Chapter 4

‘Good work, Susie,’ boomed the editor. ‘Great story, excellent pictures. Excellent. My word, yes. Very detailed, very... er, very incriminating...’

‘Right,’ she said brightly into her mobile phone, pretending not to notice the way his voice tailed off into a guilty silence, and trying not to sound as nervous as that detail made her feel.

‘Yes, we’ll do a big splash on the front page, use one of the spanking shots - just him and the stockings and a bum. And then we’ll do another splash in the centre, lots of pictures - no faces apart from his, of course, but a lot of the stuff with both of you in is just too good to leave on the bench.’

Prolonged silence meant he’d said his piece, and there were no more surprises. As if those weren’t enough. Though to be fair it was not really a surprise. Susie had made him promise not to use Sophie in the story, and especially not to use any pictures of her. But she knew well enough that they’d use the best pictures, regardless of who was in them, and if that meant putting her sister on the front page and therefore through the emotional wringer, then they’d just go right ahead and do that.

They had no compunctions about hurting people or destroying their lives, even if those people were innocent. Not if it sold a few thousand more papers. But this did not sound too bad, though she’d have to see the paper herself to know just how economical the editor was really being with what passed for the truth from his narrow perspective.

‘As long as we can’t be recognised...’ she began, but the editor was ahead of her on that one and interrupted brusquely.

‘No faces, no clothes, no jewellery, no nothing that could be used. Just two bums bent over the table. You could be any pair of bimbos for all you can see. Don’t you worry about it.’

‘Fine then, fine,’ she said, not sure about being called a bimbo, nor quite as reassured as she tried to sound, and knowing she would not be able to relax until she had the paper in her hands and saw the pictures that had been used.

‘I’ll get them to email the layouts later on,’ he said, thinking ahead of her, ‘probably tomorrow. And then we’ll give the randy old goat the phone call at about half-five.’

Sunday paper protocol dictated that all victims of such a front page exposé got a warning in the shape of an opportunity to say their piece, but they always received it as late as possible or polite on Saturday, in order to reduce the chances of a slick lawyer being able to dig out a helpful judge and get an injunction to stop the presses.

‘Okay, fine,’ she said, cutting off the call, still not reassured by his promise of an email. She was more worried, if anything. Layouts could change right up to the last moment before the presses began to roll - afterwards, if it was really important. Cigar chewing men with rolled-up sleeves and big braces tend not to run about the place shouting ‘hold the front page!’ but nothing is ever set in stone unless it’s on the street. A layout could be made in two minutes and changed in half that, so offering to send it sounded more like a smokescreen than a demonstration of good faith. But Susie was determined not to let her sister see her concern, especially since she seemed more relaxed now they’d got back home.

They left Kingscombe the morning after their encounter with the vicar, and headed homewards, stopping for breakfast on the M5 and handing the little tape to a bike courier before filling up with petrol and setting off again. On the journey Susie had promised Sophie that when the tape arrived the techies would read her note and erase the pictures on the end of it, with the two of them and the vicar, and that the story in the newspaper would only use pictures that showed the vicar spanking Sophie, and that her face would be cropped out or deliberately blurred. Now she was reasonably certain that the picture desk had done as predicted, and that neither of the two girls would be identifiable or, therefore, embarrassed by the publication of the story.

Their mother was delighted to see them and was especially overjoyed to see Sophie, and their lengthy reunion gave Susie plenty of time to sit down with her laptop, hammer out her story and email it to the office.

Next day, Friday, after a restful morning and a lazy afternoon, they set out to find Hugh and take their revenge, although their plan wasn’t exactly well formed. They had both realised from the start that if they suggested a whips and bondage lesbian oriented threesome, or anything remotely similar, Hugh would spot it for the trap it was, and avoid it with his usual smug panache.

Then Sophie suggested that they should hire a hooker, or maybe two, but anyway use someone completely unknown to Hugh so he wouldn’t suspect. But while she was still working out the details, Susie had a brilliant idea.

‘Tell you what,’ she said hurriedly, her mouth racing to keep up with her brain, ‘what we’ll do is this. After we’ve tried to get him to come home with us, and after he’s turned it down because he knows it’s a trap, one of us can go to the loo and the other one can pretend to be lusting after his body.’

Sophie looked puzzled.

‘I’ll just tell him I’m still swooning with lust after his erotic games,’ said Susie, without being too specific and detailed, ‘and I’ll tell him that no one has been able to satisfy me since. He’s bound to fall for that.’

Sophie agreed at once. ‘Conceited bastard thinks every girl in the world wants him. And he thinks that no one who’s experienced his perfect body could ever be happy with anyone else.’

‘Exactly,’ Susie said emphatically, shifting in her seat, acutely aware of the warm dampness in her knickers, aroused by her memories of Hugh’s comfortably large erection and his inventive way with dildos, whips and women. ‘He’ll fall for it straightaway,’ she continued, as her body flowered in anticipation of something her mind told her she didn’t want, ‘and he’ll invite me back to his flat.’ The warm seepage gathered momentum, as her reflexes overruled conscious thought and informed her that Hugh would be welcome between her legs at any time, preferably now, but in any case quite soon.

‘And then what?’ asked Sophie harshly, as if she understood only too clearly what was going on between her sister’s thighs. Which could only mean that she was experiencing a similar reaction, thought Susie.

‘And then comes the clever part,’ she announced triumphantly. ‘While I’m in the loo, you can tell Hugh you’ve been pining away for weeks and that you’re desperate to get him back in your knickers.’

‘But I’m not!’ she denied, a little too insistently.

‘I know that, and you know that. But Hugh doesn’t know that. In fact, Hugh will be quite sure that you are already, even before you tell him. He’ll believe it without a second’s hesitation. And even if he stops to think about it - which he won’t - but even if he does, then the fact that we’re cheating on each other will easily convince him it’s true.’

‘And then?’

‘And then he’ll invite you round to his flat as well.’

‘And then?’

‘And then if one of us doesn’t get some good pictures of him dressed up as a nun or something he’ll get off scot-free.’ Sophie looked unconvinced. ‘Look, it’s easy,’ Susie went on undaunted. ‘We’ll both take the handbag-cam and film him, erase anything incriminating and show the tape to all his mates as in Plan A.’ She sat back happily, trying to ignore the burning heat in her groin.

‘Yes...’ Sophie agreed at last, ‘yes, that’ll work. The little shit will be so desperate to get our knickers off he won’t stop to think; his whole life is ruled by what goes on in his trousers.’

‘Exactly,’ Sophie concurred.

But in the event, none of it mattered because they soon found that Hugh wasn’t around, and hadn’t been for a month or so; he’d got himself a new job that frequently took him away from home for long periods, and he showed up only occasionally in the pubs and clubs that used to be his regular haunts. So, disappointed for more reasons than either of them was prepared to admit to the other, they went home early and retired to their respective beds, both of them burning with frustrated lust.

Searching the pubs for Hugh, Susie’s knickers had been a pool of liquid lust as she anticipated her evening with him, knowing in her heart - and her sex - that there would be quite a lot to erase on her tape, and most of it would almost certainly be after Hugh had done enough to make himself look ridiculous. Climbing into bed alone she had not yet admitted this to herself, but she was soon obliged to face facts. Her hand reached down, stroking the smoothly rounded shape of her groin, feeling the light dusting of pubic hair beneath the flimsy material, and the material was wet and warm, clinging to the hot flesh within. Susie had always loved the feel of her own body, and always loved the feel of herself through knickers made warm and wet by her juices. She imagined the effect it would have on Hugh when he felt between her thighs and found her panties drenched with lust, her body smooth and slick and ready.

She lay flat on her back in bed, knees drawn up and parted, as her nimble fingers dipped into the scalding wetness, trailing across the burning flesh, wishing the pictures in her head were real.

Sophie too had found the prospect of her reunion with Hugh disturbingly erotic, and the red panties she had been wearing as they searched the pubs and clubs that evening were still dark and warm when she closed the bedroom door behind her, sticky with a desire for Hugh that she found disturbing; she was supposed to hate him and her conscious mind really did. But her subconscious, and her body, still responded to the animal attraction of his smug self-confidence.

She too lay on her back with her parted knees drawn up, pulling the wet strip of red material up into herself, tugging against the elastic and releasing, a steady pressure that always produced the same effect. And this time as it happened, and her body arched as the spasms gripped her she stifled her cries, a small choking sob the only evidence of her release.

But she needn’t have worried. Susie didn’t hear, because she was gasping too, hips grinding up and down, muscles in her stomach taut as three fingers spread and penetrated, the gentle sucking sounds drowned by her breathless gasps of pleasure.

The paper with Susie and Sophie’s pictures appeared on Sunday morning, and the layout was exactly the same as the one Susie had received in her email. She tried not to let her relief show, because she still didn’t want Sophie to know she’d been afraid it could have been worse. But Sophie seemed to be unworried by the whole affair, and Susie was forced to the surprising conclusion that she had recovered more or less completely from her ordeal at the hands of the New Believers.

But the pictures, though indisputably of the vicar spanking Sophie and screwing both girls while they were bent across the table, were only recognisable if you’d been there. Susie knew it was her and Sophie, and Sophie knew it too. But their faces were invisible, except for one shot where Susie had turned to stare at the vicar penetrating Sophie, but movement blurred her face and she was unrecognisable even to her mother, who still believed Susie was merely a secretary.

‘Great work by the techie,’ said the editor when he rang to congratulate Susie on the story, and although she was relieved to see the result, she knew there would have been the usual Friday night viewing party, and everyone in the building would have seen the full length, uncut version of the movie. She’d heard about these ‘screenings’, which were supposedly for the benefit of those members of the editorial staff writing captions, headlines and fillers, but she’d never been to one. Just as well, because she’d starred in a few of them by now, and she knew what everyone else knew; namely that the audience had expanded way beyond the original concept, and most of the people in the plant would have been there, from the machine minders to the security guards, and from the truckies to the accounts clerks. It was bad enough knowing that the barrel-chested guard who checked her security pass on a Saturday morning had spent Friday evening watching her being screwed bandy, without actually being present while he watched. The idea sent a cold chill down her spine and a hot thrill through her underwear.

And there was another hot thrill in her knickers as Sophie put down the phone with a look that was part apprehension, part triumph and part something else.

‘He’s back,’ she said in a flat tone, and Susie knew who she meant.

‘Good,’ she responded, hoping she sounded defiant and brave.

It was there all day, a tingle of anticipation that couldn’t be ignored and would not be stopped, no matter how many times she locked herself in the bedroom and set her fingers to work.

When they first caught sight of Hugh in a crowded bar, Susie’s heart gave a little leap and her sex clutched tightly; she was as nervous about this as she had been about any of her professional undertakings. And this was just Hugh, the arrogant bastard boyfriend who’d messed up her sister’s life with his silly video. On the other hand, he’d outsmarted Susie as well, and not just with swapping tapes on her. He’d psyched her out too, either by clever guesswork or perhaps just discovering by good luck that her sexual appetite was large, varied and virtually unquenchable, and that it lay close beneath the surface, requiring very little encouragement before it was aroused.

‘Play it cool,’ she said through teeth clenched in what she hoped was an easygoing smile, ‘just pretend you haven’t seen him, and with a bit of luck he’ll come to us.’

‘The vicious shit won’t be able to resist the opportunity to crow at both of us,’ Sophie whispered back through her own smile, well aware by now that Hugh had outsmarted her sister once already. And she was right, too, because the second he saw them at the bar his face lit up with a conceited smile and he began to shoulder his way across to them.

Susie couldn’t believe his approach made her so nervous. The butterflies were out in squadron strength, the cold fingers were clutching up the length of her spine and her knickers were a swamp of hot desire, but she just didn’t understand why that should be so. So she resolved to make herself immune to the effect he had on her - though she wasn’t quite sure how to achieve this - and concentrate on revenge. ‘Remember the plan,’ she said through her smile, admonishing herself as much as Sophie, and as Hugh drew closer, Sophie inclined an acknowledgement with her head.

‘Hello girls,’ he said, beaming them his slimiest smile, ‘have you missed me?’

Susie and Sophie both smiled back. ‘Oh yes,’ said Susie, ‘we have. We’ve been talking about you quite a lot just lately.’

Hugh’s smile grew wider and even more conceited as Sophie took up the story. ‘I’ve missed you more than she has, of course. And I’ve quite forgiven you for your silly joke.’ Hugh’s smile grew, incredibly, broader still. Sophie hesitated, then in a lowered voice she added, ‘In fact, the memory of it makes me...’ she looked up through her eyelashes and simpered at him adoringly, ‘...you know, don’t you?’

‘Oh yes, I know.’ Hugh was at his slimiest in moments of victory. ‘But, er, which memories, exactly?’ Sophie looked puzzled. ‘Well,’ he said nastily, ‘was it just having sex with me you liked best, or was it being filmed having sex with yourself?’

‘Oh no,’ said Sophie calmly, ‘it was the thought of all those blokes watching. I mean, how many girls can say they’ve made a roomful of pricks get hard?’

If Hugh noticed the double entendre he said nothing.

‘I’ve missed you too,’ said Susie, stroking his shoulder. ‘You and your friend, Liz, of course,’ she purred. Hugh looked down his nose at her, but Susie could sense his arousal, see it in his eyes. He wanted her. Both of them, in fact, and at this rate they might even get him the easy way. ‘Yes, I thought that having another girl around and doing it all again could be so much fun. Don’t you?’ And she caressed her sister’s arm meaningfully. Hugh’s eyebrows rose and Susie could see he was tempted. In fact, a quick glance told her he was aroused, the front of his trousers swelling noticeably.

‘I’d like that too,’ purred Sophie, overdoing it a little.

‘Mmm,’ said Hugh, visibly tempted, ‘I’ll give that some thought.’

‘What is there to think about?’

‘Well, I’m not sure if I can be bothered,’ he lied, testing their reactions, obviously pleased when they both bit their tongues and simpered at him. ‘After all, what’s in it for me?’

‘Hugh,’ said Susie in mock anger, ‘surely you can remember that much?’ And she let her hand brush lightly across his tented flies, pressing just hard enough to feel the rigid thickness inside.

‘Mmm,’ he said, clearly trying to sound disinterested, ‘I’m not sure.’ The tone of his voice was designed to provoke, and Susie just couldn’t believe how smug the little bastard actually was. But she was playing a part, and continued to play it by the book.

‘Well, if you can’t be bothered,’ she said, letting a trace of anger into her voice, just enough for him to think she’d failed to disguise it, ‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ and she went to the ladies, still amazed at the wetness her body was producing in response to the arrogant prat. Nerves were responsible for some of it, but that wasn’t all; there was something about Hugh, his voice and his imperious gaze, something was upsetting her biology and she didn’t like it.

After she’d given Sophie what she reckoned must be more than long enough to put her side of the plan into action, she returned to the bar and was rewarded with a fractional wink from her sister, who then promptly excused herself. ‘Hugh,’ said Susie, wasting no time at all, ‘why don’t we go back to your place? Just the two of us? I don’t care about Sophie, or Liz. It’s just you I want,’ and she impishly patted the lump in his trousers.

‘Tomorrow,’ he said carefully, but a little too quickly, as if he’d been thinking about the possibility, even expecting the question. ‘Lunchtime? Say, one o’clock?’

Susie nodded, amazed it had been that simple and even more amazed to find she would have gone then, that minute, if he’d suggested it, even though the handbag camera was lying on the bed at home.

‘Well,’ he announced happily, ‘say goodbye to Sophie for me. Must be off. Got something to take care of that just won’t wait.’ And he swaggered away, tapped a ravishingly pretty brunette who was wearing a fragment of material that might have been a handkerchief but certainly didn’t qualify as a dress, and walked off without looking back, as if he knew she would follow him. Which she duly did, with every male eye in the place glued to a tiny bottom that rolled like two tennis balls on string as she trailed after him.

Susie raised an eyebrow as Sophie returned, not trusting herself to speak. Sophie’s jaw dropped slightly and then set firm as she too struggled to disguise her anger. Or was it, Susie wondered, jealousy? Did Sophie share all the emotions about Hugh that had just rampaged through her body, leaving her wet, breathless, and resentful of the little slut he’d just waltzed off with.

‘Smer... smer... smashing, isn’t she?’

Of all the people in town, only one knew both sisters and had a stutter like a demented machine-gun. ‘Hi Gary,’ Susie said, without turning round to look at him.

‘S-S-Susie,’ he stammered. ‘S-So...’

‘Hi Gary,’ Sophie interrupted him, sparing them all a long wait while he struggled with her name.

‘Ber... Ber... Ber... Belinda,’ he said, nodding at the doorway.

‘His girlfriend, is she?’ asked Susie.

‘Ner... ner... ner... new job. Met her at wer... wer... wer... wer...’

‘At work?’ Sophie saved the day again.

‘In the office, yes.’ Gary looked grateful for the rescue. W had never been his strong point.

‘What sort of job?’ asked Sophie. ‘Night work with young girls, is it, cash payments, no questions?’

‘Secret.’ Gary beamed proudly, either because he was proud of Hugh’s job or because he’d managed the word in a single breath.

‘Secret?’ asked Susie quickly. ‘What sort of secret?’

‘Her... her... her... her...’ Neither of them could guess what was coming next so they had to stand and wait for Gary to finish. ‘Her... her... hush-hush!’ he finally blurted, flushed with the effort, and clearly embarrassed at having taken so long to contribute so little.

Susie felt sorry for him, as she had before. In fact, her abiding memory of Gary was feeling sorry for him, at least until the night she’d taken him to the bus shelter, and then she’d been quite surprised. Very pleasantly surprised, in fact. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the syrupy wetness in her knickers reminding her that there was still some unfinished business to take care of.

‘So no one knows what he’s up to?’ she asked, suspecting that Hugh’s new job was merely another figment of his depraved imagination.

‘Ner... ner... ner... ner...’

‘Okay Gary, we get the picture,’ Sophie said.

‘Only me,’ he said firmly.

Both girls turned to him at once, Sophie resting one hand on his shoulder and pressing herself against him as Susie’s arm encircled his waist. ‘And?’ asked Susie softly, letting the weight of her arm cause her hand to slip casually lower, until she was gently gripping Gary’s bum.

‘Car... car... car...’

‘Course you can,’ soothed Sophie, pressing closer, resting her hand on his chest as she looked up at him adoringly. Gary’s eyes glazed over and his mouth sagged under the full impact of Sophie’s admiring stare, and opened even wider as Susie’s hand firmly clutched his bottom.

‘Come on, Gary,’ she breathed into his ear, ‘let’s go somewhere quiet and talk,’ and her smouldering expression left him in no doubt that the kind of talking Susie had in mind would lead quickly to a repeat of his bus shelter experience, via telling her everything he knew about Hugh but wasn’t supposed to say. The massaging hand moved a little lower, and Sophie’s hand moved lower too, caressing the muscles of his abdomen as it stroked towards the waistline of his jeans.

He was bound to tell them. He knew it as well as Susie did, and with confidence rising she let her hand drop lower, so she was rubbing his thigh. ‘Come on, then,’ she encouraged, just as Sophie let her hand touch even lower as well, stroking the straining denim with a light touch that traced upwards along a thick and rigid bulge towards a rounded end that suddenly leapt under her fingertips.

Gary’s eyes bulged and his face reddened. ‘Ser... sorry,’ he gasped, and then, surprising both girls, fled from the bar.

Susie raised her eyebrows at her sister. ‘Was that...?’

‘I’m afraid it was. Guess we’re too much for him.’

‘Or any normal man,’ agreed Susie. Which made Hugh somewhat abnormal. But she knew he was, or he wouldn’t have that effect on her. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ she said, suddenly remembering that within the past ten minutes she’d been unexpectedly deprived of two opportunities to gratify the yearning in her knickers.

‘No, let’s stay,’ said Sophie, looking along the bar to where a mixed group laughed and talked. They were more Sophie’s age, her friends from school, probably, and she was welcome to them. Surprised at her impatience, and that she seemed to have lost her normal cheerfulness, the happy-go-lucky quality that had been her lifelong hallmark, Susie made her way home, drank a bottle of wine while watching a late night movie, with more subtitles than on-screen sexual activity, and went to bed frustrated, falling asleep with her hand still stirring unsuccessfully between her legs.

It was still there when she woke up in the morning. Sophie hadn’t returned home all night, but Susie was neither surprised nor overly concerned. She’d obviously been with friends, and perhaps she didn’t really want to go through with her solo meeting with Hugh.

Anyway, without the handbag camera, which Susie had loaded and prepared for her own use, there wasn’t much point in going at all. If she wasn’t back later on, after she’d been to see Hugh, well, then she’d start to worry. Right now, all she could think about was what would transpire when she reached the creep’s flat.

She was ready too soon, and arrived too early, so she forced herself to sit in the car in a lather of anxiety, trying to control the fluttering in her tummy and the warmth between her legs. But the fluttering threatened nausea by the time she climbed out of the car, prompted by an intense nervous excitement as she approached the front door and rang the bell.