“You have a lovely body,” Veronica compliments Rose.
“Thank you, so do you,” Rose says as she feels a tingle inside her knickers. “Are you ready then?” she asks, wondering if she should make a pass at her friend.
“Am I ever,” Veronica says as her toes wiggle in anticipation.
Rose sits next to Veronica’s feet and stares at her gorgeous little toes that are topped with pink nail varnish. She then starts to lightly stroke the tops of Veronica’s feet from her ankles all the way along to the tops of her toes. Veronica, with her eyes, closed, giggles and squirms under Rose’s touch and tells her how nice it feels. Rose spends a long time tickling Veronica’s feet, enjoying every second of it, even more than Veronica is—and then she starts seriously massaging them. Veronica quietens down and enjoys the massage, groaning to herself every now and then and occasionally giving Rose words of encouragement. Rose doesn’t need any encouragement, however; she loves touching Veronica’s skin and her panties are soaking wet to prove it. She only wishes that she could find an excuse to touch more of her, but then she realises she doesn’t need one. Rose runs her hands up and down Veronica’s lower legs, pretending it is part of the process. Veronica doesn’t pull away or protest; she lies back and enjoys it.
“Do you want me to do your back?” The words come out of Rose’s mouth before she thinks.
“Would you? It is aching so much. Are you sure you don’t mind?” Veronica asks Rose, whose heartbeat has increased.
“Don’t be silly, of course, I don’t mind. What are friends for?” Rose says as a matter of fact and Veronica goes to turn over. “I think you’ll have to take your dress off; I can’t massage through all those sequins.”
Veronica hesitates for a moment, and for a split second, Rose thinks that she has been caught and that Veronica knows how Rose is feeling and how much she wants Veronica to take off her dress. The moment passes, however, and Veronica turns where she sits so that Rose can unzip her.
“Thanks,” Veronica says once her zip is open and her arms cross down at the hem of the dress so that she can pull it over her head.
Rose is in awe as Veronica’s dress is lifted over her head and the glory of her body is revealed. Rose’s hands tremble as she helps pull the dress off Veronica’s head. Her pussy quivers, moistening as she looks upon Veronica’s body. The only disappointment she feels is because Veronica is wearing a bra.
“That’s a relief; that dress is so tight,” Veronica says as she lowers her dress to the floor and Rose searches her body, paying particular attention to the lace of her white thong that clings to her rounded hips.
“It looks tight, but you look so good in it,” Rose manages to say as casually as she can.
Finally, Veronica turns to lie on her front, her buttocks wobbling for Rose as she settles. Rose is motionless for a moment, partly because she is taking in the stunning view of Veronica’s body. The way her slender back widens into her hips, the exquisite way her thong disappears into her bum and her long tanned legs that reach down the bed. And partly because she is afraid Veronica will feel the way her hands tremble when she touches her.
“Unclip my bra if you want to,” Veronica says quietly.
Rose does and she then runs her hands up and down Veronica’s back, smoothing down towards her ass as far as she dares before her hands make their way back up to Veronica’s shoulders where she starts her massage. Veronica moans in relief as Rose works, enjoying her friend’s touch as it eases her aches. Rose’s hands work tirelessly, her excitement giving her the strength she needs to work the muscles of her friend below her. After a time, without asking, Rose moves down to Veronica’s legs, massaging her calf muscles before moving up to the top of her legs, taking joy as her massaging spreads Veronica’s legs out involuntarily. She sees a small glimpse of the material covering Veronica’s modesty and Rose sees that the material is wet.
“Can you just do my lower back a bit more?” Veronica asks.
Rose, shifts position so that she is kneeling at the side of Veronica and she does as she is asked.
Veronica suddenly turns over and Rose's hands leave her body. Rose can’t help but look down at Veronica’s beautiful full breasts until she realises that she is obviously staring at them, and her eyes move to meet Veronica’s.
“That was fantastic, thank you.” Veronica smiles up to Rose.
Rose is speechless for a moment and then surprised as she feels Veronica’s hand smooth up the inside of her thigh as she kneels on the bed. The hand doesn’t stop until it reaches her soaking wet panties where it stops and holds her.
“Promise we will still be friends after,” Veronica says gently to Rose.
“I promise,” Rose says as she leans down to kiss Veronica.
Chapter 4
Daryl looks at Jack knowingly as they stand in the deserted alley with only the echoes from revellers in the streets beyond and rubbish around their feet for company.
“I know, Daryl, you told me so,” Jack says before he does.
“You’ve crossed over to the other side now, Jack. You’re in their pocket; if you do disappoint them, they will hurt you and to them, your family’s fair game too. They expect to be paid for the whole batch so put that sale-or-return shit out of your head; they don’t accept returns, they accept cash. You get me?”
“Yes, Rouben made that quite clear, thank you.”
“Don’t get clever with me. I knew this was a bad idea. That’s what you get for trying to help a friend,” Daryl says, annoyed.
“Listen, Daryl, I didn’t mean to come across like that. There’s going to be over a hundred thousand people at the festival and a lot of those will be in the market for what we will be selling, so we can do this.”
“That’s just it though, Jack. I’m just supposed to be helping you out, now it’s my head on the block too.”
“I’ll make it worth your while; you can have a bigger cut, what do you say?”
“I say we are gonna need a bigger crew, that’s what I say. Come on, let’s get outta here. I need a drink, we can talk when we find one,” Daryl says and starts walking down the alley and towards the street.
“Where shall we get a drink?” Jack asks as they emerge onto the same street the entrance to the club is on. A relatively small queue is still assembled by the entrance, but after seeing inside, it’s obvious the doormen are making people stand outside in a queue to make the club look busier than it actually is.
“We might as well go back onto the main road, get a taxi to the drop us off at the bar and have a drink there while we wait,” Daryl suggests and Jack doesn’t argue.
The two men turn left, leaving the alley behind. Jack checks over his shoulder a couple of times as they head towards the main road, on the off-chance Veronica comes out of the club. She doesn’t and Jack feels the disappointment.
Daryl flags down a taxi almost immediately; it’s a quiet night and there are plenty to choose from. Jack takes one last look towards the entrance of the club before he gets into the back of the car.
The two men are quiet on the ten-minute taxi ride to a bar called The Getaway, both of them mulling over the meeting, the days ahead and Jack, for one, hoping that the name of the bar isn’t a bad omen.
Daryl gets out of the taxi when it pulls up at their destination, making no offer to pay and leaving Jack to settle up, not that Jack can blame him.
“Have you been here before?” Jack asks Daryl as the two men look the outside of the bar over.
“No, I haven’t, have you?”
“Nope, never even heard of it, before Rouben mentioned it,” Jack answers.
They stand outside the bar, not moving as the taxi pulls away behind them. This is a part of the city that Jack doesn’t know very well and now he knows why it’s rough. Rougher than the part of the city where Jack’s apartment is. His apartment might be on the shabby side but it’s on the outskirts of a fairly nice neighbourhood and close to the city centre, with good transport links. Nobody wo
uld venture to this part of the city unless they had to, Jack thinks, or unless they had business here.
There is a distinct smell in the air of food cooked in unusual herbs and spices; it drifts into the street from the numerous fast food outlets that seem to be everywhere Jack looks. None of the outlets is branded with familiar names or logos that are famous the world over, and Jack worries what you would actually be served over their counters, should you take the risk.
The Getaway looks like it has seen its fair share of action over the years. The exterior would definitely benefit from a facelift or even a lick of paint. Jack holds zero hope that the interior will be any better judging by the motley crew of smokers gathered outside the entrance, blowing plumes into the air.
Jack takes the lead and steps towards the entrance, just in time to open the door for a stumbling drunk woman who is fumbling with a packet of cigarettes. Jack doesn’t get a thank you from the scruffy-looking woman whose once-white shoes look like they have trekked up the Himalayas and back.
Inside the bar, the décor is basic but it appears clean enough, and they are serving drinks so neither man complains. There seem to be more people outside smoking than there are customers inside. A jukebox fixed to the wall is piping a rock music track into the bar, a song that Jack doesn’t recognise. Perhaps I will know the next one, Jack thinks as they make a beeline to the bar.
“I’m dying for a drink,” Daryl announces as he leans against the dark wooden bar. Jack keeps off it. It looks sticky with congealed drinks and he doesn’t want it staining his shirt.
“You and me both,” Jack agrees, looking up and down the bar impatiently for someone to serve them, but no one is around. “Not like Molly’s in here; we’d be halfway through our first drink in there by now.”
“Too true,” Daryl affirms.
Eventually, a middle-aged balding man appears at the end of the bar, wiping his hands on a towel. “Sorry gents, what’ll it be?” he asks.
“Jack and coke, large,” Daryl orders.
Jack is tempted to get the same but just orders a beer in the end, after some agonising. He checks his watch while the drinks are being poured; they only have forty-five minutes to wait for the delivery, not long. He will fit another drink in before then he decides, however.
Daryl has already moved away from the bar with his drink, as Jack gets his chance. He has taken a seat at a small table near the back, away from the few people that are inside, drinking. It’s a good spot for a chat, out of earshot and with nobody behind to eavesdrop. Jack sits next to him and like Daryl, he makes sure he has a good view of the main entrance.
Neither man kicks off the conversation; they are both too busy supping on their drinks to help take the edge off. Not that it seems to be working for Jack. The beer is having little effect and he eyes Daryl’s dark drink with envy. He admits to himself that he has hardly got over the tense meeting, and now he is sitting in a bar on the wrong side of town, waiting for a drug delivery. He tries to take his mind off it with a spot of people-watching and takes the opportunity to have a good look at the people dotted around. None of them seems to show any interest in them; they are too busy setting their own worlds to rights. Jack then has a horrible thought and his stomach turns. What if one of these regular-looking customers is actually off-duty police, or worse, undercover police, waiting for the drugs to arrive so that they can arrest everyone involved? He looks at the customers again, even at the barman, but doesn’t see anything out of place. Not that he knows how to identify undercover police. Jack persuades himself that he is being paranoid and takes another gulp of beer.
“I hate that Rouben, the smarmy git,” Daryl announces, although quietly.
“I know what you mean, he is a right stuck-up shit,” Jack adds.
“Thinks he is God’s gift with his daddy to protect him. I’d like to wipe that pretty-boy smile off his face,” Daryl continues.
Jack doesn’t say anything, wondering if, given the chance, Daryl would actually have the guts to challenge him. Rouben might be a pretty daddy’s boy but it struck Jack that he certainly knew how to handle himself. He can still feel the pressure points where Rouben gripped his shoulder.
“Do you know Andrei much?” Jack asks, hoping Daryl hasn’t got a problem with him too.
“A bit, he’s Rouben’s minder, shadows him almost everywhere. He doesn’t say much, usually keeps quiet in the background watching the little prince.”
“He’s massive, I wouldn’t like to get on his bad side,” Jack says.
“Me neither. I’ve seen him in action, you wouldn’t want to fuck with him, take it from me.”
“Where do you usually meet to get your supply if it’s not here?” Jack asks, just out of curiosity.
“It’s been a different place every time so far. I’ve heard they have interests in a lot of places, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this bar was theirs.”
Jack, scans the bar again, wondering if Daryl is right.
“That room the meeting was in, fuck me, it was intimidating. I bet that vice on the workbench has been used for more than just odd jobs. I couldn’t wait to get out of there before they decided to put my balls in it.”
“I warned you,” Daryl says dryly, failing to even smile at Jack’s small joke.
“Do you know who will drop off the delivery?” Jack asks.
“I don’t, I’ve never taken part in a deal with so much merchandise. I only get small amounts off them.”
“I see,” Jack says with a pang of guilt for getting Daryl involved. “Another drink?” he says quickly finishing off his beer.
“Please, same again.”
“It’s quiet tonight,” Jack says to the barman after he has ordered the drinks.
“About average for a Wednesday night, to be fair,” the barman says as he tops off Jack’s beer and places it on the bar in front of him, next to Daryl’s drink. “I Haven’t seen you in here before, I don’t think?”
“No, we’re just having a drink while we’re waiting for a friend,” Jack says as he pays. Jack is pleased with his bit of detective work as he leaves the bar and takes the drinks over to their table. The barman is definitely not police. He works the bar like a pro and was sampling his own goods and adding to his considerable beer belly when Jack arrived to order. Not the behaviour of a policeman.
“There we have it, a double Jack and coke for you and a lukewarm beer for me,” Jack says as he sits back down.
“Nice one, thanks,” Daryl says, not looking up from his phone.
“Do you or your brother know anyone else who would be interested in some work to help us with sales over the weekend?” Jack questions.
“I’ve got a couple of people in mind, I’m just messaging them now.”
“Okay, let me know if they are up for it.”
“You know it, brother,” Daryl says and puts his phone on the table. “Is your man on security going to be able to get two more people into the festival?”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem, well nothing a few extra notes in his pocket won’t solve. I’ll message him as soon as we have the stuff in hand.”
“Cool,” Daryl says.
Jack’s head turns quickly to the entrance as the door opens; he’s got the jitters, can’t help himself. A man and a woman walk through the door and up to the bar, probably smokers returning.
“Don’t get jumpy, we don’t want any unnecessary attention,” Daryl warns.
“Sorry, it’s not easy for a newcomer,” Jack answers.
“Tell me about it,” Daryl says before he takes another swig of his drink.
Jack’s nerves are frayed and he knows that isn’t good, as there is still a long way to go before this episode of his life is over. He turns his glass around and around on the tabletop between his fingers, his eyes moving from it to the door and back. He wants this whole thing to be over and wishes he had thought of something else to get him out of the hole he’s found himself in, but what?
One thing is for su
re, when it’s over, he won’t be coming back for more. He obviously isn’t wired for this type of work.
A shadow darkens the glass of the entrance door and Jack’s eyes are fixed on it, waiting to see who emerges. Andrei steps confidently into the bar holding a good-sized sports bag at his side. The heavyset Russian stops just inside, letting the door swing closed behind him. He stands with his feet planted like an immovable object, scanning the bar, looking for Jack and Daryl. Jack manages to resist waving to him, like a worried parent waving to their child when the kid can’t find where it is supposed to go.
With the door behind Andrei as a reference, Jack realises that he’s underestimated how big the man actually is—almost as tall as the doorframe, and nearly as wide. A hushed silence falls over the bar as Andrei’s stature overbears the room and everyone turns around to look at the man-mountain. Jack is suddenly worried that his presence is drawing too much attention but the hush is short-lived.
Chatter starts up again as Andrei sees his two customers seated towards the back of the bar and lifts one of his big legs to move forward. He gets a couple of inquisitive looks as he strides through to the back. He has become used to people staring, however, and ignores the looks he is getting.
Jack gets out of his chair to greet Andrei as he reaches them, but he feels like he is still sitting down as Andrei arrives and Jack finds himself looking up at him.
Kill Tone Page 5
