by Ray Gordon
Contents
Cover
About the Book
About the Author
Also by Ray Gordon
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Copyright
About the Book
Alison was adopted as a child and begins to think she may have a twin sister who has moved into her neighbourhood and is dating a string of men. Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, she dyes her hair blonde and adopts the other girl’s identity. But playing the role of her promiscuous double leads her into an underworld of seedy bars and depraved sex.
About the Author
Ray Gordon is a popular erotic novelist of near legendary status, who has penned over forty novels.
Also by Ray Gordon:
DEPTHS OF DEPRAVATION
LUST CALL
TASTING CANDY
THE ROAD TO DEPRAVITY
THE UPSKIRT EXHIBITIONIST
UNEARTHLY DESIRES
WEB OF DESIRE
TRAIL OF SIN
Ray Gordon
One
I SAW THIS young guy looking at me through the newsagent’s shop window. He smiled and waved, but I ignored him. I’d only popped out to buy a magazine for my mother, and the last thing I wanted was to be chatted up in the street by a stranger. He was in his late twenties and not bad-looking. He was also very persistent. After tapping on the window and making a series of odd facial expressions, he finally came into the shop.
‘Hi, Ali,’ he said, grinning at me. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages – how are you doing?’
‘I’m sorry?’ I breathed, wondering how he knew my name. ‘Do I know you?’
‘Do you know me?’ He chuckled and looked down at the cleavage of my firm young breasts. ‘We know each other intimately,’ he said. ‘Or have you forgotten our nights of passion?’
‘If that’s the best chat-up line you can manage, you won’t get anywhere,’ I replied.
‘Chat-up line?’ He frowned and brushed his dark hair away from his forehead. ‘Why are you playing games? I’m Rod, Rod Davis. Why make out that you don’t know me?’
I quickly paid for the magazine, left the shop and walked the short distance home. Rod Davis? I wondered, glancing over my shoulder now and then to make sure that he wasn’t following me. Nights of passion? He’d obviously mistaken me for someone else, although it was odd that he knew my name. I closed the front door behind me, went into the lounge and looked through the window. Thankfully, he wasn’t hovering outside the house.
‘What are you doing?’ my mother asked me. ‘What are you looking at?’
‘Nothing, I . . . I thought I was being followed,’ I said, turning and facing her.
‘You watch too many films, young lady,’ she sighed. ‘Did you get my magazine?’
‘It’s there,’ I said, pointing to the couch. ‘A man came up to me in the shop and . . . He seemed to know me, but I’ve never met him before.’
‘It’s about time you found yourself a nice young man,’ she said, obviously not listening to me as she flicked through the magazine.
‘I’m not going out with a stranger who chats me up in a shop, mum.’
‘You should have stayed with Sam. He was a nice lad.’
‘He was married, mum. He lied to me about . . . Anyway, I’m only eighteen. There’s no rush.’
My mother seemed to think that I should settle down and make wedding plans, but I wasn’t ready for that. Besides, I hadn’t yet met anyone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. But she was right about Sam: he was very nice. But he was married and I was nothing more than his bit on the side. Our relationship didn’t last long because, apart from him having a wife at home, I was a prude. He wanted crude sex, and . . . well, I wasn’t that way inclined. But I really did like him.
* * *
The next puzzling incident happened when I was in a local pub one evening. I’d arranged to meet a girlfriend there and was sitting at a table sipping a gin and tonic when a young man came over to me. He sat opposite me, plonked his pint of beer on the table, and asked me how I was getting on. He knew my name, but I’d never seen him before. Was I going mad? I wondered as he smiled and winked at me. When he asked me whether I still shaved my pussy, I felt my face flush. What a bloody nerve, I thought angrily. I ignored his crude comments about my being a blow-job queen and, when he invited me back to his place for a good spanking, I made my anger clear.
‘I don’t know who the hell you are,’ I hissed angrily. ‘But I want you to leave me alone.’
‘Ali, it’s me,’ he said, frowning. ‘Your old friend and lover – you know, Rick.’
‘I’ve never met you before,’ I retorted. ‘And you’re certainly not an old friend and lover. Please go away.’
‘I . . . I don’t understand. We parted on the best of terms, Ali. What’s happened to make you like this?’
‘You’ve obviously mistaken me for someone else. I don’t know you, and I don’t want to know you.’
‘OK, well . . . We’ll leave it at that, then.’
He walked to the bar, turned and gazed at me. He frowned again, looking genuinely confused as he half smiled at me. He was very good-looking and I wished that I did know him, but he was a complete stranger. I sipped my drink and pondered on his comment about me shaving my pussy. I’d never shaved my pussy. One or two boyfriends had asked me to shave it, but I’d hated the idea. As for spanking . . . Apart from an occasional whack on my bum from my dad years ago when I’d been a naughty child I’d never been spanked.
I finished my drink but didn’t want to go to the bar for another in case Rick, or whoever he was, started chatting to me again. He was leaning on the bar, glancing in my direction every now and then as he sipped his beer. Where the hell was my friend? Jackie had never let me down before, and she’d never been late. Finally plucking up courage, I grabbed my handbag and took my empty glass to the bar. Rick said nothing, but I knew that he was watching me as I ordered another gin and tonic. I’d hoped for a relaxing evening with Jackie, but I felt uneasy with Rick staring at me.
Returning to the table, I thought about leaving the pub once I’d finished my drink. Jackie obviously wasn’t going to turn up, so there was no point sitting there alone with a stranger constantly eyeing me. Would he follow me home? I wondered anxiously. Was he some kind of weirdo? What if he was a sad pervert? I was eighteen and attractive. I should never have worn such a short skirt, I realised as he smiled at me again. If he followed me and –
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Jackie said, breezing into the pub and dumping her handbag on the table. ‘Mum was going on at me and I couldn’t get away.’
‘You don’t know how pleased I am to see you,’ I breathed in relief. ‘That man over there – he’s been chatting me up.’
‘Lucky you,’ she said, glancing at Rick. ‘He’s not bad-looking.’
‘He asked me whether I still shave my pussy.’
‘What?’ Jackie gasped, her dark eyes wide as she stared at me. ‘Do you know him, then?’
‘No, I’ve never met him before. He also invited me back to his place for a good spanking. And he knows my name.’
‘A good spanking?’ She grinned and giggled as she took her purse from her bag. ‘That sounds interesting.’
‘He keeps looking at me, Jackie. I didn’t think you were going to turn up and I wasn’t sure what to do.’
‘He fancies you, that’s all.’
‘But he knows my name.’
/>
‘Maybe he’s seen you in here before, heard someone call your name and . . . I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ll go and get a drink.’
Jackie was probably right, I thought as she walked up to the bar. But that was the second man within a week who’d known my name and had chatted to me as if we were old friends. Two coincidences in seven days? The first man had commented on nights of passion, and then Rick had asked me whether I still shaved my pussy. It was all rather odd but, as Jackie sat opposite me with her drink, I tried to forget about it.
‘What was your mum going on about?’ I asked her.
‘The usual stuff,’ she sighed. ‘When are you going to get a job, you should have gone to university, nag, nag, nag . . . She knows that I’m looking for a job. It’s not my fault if I can’t find one.’
‘University is great, Jackie. Look at the situation I’m in. I’ve got two months off for the summer, I have some money –’
‘A student loan has to be paid back, Ali.’
‘I know, but I earn money too.’
‘You have your job at the DIY store, which means that you earn a little money, sure. But you don’t really have two months’ summer holiday because you’re working.’
‘I enjoy the job. Anyway, it’s only part-time.’
‘Do you reckon that’s where that man knows you from? You wear a name badge at the store. He might have been there and seen you.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that. Yes, that must be it. There was another man the other day. He came up to me in the paper shop and started chatting as if he knew me. He knew my name too so . . . You’re right, they must have been into the store and seen me there. That explains it.’
‘There’s usually a simple explanation to a mystery.’ Jackie cocked her head to one side and grinned. ‘Do you shave your pussy?’
‘What?’ I gasped, holding my hand to my mouth.
‘You said the man over there asked you whether you still shave your pussy.’
‘Oh, right. Er . . . no, no, I don’t. Do you?’
‘I used to. Do you remember that idiot Brian who I went out with? He got me to shave my pussy. I quite liked it but . . .’
I wasn’t really listening to Jackie. I was watching Rick from the corner of my eye and when he waved at me I foolishly turned my head to look at him. He pointed to his glass and then pointed at me, obviously offering me a drink. I shook my head and turned my gaze back to Jackie. She was going on about her smooth pussy lips and how Brian used to love licking her hairless crack. Jackie was a lovely girl, but she had sluttish tendencies. I’d never shaved ‘down there’.
There was one boyfriend I’d had who . . . He’d been into bondage and I’d allowed him to tie my hands to his brass bedstead. Then he ran a length of rope beneath the bed and tied the ends to my ankles. Naked, with my feet pulled down at either side of the bed and my thighs parted wide, I was unable to move as he licked my vagina. I wasn’t sure that I liked being tied down – it wasn’t really my thing. I felt like a whore, but I was still glad that I’d tried it.
I finished my drink while Jackie answered her mobile phone. I wondered what she was going to do with her life. She was beautiful with her long black hair and huge dark eyes. She should have been a model, I mused, gazing at her petite firm breasts that were clearly outlined by her tight top. I’d have liked to have been a model, but I didn’t have the looks. What was I going to do with my life? I wondered as she slipped her phone into her handbag. I was studying nursing at university. The problem was that I didn’t want to be a nurse.
‘I have to go,’ Jackie sighed, finishing her drink.
‘Already?’ I asked her.
‘It’s my mum. I thought she’d been acting funny recently and now I know why. Dad’s just walked out on her.’
‘God, no.’
‘He’s gone off with some younger woman, apparently. I’d better get home and be with her.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I’ll ring you later, OK?’
‘OK.’
I’d forgotten about Rick but when Jackie left he wandered over to my table, holding a gin and tonic. He smiled and pulled up a chair, raising his eyebrows as if silently asking whether he could join me. I wished that I’d left with Jackie as he sat down opposite me. I was about to go when I decided to ask him about the DIY store. I didn’t want to get into a conversation with him, but I was intrigued.
‘I’ve never been to the place,’ he replied. ‘Besides, we met at John’s party last year.’
‘Who the hell’s John?’ I asked him.
‘Ali, I don’t know what you’re playing at. Making out that you don’t know me and –’
‘Rick, I have never seen you before,’ I cut in. ‘I’m not playing games. I honestly have no idea who you are.’
‘In that case, you must have a double.’
‘A double, with the same name? That’s highly unlikely.’
‘How else do you explain it?’ Rick looked at my hair and frowned. ‘I preferred you with dark hair,’ he said. ‘Blonde doesn’t suit you. When did you change the colour?’
‘About two weeks . . . How did you know I’d changed my hair colour?’
‘The last time we met you had dark hair.’
‘When did you last see me? I mean, when did you last see my lookalike?’
‘Must be about three weeks ago.’
‘And where was that?’
‘You came . . . she came back to my place after we’d spent the evening here. Ali, I’m confused.’
‘You’re confused? What do you think I am? What’s this girl’s address? Where does she live?’
‘I don’t know. She was looking for a flat and staying with a friend in the meantime. I don’t know the address. Why not come back to my place and –’
‘Rick, I don’t want to know you. I know that sounds rude, but I’m not available.’
‘I wasn’t trying to chat you up, Ali,’ he sighed. ‘It’s just that I find the whole thing incredible. Are you sure you don’t have a twin sister?’
‘I’m an only child. Look, I must be going. I’m sorry I’m not who you thought I was.’
I smiled back at him as I left the table. I knew that he hadn’t been trying to chat me up. He’d seemed genuinely confused, as I was. As I walked home I thought again about his comment concerning my hair. I’d always been dark and had decided to go blonde a couple of weeks previously. It was quite a coincidence that he not only knew my name but knew I’d changed my hair colour. Coincidence, or . . . or what? I’d always been prone to neurotic behaviour, according to my mother, so I decided to try to forget about the incident before I became obsessed with the mystery.
But I couldn’t forget it. Being chatted up by two men within a week had got me thinking. In my bed that night I pondered on my previous relationships. I’d never really had a sex life, apart from the time when I’d been tied to a bed and licked. I’d had sex but . . . I suppose I’d always been shy, and prudish. I’d thought that the bondage episode might have brought me out of my shell, but it hadn’t. If anything, the loveless act had left me cold. What’s the point in tying someone to a bed? I’d have allowed him to lick my pussy without being tied down. There again, would I have agreed to him licking me? I’d never had an orgasm because I hadn’t been able to let go. I’d come close when he’d tied me to the bed and tongued me, but I’d been concerned because I was vulnerable and defenceless. There was no way I could have relaxed and allowed my climax to explode.
Curiosity was getting the better of me and I went back to the pub the following evening. I was hoping to bump into Rick as I wanted to talk to him, ask him some more questions, but he wasn’t there. I was standing at the bar sipping my drink when another young man came over to me. He asked me where I’d been and said that he hadn’t seen me for over a week. I was stunned, and a little frightened. He knew my name, and I realised that this was no coincidence.
‘I’ve been here and there,’ I replied, deciding to play along with him
in the hope of discovering what was going on.
‘Screwing around, as usual?’ he said, with a chuckle.
‘Maybe. What have you been up to?’
‘Nothing much. Ali, have you given any more thought to the photographs?’
‘Photographs?’ I echoed.
‘The ones we talked about.’
‘Oh, er . . . no, no, I haven’t.’
‘Is it the money? I could offer you a little more, if that’s the problem.’
‘I’ve been busy,’ I said softly, wishing that I knew his name and what he was talking about.
‘You’ve got too many men on the go,’ he sighed. ‘We’d both do well from the photos. When will you give me an answer?’
‘I . . . I don’t know.’ I hesitated, wondering what to say. ‘Tell me more about it.’
‘You know what it’s about. It’s nothing bad, just nude shots. And some naughty shots of your lovely pussy, of course. I’ve got the studio set up. All I need is for you to agree.’
‘It’s not the sort of thing I’m into,’ I said, trying not to look shocked.
‘That’s a laugh, coming from someone who’s screwed half the guys in town.’
‘I’m not a slut,’ I retorted.
‘Ali, you are a slut. You’ve always said that you’re a slut.’
‘Yes, well . . . I’d better be going.’
‘Already?’
‘I have things to do.’
‘Two hundred pounds, Ali. That’s the best I can offer you at the moment. Once the money starts coming in I’ll give you more. At least come round and see the studio.’
‘Where is it?’ I asked him, hoping I hadn’t given the game away.
‘You’re hopeless, Ali. I suppose you’ve lost my card?’
‘I have it somewhere.’
He reached into his jacket pocket. ‘Here’s another one.’
I took his card and read his name. ‘OK, Don. I’ll come and take a look sometime.’
‘When?’
‘Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow evening, OK?’
‘The idea’s good, Ali. A website with a members’ area – we’d make a fortune.’
‘I’ll come round tomorrow.’
