The Lover's Children

Chapter 125 – Autumn’s Fury – Part 17

HARKNESS

“Why would I want a dried-up hag like you? When I can have her. And she's the hooker.”

“No, she’s not.” She shakes her head, sounding almost convincing. “You’ve got that wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen her. Making out with three of them so far. And that’s just what I’ve seen.”

“It was a fake. She’s a fake. It was just to draw you out. Everyone knows what you like. Long hair. A

good body. The police thought you might come here. So…” she jerks her head, off-handedly, at the

other one… “…she was acting up to try and draw you. The men knew about the hoax. They were

helping. Trying to lure you out of hiding.”

“So, why’s there only you two here now? Why have they left you alone?”

She shrugs. “They’d given up on you. Thought you must have gone away somewhere.” She strikes a

pose, running hands over herself, her tits, her hips. “You want a real hooker. A real whore. One who

knows what she’s doing.”

She tilts up her chin, meets me squarely in the eye. “A woman who knows what she’s doing with a

man.”

“You really think you're something, don't you?”

“I think I'm what you want.”

“You’re not a hooker.”

“I was. For years and years. And like they say…” She simpers at me, slipping open the top button of

her blouse and giving me a bit of cleavage…

Good tits…

“…once a whore, always a whore.”

My cock twitches and my balls tighten.

“Mom…”

Her voice sharpens… “Jenny! Shut up!” …then softens as she turns back to me. “I've seen those

photos. Read the reports and the newspapers. It was your mother, wasn't it?”

wtf?

“What would you know about my mother?”

“She gave you everything. Allowed you everything. Because it suited her that you were her perfect little

boy. Just what she wanted. So ordinary. No competition at all. No competition for her anyway. Not like

your sister.”

I don’t reply. She pauses, then continues… “But she had a string of men, didn’t she. Used them for the

money, then moved on to the next one. She was a hooker too, but they didn’t call it that because she’s

not on the street. She was the dishonest kind. Offered one deal to all those schmucks in her life but

gave them another…”

“She was a whore then. She still is.”

“I thought so. Did she like it? When they told her she was beautiful? I bet she enjoyed the flattery.

Enjoyed it more when they gave her money but then she kicked them out after she’d bled them dry.”

“Yes, she did.”

“Yes, I could see that when I saw her on the TV. Lapping it up...” She clicks her tongue. Wrinkles her

nose. “… All that attention. At the centre of it all. She must have really hated your sister. She did, didn’t

she? Because Sophie was young and beautiful. Turning the heads of her men. But your mother loved

you, didn’t she. Or pretended to at least. Because you’re ordinary… I’ve seen the photos of those men

too. They were ordinary too, weren’t they. All so dull. But they came with fat wallets…”

She pauses… “Do you know which one of them was your father?”

I’m tight inside. My hand’s shaking. The old bitch is getting to me…

“No? I didn’t think so. And you hated your mother for that didn’t you. And you still hate her. Because

she’s selfish and narcissistic. And because she never really loved you at all. It was all about her. And

that’s why she gave you your sister. She knew what you wanted to do to her. So she helped you. She

helped you do what you wanted to your pretty sister. And she helped you cover it all up.”

Her head tilts. “What did you do with her? Your sister? The same as the other women? All those

hookers…”

Do I tell her?

Why not?

‘S not going to make any difference now…

“Pretty much. It was all part of the learning curve. I’ve gotten better at it.”

“Where is she now? Sophie? Did you bury her? Or did your mother do it?”

“Mom got rid of her. Dunno what she did with the body.”

“But I bet she kept some little souvenir? Something to tie you in and to give herself some insurance?

Just in case you got an attack of conscience?”

My mouth is dry. Something bitter, acidic, rises at the back of my throat…

“She did, didn’t she? Somewhere, your mother’s got something on you. What is it? Maybe a knife,

covered with your sister’s blood and your fingerprints? Something like that? Or maybe she’s lodged a

document with a lawyer. Only to be opened in the event of your mother’s death. Am I close?”

“Yes, you are.” My arm’s aching, dangling the kid, but I give her a bit of a shake to start her squalling.

“Do you think any of this is going to help you? Or save this brat of yours?”

She smiles as though I’d not spoken. “You hate her for it, don’t you? Your mother. I get that. You really

hate her. There you are. All grown up. You should be making your own way in the world. But despite

everything, she’s still got her claws in you and you can’t get away from her. There she was on the TV.

The centre of attention again. Pretending to care about you when all she was doing was playing to the

camera and to her audience…”

She takes a step closer. By the stairs, the young one stands like a statue, hanging on to the other two

kids. One of them starts bawling.

Old Whore’s still talking. “You don't just hate your mother. You loathe her. You despise everything about

her. You'd love to do to her what you've done to all those other women, wouldn’t you? Your sister. All

those hookers, out there with their claws into men, sucking them dry of their money.”

“That’s right.”

Her smiles turn to dimples. “I thought so.” She nods as though she’d just told me it was going to be fine

weather later, or that it was my favourite meal for lunch. “…But you see, now you've got me. I'm about

your mother’s age, aren't I? And look…”

She reaches up, pulling out pins and combs. Her hair tumbles down, loose and long, all the way to her

waist… “Just look at my lovely long hair…”

She runs her hand through and the hair rustles, giving off a musky scent as she moves. “Come on,

admit it. I’ve got gorgeous hair. Everyone says so. Don't I look at least as good as your mother?”

She lifts her chin, swinging her head. The hair swings with it. “I’ve looked after myself. And it’s all mine.

I’ve never had surgery. I’ll show you if you like.”

The younger one is shaking. All the kids are snivelling or yelling now. It’s getting on my nerves. “Why

are you doing this? You know what I do to whores, so why are you doing this?”

The fake smile fades. She nods forward… “She’s my daughter you have there…” Then back… “And

that's my granddaughter.”

“And like a good Mom, you'll do anything for them.”

“That's right.” She stares me right in the eye. “Remind you of anyone?”

She pauses, then, “Deal. Let my daughter go. Let Jenny go and take the children with her. She can

take them upstairs out of the way…” She flickers eyes up the stairs…

I snort. “Upstairs? So your bitch daughter can shout out of the windows? Or climb down and escape. Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

You think I'm stupid?”

“No…” Her voice sharpens… Then cools again… “No, I don’t think you’re stupid.” She casts around,

frowning, then looks back along the hall… “The cellar then. Lock her into the cellar with the children.

They’ll be well out of your way.”

“Cellar?”

“Look…” She points back along the hallway… “You’ve walked past it coming in. See for yourself. You

can bar the door from the outside. It’s heavy. She'd never break through it. Then, you and me, we'd be

nice and private. Then, you can enjoy having me…”

She fixes her gaze on me. “What do you say?”

My cock nudges, but I don’t see the point letting the scheming bitch have it all her own way. “I can

enjoy you anyway. Any way I want. And I’m going to.”

She strolls forward, unfastens another button of her blouse. Then another. She strikes the classic

Come-On pose, hip cocked, head cocked. “You'd enjoy it more if I… co-operated…”

My cock twitches again…

Might be fun…

Make her scream a bit before I finish her.

And it’d be easier than doing both of them at once…

Still dangling the kid, my knife poised in case either of the sluts tries anything stupid, I back toward the

door.

A key sits in the lock, the old-fashioned skeleton sort. It turns smoothly, and the door opens to a musty

space beyond. A stone slab floor drops into the dark, but when I click on a light switch, I see a flight of

steps leading down. Like she said, the door’s solid, a bolt at the top as well as the bar, and built from

thick timber, maybe oak, tough with age. “So, how do I know there isn’t a way out of this cellar?”

Old Bitch simpers. “Take a look yourself if you want to. You’ll see. But it’s a cellar. It’s all below ground.

How would she get out? Besides, you’re obviously a clever man. You’ve been watching this house for

weeks you said. If there was a way out, windows or basement lights, you’d have seen it by now,

wouldn’t you.”

She opens the blouse completely, flaunting her bra covered tits. “You’d like to see more, wouldn’t you?

I know you would. I can tell.”

She steps closer. “You want hookers. I know you do...” She wrinkles her nose, cupping hands under

her tits, squashing them up and together. “You want to know how many men I fucked over the years?

Hundreds… C’mon…” She jerks her head sidelong. “She’s not what you’re looking for. It’s me you

want. You want to play hardball. I’ll give you a run for your money.”

On your knees…

Face reddening…

Eyes bulging… Filling with blood…

The veins popping…

“Okay… We’ll do it your way. You!” I jerk my chin at Young Bitch, then at the cellar door. “In there.”

“No! Mom…”

Old Bitch snarls at her. "Jenny. Go.”

“Mom…” She trembles… “I can't leave you.”

“This is for me to do. Your responsibility is to Adam and Cara and Vicky. ”

“Mom…”

Old Bitch turns, stares her in the face. “Scheherazade.”

What the hell?

Young Bitch stares back, gulping and sweating, then, “Cara, come with Mommy, Sweetie. Adam, come

with me. We’re going to play a new game.” She steps forward, arms outheld… “Vicky…”

“This one stays with me.”

The old hooker shoots me a glance. “I thought we had a deal?”

“Sure we do. But this is my insurance that you’re going to stick to your side of the deal and behave

yourself.”

The younger one protests, “But…”

“Either get in there with the two you’ve got, or the deal’s off and I’ll take my time with you one at a time.

I’ll start with the kid.”

The old one’s panting.

I’m grinning. “Yes or no?”

“Jenny, take Cara and Adam and get into the cellar. Go. Now!”

Grabbing a kid with either hand, she reverses through the door, eyes on her bitch-mother all the way,

until I slam the door on her and draw the bolt.

*****