Lifers 49

Swinging his right fist from behind his left shoulder, Mason put his whole upper-body into the blow, catching Brenda Wise square on the jaw with a vicious strike. She fell against the side of the blue Ford, landing face down next to it. She was out cold, of that, he had no doubt. His ability to incapacitate his foes, regardless of their size, sex, or age, was something he took great pride in.

His initial plans were to kill her there and put her body on the back seat of the Ford, then, drive both her and the girl in the trunk, out to Joshua Falls and set fire to the car. After that, hitch a lift back to Lynchburg and finally dispose of Kessler’s little toy car.

Miss Brontrose will see to it, one way or another, that Kessler doesn’t leave Martinsville, not alive anyway. And if that partner of his hasn’t been heard from since he got there, Mason had no doubts that he won’t be coming back either.

He looked at her lying there, unable to move, but more to the point, unable to fight him off. Second thoughts about her disposal began to surface. Another plan was hatching, and a more pleasurable one at that. This could turn out to be his lucky day. After a quick look around the parking lot, he closed the trunk and put Brenda in the front passenger seat, he then climbed in the driver’s side, and within a minute had the car hot-wired and running.

He drove the short distance to the Marianna II, where he climbed out, hauling Brenda from the car. Once she was over his shoulder, he proceeded to ferry her across the gangplank. She didn’t weigh much, but she was solid, she obviously looked after herself, a gym-freak no doubt. This was going to be a real pleasure, much better than those two-bit hookers he’d sneak in the house every weekend.

Once on board, he carried her down the few steps leading into the spacious cabin and dumped her on the double bed. He smiled looking her up and down.

A real pleasure indeed, he mused.

She’d settled on her back with her knees raised and twisted to her right, her arms were by her sides, and her head had a slight tilt to the left. Her thick, raven hair, had flicked across her face obscuring almost half of it. He brushed this aside before turning her to face him. He noticed her right cheek had started to bruise, and her bottom lip showed a small split near its right corner.

He unfastened the belt on her Mac and, after a slight struggle, managed to remove it. Then once again he straightened her hair. Mason lowered his gaze and cracked another smile. He liked very much what he saw, and boy, was he going to enjoy every minute of it.

Reaching out, he unfastened the top button on her blouse and eased apart the collar. His excitement soon started to grow; his breaths became shorter, more rapid. His hands felt damp, clammy, sweaty. Wiping them on her thighs, he felt the toned muscle beneath her jeans which caused his excitement to grow further.

Opening a second and third button revealed her cleavage. Yes, today was a very lucky day indeed. He felt a surge in his loins, coupled with stiffening. He gripped himself, stroking once, twice, three times, and then stopped; he didn’t want to spoil things. This was far too precious an opportunity to waste on a simple hand-shake! Even so, his erection was beginning to get the better of him, it wanted conclusion, it required fulfilment, it needed … satisfaction.

Gripping her half-open blouse with both hands, he pulled it apart, sending the remaining buttons flying in every direction. He looked down at the white lace bra cradling her perfect breasts so well, and with a lick of his lips, he stroked his fingertips over the material. Beneath his delicate touch, he felt the small mound of her nipples protruding through the thin fabric. With closed eyes, he began caressing and kneading his captive, allowing pictures to play through his mind. Like the ones in the movies he kept locked in his room, only here, he was the star, the main man, the stud.

All this imagination abuse sent his body temperature soaring, he needed a drink. His pleasure would have to wait a few moments, but his thirst demanded attention. He left for the galley below where he found a small carton of pineapple juice and finished it off in seconds. After a huge belch, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand tossing the empty carton aside. Now, feeling fully refreshed, he could return to his fantasy, to his movie set, and to his co-star.

Five carpeted stairs led up from the galley to the cabin, and when he treaded the forth his eyes were level with the cabin’s small windows, and the blue Ford parked by the gangplank, caught his eye. He’d have to get rid of it, leaving it there was only inviting trouble.

After taking two gold coloured ropes from the curtain rails of the cabin windows, he bound her hands and feet. And just in case she came to and wanted to scream for help, he pressed a six-inch strip of duct-tape over her mouth, stifling any chance of that. His stubby fingers poked through her jeans pockets looking for the keys to Kessler’s car. Not there. Picking up the Mac he’d tossed to the floor earlier, he began to shake it. The tell-tale chink was all he needed.

Leaning over with his hands on her thighs, his manicured nails scratched at the material. ‘Won’t be long, Honey, just popping out for a while. Do make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back before you know it.’

He left the Marianna II, taking the blue Ford from the lake up to the house. When he reached the top of the hill, he punched a code on the intercom keypad and the gates opened. As he drove through he looked in the rear view mirror to ensure they’d closed behind him. He parked the blue Ford in a small lock-up garage at the back of the house and decided to dispose of the car and the body in the trunk during nightfall. Right now though, he had other, more pressing things to see to. And once he’d done, he’d take Miss Wise for a trip around the lake on the Marianna II, and of course, allow her a very short swim.

After walking back to the front of the house he took a set of keys from his jacket pocket and entered. Once inside he walked through the door directly facing. This led into an even larger hallway where about thirty-feet directly in front of him, stood another door leading to the kitchen. To his left and to his right, on either side of the kitchen door, ran a staircase that shared a landing above his head.

Mason took the stairs to his right, as his bedroom would be the first door he’d come to on that side. After taking the spare fob for the gates, he left locking up the house. He squashed himself into Kessler’s car, which, he decided, was no bigger than Noddy’s little run-around, and if it had been any smaller, he’d have had to use it as a fucking skateboard.

As the Brontrose place slipped behind, Mason headed back to the lake, and to Miss Wise on the Marianna II. He parked Kessler’s car on the parking lot in an unnamed slot, leaving him a short walk to the boat. When he got to the gang-plank, of all things interruptive, his cell phone demanded to be answered, halting him in his tracks. But it was the unknown number that halted him even further.

‘Hello, who is this? Ah, I see … yes she is, although a little tied up right now … no, she tried to make that call, but her phone and she have been permanently separated … yes, I fully understand.’ After that, he heard a lot of wind and some loud crackling, and then the line went dead.

He put his cell phone into his jacket pocket ready to resume his game. When he opened the door to the cabin, he saw her still lying in the same position he’d left her in.

‘Okay then,’ he said, rubbing his sweaty palms together, ‘time for a little more fun!’

The chair facing the dresser mirror was soon adorned with his jacket, and in the mirror he looked longingly at her reflection, and once again started to rub himself. It didn’t take long before he felt hard enough to perform, so he turned back to face her. It then dawned on him that he couldn’t do much performing with her legs bound together like they were, he’d have to untie them, but her hands can stay tied behind her back. Mind you, a bit of a fight might just make the whole thing that bit more … interesting?

Kneeling on the floor at the bottom of the bed, he began to undo the knots holding her ankles together. He’d only managed to get one of them undone when her feet pulled away from him; he looked up to see her eyes, wide with fear. Then a sharp pain like he’d never felt before, filled his entire head. He yelled at the top of his voice, stumbling back and clutching at the right side of his face. The pain rocketed through his skull sending shards of agony reverberating into his brain.

Brenda struggled somewhat, but managed to wriggle from the bed. Mason, the man who was just about to rape her, was too preoccupied to notice this. He was feeling the inside of his right eye socket, only thing was, what he searched for was now skewered onto Brenda’s three-inch right heel. Without thought, or hesitation, she hopped across the cabin crashing through the thin louver door, then up the few steps onto the deck.

She heard Mason shouting after her, growling obscenities. With her feet still bound she managed to make the gangplank, but the heel that served her so well inside the cabin just now, became her downfall. Her right shoe stuck fast in one of the small gaps tripping her. With her hands tied behind, she had no chance of saving herself and she hit the water head first. Kicking her bound legs as one, she managed to right her position, only to see the shimmering surface moving away as she sank to the bottom.

Cold, darkening silence surrounded her, she looked left and right for some form of release from this watery hell, but nothing was on offer. The voice in her head screamed for her to kick, to swim, but her attempts were fruitless. She again looked to the ever decreasing light breaking through the surface; she half expected Mason to come crashing through to finally finish her off. But all she saw was a small disturbance, and a dark object coming towards her, moving at speed as it passed only inches from her face, it was a gun.

The pains in her chest were screaming for release, but if she was going to survive this, she needed the air to stay where it was. Again she attempted to save herself, and again she sank deeper. The urge to breathe became far too strong for her to ignore. She looked up one more time as the last breath of her life burst from her lungs, and like the glowing sparks caught in the rising heat of a bonfire, it scurried to the surface. She had no choice now, her brain forcing her to breathe in, to give it oxygen, but her will for self-preservation forcing just as hard for her not to.

From the distance a light moved towards her, a soft, warm, orange hue. She looked on as the glowing grew nearer. To her right she saw herself as a small child on the swings of a playground, being pushed by her father. She laughed screaming to go higher, faster, and he laughed along with her. From her left she heard her mother calling out to her, but as she turned to see, the syrupy thickness of cold water rushing into her lungs made her convulse violently. This lasted for many long seconds, then, forced to breathe again, the syrup had turned solid, like ice, it stuck fast in her throat.

Her pain started to ease as she watched the orange glow gradually evaporating, and the vision fading to grey, and then to black.

Brenda’s bright green eyes had stilled, frozen for ever as they stared into the dark cold depth imprisoning her. As she dropped the final few metres and settled on the bottom of the lake, her skin paled over and her once opulent, vibrant body, was now motionless, save for the soft current playing with her thick, raven hair.