1. Perfect Timing


    Date: 12/30/2015, Categories: Mature, Author: marlowe, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    trying to get himself off and made it rather obvious that he only had one thing on his mind and wasn’t in the mood for exchanging words of sympathy. The lecherous man pulled on his cigarette and shuffled his feet behind the bar, trying to get a better view, his hand gathering pace inside his pants, a tardy reply to the question muttered between heavy breathing, something about the girl having mental health problems and she was the daughter of the Vicar of the local Methodist Church. A depraved audience of cowardly predators circled the dance floor like vultures watching over their vulnerable prey, some of them chanting obscenities, others offering crude suggestions, one man with his cock in his hand encouraging her to perform oral sex. He finished his drink and glanced at his watch, the timepiece reminding him that he should be heading for the casino. After giving the barman a look he reserved for perverts he pushed his way through the throng of predatory filth, picking up her clothes from the floor, lifting her into his arms and disappearing through a door, ignoring the onslaught of verbal abuse following in his wake. During the short drive to her home he offered her a cigarette and tried to find out her name but she didn’t reply. She just stared into the distance as if he wasn’t there. Apart from an ambient light above the entrance door the vicarage was in darkness. The tyres crunched in quiet protest over the long gravel drive, the headlights lighting up the eerie ...
    grounds, casting haunting shadows of tall trees over the sinister looking house. Before the brass knocker had time to find purchase the heavy oak door was already opening. A nose appeared and then a mouth, a cautious eye peeking through a small gap in the door. “My names Mark Brand,” he volunteered. “Your daughter.....” he added, his voice fading under the ominous sound of deadlocks turning and chains rattling as the door opened. A tall man wearing a tweed jacket and sporting a dog-collar introduced himself as Alistair Bainbridge, the vicar of St Andrews Methodist Church and the father of the girl. After a brief explanation of the events at the Bay Horse pub the vicar seemed unperturbed, but nevertheless thanked him for returning his daughter. The discourteous movement of the door closing in his face informed him that the vicar had nothing more to say, so he turned around and headed for the car. As he drove away from the house he glanced in the rear view mirror, a little surprised to see an elderly woman had now appeared at the door and Alistair Bainbridge was writing something on a notepad. The following day a police officer arrived at his door and questioned him about the events of Friday night. Alistair Bainbridge had reported the incident to the police and had given them the make and registration details of his car. The officer told him that he wasn’t under arrest but asked him if he would come to the police station and make a statement so they could complete their report. After ...
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