by Ray Gordon
'She's a dreadful girl, Samantha. I really can't think why you—'
'Who is?' Samantha queried. 'Archie, of course.'
'Archie is a—' Samantha began. 'But I thought...'
'When you announced that you were having a lesbian relationship, your father... Well, you know all about that. You should never have finished with Zak.'
'Mother, Zak was sleeping with Angela.'
'So you've said. I really don't think he was.'
'Look, I haven't come here to talk about my relationships.'
'Oh? Then what have you come here for? To talk about that dancing school?'
'What do you mean?'
'All you ever go on about is the dancing school. Why you've never allowed us anywhere near the place, I really don't know. You seem to be doing so well, Samantha. And yet... What is it about the school that you want to keep secret?'
'Nothing, Mother. It's just that... Oh, I don't know.'
'It seems that we know nothing about your life. Apart from your lesbian relationship, of course. Still, now that Archie has shown her true colours...'
'What's the date, mother?'
'The twenty-fifth. Why do you ask?'
'What year is it?'
'What year...?'
'It's a trick question. I'll add the date of the month and... Just tell me what year it is.'
'Two thousand and six.'
'Right, er... Oh, I forget how to do it.'
'Samantha, instead of playing silly games—'
'Have I told you about Anne?'
'That girl you share your flat with? What about her?'
'She's looking for a new job and—'
'I thought she was your live-in housekeeper?'
'Well, yes, she is.'
'She's a strange girl. In fact, most of your friends are strange. Look at Jane and Geoff. Now there really is something weird about that couple. Do you remember that barbecue of theirs we went to? That girl they had acting as a waitress?'
'Oh, er... yes, I remember.'
'She was half naked, for goodness sake. And God only knows how old she was. She was definitely too young to be—'
'Where's father?'
'You know where he is, Samantha.'
'No, I don't.'
'He left last year.'
'Left?' Samantha gasped. 'Oh, yes... What I meant was, how is he? What's he doing?'
'He's living with that girl he picked up.'
'I meant... Never mind.'
Watching her mother sipping her tea, Samantha thought again that she'd be better off not knowing what the future held. Her father leaving? Living with a girl he'd picked up? This was too much to take in, Samantha mused, again wondering who Archie was and where she'd meet the girl. Looking around the garden as her mother went to answer the doorbell, Samantha was desperate to know why she was learning about her future. Was there a reason for everything? She reflected on the question as her mother approached with a young man in tow.
'Brian's here,' her mother said, grinning at Samantha. 'I'll go and make a fresh pot of tea.'
'Hi, Sam,' the good-looking man greeted her.
'Hi,' Samantha murmured, wondering who he was as her mother went into the house.
'I'm pleased to have a minute alone with you,' he said, glancing over his shoulder. 'I wanted to ask you about the photographs.'
'Oh?'
'There's a German magazine. They've shown great interest in buying the pics.'
'Oh, er... that's good news.'
'Is it? God, you've changed your tune. I thought you were dead against having your open fanny plastered across a centrefold?'
'My open... well, I...'
'I've got some new pics here,' Brian said, taking an envelope from his jacket pocket. 'Take a look.'
Opening the envelope, Samantha gasped as she stared wide-eyed at a couple of dozen photographs of her naked body. Several shots showed her gaping pussy with a huge purple knob jetting sperm between her hairless lips. These were hardcore porn, she mused, looking at another photograph of two purple knobs shooting spunk over her face. Her life really was going to become debased in the extreme, she thought, wondering again why she would leave journalism behind to sink into a pit of decadence. Sure that she couldn't change the next ten years, she thought about John, her future husband. He'd obviously have no idea that he'd be marrying someone who could only be described as a wanton slut.
'What are you doing?' she asked, gazing at Brian's erect penis sticking out of his trousers.
'You know how much you like a little suck now and then,' he chuckled. 'Go on, slip it into your mouth and suck out my spunk.'
'Not here, Brian,' she retorted.
'What's the matter, Sam? You usually yank my cock out at every opportunity. Look at the times you've sucked me off virtually in public. On the train last week, behind the hedge at that party... and in your mother's lounge the other day while she was fiddling with the video. She could have turned round and... You've always said that it's the danger of getting caught that turns you on. Go on, you know you can't resist drinking my spunk.'
Gazing at his huge glans, his sperm-slit, Samantha knew that she had to comply with his lewd request. If she'd previously been eager to suck him off at every opportunity, he'd think it odd that she was now rejecting him. He obviously wasn't just a passing boyfriend, she thought, wondering how many photographs he'd taken of her naked body. Perhaps the dancing school was also a front for a photographic studio, she mused. Unless the porn pies were a sideline to bring in some extra cash. She wondered whether her future revolved around making money. Sex, cock sucking, prostitution, porn pics...
Leaning forward, she sucked Brian's swollen glans deep into her wet mouth and rolled her tongue over its silky-smooth surface. She was a wanton slut, she knew as he gasped and clutched her head. Gobbling on his bulbous glans, sinking her teeth into the solid shaft of his huge cock, Samantha knew instinctively that she was in her element. The danger of her mother returning heightening her libido, she hauled the man's heavy balls out of his trousers and kneaded his sperm eggs.
'They don't call you the cock-swallower for nothing,' he breathed, driving his purple plum to the back of her throat. 'As we were saying the other day, you've made a name for yourself. You have quite a reputation, Sam.'
'Tell me more,' she giggled, slipping his cock out of her mouth and licking his sperm-slit. 'I like listening to you talking about my reputation.'
'When I heard that you'd sucked forty-two cocks in one day, I didn't believe it. Then I saw you in action at the dancing school. I thought you were going to drown in spunk as you sucked off those men. Twenty men, all lined up with their cocks sticking out. Watching you sitting on that chair swallowing spunk from cock after cock...'
'You don't mind my infidelity?' she asked, licking his heaving balls.
'You know I love it,' Brian chuckled. 'After all, I'm the one who brings you fresh cock. You'd better be quick. Your mother will be back any minute now.'
Taking his purple globe between her succulent lips, Samantha realized that her arousal was soaring as she snaked her tongue around the rim of his helmet. Listening to Brian talking of her debauched acts had turned her on, stiffened her clitoris and induced her cunt-milk to ooze between the swollen lips of her yearning pussy. Wondering for the umpteenth time why she'd turned out to be a dirty slut, she breathed heavily through her nose as Brian's spunk jetted from his throbbing knob and bathed her snaking tongue. Swallowing hard as her cheeks filled with his orgasmic cream, she was becoming used to crude sex with strangers. It was odd to think that Brian obviously knew her intimately and yet she didn't know him.
Swallowing the last of his sperm, Samantha ran her tongue around his deflating glans and cupped his drained balls in her hand. Gripping his fleshy shaft as he tried to pull away, she clutched her prize and sank her teeth into his glans. She was desperate for more, she knew as she felt her clitoris pulsating and her juices of desire streaming from her hot vaginal opening. Feeling hers
elf drifting away, she clung to Brian's cock. But she was leaving him, travelling to another time and place. As she slipped away, she wondered: would she find herself with another man's cock in her mouth?
Chapter 8
Standing in Angela's lounge, Samantha wondered why the girl couldn't see or hear her. Sometimes Samantha was visible, and other times... Having no control over her time travelling, she thought again that someone or something was pulling the strings. Why was she now in Angela's lounge? She pondered the question, hearing movements in the hall. Was this the past or the future?
'Hi, babe,' Zak said, entering the room and kissing Angela's cheek.
'You're late,' the girl complained.
'Sorry, but I couldn't get away from Sam.'
'Is she going to take you back or not?'
'I'm not sure,' Zak sighed, slipping his hand inside Angela's blouse.
'All that money, and we can't get our hands on it. How much did you say her father had given her?'
'One hundred thousand.'
'I'm getting pissed off with this, Zak. I thought you said that she was talking about making plans for the wedding?'
'That's right. She seemed keen enough but... Don't worry, babe. Everything's going to work out. Now she believes we're finished, that it was only a stupid fling, I reckon that she'll marry me. Once she does, I'll get hold of the money and—'
'And we'll go abroad.'
'Yes, we will. Greece, Spain... Somewhere where the sun shines. Somewhere far away from Sam.'
Watching Zak unbuttoning Angela's blouse, Samantha reckoned that this was happening in the near future. He obviously thought that she was about to take him back and marry him. He was in for quite a surprise, Samantha reflected. Not only was there going to be no wedding, but she'd make sure that Angela dumped him. Eyeing Angela's nipples as Zak lifted her bra clear of her firm breasts, Samantha wondered whether to stay and witness her boyfriend's act of infidelity. There was really no point, she mused, about to attempt to return to her own time.
'Get the clamps,' Angela said as Zak tweaked the ripe protrusions of her breasts.
'I was hoping you'd say that,' Zak replied, grinning.
'You know how much I like you torturing my titties,' she chuckled as Zak took two metal clamps from the mantelpiece.
As Angela lay on the couch, Samantha watched Zak place the clamps over the erect teats of her firm breasts and tighten the screws. Zak was a bastard, she reflected. But Angela was... Samantha had never really known the girl. Although they'd been friends for many years, Samantha had had no idea that she was into breast torture. Noticing thin weals fanning out across the pale flesh of Angela's mammary spheres, she wondered whether the other girl had been whipped there. Her face grimacing as the clamps bit into the sensitive flesh of her ripe nipples, she gasped.
'More,' Angela breathed as Zak continued to tighten the screws. 'God, that's beautiful. Get the cane.' Grabbing a thin cane from the corner of the room, Zak knelt by the sofa and raised it above his head. Samantha grimaced as the thin bamboo stick swished through the air, striking Angela's breasts with a loud crack. The girl writhed on the sofa, gasping as Zak administered the gruelling tit-thrashing.
Yet more crude sex, Samantha reflected, wondering what had happened to her life. Any semblance of normality had gone, she mused. Although she enjoyed sex, lewd sex with both men and women, she realized that she wanted to be in a permanent and stable relationship. But she'd eventually marry John and... and she wouldn't ruin it. Ten years was a long time, she thought, as Angela's screams resounded around the room. Ten years to enjoy her body, to experience sex with anyone and everyone. Ten years - and then settle into a good marriage.
'Do my cunt now,' Angela gasped, yanking her short skirt off. 'I want you to whip my cunt, Zak.' Frowning as the girl slipped her panties off and lay on the sofa with her thighs spread wide, Samantha watched Zak bring the cane down across the hairless lips of Angela's naked vulva. The protruding wings of her inner labia turning a fire-red as the merciless caning continued, Angela screamed out in the grip of her agony and pleasure.
Once more trying to return to her own time, Samantha closed her eyes and shut out Angela's screams. She'd seen and heard enough about the future, she thought, concentrating on her flat...
Opening her eyes as she felt a draught whip around her ankles, Samantha looked around what appeared to be a very old pub. Wearing Victorian clothes, she instinctively knew that she'd travelled way back in time. There were wooden beer barrels lined up behind the bar, scrubbed tables around the large room, pewter mugs hanging from low beams on the ceiling...
'Don't stand about, girl,' a bearded man snapped as he walked behind the bar. 'Get the floor cleaned up and then get out to the kitchen.'
'I... Where am...?' Samantha stammered.
'What's the matter with you?' the man asked, tossing a dishrag over his shoulder. 'Mother's ill in bed and we have to get this place cleaned up. We're not going to allow the house to grind to a halt just because Mother's ill, are we?'
'No, of course not,' Samantha replied.
'I know it's hard, Meg,' he said, placing his hand on her shoulder.
'Meg?' she echoed.
'Don't tell me that you've forgotten your own name,' he chuckled. 'Look, I'll clean up down here. You go up and see whether your mother wants anything.'
Walking through a doorway, Samantha climbed the creaking stairs to a small landing. Wondering why she'd travelled so far back in time, she thought that she must have returned to a previous life. But why? Looking out of a small window, she gazed at a hansom cab pulled by a horse. This was eighteen hundred and something, she mused as a horse and cart passed by. This was also very dangerous, she knew. If she couldn't return to her own time...
'Is that you, Meg?' a woman called.
'Yes, it is,' Meg replied, walking into a bedroom. 'Do something with my pillow, there's a dear,' the woman said, propping herself up on her elbows. 'How's your father doing without me?'
'Oh, he's... he's fine.'
'Ah, that's better,' the woman breathed as Samantha pulled her pillow up. 'If you could just fill my water jug, I'll be fine.'
Taking the jug, Samantha left the room and wandered into another, smaller bedroom. This was her room, she knew as she looked at the dolls propped up on the windowsill. But, she wondered again, why had she gone back to a previous life? She placed the jug on a small table and sat on the bed. This had to be a dream she was sure as she looked down at her long dress. There was no such thing as a previous life, was there?
'You'd better come with me,' a young man said, standing in the doorway.
'Who are you?' Samantha asked, looking at his crisp white shirt and tie as he held his hand out.
'I've been trying to catch up with you,' he said, taking her hand as she stood up and walked towards him. 'You've been flitting here and there. You shouldn't be doing this.'
'I... I've not been able to—'
'Come with me.'
'Where to?'
'To your own time. There's about to be a huge fire. You have to save the girl who's sleeping rough. Malthadrew...'
Waking to find herself lying on her bed, Samantha looked around the room. Positive that she'd been dreaming, she slipped off her bed and sat at her dressing table. Brushing her long blonde hair, she was thankful to be back in her flat. She was definitely back in her own time, she knew as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. The dream had seemed so real, she reflected, pondering on the young man's words. A girl, a fire... a previous life? She shook her head as a loud knock sounded on the door.
'Sam, someone's here to see you,' Anne called.
'Who?' Samantha asked, opening the door.
'Me,' Dave said, standing behind Anne in the hall. 'Your boss, remember?'
'Sorry,' Samantha sighed. 'I was going to ring you but... Anne, would you make some coffee?'
'OK,' the girl trilled.
'Dave, I've been working on a story,' Samantha said, leading him into th
e lounge.
'Sammy baby, where the hell have you been?'
'It's a long story.'
'What, the one you're working on? Or the one you're about to dream up?'
'Seriously, Dave. Things have been happening to me. I can't explain because you'd never believe me.'
'No, I wouldn't. And you won't believe this. I've been doing some snooping around that mansion. Andrews is turning the hall into a dancing school.'
'A dancing school?' Samantha echoed.
'Yes, but this is no ordinary dancing school. I'm onto something, but I don't know what.'
'How do you mean?'
'I didn't have a great deal of time but I discovered a surgery, a doctor's surgery. There's something going on at that mansion, Sammy.'
'Perhaps Gerry Andrews has come up with another moneymaking idea.'
'Oh, yes, that's for sure. But a dancing school? Presumably the surgery is for checking the dancers over or something.'
'What's odd about that?'
'I can't quite put my finger on it, but I've a feeling that the school is a front for something. Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to look around properly because some woman asked me what I wanted. I told her that I was looking for ghosts, which seemed to satisfy her. Anyway, I want you to go there and ask about dancing lessons.'
'Me?' Samantha gasped, wondering whether she'd ever escape from this nightmare.
'I don't think John the Prat would be a suitable candidate for dancing lessons, do you?'
'No, I suppose not. Dave, this dancing school... is it really worth bothering with?'
'If Gerry Andrews is involved, yes, it is.'
'You've got something against him, haven't you?'
'No, of course I haven't. It's just that I know he's up to something. The haunted mansion scam was one thing, but... OK, get this. As I was leaving, I saw a couple of girls hanging about in a corridor.'
'Dave, if it's a dancing school, then—'
'They weren't dancers. The way they looked at me...'
'Don't say that they were eyeing you up, for God's sake.'
