Heather's Hectic Weekend Pt. 02

Naz hadn't known what to think about Dani. As far as she was aware Dani was still in a committed relationship. Okay, she horsed around in the showers, but all the girls did that; pinching and goosing were part of team camaraderie, weren't they? This, however . . .

Well, it was a step or two beyond sharing body wash and scrubbing a mate's back, wasn't it?

She suddenly realized she was getting aroused. And she must have been in there ten minutes, not a mere three. Still watching the action, she edged to the door. She was halfway out of it when a notion struck her.

What if they get caught in the act?

Trying to disguise her voice, keeping it low but urgent, she called: 'Watch out, the janitor's doing his rounds!' And then she scarpered.

*****

Heather turned up in the Union Bar about an hour later. That is to say, Naz spotted her about an hour later. She could have been there longer. With so many celebrating lady footballers on the loose it wasn't easy to keep track of comings and goings. Heather was, she noticed, hand-in-hand with Helen. Intriguingly, she was conversing with Dani, who was hand-in-hand with a short, attractive redhead.

Next stop the Union, Naz thought, smiling to herself. All change!

Heather ambushed her during her next visit to "the little girls' room". 'It was you,' she began. 'It was, wasn't it?'

'It was me what?'

'It was you in the changing room, spying on us.'

'I wasn't spying!' Naz exploded. Then, hastily trying to recover her dignity: 'No it wasn't.'

'Don't fib. I saw you.'

Naz hated fibbing anyway. 'Okay,' she conceded. 'Just consider yourself lucky it was me and not Mr Szarmach. Assuming he didn't catch you after all.'

'I dropped him a fiver,' said Heather. 'Told him Carrie City had made a mess and needed half an hour to tidy up.'

'We tidied up before we left. And how did you explain all that to him? Surely you don't speak Polish.'

'His German's better than his English. And he knows what a piece of paper with a picture of George Stephenson means. But that's enough of that. Why were you spying?'

'I wasn't spying. I went back for my shin pads.'

'You went back for those shabby old things?'

'They have sentimental value.'

'Naz, you just broke my heart. I thought you'd been finally overcome by curiosity.' Then, grinning like a Cheshire cat, Hev asked, 'Have you told anyone yet?'

'Do I look like a grass?'

'No, you look lovely.'

'Don't try to buy me with flattery.'

'Cards on the table, Naz: I don't mind if everyone knows you copped me. But Dani's got a wifey.'

'Is that her in the bar; the sexy little redhead?'

'That's Felicity, yes. She's already giving Dani a hard time for being last to arrive. We had to tell her the tidying up story.' Heather chuckled. 'I'm glad to hear you think she's sexy.'

'How could you do it?' Naz wondered. 'You're obviously still seeing Helen. Dani's got a wifey. Is it your year for living dangerously?'

'We've been building up to it all season.' Heather shrugged. 'Opportunity hasn't arisen before. And tonight might be our one and only chance. She's graduating soon.'

'What about you and Helen?'

'We have a relaxed, easy-going relationship. She's probably already guessed we were delayed by a quick kiss.'

Naz had shaken her head at that. If that was what Heather classed as a "quick kiss" . . .

'Okay,' she said, 'I'll keep schtum.'

'Thanks,' said Heather. 'I owe you one. Next time you want pampering in the showers, I'm your girl.'

Chapter Eleven

(Friday 26th April 2002)

Alex was still crying on Naz's tits. Naz still wasn't unduly concerned, even if the front of her T-shirt had got distinctly moist.

Stroking his back, occasionally shushing him, she wondered why she'd dragged her feet for so long with Heather. Giving in to temptation had always been likely to happen. And, with all due respect to Beth, the temptation to give in to Heather had been immense.

Even though I did know what she's like! She warned me clearly enough about her wanderlust. Not to mention often enough.

They had now been lovers for just over a day and she was forsaken already. But now wasn't the time for regrets. Now was the time to find out what had happened to Alex tonight. It had something to do with yesterday. It had to do, she was sure of it.

'Thanks, Naz.'

Alex's voice was surprisingly steady. He made to sit up but she caught him and pulled his face back into her cleavage

'It's nice hugging like this,' she said, knowing he must be aware her nipples were hard.

'Where's Heather?'

'She's quibbling with the taxi-driver. Those two barter in the wrong direction. He wants to charge less and she wants to pay more.'

'I need to tell you about . . . about . . .'

Naz still wanted to hear but could see Alex was on the verge of more sobs. He wouldn't want to tell his tale twice. 'Save it until Heather's back,' she said. 'She can't possibly be much longer.'

*****

Heather was coming to the end of what had been an entertaining encounter. After treating Majid to one of her premium below jobs, very much in the mood, she'd mounted him and gone for a ride. Walk, trot, canter and gallop, he'd had the lot. Goodness knew how long she'd been at it but she must have covered miles and miles.

Eventually, sensing Majid was entering his final furlong, they'd switched places. Heather was now on her back, trusting him to finish the race. She'd had car sex before and, when taking one for the team, preferred to brace her feet up against the roof. But tonight they were in a well-lit street. Pedestrians were passing every now and again. Someone might notice if she had her legs in the air, her muscles flexing as she held herself in place.

As if it wasn't too late! Someone had already noticed. As she neared the below job's conclusion she'd glanced up, wanting to see Majid's expression. The little old lady was behind him, peering in through the rear side-window. Strangely thrilled, Heather had pressed on. Majid had been gasping by then. It took maybe another minute to get him to the point of no return. Then, pretending it was for his benefit but really for their audience, she'd opened her mouth.

Now you see it.

Closed, swallowed and reopened.

Now you don't.

The little old lady's beady eyes had glittered. She'd given Heather a bony thumbs up then departed, leaving Majid blissfully unaware she'd ever been there.

On her back and cramped for space, Heather had at first pulled her knees up to her chest. As they neared the winning post she wrapped her legs around Majid and hooked her ankles, wondering how well he would finish. The days when she'd only ever had four male lovers were far behind her by then. She knew there were many different outcomes, from impressive blasts to very unimpressive dribbles. Of course she had had experience of his cumming earlier, but she'd been distracted and not paying attention to detail.

Majid didn't disappoint. Never mind the final furlong, he went the extra mile. And then, when she was gasping as much as he was, he pushed in deep and blasted. Half-withdrawing, he pushed in even deeper and did it again . . . and again and again, managing seven blasts in total.

Seven, my favourite number! Nice, nice, nice!

If she was being at all critical (and she wasn't), she might have noted that Majid's blasts were in much of a diminishing series. The same wasn't true for her orgasm. It built up in inverse proportion to his. Starting off big and getting better. By the time he was at last done she was euphoric.

Heather stayed where she was while Majid pulled everything up and refastened his trousers. No way could she put on her jeans and trainers with him sitting next to her. There wasn't room.

'Tissues?' she enquired as he let himself out of the back.

Sitting in the driving seat he passed her a handful of Kleenex. She wiped herself and the seat as best she could before passing back the mushy remnants.

'Don't look like that,' she said. 'Half of it is yours. And what time is it, anyway?'

'It's . . .' He looked at the clock on his dashboard. 'Oh shit, Hattie will be going ballistic.'

Heather re-dressed while Majid went to find a public bin. She was waiting beside the taxi when he returned. 'I should have asked earlier,' she said, 'but is there a Mrs Majid?'

'No,' she said, 'not yet.'

'Not yet?' She laughed. 'Let's stick with "no". Still on for Sunday?'

'Expect me at six on the dot.'

'I'd have a nap Sunday afternoon if I were you. You won't be sleeping again until Monday night.'

Adorable fool that he was, he laughed, obviously thinking that she was joking.

Chapter Twelve

(Friday 26th April 2002)

Heather was delighted to find Alex and Naz together on the settee. 'Made inroads on the brandy, I see. Is wine out of the question?'

'There's Chardonnay in the fridge,' said Naz.

'Should I fetch three glasses?'

'I'm sticking to the brandy,' Alex said, removing his face from Naz's chest.

Wow, thought Heather. She looks like she just won a wet T-shirt competition. And isn't she excited?

'I'll have one glass of wine,' said Naz. 'You can have the rest of the bottle.'

'What's with the frozen peas?'

'They're not frozen peas: they're a state-of-the-art treatment for black eyes. Feel free to put them back in the freezer while you're there.'

When Heather re-entered the lounge her two friends had unravelled themselves. They were still sitting side by side, though, closer than close. She handed Naz her medium-sized Chardonnay and tipped more Courvoisier into Alex's glass. Down from her sexual high, feeling a bit guilty about Majid (although not sure why she should be), she kicked off the conversation.

'Was it Spider?'

Alex hunched his shoulders. 'I dunno what they call him. He never introduced himself. One second I was talking to you, the next I was flat out in my hallway.' He turned to Naz. 'We were talking on the phone, you see.'

'I know,' said Naz. 'Heather's already told me. What happened next?'

'This enormous muscle freak was in my house, slamming the door behind him. I think I was stunned. I tried to defend myself but he'd got me cold. I couldn't even get up. Then he laced into me with both feet.'

'What did he look like?' Heather asked. 'Did he have tattoos?'

'Yeah, he had lots of tattoos. He was in a sleeveless T-shirt. I could see blue ink up his arm, over his shoulder, onto his neck.'

'Was it a web pattern?'

'I don't know. It could have been. That T-shirt had "Gold" on the front. That's a gym, isn't it?'

'Spider,' said Heather.

'Undoubtedly,' Naz agreed.

Really, really downbeat now, Heather said: 'Did he say what he wanted?'

'When he stopped kicking me he asked me who the fu- . . . who I was. I told him. I was scared, I must admit. He was clearly a head-case. I honestly thought he was some debt collector who'd turned up at the wrong address. He laughed when he heard my name, then he asked me if I was Carrie's husband or brother. Then, when I told him, he asked me where . . . where Carrie was. I'd worked out the drugs connection by then. But I couldn't bring myself to lie.'

At that Alex produced his wallet. Heather frowned. Hadn't she seen that a few hours ago, on a table in his hallway?

'I showed him this.'

Alex passed a business card to Naz. She looked at it before passing it on to Heather. The card was headed with the name of a private clinic without giving an address. In smaller letters it said: "Secure, tender and confidential care".

'He'd obviously heard of it,' said Alex. 'He made a derogative sort of a noise and threw my wallet back at me. After snaffling all my notes, that is.'

'Hang on,' said Heather. 'I'm sure I saw that wallet at your house.'

'You saw it at my house?' Alex looked at her intently. 'When was that?'

'Five o'clock this afternoon, after you got cut off on me.'

Alex's Adam's apple was going up and down. 'Don't tell me you and Majid rushed to my rescue.'

'I won't. Majid was out of circulation. I rushed there on my own.'

'That first minute or so is a bit of a daze.' Alex, not having learnt his lesson, tried a self-depreciating grin.

'Ouch,' he went as his split lip reopened.

Quickly abandoning the grin, he shrugged instead. 'Was it you Spider spoke to? When he said to try again later?'

'Yes, he must have snaffled your phone when you were dazed. I'm ninety-nine per cent sure it was him. He's got a distinctive voice.'

'And you still rushed to my aide.'

'Of course I did.'

'Fucking hell, Hev,' there were tears in Alex's eyes again, 'what were you thinking of?'

'I was thinking of launching his balls into orbit. I'm tougher than I look, you know.'

'She is,' Naz endorsed. 'She was going to take him down yesterday afternoon.'

'I was going to try,' Heather corrected. 'Win or lose, I don't walk out on my friends.' Then, not wanting to see any more weeping from Alex: 'So what happened next?'

'He waggled Carrie's wallet under my nose. Told me she owed him and he was going to get even, no matter what.'

'Carrie has a wallet?'

'She's always had a wallet like mine. It's one of her symbols of girl power.' Alex snorted. 'It didn't do much good with Spider. He must have taken it off her while they were . . . were . . .'

'I suppose it had her address in,' said Heather, sparing him the grief.

'Yes it did. He showed me a contact card. It was one of those offering a reward for returning the wallet if lost. He must have dumped it at ours, thinking it had served its use.'

'Yeah,' said Heather. 'That explains how he appeared on your doorstep. And I didn't it check out. For a nosy so-and-so, I missed that one.'

'He had a gun,' Alex continued.

Heather and Naz exchanged glances. Heather wondered if her friend had felt the same chill as her.

'I don't know if it was real or not,' Alex went on. 'But I could see down the barrel, and it didn't have any of those bars blocking it. And I'd taken him for a drug dealer in the first place . . .'

'Do you want another drink?' asked Heather.

Not waiting to hear his answer, Naz slopped more brandy into his glass.

'He seemed to give up on Carrie straightaway,' said Alex. 'I suppose he knew she was out of reach. And four weeks in isolation probably seems like a lifetime to a prat like him, yeah? He said that . . .'

'Come on, Alex,' Heather encouraged as he paused. 'Spit it out.'

'He said that if he couldn't have Carrie, he was going to have you two. He was . . . well, he was a bit rude in his descriptions.'

'Don't tell me,' said Naz. 'He called me a Paki bitch.'

'Yes he did, amongst other things; racist twat that he is.'

'What did he say about me?' asked Heather.

'He was even ruder about you.'

'Go on, I can take it.'

'Excuse my French then, but you were that "fit white cunt".'

'I've heard worse.'

'Me too,' said Naz. 'Although I'm disappointed I was only a "Paki bitch".'

'You were a "fit Paki bitch",' Alex assured her. 'I'm struggling with all the isms, but he's definitely equal opportunity when it comes to being nasty. Sex, colour . . . you name it.'

'What happened next?'

'He asked me who brought Carrie home, wanting names and addresses. I told him I was out at the time and hadn't a clue.' Alex gingerly sipped his brandy. 'Then he asked me for my ideas about . . . about Carrie's friends. I said . . . more or less truthfully . . . that we had little to do with each other's friends. He said he didn't believe me and got out my phone.' Alex laughed bitterly. 'He wanted to go through my address book, looking for you two. Somehow he'd managed to lock it. I pretended I'd forgotten the password.'

'And . . .' Heather demanded.

'He put the gun to my head and said I was going to do whatever he told me to.' Alex's Adam's apple was up and down like a monkey on a stick.

'Did you tell him the password?'

'Not then. I stuck to my story. But, when he gave me a white tablet, I did as he said and swallowed it.'

Chapter Thirteen

(Friday 26th April 2002)

Naz had been watching Alex closely. He'd been getting increasingly emotional and was now nearing another sobbing fit. It was time to step in.

'We're having a break,' she said firmly. 'Alex, I'm worried about the cuts and bruises under your shirt. I'm going to refresh the water and see to them. As for you, Hev, I think a shower is in order. You reek of sex.'

Heather raised her eyebrows in surprise, which was a first. Quickly recovering her equilibrium, she grinned. 'I'm surprised you don't reek of it yourself. The pheromones coming off you are like nuclear fallout.'

That's only too true, thought Naz.

By the time she returned with the bowl Heather had gone upstairs and Alex had made further inroads into the brandy. The bottle was half-empty. She took his glass off him and unbuttoned his shirt.

'You can drink after I'm done. And don't worry; I'll be gentle with you.'

'I know you will. You've got an amazingly soft touch. Maybe even a healing touch.'

Naz was flattered. Then she remembered Alex was in a relationship. 'Away with you, Alexander Hart,' she said. 'Stop trying to charm birds out of trees.'

'I mean it,' he insisted. 'I've never known anything like it.

'You and Don Juan,' she murmured, removing his shirt altogether. Then it was her turn to wince. 'Oh my word, those must hurt.'

Alex's torso hadn't suffered any cuts but was covered with livid red contusions, his back more so than his front.

'I tried to curl up,' he explained.

'I was stroking your back! That must have been agonizing.'

'It wasn't, actually. Like I said, you've got an amazing touch.'

Ignoring the persistent compliments, Naz eyed the soapy water. No use for it, she decided. And she'd be at it for weeks if she tried to apply ice to individual bruises. She'd stick to cotton wool and witch hazel.

'No heroics,' she said. 'Tell me the truth. Is anything broken?'

'No. My knee hurts, but nothing's snapped.'

'I'm going to check your ribs and my touch might not be amazingly soft. Shout out if I hit a nerve.'

Naz examined him as best she could, making him lift and bend his arms while she was at it. Then, satisfied his bones were intact, she anointed him with astringent.

'Okay, Alex; trousers off.'

'Naz, I don't . . .'

'Alex, get your trousers off!'

He couldn't stand but, between them, they managed. Naz, pretending not to notice the big bulge in his boxers, smiled at him.

I've caused that, she thought gleefully, naughty little me.

'It looks like you're going to be camped down on my settee for a while,' she said out loud. 'Now then, what have we got? More bruises and a swollen knee.'

She anointed his legs then fetched a well-used can of Ralgex. 'For footballing purposes,' she said as she liberally sprayed his knee. 'If this doesn't work we'll have to fall back on the peas.'

She topped up Alex's glass and passed it to him.

'Ah,' said Heather. 'Tipple time, is it? I take he's cured.'

Heather had "borrowed" Naz's bath robe, fastening it at the waist so it showed off most of her tits and nearly all of her legs.

'I thought the smell of alcohol would attract you.' Naz couldn't help but laugh. 'And yes, he's as cured as he's going to get for now. Rest and relaxation will finish the job.'

Heather helped herself to more Chardonnay. 'Is anything broken?'

'Not that I can find. And I've checked him quite thoroughly.'

'I bet you have,' Heather chuckled, 'how about his wedding tackle? I mean I can see part of it is still working, but he looks to have bumps and bruises everywhere else.'

'I didn't check him there.' Naz flushed. I caused that, she thought again. Perhaps I should have had a peek.

'I didn't get kicked there,' Alex added, somewhat anxiously.

'I'm not sending you back to Rita with gammy goolies. Let Naz check them out.'