.

   She went into the main bedroom and saw that they were both falling about
trying to get undressed. She carried on into the bathroom and undressed and
washed herself before re-entering the room. Sven and Klaus were already in
bed and Sven pushed Klaus to one side for Natasha to climb in the huge bed
between them. She dropped her dressing gown, and naked, got into the
proffered space. She had stopped wearing nightgowns, as they usually got
ripped or torn as soon as he wanted sex.

   It was with drunken fumblings that Sven mounted her, thrusting in and
out of her, his breath making her turn her head to one side. While Sven
fucked, Klaus fondled her breasts and stroked the naked back of Sven.

   She was thankful when they fell asleep, but knew they would do the same
again in the morning.

                                                         *

   Mike Stevens, our footballer, was up early as usual and donning shorts,
trainers and a sweatshirt, left Silvia asleep as he let himself out of the
house and did two laps of the estate to loosen his muscles.

   Vanessa Brice, the novelist, from her bedroom window, watched him. She
was still in her nightdress and thinking what a fine young figure of a man
he was. She sighed for her lost youth though she was only just into her
thirties. She had only lain once with just such a man, enchanted by the
smoothness of the skin, the hardness of the muscles and the fairness of
face. But was disappointed by the act of being penetrated by a man. Being
used as a receptacle for his seed was not to her liking, being dominated by
him and the act of sex with a man.

   She could still admire the beauty of man, like the ancient Greek statues
of their athletes and Gods. Her own beauty had attracted men like moths to
a candle, but she would not let another man touch her. It also brought
women admirers and here found the love she could accept. The softness of
another woman was returned caresses of the soft hands, the probing fingers
that knew just where to touch her.

   Her work suffered as a result of her female love, and when that love was
stolen away by another woman, she wept, and threw herself into her writings
and produced another bestseller.

   She liked her new house, the solitude for her to create, but still had
pangs of hunger for another woman's touch upon her body. She found her
hands crushing her breasts, so she gave out a sigh and turned from the
window to go for her shower before having breakfast.

   Stephen, having completed his two laps and feeling his muscles start to
loosen, fetched up at the gates to the estate. He waved to Carlos, one of
the night guards, who waved back and opened the electric side gate for him
to go out for his four mile run along the country lanes.

   He arrived back just as the guards where changing shifts, was let in and
carried on jogging up to his house. He banged on George's door as he passed
on to his own and found that Silvia was awake but still in bed as he
entered the bedroom. He stripped off his clothes and jumped on the bed,
pulling down the covering from Silvia. Her body still aroused him as he saw
her naked below him. His penis rose up till it was rock hard and he knelt
between her legs as they opened, and he pushed himself into her.

   `God, I love it when you're all sweaty like this,' she moaned as her
hands ran through the sweat on his back as he pumped himself into her. Her
hands then held his face as she moved in time to his movements, her legs
going up around his waist.

   `You're not playing football now,' she gasped out.

   `Of course not,' he grunted, `we're having a fuck.'

   `Then why are you dribbling?' she gurgled.

   He laughed as he wiped his mouth and gave extra thrusts as he came
inside her, smearing his sweat over her breasts as he fell upon her.

   They showered together, washing his sweat from both their bodies as they
touched and fondled in the shower. They got dressed and went down to have
breakfast, but Silvia stopped at George's room and opened the door.

   `Time for breakfast. Ooops! Sorry,' she said, shutting the door
quickly. She had seen George, with a smirk on his face, lying on the bed
with his erection in Celia's mouth being given a blow job. Stephen laughed
when she told him what she'd seen.

   `My turn next,' he said to Celia when she entered the kitchen. Celia
blushed and George grinned.

   `No one gives better head than Celia,' George declared.

  `You're wrong,' Stephen said, `Silvia gives the best head in town.'

   `That's easy to say, but doesn't prove anything,' George replied,
sitting down at the opposite end of the table. Silvia turned to Celia and
whispered into her ear as the two men argued.

   `Okay,' said Silvia, `Celia and I have decided there's only one way to
prove it.' She stood there with her hands on her hips, and Celia adopted
the same pose, nodding her head. George and Stephen looked at each
quizzically.

   `Here's what you do. Both of you put your hands on the table and keep
them there. No moving or the games off, right? We'll be going under the
table and moving about. You'll be given two goes, and then you'll have to
say which one was given by whom. Okay?'

   The two men looked again at each other, grinning and nodding their
heads. The girls then disappeared beneath the table and there they shuffled
about so that the men didn't know which girl was at what end of the table.

   They continued grinning at each other as they felt their erections,
which had risen at the outset, being pulled free from their trousers. Then
they gasped as each had a hot wet mouth close over the heads of their
respective cocks. Mouth's, lips and tongues were used to make them squirm,
before they were released and the two men let out their held breaths with
big sighs.

   They could hear the girl's shuffling about before there was a repeat
performance, and once again their cocks were taken into warm wet cavities,
being pleasured once again. Stephen and George were trying to hold back,
restraining themselves to try and guess which girl was on the end of their
cocks, when they were yet again released, and the two girls moved about
before emerging from under the table with grins on their faces.

   `Godammit woman,' Stephen yelled, `whichever! I was just about to come!'

   `So was I,' echoed George.

   `Finish the job,' Stephen demanded.

   Silvia and Celia, still on their knees looked at each other, and nodded,
and disappeared again. They moved about once more before the straining
cocks were once again engulfed. This time, the men bucked their hips,
shooting their loads into the receptive mouths, jerking as each load came
and was swallowed. The heads were licked clean before the girls moved in
unison under the table. Moving about so that they couldn't be identified as
they emerged.

   They came out, licking their lips, and sat at the table while the men
put away their tackle.

   `Well?' demanded Silvia, `did you, or should I say, were you able to
identify who was taking who?'

   The two men looked at each other, and it was George who spoke first.

   `The first one was Celia. The second was Silvia, and the third, well, I
think it was Celia again.'

   `That's what I was going to say,' said Stephen. The two girls looked at
each other. `But then, it could have been the other way round.'

   `Okay, we can't say which was which. You tell us,' said George.

   `Oh no,' Silvia replied, `if you can't be certain yourselves, why should
we tell you.'

   `That's right,' said Celia, `our lips are sealed.'

   They both burst out laughing at what she had just said. Stephen looked
across at George. `I couldn't tell, really. Could you?' he asked.

   `No. But at least we had a fucking good blow job eh?'

   They both laughed at the thought of the girls milling around under the
table sucking their cocks and swallowing their come.

                                                        *

   "She felt his warm breath on her cheek as his soft hand touched her
bosom."

    `Crap,' said Vanessa out loud, as she tore the piece of paper out of
the typewriter. `He'd been drinking and he was a miner for Christ's
sake. His hands were rough and callused. Not soft!' She screwed the paper
up and threw it into the waste basket. She got up from her desk and
wandered through into the lounge and stood looking out of the front window,
trying to get inspiration.

   Vanessa saw the front door of the house opposite open and Mr and Mrs
Wilson emerge. They were talking as they walked round to the garage door,
which seemed to start to open as if by magic. Using the remote in his
pocket, Vanessa thought. So they are our lottery winners. Late thirties,
I'd say, and she's not bad looking at that. On an impulse, Vanessa left the
lounge, and primping her hair in the hall mirror, picked up the front door
key and went outside.

   She walked down to the road and crossed it as Mr Wilson drove out of his
garage. He waved to his wife and gave a little wave to Vanessa as he pulled
off their drive and turned the car towards the gate.

   `Hello. I'm Vanessa Brice, and you must be Mrs Wilson.'

   `Yes, I am. Jane Wilson. How do you do?' she replied, holding out her
hand. Vanessa took it gently in her own hand and slowly shook it.

   `I thought it was about time to come and introduce myself to you and
your husband, but I appear to have picked the wrong time. I've just missed
him. Will he be gone long?' Vanessa asked.

   `I'm afraid so. He plans to be up in London all day, and may stay
overnight. But anyway, do come in for a cup of tea or coffee. Please?' Jane
asked.

   `Thank you very much. I'd love to,' Vanessa replied.

   They went into the house and then the kitchen. Vanessa complimented Jane
on her choice of furniture in the kitchen while the kettle boiled and the
tea was made, though Vanessa had coffee. They talked for an hour, getting
along quite well. Jane spoke of the change to the family with their
windfall, and of how nice it was to live in the country. She then asked
Vanessa about her books, confessing not to have read any. Vanessa patted
her hand, telling her that many people hadn't, so she would give her some,
to read and keep.

   Jane was just clearing away the tea things when she dropped a spoon and
then bent down to pick it up.

   `Aaargh,' she said, clutching at her back as she slowly straightened
up. Vanessa was quickly up from her chair to help her to sit down, rubbing
Jane's back as she did so.

   `What happened?' Vanessa asked, concern in her voice.

   `Oh it was some years ago that I put my back out. I just get caught out
now and again if I bend down wrong. I'll be alright. Judy can give me a
massage when she gets home.'

  `When will that be?' Vanessa asked.

   `I don't know. I'll just lie down till she does.'

   `Don't be silly,' Vanessa said. `I'll give you a massage. If you don`t
mind me saying it, I do a good job. A friend of mine taught me. Now come
on. Let's get you upstairs.'

   `You don't have to do this,' Jane protested, `you've got your work to
do.'

   `Pish! I work when I want to, and the work to be done right now is to
get your back massaged,' Vanessa said, helping Jane up from the chair and
getting her upstairs.

   They went into the main bedroom and got Jane onto the bed, which she did
with a sigh as she laid flat.

   `Now if Judy has massaged you before, where do you keep the oils?'
Vanessa briskly asked.

   `In the bathroom cabinet. Third shelf.'

   Vanessa went in and got them out and took them back into the room and
put them on the side table.

   `Now let's get that dress and blouse off,' Vanessa ordered and helped
Jane undress till she was down to briefs and bra. `Now roll onto your
stomach.'

   As Jane rolled over, Vanessa opened the oils and got on the bed, or
tried to.

   `Damn it. I can't do this with my skirt on.' So Vanessa unclipped the
waist band of her skirt and let it drop to the floor. Then she got onto the
bed and put her knees either side of Jane's hips. As she reached for the
oils, she found her blouse was trailing across the back below her.

   `Sorry Jane. Got to take the blouse off too. It's getting in the way.'
So off came the blouse leaving her the same as Jane. Then with the oil in
her palms, she started at Jane's waist and started to massage the oils into
her body.

   After about five minutes, Jane murmured, `That's good. It's feeling
better already,' as the hands kneaded the muscles of her lower back.

   `Let's take this thing off,' Vanessa said undoing the bra clip and
pushing the straps off the shoulders, `it gets in the way for doing your
upper back.' She pulled the bra out from under Jane before she had time to
protest.

   `That's better,' as her hands went right up the back to the neck, `now
we can do it properly,' she said, working the oils in expertly. Loosening
the shoulder muscles as well as those of the neck.

   `How's that feel now?'

   `Great. Just great,' murmured Jane into the bedcovers.

   `Right. Now roll over for the lower ribs,' said Vanessa, moving off so
that Jane could move. Jane sleepily started to roll onto her back when she
suddenly realised that she wasn't wearing her bra.

   `Oh. I can't,' starting to cover her breasts as she was half over.

   `Nonsense,' said Vanessa, pushing her the rest of the way. `I've seen
breasts before,' getting astride of her again. `From what I've seen so far,
you've got nothing to be ashamed of.'

   Vanessa had her hands on her hips as she looked down on Jane. Uncertain
looks crossed Jane's face as she looked up at Vanessa towering above her.

  `If it makes you more comfortable, I'll do the same.' Her hands went
behind her back and she undid her own bra and pulled it off revealing her
own naked upper torso. `There. Now we're both in the same state. Now let's
get on with the massage.'

   Mesmerised by the sight of this famous novelist's bare breasts before
her, she let her arms drop down to her side.

   `That's better,' Vanessa said, putting more oil onto her hands, `now we
can do the job properly.' Her hands working the oil into the stomach and
lower ribs. Then the lower chest, being careful not to touch the
breasts. The breasts she was so desperate to touch, to gently
massage. Seeing them wobble under the movement of the body, the soft pink
nipples inside the aureole of darker puckered flesh, she ached to bend down
and suck them. To suck them till they were hard little pebbles in her
mouth. She could feel the heat building up between her thighs and the
dampness there.

   But she forced herself to go slow, not to rush herself and spoil this
wonderful chance.

   Jane now started to relax and could enjoy those warm hands rubbing her
stomach and lower ribs as the hands then moved to her upper chest, neck and
shoulder muscles and she opened her eyes to watch Vanessa's breasts slowly
swing back and forth just above her face.

   `They're natural,' Vanessa said, not stopping the slow movement of her
hands, `no silicone in there at all. Feel them, they're still as firm as
they were when I was a teenager. Go on, don't be shy. I'll be doing your
breasts in a minute. They need toning up. They have muscles as well that
have to be looked after. Also, it serves as a check for lumps. You know
what I mean. The curse of us women. Breast cancer. By having a regular
massage, it's as good a check as you'll ever get.'

   Jane tentatively reached up and stopped a swinging breast, feeling the
softness of it beneath her fingers. Her thumb moved across the nipple and
felt it rise to a hard knob. She pulled her hand away, startled at the
response of it. Vanessa kept up her massage of Jane's shoulder muscles,
inwardly smiling to herself. Jane's other hand reached up to the other
swinging breast and held it in her palm, feeling the weight, gently
squeezing as she again aroused the nipple.

   `Now that's enough of mine,' Vanessa said, moving back, `time I worked
on yours.'

   Her hands, freshly oiled, went to one breast, and gently rubbed her
hands round it, working the oil into the flesh as she massaged it. Jane was
looking up at her with a softness in her eyes, not sure how she should
react to this personal attention.

   After five minutes on one, Vanessa started on the other, massaging it
with her soft oiled hands, raising the nipple to rock hardness.

   `That's enough for them two,' she said with a twinkle in her eye, `now
roll over again, and give that back a last rub.' She helped Jane roll over
and then started again to massage her back. Vanessa spent another fifteen
minutes, gently rubbing the oils into Jane's back, feeling her relax under
her fingers.

   `Okay now?' Vanessa asked Jane in a soft voice.

   `Mmmm,' was the response. Vanessa got off the bed and drew the cover up
and over Jane.

   `Have a little sleep for an hour, and you'll feel much better for it,'
Vanessa said softly in her ear. `I'll let myself out.'

   Vanessa quickly and quietly got dressed, and taking a last look at Jane,
who was indeed asleep, went downstairs and out, crossing the road to her
own house.

   Well, as an introduction, it couldn't have gone any better, she
thought. Maybe the next time, or the one after that, she'll be mine. She
smiled at the thought, remembering the soft breasts in her hands, and what
was still there, beneath her panties, to be found out. Starting to feel
damp again between her thighs, Vanessa put a fresh piece of paper in the
typewriter, and typed steadily for the rest of the morning.

   Jane woke up, slightly disorientated, lying across the bed with the bed
cover over her. She sat up and saw that she was almost naked, and then
remembered. Her hands went to her breasts as she lay back down on the bed,
and gently rubbed them with her palms.

   Her emotions were mixed as she imagined they were Vanessa's hands,
rubbing her, raising the nipples to hard knobs of flesh. Though she knew
that she shouldn't have, she had been excited by the touch of another
woman's hands on her breasts. She could also feel herself getting moist
between her legs as she rubbed herself, remembering the touch.

  She got up and went into the shower and as she soaped herself, realised
that her back didn't have a twinge in it. Her hands soaped her breasts and
again her thoughts went elsewhere. What, what if...? Stop it, stop it, her
mind said. Stop these erotic thoughts. You're a married woman with a grown
up daughter, but she still couldn't stop fantasising as she dried herself
and got dressed.

                                                         *

   David Fowler not only looked a mess; he was really in one. He'd been up
all night in what really should have been the reception room of the house,
but he'd turned it into his working office. There were five computers
linked up to cover the major trading centres of the world. Another five
showed the current trading figures that he was dealing in, and they were
not showing what he wanted.

   Ever since the afternoon before, he'd watched the prices slipping. When
New York closed during the night, the Dow Jones Index was down a hundred
points. The Japanese Han Seng was also down this morning by five hundred,
and now the London Stock Exchange opened by going down at the start.

   He was ruined! He was down fourteen million pounds of his own money and
the same amount for his clients. He already had the phones off the hooks,
fax machine unplugged as he sat there in the darkened room, head in his
hands. He was like this when Alice entered the room. She hadn't gone to bed
till late, so she was still tired, but she was worried about David. She was
only wearing a dressing gown when she knelt before him and stroked his
head.

   `How bad is it?' she asked. He gave a sob and raised his tear stained
face.

   `It's finished,' he said in a strangled voice. `I've lost the lot; and
more besides.' He gestured for her to stand up, which she did so. `You're
the only thing I've got left. Drop your robe and let me see you. I want to
take the vision of your beauty with me.' She gave him a puzzled look, but
shrugged off her dressing gown and let it fall to the floor, standing naked
before him.

   `How beautiful you are,' he whispered as he raised the gun she hadn't
seen, in his hand and, putting it to his head, pulled the trigger.

   Alice screamed as she saw his head burst open and half the contents
splatter her naked body. The force of the explosion also throwing his body
against her, smearing his blood and brains over her chest and stomach. She
recoiled with the impact, still screaming. Her hands tearing at her hair as
she wildly stared at his body on the floor, and still screaming, ran out of
the house through the front door.

   Karl, who had come out of his office at the gate on hearing the gunshot
had surmised correctly where it had come from. He ran up the lawn just as
the bloody naked figure of Alice came hurtling out. They collided and fell
down on the grass, her still screaming and then trying to fight off Karl
who was trying to restrain her from running around the estate without any
clothes on.

   Margaret Mattock happened to be outside the front of her house when the
shot was fired. She saw Karl start to run up to number one, so she also ran
down her drive and towards the house number one. She saw the naked Alice
come running out and crash into Karl, and the both of them fall to the
ground.

   Mark also appeared on the run, arriving at the same time as Margaret.

   `Get an doctor, ambulance and the police, quick,' Karl shouted out to
Mark above the screaming of Alice. `Find something to cover her with,' he
shouted at Margaret. Mark went into the house through the open door
followed by Margaret. Mark saw the bloody handprint on the door to the
reception room and suddenly stopped Margaret from following him.

   `Wait here,' he said as he went into the room. The first thing he saw
was the almost headless body of David Fowler stretched out across the
floor, next to the bath robe of Alice. Stifling the rising gorge in his
throat, he snatched up the robe and took it out and gave it to Margaret,
who in turn, ran outside with it.

   It was very difficult to get the robe on the writhing girl, but they
managed it as Mark came out and joined them.

   `Doctor's on his way, as are the police and an ambulance. What are we
going to do with her?' he asked, indicating the still shouting Alice,
though not as loud as before.

   `The doctor will probably sedate her when he gets here.'

   `Which shouldn't be long,' Mark said. `He was in his car quite close to
here as it happens. But where can we put her. She can't go back in
there. The police will probably seal it off.'

   `She can come to my house,' Margaret said, `we've got plenty of room.'

   `Okay. Give us a hand Mark,' Karl said getting up off of Alice but not
letting go of her. Mark helped him to get her up off the grass. Margaret
took her other arm, and with Karl, they made their way up to Margaret's
house. Mark had to stay back to wait for the avalanche of officialdom that
was about to hit the Horseshoe.

   The doctor arrived and was directed up to number five to see to the
still hysterical Alice. When he entered the bedroom, he asked Karl to wait
outside, and as he sedated Alice, Margaret sponged the blood and gore off
her body and they both tucked her up in the bed.

   `She'll be out for about eight hours with that lot inside her. There's
no need to sit here all the time. Just look in from time to time. I'll call
back about six o'clock, she'll just be about coming round by then.'

   `That's alright doctor. I'll keep an eye on her,' Margaret replied, as
the doctor left the room. He walked downstairs with Karl and told him to
keep himself handy, but said that he thought she would okay now. They
walked down the drive to David's house and arrived there at the same time
as the police.

   The police went inside with the doctor and after half an hour, took
statements from both Karl and Mark. The detective inspector was
disappointed that he couldn't get a statement from Alice, but agreed to
return later with the doctor. In the meantime, David's body was stretchered
out and put into the ambulance which then left for the hospital morgue.

   The doctor and the police left, leaving one policeman on duty outside
the front door till the forensics could go over the scene. Nobody else who
was on the estate knew what had happened, nor those outside.

   Stephen Mattock arrived home early, idly noticing the policeman standing
there outside of number one, but not giving it any heed. He parked the car
and went into his home and called out to Margaret as he entered, but didn't
get any reply. He left his briefcase on the hallstand and went upstairs to
his room, where he undressed and got into the shower. He was rinsing
himself off when he heard Margaret enter the bedroom.

   `Hello dear,' his wife called out before she entered the bathroom. He
turned off the water and stepped out of the shower and started to towel
himself. She entered the bathroom and sat down on the toilet seat.

   `Did you hear what happened here this morning?` she asked.

   `No? Why, what happened?' he asked, rubbing himself briskly.

   `The man at number one shot himself this morning.'

   `What!' Stephen almost shouted, `shot himself? Suicide? There was
nothing on the wire when I left. Have the press been here?' He dropped the
towel and grabbed his bathrobe.

   `No. There's been no press here at all.' She answered.

   `Why didn't you call me straight away,' he said going into the bedroom
and picking up the phone.

   `I've been too busy looking after his girl friend. She was in the room
when he did it. You should have seen her. She was still naked and covered
in his blood when we brought her here.'

   `Here? She's here?' he asked, slamming the phone back down. `Have the
police spoken to her yet?'

   `No. She was sedated by the doctor before they got here. They're calling
back later this evening to get a statement from her when she comes
round. She's in the back spare room. I put her there.'

   `Exclusive!' he exclaimed, tying his robe. `I'm going in to talk to her
before the police do.' He strode from the room and went down the hall to
the room where Alice was. `Don't let anyone in the house till I've finished
with her,' he said, `you go on downstairs. Go on!' he urged.

   He turned and went into the room where Alice lay. He quietly closed the
door, and silently turned the key, locking the door behind him. The
curtains had been drawn together making the light dim inside the room. He
went across to the bed and looked down at Alice sleeping there, moving her
head from side to side, a frown on her forehead. Stephen pulled the covers
back and saw that she was still naked and he got an instant hard on at
seeing her lying there, vulnerable and unprotected.

   He guiltily looked back at the door as he made a decision and undid his
robe and dropped it to the floor and got into bed beside the semiconscious
Alice. A beauty like this, doped and at his mercy made his balls ache. His
hand stroked her breasts and her flat stomach and his fingers lingered in
her pubic hairs.

   He tried talking to her softly, but couldn't get any response. So with
his hand wandering up and down her comatose body, fingering her, spreading
her legs, he then covered her body with his and raped her.

   Alice was still muttering when he'd finished and he carefully wiped her
with the hem of his dressing gown before tucking the bedclothes back tidily
again. Putting back on his gown again, sexually satisfied, he let himself
out of the room and went to his own and got dressed.

   `How is she,' Margaret asked as he entered the lounge.

   `Still under. Couldn't get any sense out of her. I suppose we'll have to
wait till she comes round. I'll be in the study. Keep an eye out for the
doctor or the police and let me know the moment you see them. That's before
they get here, alright?'

   `Yes dear,' Margaret replied.

   He went straight to his desk and took out a tape recorder, making sure
that he had a fresh tape inside and then went upstairs and placed it in the
room where Alice was. All it needed now was for him to get in the room
first and press the start button.

   Back in the study, he phoned his newspaper, asking for his editor.

   `Listen Peter. Clear the headlines for tomorrow's edition.'

   He then dictated briefly what he knew, but told him to stay in the
office as he would be getting an exclusive interview later, leaving the
editor to find out the background of David Fowler and his girl friend
Alice.

   There was a tap as the study door and Margaret popped her head round it.

   `There's two cars just coming into the estate. One of them is the
doctor. The other must be the police. I'll just pop upstairs to see if
she's alright.'

   `No. I'll go. I want something from my dresser. I'll look in. You wait
for them to knock at the door.'

   He hastened upstairs and went into the bedroom. Alice was awake now.

   `Who...who...are you,' she said sleepily, not yet aware of her
surroundings. He heard the doorbell downstairs.

   `Don't worry about me. The doctor's on his way up to see you.' Stephen
turned on the tape recorder and left the room, meeting the doctor and
police inspector at the top of the stairs.

   He introduced himself and told them that she was just coming round. He
saw them to the room and left them there.

   Stephen and Margaret met the two men when they came downstairs, an hour
and a half later.

   `I know it's an imposition Mrs Mattock, but can Alice Drupe stay with
you here for the night?' the inspector asked, `because she is still groggy,
and the forensic team won't be finished till tomorrow morning. I've been in
touch with the agents, and they are sending in a specialist cleaning
company after our lot are finished to clean up the room.'

   `Of course she can,' Stephen got in first. `She can stay until she feels
that she can go back in there.'

   `What about getting some clothes out for her,' Margaret asked.

   `I'll get an officer to bring some up in a little while. Thank you both
very much for your co-operation.'

   With that, the inspector and the doctor left. The doctor saying that she
would be alright for the night, but he would still drop by in the morning.

   `I'll go up and see if she needs anything,' Margaret said.

   `No. I'll do that. You put the kettle on and make her some tea. I'll
tell her that you'll be bringing it up,' said Stephen, going up the
stairs. He knocked on the door of the bedroom before entering.

   `Well young lady. How are you feeling now, better I hope?' he boomed
out, moving round the bed.

   `F...fine...thank you. I'm sorry to be so much trouble, but...'

   `Don't think about it. You just have a good rest. Mrs Mattock is
bringing you up some tea.' He turned, and without her seeing, retrieved the
tape recorder, turning it off before putting it in his pocket.

   `Er...Mr Mattock,' Alice said hesitantly from the bed.

   `Yes?' he asked turning and moving toward the door.

   `Was...when...did...did anybody come in here while I was, er, asleep?'
she asked quietly.

   `Only Mrs Mattock. Kept popping in and out to see that you were okay,
why?'

   `It's...it's just. Nothing... I just thought... Maybe it was my
dreaming.' She said closing her eyes. She seemed to remember hands touching
and caressing her, and felt that she had also had sex.

   `You'll be okay in the morning,' Stephen said, leaving the room.

   He ignored Margaret as he hurried down the stairs and into his study,
sitting down and switching on the recorder, rewinding it, and listening to
what was said in the bedroom between Alice and the police.

   He wrote feverishly as he listened to the questions and answers, till
the tape ended. Then he was on the phone to his editor, and after listening
to what he had learnt of David's business deals, and the names of some of
his clients.

   `Well they're in for a big shock in the morning, finding out from us
that they've lost their money.' He went on to dictate the headlines for the
various newspapers and tabloids that he controlled.

   The two tabloid headlines ran "Whizz Kid Goes Bang", and "Fowler Fouls
Up". The more up market newspaper read "Tycoon Suicide at Market Collapse".

   When the newspapers landed on various breakfast tables, this was the
first anybody knew of the collapse of David's business. Ten of his clients
had been named in the papers at how much they had lost. One died of a heart
attack, another had a stroke, but was still on a life support system at the
time the afternoon editions came out.

   The Horseshoe had not been named as the address of Fowler, but it didn't
take the other papers long to find out and descend on the estate. Mark and
Karl held the gate with the help of Adam Sinclair, the estate gardener, and
Wayne Richards, the pool man. They refused entry and all questions, and
countered with the threat that the estate was private property, and any one
of them attempting to intrude, would be arrested and charged with trespass.

   Mark Stevens was lucky enough to get his run down the lanes and back
before the siege. Jim Wilson wasn't so lucky. He hadn't seen a newspaper
that morning, and on his drive home, played tapes instead of having the
radio on, so was completely bewildered by the crowd around his car as he
arrived at the gates.

   Alarmed at the sudden surge of people around his car, he banged his hand
down on the door locking mechanism, expecting to be attacked and pulled out
of the vehicle. He sounded the horn, keeping his hand on it as he inched
forward to the gates, and was relieved to see them open, as he pressed down
on the accelerator and shot the car inside, and in the rear view mirror,
see them close behind him.

   Still shaking, he drove up to his garage and got out to demand of Jane,
what in the hell was happening. She told him as they went into the house.

   Two helicopters circled the Horseshoe, taking photographs, and these,
plus those taken from the gates, were the only ones later published in the
papers other than that owned my Mattock.

   Having been scooped, the reporters soon departed, and the following day,
the gates were clear. Other news had taken place to occupy the press.

                                                         *