In the space of a year or so I’d gone from knowing a few people on the scene to being known by everyone on the scene. When I tried to find out about what had happened at Helena’s club my friends and acquaintances would be very helpful.
My first port of call, as it always was in those days, was Oz’s bungalow. Being disabled Oz required special step free housing which was supplied by the council as Oz was, frankly, unemployable. Oz was a rocker; he loved heavy metal and loud rock music of all sorts. He had a knack of getting onto guest lists and wheedling his way into concerts with paying a penny. His charm, boldness, and disability easing away all of the difficulties that the rest of us encounter in similar situations.
However he never seemed to be interested in attempting to turn this charm into employment. Although, that said, most companies, despite being required by law to have an equal opportunities policy, aren’t the least bit interested in employing anyone with a disability of any sort.
Even Oz’s dishonest edge added to his charm, he was a bit of a rogue and a bit of a scoundrel. You might go so far as to call him a magnificent bastard. The sympathy of those who pitied his disability raised him from a mundane minor criminal into a Robin Hood, taking from those who had and giving to those who had not.
So naturally Oz knew quite a few people that I didn’t. After explaining the situation to him, and my annoyances at the police, he agreed to ask around a bit. After discussing some details about the next photo shoot I went on to my next port of call: John and Raquel.
I met John and Raquel through my brother who was chasing after a girl that was sharing the same house as them. At first I was rather dubious as the two of them were both art students and I’ve often found art students to be wanky bullshitters. Fortunately John was into bikes and had a classic Triumph so he was rather better grounded than many art students. We managed to get on and make friends and went for a few rides together. John showed me how to get to Box Hill and introduced me to the regular Sunday meeting there.
Box Hill on a Sunday is one of the few regular meeting places for bikers. Every Sunday a whole bunch of bikers will turn up in ones and twos and threes without any form of organisation, just a random gathering. Everyone wanders around admiring each other’s bikes and commenting on minor technical points. There’s a burger bar there that serves burgers, breakfasts, and copious amounts of tea. This is where John and I formed a bond of biking.
Years previously John and Raquel became extras in a film based in the London fetish scene, they can both be seen in the background of a number of scenes but Raquel is actually billed in the credits, although they did something to her voice, she doesn’t sound anything like herself in the film. Unfortunately for me I couldn’t be an extra as I was working at the time, I remember being very jealous of their opportunity to be in a cool film about the fetish scene.
Not that the film was that cool, it turned out to be a bit strange, well made and very graphic but rather driven by a number of scenes that play out weirdly. It also suffers from magic piercing syndrome, where someone gets a piercing and it is miraculously healed within minutes of being done. Real piercings take weeks to heal, a minimum of three for something minor like a prince albert to six weeks for a lot of piercings and longer for some. Complete healing and adaptation takes at least six months and often much longer. Many piercings just do not settle properly for one reason or another and you have to give up on them, I’ve had three nipple piercings and none of them lasted more than a year, because I’m just not suited to them.
Raquel was occasionally a fashion model; she was that special tall and thin shape that clothes designers want for models, that shape that looks like a teenage boy that tells you a lot about fashion designers desires. Raquel didn’t want to be a model but it brought in the occasional bit of cash or was done as a favour. She was even part of a fashion show by Murray and Vern at one of the TG events held at The Ministry.
They both knew quite a few people in the scene so I rode across London to their flat, my mind running in circles as I travelled the familiar roads at speed. John and Raquel went through a number of flats and various states of relationship over the years. Eventually John found a sales job and started earning some money. We would stop riding out together and drift apart for no reason other than that we were never available to make it to each other’s invites.
Right now they were at the top of my list of people to ask for help. I got there in the early evening the sun starting to settle over the houses nearby. Neither of them was working at the moment so I knew that they’d be home and indeed they were, discussing what to have for dinner. I filled them in on my recent adventures and asked for help.
With the end of the weekend rapidly approaching I headed for some much needed sleep. I had work tomorrow and without some sleep I’d be of little use. That night I dreamt of Lisa who was a friend of a friend I met at a pub one evening, it turned out she quite fancied a trip to a fetish club so I invited her to come with me to Subversion. On the night Lisa wore a clinging one-piece PVC cat suit with a zip running all the way from the neck to the small of her back and a pair of tall fuck me heels. Subversion was always a big event with performances, bands, dancers, a big dungeon and numerous side shows. Lisa sat on my knee while we watched a metal band that had a couple of sexy dancing girls in PVC. Once I noticed that Lisa was squirming in time to the dancing of the girls I asked her what was up and she confessed that she was bisexual and the dancing girls were making her very hot and bothered
I suggested to Lisa that what she needed was some extra stimulus to take her all the way. Earlier that evening I had noticed that Lisa had one of those kubotan rods on her key ring, for those of you unfamiliar a kubotan rod is a metal or wood rod between six and eight inches long and with several inset grooves to provide grip, it’s a martial arts weapon but it can be used for other purposes.
I removed the rod from Lisa’s key ring and we slipped away to a private booth that still had a view of the stage. While Lisa watched the stage I unzipped her clingy cat suit and started to warm her up with my fingertips, but there was no need as Lisa was indeed very hot from the stimulation provided by the dancing girls. I proceeded to gently work the rod into her and a helped me out by slowly rocking back and forth. Once the rod was in place I zipped up the catsuit and pulled Lisa down onto my knee again. The end of the rod was pressed firmly into the meat of my thigh and with some gentle flexing I was able to stimulate Lisa quite effectively. With the addition of some gentle pinching of her nipples trough the cat suit and some biting of the back of her neck I rapidly brought Lisa to fever pitch and over into orgasm. Lisa rocked back and forth on my thigh for many more minutes, her legs alternately relaxing and clenching as she came in waves of pleasure, ending only when the band finally finished their act, after which we headed home and spent the remainder of the night together.
My alarm intruded into the images of a compliant Lisa in my mind left me with a raging hard on and little idea what was happening. I had not slept well and like the undead I was in halfway state, neither asleep nor awake, neither living nor dead. I was one of the unasleep, a zombie with movement but no life behind the eyes. Sometimes this state would last for hours as I lurched and staggered around the house and onto the streets heading for work.
Only one thing was guaranteed to raise me from this state: my motorbike. Like a second awakening, rolling onto the road would fire my brain into activity. The desperately dangerous act of commuting through rush hour London by motorcycle was a drug mainlined into my veins. I realized that drugs were the key to the mystery.
To me it seems that the worst thing about illegal drugs is the people who deal them. There’s nothing especially wrong with taking drugs if that’s what you like to do, everyone has their needs and preferences for getting away from the pressures and difficulties of everyday life. For me I dive into books and games, my parents however were into dope.
I grew up with drugs all around me; I wasn’t really aware of them as such and certainly had no idea at first that they were illegal and could get you into trouble. There was one incident at a border where we, my parents, brother, and myself were crossing in a car, when a guard asked if we had any marijuana in the car. I knew the dope was hidden under the horn of the steering wheel so I helpfully started to tell the guard where it was. Fortunately my parents kept me quiet and they got away with it. It was after that incident that they had to explain to me that some things were secrets to be kept just inside the family and that we would call the dope ‘number 3’.
My parents would often have friends over and they or my parents would invariably roll a spliff to be shared between everyone there. Later on I was allowed to sit with the adults although I didn’t share the spliff. When I was an older teenager and going out with friends to drink cider I tried a little dope but never found it to be very interesting. I also stopped drinking after only a little bit as it just wasn’t for me, being drunk is not a great experience as far as I’m concerned. So I never even tried any of the harder drugs that were available and stuck to reading and gaming to get my highs.
A lot of otherwise clever people have the idea that they can sell a few drugs to their friends on the side in order to make a bit of spare cash. The equation is simple: get a big lump of dope or grass from a dealer, divide it up into bite size pieces and make a few quid on each bite, do it enough and bingo, free money, free dope, and lots of happy friends. My father used to deal drugs like this to make a bit of extra cash and keep him supplied with dope. It does work for a lot of people but it can also go badly wrong.
A gaming friend of mine who ran a pretty good homebrew game (none of your mass produced games for him) and dealt some dope on the side would end up a victim. If you were cynical you could say that he did the gaming to provide a good cover story or control mechanism for why people kept on visiting his house, which is the usual sign of a dealer: odd people coming and going at all hours. The other gamers who played the game were certainly more into getting wasted and playing games than simply playing games alone.
One night, he went out with a couple of grand in his pocket to pick up some supplied from his dealer. When we saw him at the next game his head was covered with a bandage where he’d been hit with a mallet just outside his dealers front door, the assailant, whoever it was, then emptied his pockets, took the cash and made off, never to be seen again. Because his dealer had become known in the local criminal community there were other, nastier criminals waiting to take advantage of those who forget the saying that ‘there’s no honour amongst thieves’.
A few stupid people also get the idea that they can smuggle their drugs in from foreign lands, cut out the middleman, and thereby make a huge profit. It can work for small amounts but sooner or later these same people get greedy, think they can score the deal of a lifetime and get set up for a fall by the real criminals.
Serious criminals don’t mess about, fortunately I’ve hardly ever met any serious criminals but you really don’t want to. They’re not the sort of people to mix with, they are not polite, and everyone they come into contact with goes away either a little or a lot worse off. There’s no glamour in crime, it’s just a nasty business. So when you go to a dealer you are at best two steps away from serious criminals and for me that’s just too close for comfort.
Crime goes wrong a lot, people get injured, wounded, and killed over trivial concerns and petty jealousies. Criminals are superstitious, cowardly, paranoid, and prepared to act on their paranoia with violence. It’s just not worth it to get involved with them in any way and this is why illegal drugs cause so many problems. Everyone involved with them becomes a criminal of one sort or another, either they supply drugs, or they steal money to buy drugs, or they trade themselves for drugs, or they become addicts and selfishly take social resources from people who need them. A lot of people who buy drugs don’t really become involved in the criminal side but their passive support of illegal drugs increases demand and builds up the criminal element involved in drugs.
To me the only serious solution is to decriminalise all drugs that are not directly dangerous. Legal drugs can be supplied by legal means, cutting off the criminals from their source of revenue. Legal drugs can also be taxed and administered to make them profitable for the government. I still won’t be interested in legal drugs, just as I’m not interested in tobacco or alcohol but keeping all the other ‘recreational’ drugs illegal just encourages crime and I don’t want to support a system that encourages crime.
Nightclubs are plagued by drug dealers and ecstasy was the drug of choice for the fetish scene, heightening pleasures without dulling the senses. Helena had always been opposed to it preferring her sensual pleasures without artificial enhancement. She had instructed her staff to deal harshly with any dealers, not wanting the additional attention from the police that they would cause. If there was anything that would provoke her killing it would be a war over ecstasy and I knew a couple of people who would be able to fill me in on what was going on.
Before I could do anything else I needed to get out of work for the day. Fortunately when I called the office to throw a sickie it was Lamb who answered.
‘Morning, it’s me, who’s that?’
‘Hey hun it’s me’
‘Hey sweetie. Listen, I’m not feeling well today, so I need to take the day off sick, would you pass the message on please?’
‘You sound okay. What’s up?’
Uh oh. The trouble with calling your smart girlfriend to blag a sickie is that she’s rather more insightful than another co-worker.
‘It’s nothing much I just didn’t sleep well and I have a headache so I wouldn’t be any use today’
‘Hmm. Okay’
‘Thanks sweetie’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow’ she said, and after a momentary pause, ‘Be careful’
‘Okay, love you’
‘Love you too’
I would have to be careful but first I had something important to do .I met Lena at a Mistress’ dungeon where she was assisting. Lena was a small slim East European blonde with a fantastic figure and a flirty, dirty expression. I arranged a shoot with her at the dungeon which consisted of the traditional torture chamber and a very pleasant living room area. We started taking photos on the white leather sofa in the living room and Lena was very sexy, grinding around, flirting with the camera, and moaning softly.
Then we moved into the dungeon room where Lena became much more excited, I put some bondage collars and cuffs on her and her eyes lit up when I fixed her to the large chair that was the main feature of the room. After taking some photographs I released Lena and put her into a bent over position. Lena asked me in her broken accent if there was anything special I’d like her to do and I’d taken full advantage of her compliance.
We’d tried going to a club together but Lena was one of those party animals who liked to take ecstasy for a club and would spend the rest of the evening rushing from pillar to post in a drunken high. I couldn’t keep up, soon lost her, and had no idea how she’d ended the night. Not the sort of date I was fond of so I didn’t ask her again. She’d let slip at one point that she knew some guys who gave her all the E she wanted so maybe if I called her she’d be willing to get me in touch with them.
However there was no way she’d be up and about this early in the day and I needed some fortification. So what better way to pass the time than to fill up with a full English breakfast.
For those unfamiliar with this most English of breakfasts it consists of a variety of items from a simple menu and is available from any number of cafes located near any place where working men can be found. Your choice of sausage, egg, bacon, black pudding, chips, beans, toms, and mushrooms accompanied by two slices of toast and a cup of tea, freshly cooked and all for a bargain price.
If you’re looking for the best of one of these culinary delights then you need to choose a ‘caf’ that’s not too new and doesn’t have shiny plastic seats like a chicken hut or burger joint. Somewhere with décor that’s past its prime and well-worn but clean tables. There should be a couple of people in the caf reading the dreadful daily tabloids that we get in Britain while they wait for their food. Go up to the counter, order you food and sit down, once it’s cooked a plain waitress will deliver it to your table. Enjoy.
Fuelled up and ready to do some investigative work it was finally time to call Lena. I looked up her number and called from the payphone in the café, pumping coins into it as we talked. I really need to get a mobile phone! Lena’s accent was really think and it always took me a couple of minutes to tune into it before I could grasp everything she said properly. I explained what was happening and how I need to speak to her.
‘Hokay’ she said ‘komm pick me up’
‘Eh?’
‘I need drive. Komm pick me up. Then we spick’
I worked out where she was and went to pick her up after a quick trip home to grab a spare helmet. When I arrived at her East London flat she was dressed in jeans and a light leather jacket and was ready to go, if still a bit sleepy. She had a small hard flight case with her which I tied to the bike rack. We hopped on board and headed for the dungeon of one Mistress M where Lena sometimes helped out and sometimes did a bit of dominatrix work. It was all the way acorss London in Kingston so I settled in for a long ride.
It’s actually quite thrilling riding across London with a hot petite blonde snuggled so tightly up against your back that you can feel every breath she takes and every move she makes. Lena’s hands had tucked themselves into my pcokets and were inches away from getting me into trouble with my girlfriend.
Eventually we made it to Kingston after sweeping down dual carriageways and up past Richmond park. Mistress M’s dungeon was discreetly tucked away in the penthouse apartment of a block of flats in the middle of Kingston, just a minute’s walk from the shops and station. I’d been here before back when I’d been photographing Lena and it was kind of cool to be ensconced in a kinky haven up to naughty games while the shoppers plodded around mere yards away.
I introduced myself to Mistress M, who was a stacked brunette with a sultry French accent. She was already dressed in her finest dominatrix outfit which consisted of a tight knee length leather skirt, killer ball crushing heels, and a House of Harlot rubber top that turned her already ample cleavage into a gravity defying canyon of soft tanned flesh.
Lena had disappeared somewhere with her case so I assumed she was getting dressed. Mistress M told me that she had a client expected to turn up any minute and asked me to go hide in the living room with the white sofa that featured so much in the last photo shoot.
‘Hoy. Komm here’ Lena said, leaning out of the bathroom a twinkle in her eye.
I got up and paced over to her ‘What’s up?’
‘I need help mister.’ With one hand she was clutching a rubber minidress (which was, naturally, in traditional pervy black) to her chest and with the other she was waving a pair of strappy heels that were tangled up with set of leather straps. Other than that she was entirely nude.
‘Fix dis’ she said passing me the tangle of shoes and straps. As I tried to work out how to separate them she stepped into the dress, wiggled it over her hips, and slipped her arms into the shoulder straps.
She cast a glance my way ‘Hoy. Get on wiv it’ she said with a smile as I realised that I’d been ogling her. I’d forgotten just how smoking hot she was.
I finally extracted the heels and passed them to her while I tried to figure out what the straps were for. It took a moment but once I’d got them the right way up they were revealed as the fancy harness for a strapon, although the actual dildo was missing which was why it had taken me so long to work out what it was.
I held the harness out for Lena and she quickly hopped into it tightening the clasps with the familiarity of long practice.
‘How do I look?’ she said holding her arms up in a diva pose.
‘Smokin’
She grinned and sashayed past me, the soft skirt of the minidress accentuating her gyrating walk. She cast one look back to check her effect on me and then strode into the dungeon with a businesslike motion.
Moments later the bell rang and I sat down to wait out the session next door. The next hour was punctuated with various groans, moans, and screams as their client was put through his paces. After a particularly long series of escalating squeals Lena returned, using a wet wipe to clean off the particularly large dildo attached to her harness.
‘Yowch, that must have stung’
Lena laughed ‘He cry like girl at end’. I laughed back.
‘Hokay. First drink, then talk’
Lena slipped out of the harness and sauntered over to the kitchen area. Poking around she found a bottle of wine and two glasses.
‘You want drink?’ she asked and I shook my head. ‘Plenty for me then’ she said pouring a brimming glass. She grabbed a purse, walked across the room, leant over with her back to me to put her glass down on the low glass coffee table and then flopped down onto the sofa, her legs splayed.
‘Talk’ she said as she lit a cigarette.
I explained the situation again and how I thought it might be related to the selling of ecstasy, asking her for help in finding someone who might know a bit more about what was going on behind the scenes.
While I explained Lena downed most of her glass of wine, finished her cigarette, and relaxed into the sofa. Eventually I wound down as I realised that she wasn’t really listening any more.
‘Hokay. I know some guys. I ask them’ she said.
‘Thanks!’
‘First you gots to do somefink for me’
‘Anything’ I replied as Mistress M stepped into the room.
‘We have another customer in five minutes darling.’ she said to Lena ‘Could you wear the nurses outfit for this one please.’
Lena giggled ‘Hokay. No problem. Hey you.’ she said, pointing at me ‘Help me put dress on’
Lena got up and pulled a surprising variety of flimsy underwear and racy costumes from her case. After selecting a matching set she opened sent me up the spiral staircase to the upper level of the sitting room where a rack of outfits was discreetly tucked away. I found the pale green rubber nurses outfit manufactured by Skin Two she directed me to and brought it down for her.
Meanwhile Lena had slipped out of the minidress and into a set of white lacy underwear with a matching suspender belt and white stockings. I helped her into the dress and zipped it up at the front while she put up her hair and fastened the hat to it with some clips.
The bell rang and Lena gave me a peck on the cheek and squeezed my arm. ‘Hokay blue eyes. Wait here. Don’t get trouble.’
I sat down again and waited out the session, fixing myself a cup of tea from the mini kitchen. This client was considerably quieter than the last except for one hiss of pain just before the end. Once he’d left Mistress M rapidly announced that she was going out for lunch and didn’t offer to let Lena or I join her which I thought was a bit strange.
Lena must have noticed my funny look ‘It hokay’ she said lighting another cigarette ‘I ask her to leave us alone’. She rummaged around her purse for a moment and then licked her finger.
‘Now it time for you to help me’
‘Okay, no problem’
‘Come here’ she said walking to the dungeon.
I followed her, wondering what she was up to.
‘Sit’ she said pointing at the throne that dominated the dungeon.
I sat down while Lena switched on some music with a low pulsating beat. Immediately she launched into a slow gyrating dance, her hips swivelling and grinding, her chest beating up and down.
Slowly she unpeeled her rubber outfit, first one shoulder then the other as she stared into my eyes. She slid it down her body revealing the lacy translucent bra and then over her hips to let me see the tiny white thong that covered her crotch. Taking two steps closer she danced right in front of me.
‘Wh..’ I started to say but Lena put a hand to my mouth, ‘Shhh’ she growled.
I was starting to worry if I was in trouble here. I was getting very turned on by Lena’s dancing and I’m pretty sure Lamb would definitely not approve of the situation but I really needed to get hold of Lena’s friends so that I could find out what had happened to Helena.
Lena swirled round and unhooked her bra, she turned back to face me, her hands holding the bra in place and covering her chest. As the music changed to a slow beat she slid them down to reveal her fantastic pert breasts and stiff nipples. Leaning forward she placed her hands on my shoulders and leant in to me bringing her boobs inches from my face.
‘Kiss me’ she ordered
I paused for a moment. ‘I can’t’ I said ‘I have a girlfriend’
‘I don’t mind. Kiss me. Kiss me now.’ She said as she lowered herself to straddle my lap ‘We can fuck one time. Nobody know.’ She looked into my eyes, licker her lips, and spoke again ‘I like you and I need fuck with you. Don’t you like me? You say you do anything so enjoy fuck with me.’
‘Oh Lena’ I said, my cock throbbing with need, ‘I really do like you and I really would like to make love to you but I just can’t betray my girlfriend. She’s really nice and sweet and doesn’t deserve it.’
‘You call girlfriend, tell her to come watch. Is she pretty? Maybe I can fuck her?’
‘I don’t think she’d be into that, she’s still pretty new to the scene.’
‘Listen blue eyes, I need fuck. All morning I work waiting for fuck with you.’ She squeezed my stiff crotch with her hand ‘You like me. You want fuck me. I know it so either fuck or go.’
‘But I need your help’
‘You want help, I want fuck. This last chance. Make up mind.’
Finally inspiration struck ‘Look Lena’ I said ‘ I really can’t have sex with you, but maybe I can do something else. What do you like? Do you like spanking?’ A spanking I could explain away if I needed to, it was hardly sexual at all.
‘No I don’t want spank. I want sex’ then a wicked gleam came into her eyes ‘Hokay, I know. I want watch you. I watch you and you watch me.’
‘Watch me what?’
‘Watch you touch self while I touch myself. Not touch each other, touch self.’
I could live with this, it’d be no worse than watching some porn, or a risqué stage show at TG. ‘Okay’
‘Hoookay’ Lena said with an evil grin ‘Kom here and lie down. Wait, get undress first.’
I took off my clothes as Lena rummaged around in the dungeon supply cupboard. ‘Hah’ she cried pulling out a large dildo ‘Dis be good.’
She stuck the dildo, which had a suction cup on its base, to the full length mirror which dominated one wall of the dungeon. It stuck out obscenely looking like a double ended cock floating in mid-air.
‘Kom here, lie down here’ Lena said, guiding me into a position on the floor with my head directly under the dildo. She stepped out of her thong and took position above me, one high heeled foot on either side of my hips.
‘Look at me’ she said, starting to gyrate her hips in time to the sultry music. I watched as she brought herself down to a kneeling position over me one beat at a time, her hips circling above me. She would quickly lift alternate shoulders with the music, causing her firm little breasts to jiggle and sway.
She straddled my hips, her weight pressing onto me, the heat of her pussy on my belly. The tip of my cock was not touching her but could be no more than an inch from her tight little arse. Lena kept eye contact with me, never looking away. She ran her hands down her body, teasing her nipples between her fingers to stiffen them then sweeping across her hard stomach. Her hands journeyed back up, slower this time, and while one hand stayed to stroke her breast with the other she slipped two fingers into her mouth and licked around them as they slid in and out.
She took those fingers out and slipped them into her pussy as I watched. A few strokes later she was beginning to breathe heavily as she worked their whole length into herself. I slipped my hand between us and started to stroke myself too, watching her every movement.
Lena looked down at what I was doing ‘Wait’ she said ‘Wait for me, is more.’ Then, she leant forward, put one arm against the mirror to support herself, and opened her lips to take the tip of the dildo into her mouth. Her fingers moved to her clit and started rubbing faster while she swallowed the full length of the dildo, the tip of her nose pressing against the glass of the mirror. Within moments her hips twitched and a muffled groan issued from her.
She slipped the dildo out of her mouth, eased her fingers from her pussy and stood up on shaky legs. A smile played across her face ‘Now for fuck’ she said and turned around. Backing up to the mirror she took hold of the wet dildo. I had a perfect view as she guided it into her dripping pussy. In the mirror it looked like twins fucking each other with a double ended dildo. Lena pushed back until her bottom touched the mirror, the thick rubber cock impaling her pussy and filling it to the limit.
Lena grunted with effort and I saw that she was supporting her weight by a chain from the ceiling, her hands clasping it and the chain wrapped round her wrists. She bent her head down to look at me.
‘Now is your turn’ she said ‘go slow. I watch’
I took hold of my rigid cock and started stroking it. Seconds later Lena matched my motion with her body, sliding up and down on the dildo. We kept in time, getting faster stroke by stroke.
‘I wanna see you come!’ Lena gasped and redoubled her efforts. Matching her, I pounded away, the ticklish feeling of being about to come building rapidly. Lena started grunting with each breath as her orgasm built. Her eyes wide open and transfixed on mine. All at once I came, my hips lifting from the floor, jism jetting into the air. Moments later Lena shuddered and came, her sweat dripping down her thighs and soaking into her stocking tops.
Lena extracted herself from the chains and dildo and collapsed next to me, her hand clasping mine. ‘Good fuck’ she sighed.
We lay there for a couple of minutes, eyes closed, cooling down. Then I started to worry. I needed to clean up, call Lamb to make sure she was okay, and get out of here before Lena got any more ideas and decided on something I couldn’t talk my way out of. There was a bathroom off the dungeon (it was an incredibly well appointed place) so I hopped into the shower. Lena got up and watched me quietly, leaning casually against the wall. She said nothing as I dried off and got dressed.
Back in the living room Lena dropped onto the sofa and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke at me.
‘I call my friends later’ she said, her accent markedly clearer ‘Call me tomorrow’.
‘You okay for good guy, blue eyes. Now go, I got to work.’ She said waving me off with her fingers.
I headed home, worrying all the way. Lamb would go apeshit if I told her about this, but with my track record she was bound to find out about it. I was getting somewhere with my investigation but I needed at least another day to find out more so after my morning routine I phoned the office again, I needed to be brief and to the point, Lamb mustn’t get any idea that something was wrong.
‘Morning, it’s me, who’s that?’
‘Hey hun it’s me’
‘Hey sweetie. Listen, I’m still feeling sick and I need to take another day off work’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I think I have a cold’
‘Alright, well wrap up warm and drink plenty of fluids’
‘I will. Love you’
‘Love you too’
Now I had the rest of the day clear. I just needed to hear from Lena and then follow up on whatever her friends told me. I was pretty damn sure that it would be down to the drugs. Ecstasy was the pill of choice on the clubbing scene and fortunes were made in its supply and distribution.
As I said before the problem with drugs is that they’re illegal, this means that you can only get them from dealers and dealers are the pretty face on a huge world of crime. Dealers, when you meet them, appear to be pretty amiable folk, happy to sell you a bit of gear at the going rate with no questions asked, they might be criminals but they’re a very light sort, hardly appearing disreputable at all. However dealers have to get their goods from suppliers and the suppliers of drugs are serious criminals because they have to get their drugs from smugglers and distributors which is organized crime and organized crime is more than capable of putting people like Helena, who say no to drugs in their place, out of commission, permanently if need be.
I also had a pretty good idea of who was behind this. There was an up and coming club which was in cahoots with Tony, Helena’s vicious little ex. The money they were burning had to come from somewhere, because frankly, I’d seen them and they didn’t look like they were prime thinkers or movers. But money can get you a lot of places where talent alone can’t.
By the time I got home I was shagged out. Too much thinking about problems I couldn’t fix combined with a long ride across London and some frantic wanking left me with no option but to veg out in front of the telly. I bunged on a video of Blade Runner and let its soothing familiarity ease my mind into a doze.
I woke to the buzzing of the doorbell and staggered downstairs to find Lamb on the doorstep looking cute in her work clothes.
‘Hey honey’ she said
‘Uheyuhowareyouhoney’ I mumbled
‘Something up with the bike?
‘Eh?’
‘Your bike, you don’t have the cover on it’ she said pointing at my bike which I’d left in its usual spot but hadn’t covered up after I’d got home.
‘Huh. Forgot’ I said, dragging the cover out from behind the door. ‘Gimme a min’
I put the cover on the bike while Lamb waited patiently by the door and my brain booted itself into wakefulness.
‘I brought hot lemon for you and I thought we might have a Chinese’ said Lamb, being astonishingly perky for someone who’d spent the week dealing with uptight bosses and surly software developers. Her uplifting presence was just what I needed to get me away from worrying about things I had no control over. So I ordered food to be delivered, put a rom-com in the video player and we sat down together on the sofa.
‘Ooh you stink’ said Lamb, her cute nose wrinkled ‘Go have a shower smelly man’
I have no idea what she could smell but did as requested. So for the third time that day I hopped in the shower and cleaned up. The food arrived shortly thereafter and we settled in for a quiet evening.
‘Wake up sleepyhead I have to go’ said Lamb, wiggling out from under my arm ‘I’m going to see my mum first thing tomorrow so I can’t stay, but I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon so go to bed and get some sleep.’ I walked her to the door and we kissed goodnight.
In the morning I worked on the website while waiting for Lena to call. I didn’t hear from here but I did get a call from Valentina.
I had met Valentina Wylde at the LFF a while ago, she sells extremely stylish handmade Italian leatherwear, jeans for men, and coats and jackets for women, all made from the most exquisitely soft leather you can imagine, smooth like freshly washed and moisturised skin, squidgy like a really good carpet, and simply beautiful to the senses.
From this material of the gods Valentina creates made to measure clothes that turn even the unsightly into lookers, and on the average person they work miracles. I had wanted a pair of Valentina’s jeans since the moment I had seen them.
It was after my photography was becoming better known that I got the chance to get hold of a pair of jeans. I’d shown her my portfolio a couple of weeks ago and asked if she wanted any shots of her clothes.
Valentina called to say that she liked my photographs and asked me over to discuss shooting some catalogue shots of her clothes. So I took down the address, grabbed my camera bag, fired up the bike and zoomed off.
Valentina’s workshop is hidden deep in South East London, through an arch, down an alley, up a flight of stairs, and first door on the left. On entering I was enticed by an intense aroma of leather.
The workshop was also a living space, with a bedroom upstairs, kitchen down a little corridor, and living space to one side. Valentina owned a beautiful piece of wood used as a table. It was the root of a tree, all knotted and twisted, which jad been turned upside down, planed flat, and then filled with a thick layer of resin to make a flat surface, the clear resin had run off in places making the wood look like it had melted.
Over cups of sweet tea we discussed what she needed for her catalogue. None of it was a problem but I would need to find a model who was an exact size 10 as Valentina’s samples were only available in that size. Fortunately I had recently done a shoot with Elaine who had mentioned that she was a size 10 so I jumped at the opportunity of another shoot, especially as, for payment, Valentina would make me a pair of made to measure jeans.
Feeling quite exuberant I heeded home to await the arrival of my girlfriend. She came over to mine that afternoon as promised, and after a cup of tea and some chat about work and how I’d been feeling she asked me up to the bedroom. As I walked up the stairs behind her watching her hips sway I was thinking of only one thing. We sat down on the bed and she turned to me.
‘I just don’t see this working’
‘Eh?’
‘I can’t commit to a relationship now so I think we should just be friends’
‘You’re dumping me?’
The rest of the conversation was just a blur, my heart pounding cold waves through my chest, as I listened in disbelief while Lamb explained gently but firmly that she was leaving me. Eventually she got up, said goodbye, and left.
