Craig half expected a bump and grind.

He'd first laid eyes on her, shaded from the sun, sitting elegantly on a rickety wooden bench commanding attention from behind a tidy stall at the Pickering car parts swap.
She was lovely.
He glanced at her a couple of times as he poked around the display, not wanting to stare and give himself away.
Craig wasn't very good at this sort of thing. Didn't get much practice.
Most of the time he mucked about on old cars.  That was why he'd come here, looking for parts again.
She wasn't the sort you'd expect to see sitting amongst all the automotive gubbins.  She was too classy.  She looked gorgeous sheltering from the sun under the fold-out gazebo thing, but even in the shade she had a glow about her.
Really nice.  He wandered about, trying to get get closer, you know, sort of nonchalantly.  Probably sub-consciously he'd bumped into her bench and as he turned had stared at her curves, then immediately embarrassed, flicked his gaze away.  Wanting to sound confident, light hearted,  he'd looked directly at her and said;
"Are you for sale"
What a terrible line. Stupid.
He'd said it loud enough so the bloke at the adjoining stall could hear.
In some ridiculous way he had been  thinking that if he was bold, funny,  it would scare away anyone else who may be less  timid than he was.
It sort of worked, a stilted conversation juddered along from there and, well,  so much had happened after that.
There were long telephone calls, uncomfortable silences, a couple of meetings which went pretty well,  and now she was here, settled in his spare room, all rather quickly really.
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As he lay in his dark bedroom, it was that first sunny day he was recalling, about a month ago, exactly a month ago actually.
He fumbled for his phone on the bedside table and stroked the screen.
The light made him squint, 3:30am. He let out a groan.
He'd set the alarm for 6:30 so he would have plenty of time to get ready.
He wanted to be up and with her early but he had woken too soon and he was nervous, excited,  he knew he wouldn't get back to sleep. She was laying down there in the spare room, under her covers.  They'd been in the kitchen all last night, mostly him talking to her, it had only been a month, but they had been through a lot, hadn't they,  especially the last two weeks, and everything was going well. Wasn't it?
He had got the clear feeling she was ready for the next, yeah, the big, step. Well of course she hadn't said anything, she wouldn't,  but he knew.
She'd been staying in the spare room for a fortnight.  He'd been rushing home from work every night to spend time with her, they were getting on great, things kept falling into place, it was all working out better than he could have hoped.  He was prepared to commit to what ever it took to make it work now.   Impossible, silly really, for him to say if she liked the situation as much, her alone downstairs, away from her home, but today would tell, he supposed.  All or nothing. ... Nothing ventured, nothing gained...

This would be, if it happened, it'd be the first time for both of them.  Well, the first time together, he knew she had done it all before, just by the ease with which she moved to his touch, the feel of her, and she was older than him.
Craig, ... well, there had been other times,  him fumbling around a bit, grunting and poking, but yes, this time would be his first time when he could give her as long as she needed, a whole weekend, a proper job. He relaxed into his pillow and imagined the way this morning might play out and he smiled...

The alarm sounded. 6:30am.
He stirred in his sleep rolling onto the phone, the movement stopped the noise.
It was 8 o'clock when he woke up with the phone stuck to his arm.

Oh Nooo! ... He raced into the shower, pulled on his shorts, a clean T shirt, his jeans and forced himself to walk slowly down stairs.

He made a coffee and opened the door, she lay there, under the covers, temptingly.  He put the coffee on the bench beside her and gently moved the covers back a little, not wanting to have them drag on her delicacy.
She rocked slightly at the friction and as she did the covers fell, exposing her.  Craig could see all her features.  He was hopelessly captivated as with no further resistance, she allowed the covers to be fully removed.  It was as if she had been waiting patiently for him, all prepared and inviting the game.

 A delicious game, a beautiful and sensual game, a game Craig had been waiting years for. He pulled her closer to him.
She was receptive one moment, then challenging, resistant and teasing.  Craig just wanted to smother her with kisses every time she moved but he had resolved to play and enjoy his game too.
He reached for the oil, the smell so evocative of everything he wanted from her, he let it roll into her every crevasse,  with the gentlest of movements encouraging it into surfaces so welcoming of its soft salve.  He ran his hands over every oil-needy curve, gently brushing past her nipples, he'd pay special attention to those, later.
As he moved her slightly, she let out a small gurgle of readiness, no words were necessary, Craig was past waiting, past playing,  he began to encourage her strokes until she caught his intentions and matched her thrusts with his desires.
Craig had half expected a bump or a grind but this was nothing like that.  The slow smooth thrusts increased alarmingly and the rising, tingly vibrations were amazing to him as she began to rock and growl at him.
He was ecstatic, lost in the rapture as she sucked in gulps of air mixed with his breath.  She seemed to catch fire and exhale her flaming energies until her excited scent filled the whole room and every nuance of Craig's being.  He nearly exploded with the glee of it and yelled unintelligibly at the ceiling, punching the air and kissing her on the middle of her head.

Then common sense rushed over him, she didn't have much fuel in her, he couldn't remember if he'd even topped up her coolant, and without her engine pipes and silencer on she was making a racket the neighbours would complain about in seconds.  Reluctantly he reached down and disconnected her ignition.
Two weeks of fault finding, tinkering and tuning and she'd started first time.
He knew she would. What a great buy this old engine was, he'd known she would be, the minute he'd spotted her under that gazebo...

It's the blood

It’s just the blood that bothers me.

How many times do I wake with the dread of blood dripping from my hands and staining the bed sheets? This can not be a normal nightmare, but I dream it every night.  

This morning I woke to find I was washing my hands, trying to remove all evidence of it.

The bruises and scars I can hide or cover, but the blood,,,  it seeps through, it stains, I’m forever washing it away. I have to wash it completely away.  Completely.

But really, I can bear the dreams, it’s this blood I can’t stand.

I hate it.  The way it oozes, trickles and flows so slowly.  The stubborn dried edge it leaves when wiped quickly away, the obvious smears.  My blood drips, pools, it always needs immediate attention if it is not to stain. And now I am getting  very tired.

He will be back again soon, I do miss him, but I can’t reach to stop it spreading.  And I’m getting even weaker.  It’s terrible to think how upset he will be.

I haven’t been able to get free of these bindings, so, at least he’ll know I’ve not been flirting.  I’ll have to stop trying to reach… I’m,  so tired….. I hope he comes home soon … but,    I,    am,    so,    tired…  So tired.       I can’t begin to think of what to make him for supper……

So …  ti . r..e…d     ………………………….

Murder Site

the Yorkshire ridings mag ran a competition with a 200 quid prize.  rules were.  1000 words, a murder, in Yorkshire, fictional, not defamatory, in by August 20 , as many stories as you like, entry free.  This was my first attempt, I may try others, I have not really got the handle on murders.  

MURDER SITE.

MURDER SITE.

Sorry to call you in your office.

That’s okay, it’s 6pm here you know.

Oh…. right…. Mate,  are you sure you want to build such a huge family home there?  Have you seen the site?

No, but it’s nice there in Whitby.  Pubs, shops, the ocean.   Why wouldn’t we want to?  Anyway ….it’s right where Jenny grew up.  Jenny's the one driving it.  Why?  Isn't it going well?

Mate, Hasn't been easy but, ... perfect site, not overlooked, views over the beach.

Sounds fantastic, what’s your problem?. 

I gotta tell you, that address….  mostly family-owned terraced houses …it's no easy building site.

So? I told you, we buy the terraces, knock them down and voila!   Building site. What’s your problem?

Mate. ... You’ll need five terraces for your house.   I’ve door-knocked that block of five annually, the ones with the best views. No-one wants to sell. 

That’s why I hired you…..

Well, turns out that was a good decision.  Yesterday, I get answers from the two homes each side of the middle one, find out both owners died seperatly last week. I go in, talk to the families, poke around, and now they both want to sell. 

Gees, what happened?

Oh, the old bloke fell down the stairs and broke his neck.  The neighbour, old Mr. Walker, hears the thump,  rushes next door, finds him dead.  The other one, other side of Walker,  young teacher, starting up her car the next day and it bursts into flames. Poor old Walker had to call the 999, watching her fry in the blaze.

Gawd, that’s horrible.

Yeah, yeah, suppose so…BUT!  I’m signing the families up and can start working on the other three.  I’ll see if we can’t put the whole site together for you.  Old Walker, he’s got to be an easy target now….

Well… okay, keep me posted.  But that’s terrible news.

Yeah,  perhaps, let you go then,  call you in a fortnight!

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Mate!  Great news!, well, sort of, about your site … I’ve locked in another owner! 

Really?  Which one?  Mr. Walker?

Nah.  That bloke’s traumatized.  I got the one on the far left end.  You won’t believe it, she took real ill, died on the way to hospital.  Ate some sort of cake with nuts in it,   had something called anaphylactic shock…...  I was only having a cuppa with her the day before.

Hell,  those terraces are cursed.  I'm  wondering if the site's going to make such a happy home for us now..

Nah mate.  These things happen.  Her daughter signed right up!  Only two to go now. It’ll be lovely. Don’t you or Jenny worry about it.   I’ll keep you posted.    Sorry to call you on the weekend.

Yeah, it’s only 7am here. 

Oh, sorry,

 Hope your next call has happier news.

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Mate!  I know it’s been weeks,  Did I get the time right for New York this time? 3 o'clock? 

Mm.  How’s the site going?  Got Walker yet?

Nah, but I am going to see him tomorrow.   He’s the last one!

What? You got the end terrace to sign? Well done…

Well,  not actually.  It burnt out.  Electrical failure.  Place was a council property.  I got them to sell as is!  I’ve nearly got them all,  and within budget!  So it’s me and old Walker tomorrow, I’ll have it all wrapped up for you by the end of the week!

That’s good news… I suppose…. Let me know how it goes with Mr. Walker.

Sure will.  Mate? How badly do you want this site? Walker’s the middle terrace.  What can I offer to lock him in?

As little as possible. You know the budget. Hasn’t changed. Don’t call me until you have done the deal.

Right mate! Be calling you soon!.

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Good afternoon Mr. Walker.  Thanks for letting me come round for this chat...  You know why I’m here……

Oh yes.  You want me to sell you my old house don’t you?

That’s no secret Mr. Walker. 

It sure isn’t.  Well young man, I hope you have very deep pockets.

To be fair Mr. Walker your house is only worth what it’s worth to my client.

Well.  That would be quite a lot now wouldn’t it?  What with all the other purchases you have “arranged” for him.

Um…Okay…Let’s just talk numbers, Mr. Walker.  Houses in this road sell for 180 to 200 thousand. We’re prepared to offer you 257 grand..

Ha! 257? You’re not even close. …. Considering….,  I might just tell the cops you have been killing off my neighbours, sabotaging them….  

Mr. Walker!...  A horrible thing to say! … I’m staggered!....  Think of the families, all the suffering,  those terrible accidents ….

Huh!    Accidents …..   I want a million or no deal.

Mr. Walker, honestly, I am offended.   I’m not negotiating any more today.  We are too far apart. Consider your options.

Fine then, you come back with a better offer, or a good alibi, or both.   And shut that door on your way out.

I will be back Mr. Walker, but my offer won’t be near a million.  And please.  Consider what’s happened,,, very carefully.

Okay young man. …I will … Hey, Wait up!  Your office is next to the newsagent…… See those four things on the table? Take them back to Lucy for me will you?   She left them here this morning.

Sure Mr. Walker, but think carefully about your price.  No silly threats, okay?  Goodbye.

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Hello? Sergeant Taylor? John Walker here.  Yes. ..Yes….He’s leaving now….   Yes, I’m sure.  He threatened me.  Showed me ground-up nuts he used, the trip wire, the cut-off petrol line, and the electric fuse. Laid them out, like that, all in order of the properties, right here on my table.  Yes, he’s taken them. Thanks Sergeant.  Glad we’ll catch the blighter.  ‘Bye.

- - - - - - -----------------------------------------------------

Hello? Hello!   How’s my favourite Son-in Law?   Jenny still enjoying New York?  Yes, yes, everything went just like you planned. He fell right in.  So,?  You ready to build our big new family home here?