Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
The other dancers stopped their pathetic little moves and stood in a circle to cheer me on. It was that kind of club, seedy. And this was her thing. Exhibitionism. Letting people watch
while strangers finger fucked her. This was what she whispered into my ear at the bar earlier.
Music crashed and lights flashed around us while she rode my hand. She didn’t last long. The heat. The music. The audience. She climaxed all over my hand. Her juices squirting on the
dance floor.
I pulled my fingers out of her and looked down at the hot, sticky mess I had made between her open thighs. Her legs were still trembling and her pussy lips were red and swollen from the
vigorous finger fucking I had just given her.
Yeah, she’ll do nicely.
I released her leg, and with a satisfied smirk she pulled her dress over her dripping bits. She’d had her fun and now it was my turn. I dragged her off the dance floor towards the men’s
toilets. Unlike her I like a bit of privacy when I get my rocks off.
Here I wasn’t Lord Ivan De Greystoke. Here I was Ivan the Terrible.
Tawny Maxwell
Barrington Manor, Bedfordshire
‘Whatever you do, don’t ever trust them. Not one of them,’ Robert whispered. His voice was so faint I had to strain to catch it.
‘I won’t,’ I said softly.
‘They are my own flesh and blood so they are dangerous in a way you will never understand. Never let your guard down.’
‘OK,’ I agreed immediately. I just wanted him to stop talking about his children. These last precious minutes I didn’t want to waste on them.
He shook his head unhappily. ‘No, you don’t understand. You can never let your guard down for even an instant. Never.’
‘All right I won’t,’ I said in a placating voice.
‘I will be a very sad spirit if you do.’
‘I won’t,’ I cried passionately and reached for his hand. The contrast between our hands couldn’t be greater. Mine was smooth and soft and his was gnarled and full of green veins, the
skin waxy and liver spotted. His nails were the color of polished ivory. The hand of a sixty-year old dying man. I lifted it to my lips and kissed it tenderly.
His eyes glowed briefly in his wasted, sunken face. ‘How I love you, my darling Tawny,’ he murmured.
‘I love you. I love you. I love you,’ I cried desperately. I felt frightened. I didn’t want to lose him. The world stretched out as a cruel and lonely place without him.
‘Keep our secret and they cannot touch you,’ he said calmly.
‘I won’t tell anyone,’ I promised.
‘No one,’ he insisted.
‘No one,’ I agreed, shaking my head.
He sighed. ‘It’s nearly time.’
‘Don’t say that,’ I urged even though I knew he was right.
His eyes moved to the window. ‘Ah,’ he sighed softly. ‘You’ve come.’
My gaze swung to the window. It was closed. The heavy drapes pulled shut. Goose pimples ran up my arms. ‘Don’t go yet. Please,’ I begged.
He dragged his gaze reluctantly from the window. His thin pale lips rose at the edges as he drew in a rattling breath. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ve got to pay my dues. I haven’t been a good
man.’
‘Just wait a while.’
‘You have your whole life ahead of you.’
He turned his unnaturally bright eyes away from me. Looking straight ahead, and with a violent shudder, he left this world.
For a few seconds I simply stared at him. Appropriately, outside the January wind howled and dashed itself into the shutters. I knew the servants were waiting downstairs. Everyone was
waiting for me to go down and give them the bad news. Then I leaned forward and put my cheek on his still, bony chest. He smelled strongly of medicine. I closed my eyes tightly. Why did
you have to die and leave me to the wolves?
In that moment I felt so close to him I wished this time would not end. I wished I could lie on his chest, safe and closeted away from the real world. I heard the clock ticking. The fire
in the massive hearth cracked and spat. Somewhere a pipe creaked.
I placed my chin on his chest and turned to look at him one last time. He appeared to be sleeping. Peaceful, at any rate. I stroked the thin strands of white hair lying across his
pinkish white scalp. I let my finger run down his prominent nose and it shocked me how quickly the tip of his nose had lost warmth. Soon all of him will be stone cold.
I wondered whom he had seen at the window. Who had come to take him to his reckoning?
My sorrow was so complete I could put my fingertips into it and feel the edges. Smooth. Without corners. Without sharpness. I had no tears. I knew he was dying two hours before. Strange
because it had seemed as if he had taken a turn for the better. He seemed stronger, his cheeks pink, his eyes brilliant bright and when he smiled it seemed as if he was lit from within.
He seemed so much stronger. I asked him if he wanted to eat.