She was warm, and smelled of sunshine and sandy beaches. He thought back to the night before, how his daddy had rubbed and sucked her until she cried out. Don had thought he was hurting her at first, until she started begging for more.
A strange rushing feeling began in his underpants, and he rocked his hips slowly.
His mother reached down, and slapped at him.
A sudden pain in his groin caused him to cry out in pain.
“Now, now, naughty boy. You know that’s not allowed.”
“I’m sorry, Mummy. I didn’t mean to.”
“Stand up and drop your trousers. Come on. Quick, quick.”
He shook his head rapidly. “No, Mummy. I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“We’ll see, shall we?” She gripped him roughly by the wrist, and pulled him to his feet. “Drop your trousers. Do it!”
Tears streamed down his face, as he fumbled with trembling fingers to open the button of his stripy grey slacks.
“Now, lift your shirt up.” She taunted him.
“No, Mummy, please.”
She nodded, indicating he should do as she said.
He lifted his shirt, leaving him feeling exposed and silly.
“Okay, what is it you like, little man?” She hoisted her heavy breasts, tweaking at the nipples slowly.
He tried not to look, but he felt his eyes drawn to them. They were beautiful, but they gave him the strangest feeling. He placed his hands in front of him, covering his boy bits.
“Lift your shirt up, Donald. I won’t tell you again.”
He did as he was told.
“Ah, seems you like my boobies. Am I right? Am I?” she said, rubbing her boobs—bouncing and wobbling them in front of him.
“Please, Mummy,” he begged.
“Or is it this?” She lounged backwards on the chair, and opened her legs.
His heart was racing, and his breath was coming out in little bursts. His eyes glued to the curly red triangle of hair. Then, he felt a movement in his privates. He winced, and cried out, falling to his knees in shame.
“I told you you’d do it again. You can’t be trusted can you, little man?”
Don opened his eyes, and dragged himself back into the present. His huge erection throbbed painfully. It was the same every time.
His parents had spent years training him not to get sexually excited. And because of that, he’d never had a sexual partner. Any time he had got close to a woman, with each erection came vivid memories of his mother’s voluptuous curves, and the shame and humiliation of having his privates slapped and laughed at.
He tried to drag his thoughts back to Hannah in the bath, slowly soaping her lovely little breasts. He inhaled her scent from the bedclothes, as he rubbed her panties on the silky length of his cock.
As he closed his eyes, he was back there—in his childhood home in Hattersley, an overspill estate of Greater Manchester. He had now learned his parents were sex mad, but as a kid, it was normal for him to sit on the sofa watching TV, while they had fucked and sucked each other beside him.
He would mostly ignore them, but as he got older, it became harder and harder to tear his eyes from their glistening, naked flesh. His father’s skin was dark, and his hair jet black. But, his mother was pale. Blue veins showed through her translucent white skin.
Don would pinch and push at himself—petrified of them seeing his engorged penis, but it was no use. That part of his body had a mind of its own. And when they had spotted it, his father would march him to his room, bend him over the end of the bed, and strap his behind with his leather belt until it was red-raw. This caused his erection to shrink.
One day, after being caught masturbating to a lingerie magazine, his mother had hit the roof. She locked him in his bedroom, while they waited for his father to come home from work. He was fifteen years old.
Don had been petrified, knowing what was to happen as soon as his father knew what he’d done. He’d pissed himself when he heard the car pull into the garage.
Within moments, his father burst through the door.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I tried, I really did, but I just couldn’t help it. It hurts.”
His cries had been ignored. “Drop your trousers, boy. Hurry up. Do it.”
Don knew not to argue with his father when his eyes bulged that way. He staggered to his feet, terrified his father would notice the wet patch on his black corduroy trousers. But, he was too far-gone to notice anything.
Don dropped his trousers and turned, bending over the end of the bed. He heard his father undo his belt, and slide it out of his belt loops. Don gripped the bed sheets, as he braced himself for the first whack.
But, what he got was totally unexpected.
His dad dug fingers into Don’s buttocks and waist, and a white-hot, blinding pain followed.
Don screamed, but the sound wouldn’t come out. He begged and called for his mother. But, as his father pumped away ferociously behind him, they slowly moved around the side of the bed. It was then he had got had a glimpse of his mother, smiling and rubbing at her privates in the doorway.
That was the last day he saw her. The last memory of his beautiful mother was her getting off on her only son being raped by his own father.
They left him curled in a ball on the carpet of his bedroom.
He waited until he heard them retire several hours later before getting to his feet, wincing in pain.
He’d known his parents weren’t normal. They’d behaved the same way all his life, but that didn’t stop him loving them. Yet, there was no coming back from something like that—rape.
Packing a few of his possessions, he let himself out the back door, never to return.
Don sat up on Hannah’s bed, and wiped the mess from his stomach. Then, he snuggled down, and slept better than he had in weeks.
Chapter 29
While Max busied himself with work-related issues, Hannah called her mother. She didn’t tell her about the trouble she’d had, feeding her a white lie instead.
“I’ve been putting in some extra hours at work, so I’ve got a couple of days in lieu. I’ll be home for Wednesday.”
“Oh, lovely. Whose house are you staying in?”
“Just a girl from work.” She raised her eyebrows when Max glanced up at her, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’ll tell you all about it next time. We’re just heading off out. If you need me, call my mobile.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Have a lovely time.”
She hung up, and tried Simon’s number again. Voicemail. She didn’t know what else she could do. When he finally got his messages, at least he’d see how many times she’d tried.
“Knock, knock,” Charmaine called from downstairs.
“Come on up,” Max replied.
“Hi,” she said, as she trudged upstairs. “I came to see if you want me to do some housework?”
“No need, Char.” Max got up from his desk, and kissed the top of her head. “It’s still pretty tidy.”
“What about the bedroom? After the mess the intruder made?”
“Hannah cleaned that up this morning, while we were waiting for word from the office about Angela.”
“Oh, how did that go?”
“I called over earlier to tell you, but you weren’t home. Take a seat. I’ll make a pot of coffee.”
Charmaine sat on the sofa beside Hannah. Between them, they told her what Don had found in Angela’s locker.
“So, that’s it, then. She must be guilty of the rest, too. What did the police say?”
“Last we heard, they hadn’t spoken to her yet. If they haven’t called by this afternoon, I’ll chase them up.”
Max carried the pot and three mugs over to the coffee table.
“Do you need me to go for groceries? I only shopped for the weekend,” Charmaine said.
Max shook his head, and gazed at Hannah. “I was going to suggest we go for a drive into Penrith.”
“Yeah. Sounds good,” Hannah agr
eed.
He turned back to Charmaine. “Thanks anyway. I’ll need Lenny to get rid of the old mattress, though. We’ll put it on his truck for the time being. I’ll have a look for a new one when we’re in town today.”
“Yeah. Just let him know when you’re ready, and he’ll be right over.”
A short time later, Charmaine left, and they busied themselves getting ready for their trip to Penrith.
Max’s phone began ringing, as they pulled out of the garage. He hit a button on his steering wheel, and the call went through to the speakers.
“Maxwell Myers,” he said.
“Hello, Mr Myers. It’s Detective Aiden Johnstone from the Greater Manchester Police Department.”
“Good afternoon, Detective.”
“This is just a follow-up call, regarding the complaint you made yesterday evening.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve interviewed your employee, Ms Angela Beanie, and she is adamant she had nothing to do with your break-in, or any of the other incidents you mentioned. However, your Head of Security, a Mr…” He paused and they could hear paper shuffling. “…Henry said he was with Ms Beanie when she packed up her locker this morning, and a gym bag belonging to Ms McLaughlin was discovered.”
“Yes. Don told me. What did Angela have to say about that?”
“She denied it, obviously. However, she has no alibi for any of the dates you gave.”
“I’ll bet she doesn’t. So, what now?”
“We have a few more enquiries to make, and then, if nothing else comes to light, I guess we’ll be charging her.”
“Right. Well, thanks for letting me know. Will you keep me updated?”
“I will, sir. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Max exhaled noisily, and turned to face Hannah. “So, that’s it, then. Just like that. Fuck only knows how I’m going to fill her position now.”
“What happens in a case like this? Can you fire her, with immediate effect?”
“I would think so. I’ll need to check with Eric.” He indicated the phone. “Do you mind?”
“No. Go for it.”
She listened as he called his solicitor, who said he’d draw up the termination notice right away. Then, he rang another number.
A woman answered, all breathy and sexy. “Hi, stranger.”
Max glanced at Hannah and smiled, shaking his head at her raised eyebrows.
“Hi, Cheryl. I’m in a bit of a fix. I need to replace my PA, as soon as humanly possible.”
“Really? What happened to the ice queen?”
“We’ve had a parting of the ways, I’m afraid. Do you have any decent candidates on your books?”
They heard her tapping on a keyboard. “Not many people of her calibre, to be honest, Max. She also headed the Human Resources team, didn’t she?”
“She did. But, I’ll employ someone else to do that, if need be.”
“I’ll pull some strings, and see if I can get an ad drawn up today. I’ll have it on the website later on, if possible.”
“Great. Thanks, Chez, and you may as well do me an ad for Head of Security when you get the chance. No hurry, though; the guys seem to be managing okay since Steve…well, you know.”
“Yeah, I heard about that—poor guy. I’ve got Angela’s job description in the archives, but I never had one for Steve’s position. Can you send it through to me? I’ll get it written up.”
“Will do, love. Thanks for that.” He hung up, and glanced at Hannah. “What?”
“You!” She made a stupid face. “Oooh, Cheryl, Chezzer, love,” she squeaked.
“Idiot.” He laughed.
“How far is the place we’re heading?” she asked.
“Around forty-five minutes, but I want to stop at Tebay Services for lunch.”
“Motorway services? Doesn’t seem your type of thing.”
“Wait till you see them—it’s far superior to any others I’ve been to. They have the most amazing farm shop.”
The drive north was pleasant, although all motorway, but she was enjoying the scenery, and being in his company.
“Check out this cluster of trees coming up on the right,” he said.
Hannah stared at the trees, thinking what an odd place to plant a forest, but it wasn’t until they were adjacent to it that she could see the shape. “It’s a heart,” she gasped.
Max nodded, his beautiful eyes sparkling.
“Who planted that?”
“I’ve heard several stories. One is that a farmer planted it to show how much he loved his wife, and another was it was planted in the memory of a man who was killed at war. I don’t really know which, if either, is true. But, the one my mum told me is there were two neighbouring farming families, who had a longstanding feud. One family had a son and the other a daughter who inevitably fell in love, but, when the secret of the affair got out, the families banned them from seeing each other, and told them they were forbidden to marry. So, one night, the lovers met for one last time at the point where their farms joined, and, in each other’s arms, they committed suicide. Both families were distraught at the tragedy they’d caused so they planted the wood in their memory.”
“That’s so sad. Why didn’t they just run away?”
He shook his head. “I’ve no idea. It does seem a little tragic to me. They could have eloped to Gretna Green, which is only a little further north, and married, without their families’ blessing.”
“I’d hate to get married without my family’s blessing though, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course, but not so much I’d kill myself over it.”
“Just different times, I guess,” she said. “People would have been so ignorant of things—imagine living up here—isolated from everything, having no telephone, internet, or television. Snail mail would be the only form of communication. You’d have no choice but to believe anything your family told you—whether it was lies or not.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. Shit, I don’t know how people lived without all the modern conveniences we have today.”
“I think it would have been so much nicer back then—to live off your own land, make your own clothes, and to go to church on a Sunday.”
Max shuddered. “Sounds like hell to me. Now my parents are gone, I’d have to live all alone on my land, with no family, and die a lonely old man.”
“Don’t you have any family at all?”
He shook his head. “None. Lenny and Charmaine are the closest thing to family I have.”
“That’s so sad.”
Max pulled off the motorway, and Hannah could tell it was different to most motorway services. The buildings were constructed from traditional local stone. The place was buzzing with people, and it seemed it wasn’t just passing tourists who stopped in there, but locals, too. In fact, it seemed to be a tourist destination in its own right.
“Told you.” Max grinned.
“I love it. My mum would be in heaven here,” she said, as they stepped through the door of the farm shop. All local produce and condiments filled the shelves. The butchery was also locally sourced, as were the fruit and vegetables. But, it was the cheese counter which had Hannah drooling. They bought a selection of cheese, as well as a few of the most amazing-looking pork pies Hannah had ever seen.
Then, with her stomach growling, they headed next door to the restaurant.
Hannah was blown away with the quality and range of food on offer. After much deliberation between two of her all-time favourites—macaroni cheese and steak in ale pie, with mashed potato and a selection of seasonal vegetables—she ordered the pie. Max chose Haggis, a Scottish dish made of offal, which didn’t appeal to Hannah at all. Although, once it arrived, she thought it looked and smelled delicious.
Afterwards, feeling stuffed and ready for a sleep, they drove the final distance to Penrith in silence.
“There’s a castle!” Hannah suddenly sat upright in her seat.
“Well, the ruins of one, yeah. Do you like castles?”
/> “I love them. We have Clun Castle near where I grew up in Shropshire, but that’s much smaller than this.”
“Next time you’re here, I’ll take you to Carlisle. The castle there’s amazing, and it’s close to the ruins of Hadrian’s wall.”
“Would you? I’d love that.”
They parked the car outside a large furniture store, and strolled, hand-in-hand, through the store to the bed department, where they had a hilarious half hour testing out the different mattresses on display.
“I don’t know about you, but I could go to sleep now,” she said, as they lay on a plush, pillow-topped mattress.
“Seems this is the one, then.” He called the salesperson over, and placed his order.
As they walked back to the car, Max glanced at his watch. “Okay, we could either head home the way we came, or we could have a quick look around Bowness, and travel home the back way?”
She grinned. “You know I’m going to say the back way. I want to see as much as I can while I’m here.”
They headed back down the motorway, and took the exit for Bowness-on-Windermere.
“I thought your lake was Windermere?” she said.
“Yes, it is. But, I’m more Newby Bridge end. Bowness is the busiest area for tourists.”
“How big is the lake?”
“A little over ten miles long.”
“Wow. And how wide?”
“Obviously, that varies, but I don’t think it’s wider than a mile at the widest point.”
“Less than moon river, then?”
“Sorry?”
“Moon river – wider than a mile,” she sang badly.
Max groaned, and she playfully punched his bicep.
Although she loved the higgledy-piggledy streets at Bowness, Hannah found it much too commercialised, and felt a little claustrophobic when they strolled along the side of the lake, eating ice cream. She was relieved to get back to the car.
“How much further is your place?”
“Around five miles. Our house is about three miles this side of Newby Bridge.”
He switched on the engine, and glanced at his watch.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
The Watcher : A Chilling Serial Killer Thriller Page 16
