‘Not what you expected?’ Serena asked, seeing Terry’s expression as he scanned the bleak bedroom. ‘I’m sharing this place with some other girls, I won’t be here forever,’ Serena reasoned as she flicked her hair over her shoulder and pouted her lips.
Terry shrugged; splayed out on top of the duvet he had noticed that the room was bare, impersonal even. Just a double bed and a rickety looking bedside cabinet where Serena had placed the half-drunk bottle of Moët down next to a brown threadbare lamp. The décor was the last thing on his mind; the only reason he had even noticed how bleak the room looked was because against the bland surroundings, Serena only looked more striking. She was so stunning, so beautiful that she lit up the room.
‘Trust me, interior design ain’t really my thing. There’s only one thing on my mind and that’s you . . . Now come on, get your kit off and get that tight little arse of yours over here pronto.’ Terry patted the space next to him. He’d just snorted his last bit of gear and he was dying to see Serena naked so that they could start having some fun.
‘Terry! You bad boy.’ Serena giggled at his enthusiasm as she bent down and retrieved the pink silk ties and handcuffs from the cupboard next to him. Jiggling them in front of him, she raised an eyebrow. ‘But you know what happens to bad boys, don’t you, Terry?’
Terry grinned cheekily, as Serena expertly tightened the handcuffs around his wrists, attaching him firmly to the bedstead, as she placed her mouth over his. She kissed him, slowly. Teasing him.
‘I take it that you are about to enlighten me?’ Terry could barely contain his excitement. Nor the prominent bulge in his underpants.
‘Bad boys need to be taught lessons, Terry, and you seem like a very naughty boy to me.’ Serena still had her dress on, but seeing as he copped an eyeful of her beautiful pert breasts every time she leant over him, Terry wasn’t complaining. If she wanted to play kinky games with him, then he was more than up for it. God, young girls really were a different class altogether these days.
Slipping her hands inside the waistband of Terry’s boxer shorts, Serena let her fingers gently brush against his bare skin before she slid his underpants down over his legs, leaving him completely naked.
Taking in the view as Serena then bent over at the end of the bed, while she tied his feet, Terry caught a flash of her skimpy red knickers as her dress rode up. If she didn’t hurry up, he was going to go off like a fucking starting pistol in a minute.
‘Me? A bad boy? You ain’t seen nothing yet . . .’ Terry moaned in pleasure when Serena finally turned and climbed on top of him, straddling his body as she wrapped her taut limbs tightly around him.
Terry could feel the heat between them with her grinding on top of his naked body. Still wearing her dress, she let the sharp points of her stiletto heels dig into his thighs. It was such a turn-on. She was teasing the fuck out of him, and it was all he could do not to come there and then.
As she swung her long blonde hair playfully down so it brushed against his chest, Terry closed his eyes and inhaled her sweet, fruity perfume. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek as she leaned down towards him. Eagerly awaiting her next move, the anticipation was driving him crazy. She lifted his head gently and placed the blindfold over his eyes.
Physically stopping a groan from escaping his mouth, Terry couldn’t hide the disappointment he felt when she got up and moved away from the bed a few seconds later.
‘I’m taking off my dress . . .’ Serena whispered provocatively. ‘And now my panties . . .’
Terry grinned, he couldn’t wait for her to get back on top of him. All this kinky shit the girl seemed to like was giving him the raging horn.
Suddenly confused at what was taking her so long, Terry listened for a few more seconds to the commotion at the end of the bed. He could hear the zip being opened on the inside of his jacket, as his clothes were being searched.
‘What the fuck . . . ?’ Writhing around, he tried to break free from the handcuffs, while the girl was rifling through his belongings.
‘What’s the matter, bad boy? I thought you liked games, Terry?’ Serena searched Terry’s wallet, and spotted the typical tell-tale photograph that she had obviously been expecting. ‘Oh how sweet. You never mentioned that you were the dutiful family man.’ Serena scoffed. Men were all the same as far as she was concerned. She had yet to meet the exception. Any man who was unlucky enough to come in contact with her got exactly what they deserved.
‘You know what they would call you in my country? They would call you a filthy pig.’ Serena grabbed the pile of money, and counting the notes she smirked. There was just over four and a half grand.
Not bad for a night’s work, if she did say so herself.
Every single penny of it belonged to her. Today she was finally breaking free. Raymond would go ape shit no doubt, but by the time he realised that she’d done a runner she would be long gone. And so would tonight’s earnings.
Wrapping her black faux-fur jacket around her shoulders, Serena glanced around the cold, dirty room. The place had been a roof over her head, but it was far from what she would call home. It was squalor and she wouldn’t let a dog live here.
Her eyes, full of contempt, rested on Terry. Spread-eagled on the bed, his pale skin and fat rolls jiggled as he thrust his body about angrily, trying unsuccessfully to force the restraints. Tonight had been the first time she had brought a man back here. Normally, she went back to the men’s hotel rooms, or their cars, luring them in under false pretences just like she had done with Terry. Then she’d fleece the pervy bastards for whatever she could get.
It didn’t matter that Terry had seen where she lived tonight, because she would never be coming back. Tonight, thanks to Terry’s winnings, she was finally able to get away from here.
Smirking as she pictured Raymond’s face later, when he came to collect his money but would instead be faced with a naked and bound punter, Serena felt empowered.
Terry would be her parting gift.
It was true what her mother once told her: if you lie down with dogs you will get up with fleas, and Raymond was infested. Serena had been used as a pawn. The only things that talked in that man’s world were money, sex and violence. She had been tricked into coming to England by men from her own country. Fellow Romanians with their false promises of a job, a home, a future. It had all been lies. Sold to the highest bidder. Raymond had taken her passport and forced her to earn her keep, just like the rest of the girls he had working for him. What Raymond hadn’t sussed out, though, was that instead of using her body to earn her money, Serena had only ever used her brains. Ripping off drunken lowlifes in the casinos had earned her a fortune. Not only had she managed to keep Raymond off her back by becoming his best little earner for the past two months, but she’d also managed to save almost enough to escape.
Serena smiled as she pushed the large wad of money deep into the purposely torn lining of her handbag along with the rest that she had hidden away.
She didn’t have a fortune by any means, but it was enough to give her a good start. Somewhere away from London. Away from the dirty men here who controlled her life. Finally she could send for her daughter and her mother; they could come to England and Serena could start afresh.
‘You must be delusional. Look at you, old and fat. Why would I want to have sex with you?’ Serena’s lip curled with disdain, her rich Romanian accent stronger now as she felt her temper get the better of her. ‘You disgust me.’
‘You fucking bitch!’ Terry spat, defeated. He couldn’t believe that the girl had set him up. Fleecing him of everything he had, and insulting him while she did it.
‘Well, unfortunately for you there will be no fucking. But “bitch” I am happy to wear.’ Serena sneered as she shook her head, chucking his empty wallet onto the floor. Serena couldn’t resist picking up Terry’s mobile phone. ‘Why don’t we send your wife a little pictu
re, Terry? Show her just what a bad boy her husband really is.’
Capturing a picture of Terry in all his naked glory, Serena pressed send to the number that had been ringing him all evening. The irate wife, she guessed.
‘Naughty boy, Terry, very naughty boy.’ Serena pocketed the phone before gathering up all of Terry’s belongings and marching out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Listening to the sounds of her footsteps as they faded to silence, Terry waited.
She was gone.
The smell of Serena’s perfume lingered in the air; the heady aroma now smelt bitter, making him feel sick.
‘Fucking cunt.’ Tugging his hands and kicking out his feet, Terry threw himself around the bed with as much force as he could manage, frantically trying to yank the metal cuffs from the bed posts. It was no good. All he’d managed to do was slip his blindfold off.
‘Fuck’s sake!’ he shouted. ‘Can someone fucking help me . . . ?’
The cocaine had worn off and the chill in the room prickled his bare skin. He had no idea how long he was going to be stuck here for and he was fuming.
The thought of all that money, gone, just like that, made Terry want to cry.
Humiliated, he’d just fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book. Royally stitched up by a fucking brass.
Once Kelly got hold of him she would string him up by his balls.
Chapter Five
Slamming her cup down on the breakfast bar, Kelly Stranks gritted her teeth in annoyance, sending her hot tea flying all over the table and all down the front of her fluffy pink dressing gown. Leaping out of the chair she grabbed a tea-towel from the worktop and mopped up the spillage as the sound of the shouting coming from the next room rattled through her brain. It was barely seven o’clock in the morning and already she’d had an earful.
‘Can you two bloody kids quit with your bleeding racket? I’ve got a banging headache as it is without listening to the pair of you squabbling like a bleeding cat ‘n’ dog. Half the bloody street can probably hear you,’ she screeched. ‘One more word from either of you and there will be trouble.’
Kelly waited, silently counting to three. She wasn’t joking either – another sound and she was ready to slap the legs off the pair of them.
Something in her voice must have warned them that she really wasn’t going to put up with their usual obnoxious behaviour today, because to her surprise both of her children immediately took heed to her warning and instantly fell silent.
Sitting back down, Kelly lit another cigarette. The seconds of satisfaction that she felt as she inhaled a long slow breath were short-lived. Glancing once more at the clock above the kettle she was instantly reminded of why she was in such a bad mood in the first place.
Her good-for-nothing bloody husband!
It was always the same. Every payday without fail, Terry did his usual disappearing act. Going on a bender, and spunking the only money they had coming in on God only knows what, or who. Well, last night was the fucking end. They say that pictures can speak a thousand words, and the one she had received of him stark bollock naked at four-thirty this morning had left her physically reeling. She didn’t know what the hell he was playing at but when she finally got hold of him she was going to castrate the cheating bastard.
Stubbing her cigarette out, she got up and switched the kettle on to make herself another cup of tea, before immediately lighting up another.
She peered around the kitchen looking at the dark mouldy patches in the corners of the walls trailing up to the ceiling, hovering above her like black murky clouds. The house was rotten, just like their life, and Kelly had had enough.
Fighting back her tears, she refused to cry.
She would not shed another single tear for that bastard. No way. He didn’t fucking deserve them.
She shook her head as she thought of the promises that he had made her. Promised her the world he had; what a joke that had turned out to be. She’d been so young and naive, and blinded by the idea of making her own way in the world, and proving her father wrong, that she had stupidly hung on to Terry’s every word.
Terry Stranks, her knight in shining armour, though as it turned out the man was no more than a liar in cheap tinfoil. Now, seven years later Kelly was finally under no illusions that her husband’s idea of giving her the world was in fact a two-up two-down council house in one of the shittiest, most poverty stricken streets in Southwark.
From day one everything about Terry had been a front. Not only had his promises been as empty as the bed she had slept in last night, but his pockets had been too. The fancy sports car he had first picked her up in on their first date, the lavish gifts he had wooed her with. It turned out that Terry had had a big win on the horses just before he met her. It was a one-off, a lucky fluke she had since learned.
Terry was a massive gambler, and a shit one at that. After getting a bit cocky with his winnings, he had frittered away the last of it trying to win more. His riches had dried up quicker than one of Kelly’s Revlon nail varnishes and by the time she realised that Terry wasn’t all he made himself out to be, it was too late. She was already pregnant. Seventeen years old, and up the duff.
Her dad had gone mental at her of course, having already taken an instant dislike to Terry, due to the fact that he and Terry were almost the same age. He’d been fuming. Spouting off at her about how he’d warned her about men like Terry. Kelly was so caught up in her new life with Terry and she had been so determined to prove her dad wrong, that after one row too many with her father, Kelly had left home and moved in with Terry.
She’d been stuck with the bastard ever since.
Pulling deeply on her cigarette, Kelly’s hands shook with anger.
Seven years she’d given to that man, and what had he given her? A belly full of stretch-marks, and two kids that gave her nothing but grief all day long. She’d sacrificed everything for that man. Even her family.
Her dad had warned her. Like they said, she’d made her bed and, being too stubborn for her own good, Kelly Stranks was going to have to lie in it.
So much for living the fairy-tale.
Stubbing out her cigarette, her mouth felt dry and she was no longer in the mood for it. Why did it feel that, with every passing day, life was becoming more and more of a struggle?
Terry knew that they had been counting on his wages; if he’d pissed it all up the wall again she was going to cause murders. She just couldn’t work out what the man was playing at. He must have a bleeding death wish if he thought the O’Sheas were going to let them off again when they turned up here for the money they were owed later, and he didn’t have it. Staring down at her broken finger, Terry had seen what they were like, how angry they’d been. Jimmy had even taken her mother’s brooch, the bastard.
He was a fucking let-down. Instead of anger now, Kelly was feeling numb.
This really was the last straw.
‘Muuumm . . .’ Billy screeched as he tore into the room, his eyes blazing with anger, bringing his mum’s thoughts abruptly back to the present. ‘Miley drew on my shirt.’ Billy spun around to reveal the bright red felt-tip scrawl that covered the back of his white school shirt. ‘What does it say, Mum?’
Kelly put her hand to her forehead in despair at the sight of her daughter’s artwork. It looked like a drawing of a penis.
‘Miley!’ Kelly shouted as she spotted Billy’s bottom lip start to quiver and his cheeks turning red in anger. She knew Billy was going to start lashing out at his younger sister. Kelly had never known a six-year-old to have such a bad temper. He reminded her of her brother Christopher at that age. ‘Where is she?’
‘Dunno.’ Billy shuffled his feet and stared at the floor defiantly.
‘Billy?’ Kelly could see by her shifty son’s face that he had done something he shouldn’t have.
‘Billy?’ she shout
ed, her patience wearing thin.
‘She’s in the shed,’ he said in a small defiant voice. ‘She said she was going out there to feed Thumper, so I locked her in. It serves her right, Mum, she’s a little bastard.’
‘Oi, watch your mouth.’ Kelly clouted Billy around the back of the head.
‘What? You call us that all the time,’ Billy whined.
Losing her patience, Kelly took a deep breath before she really said something that she would regret.
‘For fuck’s sake! Get that shirt off and see if there is another one in the laundry basket, will you? Hurry up or we’ll be late for school.’ Marching out to the shed, she tried to keep her cool. ‘You two kids are going to be the death of me, do you know that?’ Kelly shouted as she approached the shed and struggled with the padlock, whilst Miley kicked the wooden door repeatedly, crying and screaming at Billy to let her out.
Pulling the door open, Kelly shook her head. Miley’s bright red face, twisted in anger at her brother, quickly turned to one of upset. Five years old, and with a mop of gorgeous blonde curls, she looked the innocent. Miley was more than capable of winding her brother up, and thinking that she could manipulate her mother the way she did her father, she sobbed now.
Kelly wasn’t having it.
‘This is what happens when you wind your brother up . . .’ Just before Kelly could scold the girl further, she heard her son’s shouts from the house.
‘Mum . . . quick, Mum. It’s Dad . . .’
‘Right you, inside. And no more drawing pictures like that on your brother. What the hell are they teaching you down at that school, huh?’ Kelly said before turning on her heel, and going in to sort her husband out. The mood she was in now, she was going to let the dirty stop-out bleeding well have it.
‘Oh the wanderer returns, eh? Where the fuck have you—’
Stopping dead in her tracks as she reached the lounge, Kelly saw her husband crouching over the sofa, naked, wrapped in nothing but a cream bed sheet and holding his side in agony. Kelly gasped. Terry looked like he’d been attacked.
Bad Blood Page 4
