Dark Desires

by Ray Gordon

  'Yes, I suppose you're right.'

  'We have to make you look older. It's no good you running around in miniskirts and skimpy tops. Perhaps a baggy jumper is going too far, but do you see what I'm getting at?'

  'Yes, I do,' Anne sighed, prodding the bacon with her fork.

  'So, you'll be my sister and... I think we'll call you Sarah. Yes, like that name.'

  'I don't.'

  'Tough. Like it or not, you're now Sarah. Anyway, that's what you're going to be known as in the future so—'

  'In the future?'

  'John said that... Never mind.'

  'What about a job? I'll have to get a job, Sam.'

  'That's not going to be so easy. You've got no National Insurance number, which will present a major problem. No one's going to employ you without one. I'll have a word with someone at the office. He might be able to arrange something. In the meantime, you can go shopping. You can't laze around the flat all day doing nothing.'

  'I've not been lazing around. I've been watching the news, trying to catch up with the latest. Things have changed in eight years, Sam.'

  'Yes, I suppose they have. OK, finish your breakfast and we'll have a go at applying some make-up. We'll do something with your hair, too.'

  After breakfast, Samantha led the girl into her bedroom and sat her at the dressing table. Standing behind Anne, she pulled her hair up, trying to decide which style would age her by a few years. Cut in a bob and dyed black. A pair of glasses might be an idea, she mused, imagining a librarian lookalike. Realizing that Anne would still be around in ten years, Samantha felt a little easier as she brushed the girl's long hair. John had said that Anne had come to live with them, so perhaps some aspects of the future were worth knowing after all, she reflected as the phone rang.

  'Sammy baby,' Dave said as Samantha sat on the bed and grabbed the phone. 'I've been up half the night thinking about—'

  'Look, I'll try to get into the office this morning,' Samantha sighed. 'I'm chasing a lead at the moment and—'

  'No, no, it's not about that. Who was that girl at your place? When I called round to see you...'

  'Sarah? She's my sister.'

  'I didn't know you had a sister.'

  'She's staying with me for a week or so. I'm sorry, I should have introduced you.'

  'It didn't register until later, but I've been digging out some photographs. The kidnapping, eight years ago. You were asking about it, weren't you?'

  'Yes, I was. Dave, what's this all about?'

  'It's about Anne Wilkinson.'

  'The kidnapped girl? What about her?'

  'It's about you asking about the kidnapping, the girl in your flat, and putting two and two together.'

  'You've lost me, Dave.'

  'I don't think I have, Sammy. That girl is Anne Wilkinson. I've got the pics here on my desk. There's no doubt about it. That girl is—'

  'Dave, my sister is...'

  'I'll be there in ten minutes with the pics. Put the kettle on for coffee.'

  Hanging up, Samantha knew that she was going to have to tell Dave the truth. He wasn't stupid, and there'd be no denying who Anne was once the photographs were spread out on the table. The truth? He'd never believe that Samantha was able to travel through time, let alone save Anne from the kidnappers and bring her into the future. Ordering the girl to find a dress in the wardrobe, she decided not to say anything about Dave's suspicions.

  'My boss is coming round,' she said. 'Stay in here while I talk to him, OK?'

  'OK,' Anne trilled, looking through the wardrobe. 'Oh, I like this skirt.'

  'Anne, I said find a dress. I don't want you wearing miniskirts.'

  'All right.'

  'I'll try not to be too long with Dave. Switch the TV on and watch the news. The remote is by the bed.'

  Leaving the room, Samantha closed the door and went into the kitchen. Although she knew that Anne would still be with her in ten years, she didn't know what those years held. Anything could happen, she mused, refilling the kettle and taking two cups from the cupboard. The girl might even be reunited with her parents. One thing was certain. If word about Samantha's time travelling got out, no one would believe it. But Anne's identity might be questioned, she reflected. Perhaps another trip into the future would reveal... But no. She'd decided not to dabble with time travel. Pouring the coffee as the doorbell rang, she took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy, she knew as she walked through the hall.

  'Come in,' she invited Dave as she opened the front door.

  'We need to talk, Sammy baby,' he chuckled. 'My little girlie is keeping secrets from me, isn't she?'

  'No, I'm not,' Samantha sighed, closing the door and leading him into the kitchen. 'There's your coffee,' she said, sitting at the table.

  'Right, where shall we begin?' he asked, sitting opposite her. 'Let's start with you telling me all about Anne Wilkinson.'

  'Dave, I... You're not going to believe this.'

  'Try me.'

  'OK, here goes. I've been travelling through time.'

  'Er... right.'

  'I went back eight years and found Anne Wilkinson in a barn. She'd been kidnapped and...'

  'And you brought her back here, to our time?'

  'Yes, that's right.'

  'Sammy... I really don't think...'

  'I knew you wouldn't believe me. How the hell do you think Anne got here? She's the same age as she was when she was kidnapped, Dave.'

  'I must admit that she hasn't aged,' he sighed, taking an envelope from his jacket pocket. 'These were taken just before she was kidnapped. Where is she now? Let's take a look at her.'

  'Dave, I don't think she's accepted what's happened yet. She's leaped forward eight years.'

  'Sammy baby, go and get her. She should be in on this, don't you agree?'

  'Yes, but... You're not going to plaster this all over the front page, are you?'

  'Girl travels back in time and saves kidnap victim? No, I don't think so. I want to sell newspapers, not get myself laughed at.'

  'All right, I'll get Anne,' Samantha finally conceded. Opening the bedroom door, Samantha explained the situation to Anne. The girl raised her gaze to the ceiling. She obviously wasn't keen to talk about her experiences, and Samantha couldn't blame her for that. It must have been difficult enough coping with the kidnapping, let alone suddenly finding herself whisked eight years into the future. Finally following Samantha into the kitchen, she leaned against the worktop as Dave's eyes darted between her and the photographs.

  'So, you're Anne Wilkinson?' he asked her.

  'Yes,' she replied.

  'And Sammy brought you here, eight years in the future?'

  'It looks that way.'

  'Doesn't that worry you?'

  'Worry me?' she breathed. 'What is there to worry about? I was locked in a barn by two men. That worried me.'

  'Yes, yes, of course. The thing is—'

  'Dave,' Samantha cut in. 'You're either going to have to accept that Anne has come here, to our time, eight years ahead of her time, or...'

  'Or what? Come to the conclusion that you're both mad? I can see that this is Anne Wilkinson simply by looking at the photographs. OK, she appears to be the same age. I can't explain that, and I'm not going to accept your explanation unquestioningly. OK, so Anne is here and she appears to be about eight years younger than she is - I mean, than I would have expected.'

  'Take a look at these,' Samantha said, taking Anne's miniskirt and blouse out of the washing machine. 'These are the clothes she was wearing in the barn. Look at the photographs, Dave. They are the same clothes.'

  'Yes, they appear to be,' he murmured. 'Have you contacted her parents?'

  'Anne did ring, but they thought she was some kind of crank, Dave. Anne went missing eight years ago. She was never seen again. To face her parents eight years later and... She's the same age that she was when she was kidnapped. She has the same clothes she was wearing. How the hell would we explain that? You don't believ
e it, so why should her parents?'

  'I can prove who I am,' Anne said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

  'You don't have to,' Dave said. 'I've known Sammy long enough to trust her. And there's no denying that you're the girl in the photographs. Why you've not aged is another matter. And one that I don't think I'll ever understand. The point is, what happens now?'

  'That's a good question,' Anne sighed. 'As Sam said, I have no National Insurance number or—'

  'I can fix that,' Dave interrupted the girl. 'What about your parents? They should be told but...'

  'Dave, how about Anne working on the paper? I know she's young, but we're going to do her hair and make-up. By the time we're done, she'll pass for—'

  'I could use someone around the office. OK, she can work on the paper and I'll sort out some ID for her. You'll have to think of a new name.'

  'We already have. Anne is my younger sister. Her name's Sarah.'

  'Sarah it is. I'll sort out some ID. You might have aged a little, Anne,' he said, looking at the photographs again. 'Some people don't age. It might be that you've kept your young looks and—'

  'Lift your dress up,' Samantha ordered the girl.

  'There,' Anne said, pulling her dress up to her neck. 'Is that the body of a—'

  'Jesus,' Dave gasped, his wide eyes focusing on the hairless lips of Anne's vulva. 'Er... yes, well...'

  'You can see that she's the same age,' Samantha said as the girl lowered her dress.

  'This is either time travel or medical history. OK, I have to get back to the office. When you've completed your ageing effect on young Anne, bring her into the office.'

  'OK, Dave,' Samantha said, seeing him to the front door. 'Thanks.'

  'Take care, baby. By the way, why were you asking about the paint factory?'

  'Shit, I'd forgotten about that.'

  'About what?'

  'Nothing. Er... I'll see you soon.'

  'OK. And keep me posted.'

  'As always, Dave. As always.'

  Returning to the kitchen, Samantha knew that she was going to have to do something about the girl who was sleeping rough behind the paint factory. All she could do was go there again and try to speak to her, she decided. There'd been so many things going on that she'd forgotten about it. What with Zak and... Wondering whether he'd booked the holiday, she suggested that she should have a go at cutting Anne's hair and applying some make-up to add a few years to her. Following Samantha into the bedroom, Anne slipped her dress off and placed a towel around her shoulders as Samantha grabbed a pair of scissors and announced that she wasn't too bad at hairdressing.

  'A bob,' Samantha said, standing behind the girl and brushing her hair. 'And then I'll get some black dye.'

  'Black?' Anne echoed despondently. 'I prefer auburn.'

  'Black, auburn... It doesn't matter what colour, as long as it's not blonde.'

  'Dave seems nice,' the girl said. 'He didn't believe the time travelling, but he seems like a nice man.'

  'He is nice,' Samantha replied. 'A bit of a rogue at times, but nice.'

  The towel slipped off the girl's shoulders and Samantha eyed the ripe teats of her breasts in the mirror. Her stomach somersaulting, she did her best not to think about lesbian sex as she brushed the teenager's long blonde hair. Turning her thoughts to Dave, she knew that he wouldn't say anything to anyone about Anne. He certainly wouldn't mention time travelling. Perhaps she should never have mentioned it, she reflected. There again, what other explanation could she have given for Anne's presence? Realizing that the girl was going to be around for the next ten years, she knew that it was futile trying to deny her feelings for her as she focused on her breasts again.

  'You're beautiful,' Samantha murmured, running her fingertip up and down her spine.

  'Shall we forget about my hair?' Anne asked, turning her head and grinning at Samantha.

  'Well, we really should... I suppose we can do it later,' she finally conceded. 'It seems strange having you live with me. Apart from the fact that you've lost eight years.'

  'I try not to think about it,' Anne sighed. 'I'll never see my parents again, will I?'

  'There might be away,' Samantha said, taking the girl's hand and leading her to the bed. 'If you write to them, say that you've been abroad...'

  'It's no good,' Anne sighed despondently. 'No matter how old I say I am, they'll ask too many questions. How did I end up abroad? What happened to me? Where have I been living? Why haven't I contacted them before?'

  'Yes, I see what you mean,' Samantha said as Anne lay on the bed and spread her limbs.

  'Still, there's no point in going on about it.'

  'So, what am I going to do with you?' Samantha asked, eyeing the girl's swollen vaginal lips rising alluringly either side of her sex crack.

  'Do whatever you want to do with me,' Anne replied impishly, her blue eyes sparkling as she licked her succulent lips.

  Grinning, Samantha sat on the edge of the bed and ran her fingertip up and down the girl's hairless vulval crack. What if she took Anne to the park to meet Chester? An idea was coming to mind as she slipped her finger between her inner petals and deep into the hugging sheath of her pussy.

  'We were talking about you working on the newspaper,' she murmured.

  'Mmm, that's nice,' the girl breathed as Samantha massaged her inner vaginal flesh.

  'I've just thought of a way round the problem of a National Insurance number.'

  'Oh?'

  'You won't need a National Insurance number. Until Dave sorts things out, you can work for me.'

  'I don't want to be a cleaning lady, a housekeeper,' Anne complained. 'Cooking, shopping...'

  'No, no. That's not what I'm talking about. If I were to take you to the park and... There's a lad I know. He'd pay to... to fuck you, Anne.'

  'A prostitute?' the girl gasped, propping herself up on her elbows.

  'I don't like that word. I'd rather look upon your work as... as supplying a service to men.'

  'Men? But you said you know a lad. You mean that you want to sell me to old men for sex?'

  'Not necessarily old men,' Samantha giggled, slipping her finger out of the girl's moistening pussy. 'Put your dress on and we'll take a walk to the park. It's a lovely day. The sun's shining, the sky is—'

  'Fuck the sun,' Anne snapped. 'I'm not going to the park to get laid by some dirty old sod.'

  'I'll be there to vet the... I'll be with you to vet any potential customers. Come on, slip into a dress and we'll go and take a look at the park.'

  Complaining as she clambered off the bed, Anne chose a dress from the wardrobe and pulled it over her head. She couldn't have been totally against the idea, Samantha thought as Anne slipped her shoes on and walked into the hall. Had she really not wanted to go to the park, she'd have stayed on the bed rather than get dressed. Following her out of the flat, Samantha walked by her side as they made their way down the street.

  'It's this way,' Samantha said, turning a corner. 'Are you all right?'

  'I suppose so,' Anne sighed. 'It's just that I thought I'd be working on the newspaper with you. Not getting laid by dirty old men.'

  'Anne, stop going on about old men. I'm talking about young lads, not ageing men.'

  'I'll still be a prostitute.'

  'Whatever you want to call it, we need some money. I want you to do some shopping later. Where's the money for that going to come from?'

  'My fanny, I suppose,' Anne quipped.

  'Let's sit on that bench over there,' Samantha said, heading across the park towards the fence.

  'Now what?' Anne asked grumpily as they reached the bench and sat down. 'Wait for some old pervert to come along and—'

  'Shut up, Anne,' Samantha snapped. 'Good grief, there's nothing wrong with having a teenage lad fuck you. It's either that, or you leave the flat and—'

  'OK, OK,' the girl sighed. 'I suppose I don't mind teenage boys.'

  'Good. Of course... I mean, if someone a little older comes a
long with cash...'

  'Yes, all right.'

  Concealing a smile, Samantha looked around the park. 'Someone was bound to come along before long, she thought, hoping to build up a few regular customers. It wasn't so much the money, she reflected. Although the cash would come in useful, she was looking forward to watching a huge cock drive into Anne's pussy. She wondered if she was a voyeur as she watched a middle-aged man walking across the grass. The thought of a huge penis slipping between the girl's pussy lips making her panties wet, she nudged Anne as the man approached.

  'He'll do,' she whispered.

  'He's an old man,' Anne complained. 'Besides, he might not have any money on him.'

  'Don't be so negative,' Samantha reproached her. 'He's bound to have something in his wallet. Pull your dress up and show your thighs.'

  'What are you going to say to him?' she asked, pulling her dress up. 'Hello, do you want to fuck my friend?'

  'Shush,' Samantha murmured as the man stood by the bench and smiled.

  'Excuse me,' he said. 'Do you know where the railway station is? I was told to cut through the park.'

  'Yes, you can get to it that way,' Samantha replied, eyeing the crotch of his trousers. 'Follow the fence and you'll come to a road. Cross the bridge and the station is on the left.'

  'Thanks,' he said, eyeing Anne's naked thighs.

  'Where are you off to?' Samantha asked as Anne parted her legs a little. 'Anywhere interesting?'

  'Oh, er... no, not really,' he replied abstractedly, his dark-eyed stare fixed on Anne's naked thighs as she opened her legs further.

  'If you're not in a hurry, stay with us for a while.'

  'Yes, yes, I will. I'm only going to visit a friend, so there's no rush.'

  Unable to take his eyes off Anne's inner thighs, the man crouched in front of her, obviously hoping for a glimpse of her tight panties. Wondering what he'd think when he discovered that the girl was naked beneath her dress, Samantha introduced herself and said that Anne was her sister. His name was Don, he told her. He was in his mid-forties and not bad looking. He probably had a wife, Samantha mused, wondering how big his cock was. Did his wife suck out his spunk?