Chapter 7

By Friday, I was getting quite apprehensive, and then I remembered that I hadn't taken the ski mask with me when I left next door. I was halfway out the front door on my way to Sammy's when I noticed a plastic shopping bag in the corner of my porch. I had no idea how long it had been there, I had been in and out all day and hadn't noticed it before.

I took the bag inside and removed some of the contents.

There was the aforementioned ski mask, a pair of leather gloves, a torch, gaffer tape and some cord. The plastic, but realistic looking knife was at the bottom of the bag. Sammy had thought of everything.

But then I thought, it's going to be evening when I do this thing, Sammy has provided a torch, so presumably it's going to be in the dark; how will the cameras pick up any detail in just the light from a torch?

Then I thought back to the camera I had played with, it was an expensive looking item from Sony, possibly top of the range so it may well have had very low-light capability. To my mind that was the only way it could work.

I went back inside and slumped on the sofa, I had over twenty-four hours to wait until my starring role in Sammy's little porn production. Perhaps "starring role" was a little ambitious and egotistical, Una would without doubt be the star, and I was very much cast as support.

I had Una on my mind almost constantly, she was like a drug and I needed a fix. I knew that if I just went next door and asked, she wouldn't hesitate to drop her knickers, that's if she was wearing any, and spread her legs for me. But how desperate would I look, how pathetic would I be? I could turn to the porn DVD again, that would work, to a point, but I really needed to feel the skin of a real woman, the softness and smell of the real thing. Without that, I may as well buy myself a blow-up doll; I shuddered at the thought.

No, there was only one course of action at such short notice; I'd have to go out and find a whore.

Living in this part of town for as long as I had, seven years, I knew exactly where to go.

I checked my wallet for cash, grabbed my car keys and headed out. It was just getting dark.

I drove straight to the street in the heart of the red-light area, and waited. After no more than five minutes, there was a knock on my passenger side window. I looked across and saw a young woman leaning down and smiling at me through the glass. I hit the down button and she said, 'After some fun love?' I studied her before answering. She was quite young, maybe early twenties, bleached blonde hair, in need of a good wash, and scrawny. The top she had on drooped at the front to reveal a pair of small breasts and no bra. She looked the typical whore feeding a habit. I was desperate to bury my cock, but not quite that desperate.

I declined as politely as I could but I got a mouthful of abuse for my trouble.

Less than two minutes later another woman appeared at the window, I had seen her approach in my wing mirror.

This woman was the opposite of the first. She was sexily plump, with thick legs emerging from a very tight and very short skirt. Her stocking tops were visible as she walked. She was also black. Or rather dark skinned, just slightly darker than Una.

She bent down at my open window and I thought her tits were going to fall out of the red zipped jacket. The zip was almost undone to her belly and the red bra looked several sizes too small to hold her enormous boobs. My cock started to strain at my flies. She had a pretty face; a broad smile with white teeth and her hair was pulled back tight behind her ears.

'You lookin' for a good time honey?' I thought to myself, this woman has seen too many movies; do hookers really say that any more?

I smiled, 'Yes I am. Do you know where I can find one?'

She opened the door and slid on to the seat beside me. As she folded her legs in, I got a intentional flash of red panties. She fixed me with a smile again and said, 'If you've got the money, I've got the good time.'

'How much?'

'Well, it depends on what you want honey. A BJ is twenty, full sex is fifty and anal is seventy-five. How does that sound?'

I gave her what I hoped was a winning smile and said, 'How about sixty-five to fuck you up the arse?'

She stared straight ahead as if doing some complicated mathematical calculation. She slipped her small handbag off her shoulder and on to her lap. She rooted through it and held up a condom. 'Guess I won't be needing that.'

She dropped the packet back in to her bag and flashed me her smile. 'OK honey, sixty-five it is. Can I have my money now?' I gave her the cash and she stuffed it in to her bag. 'Thank you honey, take the second left.'

I started the car and drove following her directions. Less than a mile further on, she told me to pull in to an alleyway behind a row of shops. She was out of the car before I had the chance to grope her tits or get my hand up her skirt.

This was probably one of her favoured places to take her clients; it was dark and secluded, and not visible from the street. It occurred to me that this would also be the perfect place for her pimp to be waiting to knock me on the head, take my money, my car and my good time.

She disappeared around a corner and when I caught up with her she was waiting by a stack of wooden pallets. As I approached I said, 'What's your name?'

'Tina, not that it matters.'

'My name's Rishy.'

'OK Richy.'

'No, Rishy.' I emphasised the "sh".

'Rishy, what kinda name's that?'

'It's my name, can you call me that please?'

'OK, RISHY! Anything you want.' She sounded a little bored.

She hoisted her skirt and pulled her red panties down and began to turn around. This was a little more business-like than I was expecting. Her full, round coffee coloured arse was presented to me, her thin red panties stretched taut between her knees.