The Lover's Children

Chapter 127 – Autumn’s Fury – Part 19

HARKNESS

“Regretting you came yourself instead of sending your slut daughter?”

She doesn’t speak, Fumbling, she rips the top and the pack splits open, spilling nuts over the floor.

Colouring up, she mutters. “Sorry.”

Opening a second packet, she tips it into another bowl. Popping open the can of tonic on the drainer,

she half fills the glass, then goes back to the fridge and pulls out a tray of ice, popping a couple of

cubes into the glass. Twisting off the cap of the gin bottle, she pours half the bottle.

The ice rattles in the glass as she glugs down the lot, then pours again. Drinks again. Then gets

another bottle, another can, from the fridge.

She pops a nut into her mouth, her movements sluggish. “Weird, isn’t it. With chips and peanuts. One’s

never enough.” She scoops up a handful of nuts, downs the lot, washing it down with another drink.

“Gin always gives me an appetite. Beer and whiskey too.”

“Yeah, me too. Anything else in there to eat?”

She peers inside the mini-fridge. “No, that’s it.”

“I’m fucking hungry.”

“It’s a mini-bar.” She snorts. “What did you expect? Burgers? Pizza?”

Dutch courage?

Gin making her brave?

“Don’t get smart.” I stroke the kid’s head. “She’s a sweet little thing, isn’t she. Be a shame if anything

happened to her.”

Old-Whore blinks rapidly, looking down. Then, looking up again, she fakes a smile, nodding to the

fridge. “Would you like anything else?”

“Pour me another beer. Did you say there was whiskey?

“That's right. Want a chaser?”

“Sure. If the idea of all this is to get me drunk, you won't. Not with a couple of beers.”

“I can see that.” She purses her lips a little, as though disappointed. “But that wasn’t my idea at all. I

just thought we might make it… pleasanter… for both of us.”

“It's already gonna be pleasant for me. Don't worry, I'll pay you before we're done. That’s what you do

with whores, isn’t it? Pay them.”

She nods, popping another can and tipping the contents of a small bottle into another glass. She sets

them down on the side table, next to my bag.

The beer’s good. The whiskey too, mellow and warm. A pretty decent brand considering where we are.

It feels like weeks since I could relax. It’s been weeks. “So, what was it all about? What you said to the

other one?”

She slow blinks. “Sorry? What was what about?” Her pupils are pinning. She’s trying to pretend she’s

not scared. She’s putting up a good front too, but not good enough.

My groin tightens.

Knife play first?

Or mouth first?

“Sher-hara-something… What was that about?”

“Scheherazade.” She smiles. Another fake smile, like everything else about her. “You don’t know it? It’s

quite a long story in its own right...” She tosses her hair… “I’m not sure you’d be interested, a man like

you.”

“No hurry. Try me.”

“Okay...” She glances at the fridge… “Um, do you mind?”

“Go ahead. I’ll have one too.”

She refills both glasses then, “You know the Thousand and One Nights?”

“The what?”

“The stories you probably read as a little boy. Or maybe you saw the movies. Aladdin. Sinbad the

Sailor. Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves…”

How soundproof is this place?

“Sure I know it. Kid’s stuff. What’ve they got to do with anything?”

Could I get away without taping her mouth?

I bet she’s a real screamer…

She arranges herself on the couch. “If you read the book, Scheherazade was the woman who told the

tales.” She tilts her head, flexes herself to curve her waist, presents her tits. “Scheherazade was a

concubine to a powerful king. One of many. Her purpose was to entertain her Master.”

If there’s no one next door, it’d be safe enough…

I snort. “Entertain? With kid’s stories? I bet that wasn’t all she did to entertain him.”

“Oh, for sure, no. But the king, Shahryar, he wanted more than just sex…”

She lounges back, displaying herself. “Sex, even the best sex, only lasts so long. Even a virile man… A

really virile man… needs more than that. And the stories… Well, they weren’t stories for children as

they were originally told. In modern times they’ve been…” She rocks her hand… “…watered down.

Scheherazade told him a new story every night, for a thousand and one nights.”

“S’that right?”

“Yes, it is. If you believe the stories anyway.”

My stomach growls. The alcohol’s giving me an appetite. “You sure there’s nothing more to eat in

there?”

“I’ll check, but I don’t think so.” She reaches across, rummaging through the fridge. “Nope, that’s the

lot.”

“Shame. So, a thousand and one nights? Three years? Why was she telling him these stories for so

long?”

“It kept her alive…” She meets my eyes.

“Yeah..?”

My cock’s beginning to squeeze…

Spread her on the bed? Cuff her to the corners?

“… Go on. I’m listening…”

“So…” she says. “What would you like, oh, King?”

Or make her kneel?

Cable-tie her hands behind her…

Then ram the gag in…

“King? Yeah, that’ll do.”

Where to put the kid?

Out of her reach…

“My King, why don't you turn on some music. We can make a night of it.”

“Yeah, I'm sure you'd like to drag this out.”

Her mouth makes a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, Baby. I'm a Pro. I dealt all the time with

guys who needed help to… drag it out.”

“You think I need that kind of help, you old whore? Want me to start right now? Showing you what I

enjoy doing?” I jab a finger toward the centre of the room. “Over there. Strip.”

*****

KLEMPNER

Michael hammers in the peg, tosses the mallet to one side and straightens up, hands pressing into the

small of his back. “That’s the last one.” He blows air. “I think we can declare that a decent day’s work.”

“I’ll give you that one.” The weather, which was a touch cool this morning, now has me overheating in

the thin sunshine. And I ache. It grieves me to admit it, even to myself, but it’s taking me time to heal

fully.

Still, the marquee’s up. The job’s done.

#missionaccomplished

Ryan swipes cupped palms over his face and forehead, “Bloody hard work, isn’t it. When you’re

doubled over all the time…” He brightens, looking toward the hall. “Ah, perfect timing. They come

bearing gifts.”

Kirstie’s carrying a tray of beers, Beth another, with sandwiches. Kirstie offers out her tray, beaming as

she looks up and over the erected tent. “Ah, that’s great. Thanks so much, guys. I don’t know what

we’d do without you.”

Michael snags a beer, cracks it open and passes it to me. “It’s a pleasure, Kirstie…”

Beth cuts him short. “Larry, Kirstie was wondering if Mitch is likely to be free later this week to…”

Kirstie flushes. “Actually, I was wondering how far she’s gotten with those designs she’s doing. I know

it’s a bit soon, but I’m so looking forward to seeing what she’s come up with.”

I gulp a couple of swallows of my can… chilled beer slips down my throat like the proverbial nectar…

“I’ve no idea. But I’ll call her. You can ask her for yourself.” … then tap into Mitch’s contact on my cell.

It rings…

… and rings…

… but doesn’t connect. “She’s not answering.”

“She’s probably caught up in her work,” says Michael. “She gets a bit lost in her head when she’s got a

paintbrush in her hand, doesn’t she?”

“She does, yes.” I tap off. “I’ll try again in a while. So, Kirstie, Ryan, anything else you want help with

while we’re here?”

She ducks her head. “Well, er… you’ve got the marquee up, but it needs the boards laying out for the

flooring…” Wincing, she screws up her face.

“Lead the way,” says Michael.

*****

I tap in again. The lines clicks and rings, but doesn’t connect. “She’s still not answering.”

Michael straightens up. “Still?” He palms the back of his neck, squinting up at the sky. “Maybe she’s

taken the opportunity for a nap, what with having Charlotte there to keep an eye on the kids.”

“Perhaps.” Disquiet swims inside me, a shark among the shoals. I tap into Jenny’s contact… It clicks,

clucks then beeps… “She’s engaged.”

Kirstie bustles up with a tray. “Tea, anyone?”

Michael grins and reaches for a mug. “Great idea.”

She offers me the tray, then frowns. “Something wrong, Larry?”

“Probably not.”

*****

HARKNESS

“Strip?” She smirks. “Just that? I can do better than that. Why don't you turn on the music? I’ll dance for

you.” Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

I lean back, sipping my beer. “Why would I do that?”

“Oh, King… You've been dealing with little girls and amateurs. I was a professional.”

“And what does that mean?”

The smile doesn’t fade. “Put on the music.” She slides close, laying a hand up my chest, then slips onto

my lap. “Why don't you let me show you what I can do? My husband loves it when I dance.”

“Husband? Are we talking about that blond motherfucker you’re shacked up with? You telling me he

married a hooker?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Knocks you about, I suppose. He's a bad bastard that one.”

Her eyes narrow. “Yes, he is.”

“He your pimp too? That why he married you? So he’s got the income?”

Her smile freezes. “No one ever pimped me.” Then her mouth curves back. She tilts her head, giving

me the eye; a whore’s eye.

Still, she's not bad looking. You wouldn't know she was a hooker from a casual glance.

“So, you want me to dance?”

Maybe see what she does…

Probably thinks she can buy me off…

That should sweeten it up later…

… when she realises…

“Put the music on. You can dance. But you stay that side of the room…” I point away from the armchair

with the kid… “And at the end of it, your clothes are off.”

She nods slightly, as though thinking. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Pick something.” She slips off my lap and pads across to the music player.

I move too, perching on the chair arm by the kid, playing with my knife. I see the shudder of her chest

as her breath catches.

“The kid’s fine,” I say. “Sleeping through it all,” I run my thumb over the edge of the blade. “Do as you’re

told if you don’t want me to start the fun here, with her instead of you.”

The vein at the side of her neck pulses. Her face is slick and shiny. But she taps the Play button on the

music system, then starts to move. She’s chosen a slow piece. Some classical crap.

Still, she was telling the truth. She can dance.

“Get the top off first. And the bra. I want to see your tits.”