THE STRANGER .
Minus six degrees, what on earth possessed him to go out anyway, with only a t-shirt and a pair of woollen gloves for warmth?
I must be mad, but she was in trouble and he couldn't walk away.
His walks in the early hours were a regular occurrence, his insomnia had seen to that years ago. He stood, shivering, looking in the window of a menswear shop. The mannequin looked warmer than he did, dressed in a, Hugo Boss hoodie, and ripped, skinny jeans.
The cold was biting hard, and he wished he was the shop dummy; warm and cosy. The fact that it had no head, seemed a minor inconvenience, at least he would be inside. As he gazed into the window, preoccupied with his own reflection; a serene calmness descended upon him, a white mist clouded his vision and all went dark.
Franki went to the Silver bullet club every Saturday night, in the hope she would meet her knight in shining armour, or at least get a ride on his trusty steed. Tonight, though, wasn't one of those nights. She seemed to be repelling men. Still, with no work in the morning, a purse full of purple bank notes; who needed a man anyway? when you have a special drawer at home, waiting to be opened .
It was getting late and Franki decided to call it a night, as she could no longer stand unaided. Even though she was seeing double, she managed to find her way down the stairs and onto the street. The doorman asked her if she was okay and offered to get her a taxi home.
She fell into the cab a little unlady-like to say the least, showing her red and white polka dot panties. Well at least she was wearing some tonight; any other night, they would be lying on the club's toilet floor. As she lay on the seat of the taxi trying to remember where she lived, she could feel a warmth in her throat, and thought maybe that last double Vodka and Coke, should have stayed in the bottle.
“Look love, I ain't got all night, I got a living to make. So where the hell am I taking you?”
As the cab driver turned to speak to her, she could control her gag reflex no more. Put it this way, cheap microwave lasagne doesn't look so appetizing the second time around.
It was 3:am and the streets had become silent. All the late night revellers had gone home, except for Franki, who found herself slumped in the doorway of a local supermarket. She awoke and stumbled to her feet, her head ached and her stomach churned. She approached a pharmacy and looked into the window; the neon light flashed at minus 6 degrees.
Good job i remembered my warm coat.
She caught her reflection in the glass, and saw a line of dried blood coming from her left nostril and a purple bruise around her right eye.
Had she fallen at some point? Had she done it getting into the taxi? Maybe, but she was having trouble remembering the last hour or so.
She surveyed her surroundings, there was a guy on the other side of the road, staring into a shop window.
“Excuse me” she shouted, “what road is this ?”
At that moment the man crumpled in a heap on the floor, his head gave a worrying crack on the pavement as he landed. Franki ran across the road in a panic, the beam of headlights light her way to the other side as she dodged the on-coming car.
It was 2:05 am, it was pretty quiet for a Saturday night, he'd made a tenner so far. He'd dropped some well dressed gent home after doing a bit of overtime at the office.
Yeah right, the only overtime he was doing at that time of night was with his Secretary. A blonde with nice teeth and big tits.
Dennis had been a Taxi driver for almost eight years now and he loved it, for a man over fifty to get as much action as he did was nothing short of a miracle. Blow jobs off some scrawny tart who couldn't pay her fare, was quite normal. Although it meant he wasn't making as much money as he'd hoped, it was still worth going out. He would overcharge the young stags out to impress their latest conquest; before they took them home, to find that their horn had wilted.
Dennis was what's known as a sexual deviant; if it moves fuck it. Well, put it this way, not a nice man to know.
He was a short man, standing at five feet and two inches, he weighed in at eighteen stone and had what can only be described as, that single man smell. A mixture of body odour and sweaty feet; disguised with an underlying waft of 99p body spray. The funny thing was, he kept his cab in pristine condition. Personal hygiene was not a priority since his wife of twenty years left him for his brother (they'd been having an affair for years by all accounts, right under his nose. In the marital bed, on the marital stairs, on the marital fucking kitchen table) but he wasn't bitter ... much.
The cab ride .
His quiet night was about to get a little more interesting. A large ape of a man came over with a gorgeous little brunette hanging off his arm, without doubt, a club bouncer, he thought to himself.
The Tart looked to be In her mid thirties, and well proportioned, all the right junk in all the right places, so to speak. Monkey man opened the cab door.
“Look after her pal, she says she's got the fare.”
Monkey man lumbered away smiling and shaking his head. The Tart tried to turn and close the cab door, but lost her balance, (not for the first time tonight) and fell onto the floor. Wiping a spot of blood from her nose she clambered onto the seat. She tried to spare her blushes by pulling her skirt down over her spotted panties; why she was trying to be modest at this stage was anyone's guess.
Dennis looked in his rear view mirror and saw her sprawling all over his back seat. With an impatient tone, he asked her where she was going.
“All the way baby, and back again if you can handle me.”
Oh great, another beauty. Still, she was a bit of a stunner, let's see if we can have a little fun.
Franki turned a funny kind of purple, and vomited all over the cab floor.
“Oh for Christ sake woman, you're shitting me” he said, as he got out to see the extent of the mess.
“I'm gonna have to charge extra for this, you know, this'll stink for weeks.”
The Tart had passed out and Dennis tried his best to rouse her, to no avail. I ought to Chuck her out on the street, he thought. He couldn't do that to her, after all, it was his duty to look after her, wasn't it ?
Artillery Road was well off the beaten track and was often used by, let's say, amorous couples with nowhere to express their lust for each other. So pulling in here meant he was not out of place. He sat in his seat for a few minutes, every so often, glancing in the mirror to check on the tart. She was beginning to stir, so he had to make his mind up on his next move. He got in the back and sat with her, he noticed straight away, that brunette was not her natural colour. He stroked her cheek, Such a soft complexion.
Franki opened her eyes and, straight away, felt sick. That feeling was overwhelmed by one of excitement. For a second or two the excitement was immense, a warm sensation between her legs, was followed by a very strong orgasm. For a moment she let the sensation wash over her, then the reality of the situation, and the pure fear of what was happening, occurred to her.
She tried to sit up, a hand came from nowhere and struck her in the face. The same hand gripped her by the throat and held her down.
She tried all she could to escape the pressure that was bearing down on her by flailing her arms around. It was no use, as the presence on top of her was too strong. She tried to scream but nothing came out. With her arms thrashing about and slapping the presence on the back as hard as she could, she thought she might find the strength to fight.
There was loud banging, and muffled shouting. In a deep, excited voice, the presence on top of her shouted,
“fuck off I'm a bit busy right now.”
The shouting continued, after a second or two she heard a large crash. She saw an arm reach through the window, unlock the door and grab the presence that was on top of her. The weight was lifted and she was able to scramble out of the cab. Her vocal chords relaxed and let out the worst sound you ever heard.
Franki sat with her back against a tree, trembling, unable to think through fear, let alone move. A figure appeared before her.
“Please, please leave me alone” too tired and scared to put up a fight even if her life depended on it.
“It's ok love, I won't hurt you, I promise.”
The voice sounded calm and sympathetic, but she could only see a silhouette. The figure took a step back and raised both arms up by his side as a gesture of trust, Franki's eyes closed and she drifted.
Franki bent over the figure on the ground, and shook him. At first there was no response, and the thought of explaining a dead body to the police scared her a little. She got down on her knees, bent forward and placed her head on his chest. She took his wrist to check for a pulse, the stranger's eyes shot open, his body gave a violent shudder and he sat bolt upright.
Franki fell backwards and landed on her backside. The stranger stood up and reached out to her. Franki let out a scream, and the stranger backed away,
“it's ok” he said, “you're safe now, give me your hand.”
She was still on her backside trying to crawl away. The stranger took a step back and raised both hands up by his side as a gesture of trust.
She had seen this gesture once before tonight, she was sure of it. The stranger stepped forward and held out his hand. She hesitated, the stranger offered a trusting smile, she accepted and he pulled her up. By this time the stranger was showing signs of hypothermia. He was shivering and feeling drowsy, he stumbled forward, Franki managed to stop him falling and propped him up against the shop door. As the stranger's breathing slowed down, so did the shivering.
“I've got my car around the corner,” he said, “ let's go before I pass out again.”
The stranger was in a bad way, she managed to get him to his car and fumbled for the keys in his pocket. Once they were in the car she fired up the engine and turned on the heating. Although the burning smell from the vents stuck in her throat a little, they began to warm up.
Franki was confused and cold. She looked into the strangers deep blue, trusting eyes.
“You saved my life tonight didn't you?” The stranger turned to her.
“ Ethan,” he smiled and held out his hand, she took it and shook . “ I don't know about that” he continued. “I thought you were being attacked so I broke into the taxi, to find it wasn't quite what I thought.”
“ The taxi driver!” She said looking frightened. “He raped me, and you ...you stopped him, didn't you?”
Ethan shuffled in his seat, he still felt like he was floating. He felt drowsy, and his breathing was shallow, but he continued.
“I thought I saw a struggle, I had to do something, but when I broke the glass and opened the door, the driver was slumped unconscious on the seat next to you; and you were, well – without sounding a little coarse... playing with yourself.”
Looking embarrassed and a little confused, Franki lowered her head. “Go on Ethan, carry on.”
“Well that's it to be honest, you crawled out of the car, screamed and ran into the trees. The taxi driver woke up, I dealt with him, came to find you and that's about it.”
Ethan turned up the heating.
“You passed out so I carried you to my car, we were on the way to the hospital when you woke up. You jumped out of the car at the lights, I parked here to look for you. I think I must have passed out due to the cold and then you helped me up ,and here we are.”
Franki feared the worst, she had been having these dreams, very sexual and sensual dreams, often waking up mid orgasm. Often feeling that she wasn't alone, even though she was. Often she convinced herself that someone was in the room when she awoke, as she was sure that she heard voices. The voices would speak to her, ‘do you like that, bitch?’
She wasn't sure if they were dreams or something else, something unknown. Often they would scare her to death. They excited her too, but never had she had anything like that outside the confines of her bedroom. She had read about the incubus. According to mythology, an incubus would lie on sleeping women, in order to engage in sexual activity with them. As she said to herself at the time, that's stupid, .. isn't it?
As the tears started to form, she looked at Ethan,
“what did you mean, you dealt with the cab driver. Please say he's ok.”
Ethan put on his seatbelt, popped the car into gear, and headed off to the hospital. He looked straight ahead trying hard to focus,
“I'm sure he's fine, he came around as you got out of the car, I told him to put his cock away, gave him a bit of a slap and left him to it.”
In all honesty, it was more than a little slap, and he wasn't sure he would be ok, but dirty little fuckers like him deserved all they got; didn't they ?
The Daily Tribune .Monday 15th January
Police want to hear from anyone
Who may have information about
A local Taxi driver found dead in his cab On Artillery Road .
Officers were called to the local couples spot at 2:45 a.m.
In the small hours of Sunday morning. It is thought that the
Victim was involved in an altercation with another man about
Ten minutes earlier.
Any information please contact local police station .