21st November 1998
Sam’s out. He’s staying with me for a while so I decided to throw him a party. And of course I had to hire him a lot of pussy, the guy’s been without for three years and shit did he make up for it. I’ve never known any fucker go all night like he did.
Although I did snag myself some of it. Lucinda, well that’s the name she gave me, had the hairiest cunt I’ve ever been in. She kept making this weird kind of growl though, not an erotic growl, more of the way a badger growls. Scared the shit out of me at first. Pulled out of her and wielded the baseball bat thinking some fucking wild animal had slipped in with the guests. The bitch stared at me like I’d gone mad, but shit, no way was any black and white miniature bear getting its teeth on my dick. Anyway when I explained why I was waving the bat about, she started to laugh and told me it was the noise she always makes when she comes. Poor bitch! I almost felt sorry for her. She didn’t half go red and she kept apologising.
So trying to zone out to the noise I finally managed to fuck the bitch into next week. She likes the snow as well. I must say, it’s much more of a pleasure snorting off a pair of fabulous tits. Right up the centre of her amazing cleavage. A face full of a bird’s flesh and a nose full of pureness. The night couldn’t have gone any better.
15th March 1999
It’s opening night this Saturday. Everything is planned to precision. George Fielding came out a saint. Turns out he knows quite a few fucking names and he graciously passed around invites. William Jackson, who owns a rather exclusive adult club, is very kindly providing a few of his girls for entertainment. I have plenty of ‘illegal substances’ for those who require it to party. Food is being provided by Herman Heister, the Michelin star chef!! I know! Get me! I’m 19 and I’m making money left, right and centre.
Years ago I would never have imagined this. I’m not too naïve to know it could all be taken away from me if I don’t work at it but the feeling I get when I stand in the centre of the club and look around is indescribable. I did it. I built that place from a mere shell. When Greg and I purchased it, it hadn’t even got full walls of plaster, the toilets had resembled something out of a damn horror movie, and even the wiring was condemned. But we did it, and I’ve never been more proud of myself.
Life is pretty good right now. Rebecca came up with some amazing ideas for the club so I’ve given her the manager’s job. All the staff have been trained to perfection and all we need now is to open the bloody doors.
On a more bitter note, turns out my mother just upped and left. Just fucked off across the world without so much of a goodbye to her children. Kerrie was heartbroken, poor kid. I happen to think she’ll be better off without the bitch in her life but I understand why she’s so hurt. The thing is Kerrie has also decided to stay with my dad for a bit. She’s naïve enough to think she can still change him. She thinks now that Mum’s gone that maybe my father will start to get his own life on track, like a kick up the arse sort of thing. But I know better, the man is too pig-headed to change for anyone, and especially not Kerrie.
The thing is, even if I will never openly say this to my sister, she was born with a twin. George. At six months old he died from natural causes, cot death they call it. My mother, and my father, have never really gotten over that. And sometimes I wonder if they resent Kerrie for it. I get the impression that they are always wondering how George would have turned out. Kerrie is very sensitive. Although she’s bright, she’s very reserved. It might have something to do with being raped at 15 but then again I think that’s just her personality, she’s sweet, caring and has the softest heart. Yet I do think that my parents feel like they were left with the more inferior sibling. That’s not my sentiment at all, I love Kerrie with all my heart, and she’s the only person that I can be myself with. She takes my shit and she listens to me, but she also gives me her honest opinion, whether I want to hear it or not. And I admire her the more for that.
I just worry about her being with that bastard. But I suppose I’m only a phone call away, and I’ll be there within a breath if she needs me.
I’m just hoping it doesn’t come to that but we’ll see.
21st March 1999
Opening night was an amazing success. The private party we threw got me well in with every single man that’s worth something in the criminal world. Free food, coke and girls are apparently sufficient gifts to be accepted.
It’s a little weird in this society. As long as you don’t piss off your neighbour and competition then it seems everything runs smoothly. But take out the wrong guy, or backstab the wrong person and things can turn pretty nasty.
George Fielding still holds the top spot. He’s the kingpin and most are happy with that, me included. So long as my bank balance keeps climbing and I’m given equal respect within the lawless ring then I’m as happy as hippos in mud.
So I guess, in reality, I’ve been given the go-ahead to rule East London.
It feels strange and I can’t help smiling whenever I think about what this means. When I was little I wanted to be in the army, but as I grew up I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle the discipline. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean in the hard work sense, I mean being barked orders at. I’m a team player, I can work with others if they have good ideas and aren’t afraid of hard work themselves, but I know I’d end up gutting some fucking knob general who thought he was better than me. Furthermore with it being in the army, it would be a tad more difficult to get rid of the ponce who upset me. So I had come to accept that I’d be better owning my own army.
I want to be known for being a bastard but a fair bastard. Upset me and I won’t think twice about filleting some pricks innards, but treat me with respect and honesty and I’ll repay the favour.
That’s why Rebecca has come up with the bright idea of opening a brothel and I’m taking it serious. If it turns out to be profitable then she’ll be given full rights to the place. She’ll run it and I’ll bank the profits. Works perfectly for us both. This venture will be purely my own though. I love being in partnership with Greg but I want to be up there with the best, and sometimes that involves taking risks.
I haven’t spoken with William Jackson who owns the Black Panther. His is an expensive superior club that caters for the dark kinky shit, whereas the place I’ll be establishing will be more of a regular brothel – cheap fuck but greater turnover. So I don’t think it will interfere with his place at all.
So I just need to find the perfect place now. It needs to be somewhere private enough so it’s discreet but it also needs to be close enough to the night scene. Time will tell I suppose.
14th July 1999
The Loft is going from strength to strength. We have some quite famous names on the VIP list now. The VIP section is a new part of the club. The recognised don’t want to party with the normal folk and it makes sense to fork out the extra to bring in more.
I’ve started dealing in weapons now and fuck, that bit of kit brings in more than I could ever imagine. The Russian shit seems to be popular and I had one or two contacts there so it made sense to me to expand their business over here. I pay the minimum for each piece but buy in bulk so the Russians are happy, and then I sell on at a hefty premium. No one is willing to associate with the Russians, mainly because they’re arrogant fuckers who would sooner slice your face off than talk to you, but I once went to school with a kid, Nikolai Azarov. When I was about 13 some of the school bullies pinned him up behind the maths block, and I helped him out. Turns out it was one of the best things I did because when he left his school his mother moved back out to Russia and married the king of the Russian mafia. Hence Nikolai repaying the favour I did him years ago. He’s a good kid too so we’re both happy bunnies.
I’m currently screwing this Chinese chick. Shit she has the smallest tits but has an arse you can bounce a damn ping pong ball on. Mai is tiny too, she looks like she’d break with a good hard fuck. I like her but I’m already getting bored. She point blank refuses to do
anal and that’s something I like so not sure how long it will last, although she sucks like a fucking vacuum, she gives it easy as well. She won’t think twice about sliding under the table in the restaurant and blowing me while I smile and nod at the fucking waiter. It’s hard to keep a straight face but it’s fun so hey, I’ll tap it until it breaks.
All in all, life is good right now.
27th July 1999
I swear I will do time for my cunt of a father. Why the hell Kerrie won’t come and live with me is beyond me. The bastard smacked her one while he was pissed. He came back with a tart who thieved Kerrie’s purse and when Kerrie confronted the skank my dad backhanded her.
He’s now sporting a broken nose and four broken ribs. Yet my sister still won’t give in and accept that I’m the only real family she has. I’ll be honest and say I’m scared what he’ll do next. He will bring her down until she starts to revert back to the timid, shy girl she used to be. Kade dotes on her and he’s the reason my father is now walking funny, he’s even offered to move Kerrie in with him but she just won’t let go. She thinks our father needs her, the only thing that bastard needs is a hole in the ground. And I’m willing to dig that damn thing myself.
Mai is a goner, she was way too boring. However, there’s a new cunt on the street. Marissa is a six foot Russian blonde and shit, her thighs are tighter than my arse hole. She fucks like a damn banshee and takes it anywhere I wanna stick it. She’s up for anything too, and she loves watching others fuck. Dane brought his latest bed buddy round, Tamara. All four of us had ended up group fucking, swapping pussy back and forth. Shit hot. Then Marissa sat and watched as Dane and me took Tamara together. She sat on the chair, her legs spread as she finger fucked herself, watching and coming over and over again as I fucked Tamara’s pussy until she couldn’t take anymore. What other bitch would allow that shit? Not many!
Dane loves the gangster lifestyle too. He’s also a merciless fucker when we need someone torturing. I’ve never seen anyone become so closed off but obsessed at the same time. He seems to love it more the louder his ‘victims’ scream. I’m gonna have to watch he doesn’t ever turn on one of mine, what he can do is sick. I know I’m a cruel bastard when I need to be but there’s this something evil that creeps over him. He’s relentless and I can see how fucking hard his dick gets the more pain he delivers.
He was talking about delving into BDSM scene and not just the soft stuff. Dane wants hardcore so I’ve recommended him to William, maybe he can whip his shit out on a woman that actually wants all that shit. Don’t get me wrong, I love to tie up and spank a woman, to see her flesh turn pink with my own hand and my own control is shit hot, but I have a feeling Dane is into the more darker stuff, and I don’t wanna see him take it too far with someone that is naïve enough to allow him to do shit like that but doesn’t understand it well enough. That is just asking for trouble, and at the end of the day, Dane works for me and it’s my reputation that’s at stake.
Aged 20
20th August 1999
Okay some bastard is playing with me, and when I find out who they’re gonna wish they were able to take their own lives because I’m gonna make sure to drag out their deaths into an excruciating slow butchery.
Some cunt sent me a birthday card full of ‘specific’ shots of Kerrie and Kade. They were sick and not what I wanted to ever see. She’s my sister damn it, I don’t ever want to see her like that again.
But worse than that, the photos had been doctored. A couple were smeared with blood but there was one that chilled my blood. Kade’s face had been changed for mine, so it looked like I was screwing my own sister, and it looked damn professional. I know it was meant as a threat. That this cunt is going to make sure this photo is distributed around the people that matter. And in some cases that could sign my death warrant. That sort of shit is, and rightly so, NOT COOL! So if anyone actually thinks I’m doing ‘that’ then everything I’ve worked for is gone, along with my ability to eat solid foods.
I’ve put someone on Kerrie’s tail, just to keep an eye on her. I don’t mind taking risks but never with her.
I also have a job to do this week and now my heads all over the shack. Not good for a fucking high class bank heist! We’ve been planning this particular job for around eight months now so if I’m not 100% in the zone then we’re fucked. I can’t risk putting my men in danger either, they’re good men and they’re also mates, and that makes this shit personal.
I need to sort this crap out sooner rather than later but there’s absolutely nothing to go on. Sam is high in the computer hacking stuff and he checked the card and photos for prints but it was as clean as a whistle.
My coke supplier has been fucking shanked so I’m having to buy from Pete Grimsby again. I don’t like that shady fucker, he has eyes that go different ways and I can’t look at him properly so that means I can’t read the twat. I’m seriously thinking about dealing the shit myself, but to be honest going down that road, although quite profitable, isn’t worth the risks it can bring. It’s too open for me. I like to do deals once every six months, deals that can be covered easily, like arms and rocks. Drug distribution is too much hard work and there’s always one little prick that fucks up and sells to the wrong guy then drops your name so easily that you’re showering with a gang of naked men with bent knobs for the rest of your life. Fuck that shit!
Sam and Greg are on it and I trust them so I guess I just have to sit back and bide my time. I’m getting a damn expert at doing that.
3rd September 1999
Me and Bec have finally found the ideal place to open the brothel. It’s a small rundown hotel, but it houses ten rooms and some living quarters downstairs which works out ideal. Bec is going to run it so essentially I’m giving her carte blanche on the whole thing. She can decorate it, enrol girls and deal with all its issues. I’ll just bank the profits every month. And maybe I’ll sample the stock. However, I’ll be keeping my name out of it. I don’t want people knowing it’s mine. But I did dictate that all girls should be clean and have regular checks. Rebecca was down with that which would have been tough if she wasn’t.
I haven’t heard anything more from the prick who sent me the photos, although I kind of feel as though I’m being watched. Weird feeling actually. I feel like my life is in the spotlight and that someone is watching and waiting until the perfect time to strike. I hate being so out of control. I know something is coming and it’s the waiting that is the killer.
I saw Vickie yesterday. She’s working at a bar near where I am buying a new house. She decided to study nearer home after her mother took ill. She was relaxed and easy with me but she didn’t suggest meeting up again, so I didn’t. However, she did mention that her brother had gone missing… strange! (Cough)
She’s still one fit chick though but at the moment I don’t need that sort of relationship. It’s not a relationship of sorts but we still had the kind of sex that consumed our daily lives, and life is all over to be committed to her.
10th October 1999
The new house is so much better. There’s a ton more space and I’m trying to persuade Kerrie to move in. She’s still reluctant but I can see her resolve slipping. I think she’s realising that no matter how hard she tries that my father will never change. By the sounds of it he’s started to bring lots of tarts back too.
On the flip side of the coin, I received a letter from my mother. Seems she’s quite happy out there, but then again she’s not being ‘held back’ by her children is she, so she’s going to love it. Selfish bitch!
When I have kids – I’m not really sure I’ll ever have them actually. I never want to get married. Just watching the farce that my parents called a fucking marriage is enough to put the devout out of action for eternity. And selfish as I am, I can never imagine that I’ll want to spend the rest of my life with one woman. She’ll have to be something pretty special to melt the solid lump in my chest anyway. But, I digress, IF I have kids, I swear I’m going to spend as m
uch time with them as I can, and God be my witness, I’ll make sure to bring them up properly, with lots of love and attention.
Anyway, the house. It has this huge foyer with one of those gigantic staircases that curves around the edge of the room. I sound like a girl but I swear I got fucking tears in my eyes when the agent gave me the keys. My own place. My own fucking cash bought house. I’m 20 and by fuck did I not just buy my first house with fucking cash! Not bad, eh?
It has an enormous kitchen, which does nothing for me but Rebecca seemed to go all high pitched with oohs and fucking ahh’s all over the shack – it must be a woman thing. But I’ve never understood the concept of slaving for hours on something that is gone in five minutes. Don’t get me wrong, I love to eat, especially sweet stuff but as far as cooking it goes, no thanks! Bec bought me a monstrous machine that apparently makes ‘shit kicking’ coffee. It’s just coffee, I don’t get the hype. A spoonful of sugar, a spoonful of coffee granules and some hot water does the same thing, in a fraction of the time. That machine coughs and splutters as if it’s got emphysema for fucks sake!
My Diary, by Mason Fox (Heart of Stone #8) Page 3
