1. Perfect Timing


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

    moving into the flow of traffic without indicating, the sound of a car horn behind him was enough to clear the thoughts from his head. George Logan was travelling with him today and he realised that if he wanted to get them both to Stockport in one piece he would have to push Alistair Bainbridge and the police at the back of his mind. The rain hammering against the windscreen and the poor visibility made the driving more demanding and required his deep concentration. He was also aware that the ache at the back of his neck was the prelude to a thunderous headache. Fortunately he had travelled the route so often he could almost set the car on auto-pilot. The week ahead looked promising, both for work commitments and for sociable events. On their working agenda, he had to survey a building in Manchester and George Logan had to attend a client progress meeting. On their social agenda they had both been invited out for dinner with Charles Henderson and Beverley Jackson to celebrate his birthday. With the A1 motorway relatively quiet, he lit a cigarette, turned the volume up on the radio and listened to James Taylor singing ‘Fire and Rain.’ It was only six-thirty in the evening and the hotel bar was already filling with locals and strangers, catching a quick drink before heading to Old Trafford to watch the match, others pulling up stools at the bar, content to watch the game on the television. “I think we should pretend to be Manchester United supporters for one night. The last ...
    thing we need is a confrontation with diehard supporters.” George whispered, trying to disguise his North East accent, as he handed him a drink. “We’ll beat those bastards tonight,” growled a drunken supporter, waving a red scarf above his head as he headed for the door. “We will,” Mark replied, hiding his loyalty to Newcastle United behind a limp smile, catching a glimpse of Beverley Jackson standing at the top of the stairs, her beauty almost taking his breath away. Gliding down the stairs in a whisper of movement, a figure hugging black dress caressing every curve, the front cut low exposing a deep cleavage, her long slender legs growing out of a pair of towering black heels and a heart stopping smile on the most perfect lips. Bruno Dante greeted his guests in the entrance foyer of the Bella Roma restaurant. After hugging and kissing everyone on both cheeks and making a fuss and commotion as if they were Hollywood celebrities, he welcomed them into his humble establishment. “The best table in the house,” Bruno announced, skipping across the floor, a waiter holding a bottle of champagne following quickly on his heels. “Compliments of the house,” Bruno smiled, pouring wine into glasses, a couple of waitresses moving anxiously around the table, forcing smiles, clinking cutlery and handing out menus. “Happy Birthday, Charles,” Beverley toasted, smiling and raising her glass. “Happy Birthday,” voices echoed in unison across the table, wine glasses chinking in melodious greeting. ...
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