You Need Excitement in Your Life

You Need Excitement in Your Life
by Isabella

Story Code: M/F, M/FF, MM/FF, First-time, Intergenerational, Drugs, Crime, Prostitution

I'd suffered twelve years at school, I wasn't in the slightest bit academic, the only thing that made school bearable was that I got to practice gymnastics and other sports which I loved. I couldn't face one more year in school so on my eighteenth birthday I left school and started looking for a job, not that there were many jobs to be had in our sleepy little town. The problem with not going to school was that I didn't have access to a gym or sports trainers to help me with my sports and if I went to a private gym it would cost a small fortune, money that I just didn't have because I didn't have a job. It was a vicious circle really.

I was jogging in the park; it was the closest I could get to a sporting activity that I could afford, mainly because all I needed was a t-shirt, shorts, and running shoes, oh, and a good quality sports bra but I didn't need to buy any of those things as they all came out of my old school kitbag. I was on my fourth time around the park, which was about two miles, I wasn't pushing myself, ten minutes a mile, just to keep my muscles toned up. Well, on the fourth time round the park I spotted a man hanging around at the back of a house, one of the huge palisaded Victorian villas that were built by the men that ruled our town over a hundred years ago. Most of those houses that backed onto the park had been converted into flats, Yuppies paying more than the cost of a real house anywhere else just to say that they lived on the Ridings.

I don't think the man spotted me; I was just background noise in the park, perhaps if I had massive breasts or legs that were a mile long he would have. I'm not sure that I would have noticed him if he had been looking into the park instead of, well, all I could say was, 'casing the joint'. Five minutes later I was back close to the man, I sat on a bench to take a brink of water. I didn't know if I was going to run any more, I really needed to run five miles, not just two and a half but running on your own was really boring after a while. The man was still there looking up at the house, I had no idea that he had even seen me sit behind him, "You look fit, are you any good at climbing?"

"What? Are you talking to me?"

"Yes, you look fit, you also look very bored! Are you any good at climbing?"

"I can climb but it isn't my favourite sport."

"It's just that I've locked myself out of my flat, I left the little window open in my bathroom, it got all steamed up after I had my shower, as soon as I closed the front door I knew I was in the shit. I couldn't find my car keys and realised that my front door key was on the same ring, I've already lost a day's pay and now it looks like I'm going to have to shell out two hundred quid to get a locksmith out, unless I can find someone light enough to get up the drainpipe and skinny enough to fit through that open window."

The man pointed up, the bathroom window was open but it was on the second floor, close to forty feet above the ground, the drain pipe he was pointing to was actually the vent stack from the sewer, it ran past the bathroom window, but was two feet away from the open window. I spotted a hopper between the window and the sewer vent pipe that would act as a stepping stone between the two. I'd climbed higher, one of the trees that I loved to scurry up from time to time was far higher, I'd usually sit at around sixty feet high to think and watch the world go by but mostly I climbed the seven meter rope at school, which was about half as high as the window.

"So, you know anyone you think could get through that small window without a ladder?"

"I could probably do it!"

"I'll give you ten pounds if you can!"

I thought about it for a moment, "Ten for trying and twenty if I make it!"

"Okay, that's a deal."

He offered me his hand to shake, I didn't take up his offer but I did notice the indigo tattoos on the back of his hand and fingers, he was definitely not a yuppie, his tattoos were homemade and often the kind you see on prisoner's hands in documentaries about prison overcrowding. There was a small hole in the rear fence through to the back garden of the house. I had to take my backpack off to slip through the hole and then drag my pack through after me. I knew the technique I'd have to adopt to climb the pipe, hand over hand wrapped around the pipe with my feet pressed hard against the brickwork and hope that the soft soles of my running shoes would have enough friction to help me get up.

I wrapped my hands around the pipe and pulled them away quickly, the front of the pipe looked smooth and well painted but the back was covered in old, sharp, flakes of a century old paint covering. I searched my backpack, my waterproof cape was folded neatly inside and my water bottle and energy bar jumped to hand easily but what I was looking for was my cycling gloves, they didn't always live in my backpack but my mother often dropped them in there if she tidied my bedroom at any time. Fortunately my mother had done her job as usual. The gloves were cotton with neoprene pads on the fingers, a neoprene palm that wrapped around the back to form Velcro fastenings so I could get them anchored to my hands nice and tightly.

I left my backpack on the path at the foot of the rear wall and took a deep breath before almost running up the wall. As I transitioned from the vent pipe to the hopper, careful not to damage the three waste piped feeding into the hopper I looked back, I had half expected the guy to be looking up at me, in my mind I had imagined him looking at my legs, at the leg holes of my shorts, or trying to catch a glimpse under my T-shirt as I scrambled through the open window but I was wrong, he had already walked off, heading around to the front of the house to wait for me at the front door.

It was quite a struggle to get through the open window and as I finally managed to get through I knocked loads of bottles off of the windowsill above the sink, at least two of the bottles broke on the floor. I made my way through the house to the front door, opened that and put the latch on before making my way through the main body of the old house, down the stairs to the door that had been the front door of the house when it was first built. He was standing there with two ten pound notes in his hand and a smile on his face.

"Well done, you went up that drain pipe like a monkey, I usually drink in the King's Head of an evening, if you're bored any time, pop in and I'll buy you a drink."

I took the money, apologised for accidentally breaking two bottles while clambering through the window and ran back towards the park gates so that I could retrieve my backpack, I made an executive decision to call it a day, the few miles I'd run and then the adrenaline rush from climbing the wall and fighting to get my body through a window that couldn't have been more than twelve inches square, balanced precariously on one toe on the lip of a drain hopper forty foot above a concrete path.

The following day it rained as did the next; I had no interviews to go to and couldn't see the point in getting wet as soon as I went out so I ended up reading in my bedroom for two days. On the third day my mother was reading the weekly local newspaper as I walked into the kitchen, "Oh it's really terrible, a boy from your old school was seen burgling a house on the Ridings in the middle of the day, I mean, you know, broad daylight. According to the newspaper the boy was wearing a Kettering High School sports strip, had short blond hair and was photographed climbing the drainpipe at the rear of number fifteen, he climbed through the bathroom window of the second floor flat."

Okay, that stopped me in my tracks, I had suspected that the guy was a wrong-un but there was a massive gulf between suspecting and knowing something! It had never crossed my mind to visit the King's Head, I was old enough to drink but didn't have the money to do it, I could do what my school friends did, go out with boys for a free drink but I always felt the price of a free drink was too great for me to pay, I didn't plan on going but now it looked like I might have to go just to see what was going on.

I left it until about seven o'clock in the evening before I got ready and headed out to the King's head pub. I had dressed in my most grown-up clothes, I'd been careful with my makeup and my hair to make me look as old as possible but I was still asked for my ID the moment I stepped through the pub's front door. unfortunately I had no way to prove my age in my handbag but I shouldn't have needed it because I didn't intend on drinking any alcohol, I needed a clear head.

"You got bored quicker than I thought you would!"

I turned quickly, the voice came from behind me but I recognised it instantly, it was the man, the burglar who I had helped to get into the flat three days earlier.

"You know this girl Mark?"

"Of course I do, she's my niece, why don't you get back behind the bar and stop frightening the customers?"

The barman walked back to the bar, "What would you like to drink...erm?"

"I'm your niece, surely you remember my name Uncle Mark!"

Mark smiled at me, "Drink?"

"Just a coke please Uncle Mark."

Mark gestured to an empty table in the far corner of the room, well, empty but for a pint of dark beer on the table. "Wait for me over there."

Mark took just a few moments to join me at the table with a half pint glass in his hand; he slipped into the seat at the side of me and set the drink down in front of me. The ice chunks clinked against the rim of the glass as Mark put it on the table in front of me. "The newspapers say the police are looking for a boy from my old school for burgling that..."

Mark cut me off mid-sentence, "Not really safe to talk about that in here! So, what's your name then?"

"I'm not sure that it's safe to tell you, what if they realise that it was a girl and not a boy? They might put two and two together especially if anyone mentions my name at school; they know that I was mad for running all the way through school."

"They won't, I spotted a woman with a pram on the other side of the park taking your photograph on her mobile phone when you were impersonating a monkey, I made a quick retreat to the front of the house but after I stashed the gear I went back to the park and waited for the police, it was me that told them that you were a boy to throw them off the scent."

"Why did you do that?"

"Helped to provide me with an alibi as well, anyone could have mentioned seeing me in the park before the...erm...event. The fact that I was still sitting there eating my sandwiches when the police arrived helped to take me out of the picture as well."

"So, the police will take the photograph from that woman's phone into my old school and my old sports teacher will see it and recognise me in a flash and they'll be knocking on my door tomorrow!"

"No, the woman was too far away, all they'll make out is the colour of your running shirt and shorts, nothing more than that."

"You seem very confident in that assumption!"

"Yes I am because they showed me the picture and asked me if the person in the picture was the boy I'd spoken too earlier, I told them that you had asked me for a cigarette but as a non-smoker I didn't have one to offer you even if I'd have wanted too."

I relaxed a little and took a large swallow of my cola and nearly choked, there was no smell of alcohol but there was definitely something in the cola that burned the back of my throat. "What's in this? I asked for straight cola."

"Just a little white rum and something to help you relax, you looked very stressed to me."

I was concentrating on the glass in front of me, it was a half pint glass so quite a large volume of cola to spread the effects of one shot of white rum so I relaxed a little, unfortunately I relaxed after Mark mentioned the rum and didn't hear the whispered 'and' before Mark told me it was to help me relax.

We sat for an hour talking about boredom, talking about my looking for a job, I was taking my drink in smaller sips at first but soon got used to the taste and after the hour of our talking ended the glass was empty apart from something that looked like grit in the bottom of my glass. I held the glass up and looked closely at the grit.

"What's this in the bottom of my glass?"

Mark laughed and took a swallow from his own glass, "I could lie to you, say that there were sugar crystals in the rum but I don't want to start our relationship on a lie, it's 'Special K', it'll help you relax but Steve didn't mix it in very well when he put it in there."

To me 'Special K' was a breakfast cereal for old people and it didn't look one little bit like what was in the bottom of my glass.

"You look confused, haven't you heard of 'Special K' before?"

"Of course I have, my grandpa Ron eats it for breakfast every day."

"It's not breakfast cereal, it's far more fun than that..." Mark leaned in a little closer so that his mouth was right next to my ear, "...it's Ketamine and if Steve had mixed it into your drink properly in the first place you and me would be getting to know each other better already. But never mind that, from the looks of things there would have been enough in the last swallow to relax you properly very soon."

The barman arrived at that point and looked very confused that I was still sitting upright and still talking to Mark; he picked up my glass and looked at the crystals in the bottom of the empty glass, I've never seen 'GBH' stay in powder form in the drink before, usually all dissolves into the liquid!"

Mark leaned away from me and his smiling face turned into 'Mr. Angry' face, "I didn't give you 'GBH', I gave you 'Special K'!"

"I've never used that stuff before, what do you want me to do with the rest of the stuff?"

"There shouldn't be any left, I gave you one dose, you should have mixed it all into her drink..." Mark looked over at me, I couldn't say that I was totally alert, not on my top game but then I'd just had my first ever alcoholic drink so I was bound to be a little slow witted. It was well known that boys brought girls alcoholic drinks, the girls got a little confused and forgot to handle the situation properly and often ended up fucked or worse. "...no wonder she's still wide wake you idiot, she needed it all to knock her out!"

"Shall I give her another dose, I could give her 'GBH' next time, I know how that works."

Mark looked from me to Stephen and back again, "You think she's stupid enough to take another drink off of me tonight? Well, you've well and truly fucked up my fun tonight and because of that you won't get a chance at her later!"

"But it's not my fault that you gave me a different drug this time, I always get a chance at the new girls when they come along here!"

"Well, it looks like neither of us will be getting to fuck her tonight, I don't think she's the type to gangbang when she's fully awake!"

I heard all the words spoken between Mark and Stephen but the way they were strung together didn't make sense to me, I was stuck a little on the fact that my grandfather's breakfast cereal seemed to have morphed from Kellogg's to Ketamine all of a sudden and that was where I kept getting stuck.

Steven took our glasses and headed back to the bar, Mark looked very disappointed, "Well, I suppose I should offer you a lift home, even if I know you won't trust me enough to accept it."

We walked together to the door of the pub, a light summer drizzle was just starting, I checked my watch, I had a ten minute walk to the bus stop in the town centre and then a fifteen minute wait in the rain, I stopped in the doorway, "Is that offer of a lift still open?"

Mark grinned like a Cheshire cat, it is but we'll have to stop off at my place on the way, I have a little gift I want to give you."

"What kind of a gift?"

"Well, there was a lot more good stuff in that flat you helped me to get into and I think you deserve more than just twenty quid for getting me in, I want to give you one of the pieces before I sell it on."

If I hadn't been so confuddled by the alcohol and Mark's attempt to knock me out with a date-rape drug, I would have been more suspicious of Mark's intentions in taking me to his house on the way to my village but it sounded very nice, I loved jewellery but all the stuff I owned was just imitation, yellow metal rather than gold and glass beads in place of diamonds and rubies.

Mark lived in a large detached house on the edge of Kettering, as we pulled onto the drive I spotted that the living room light was on in the house but didn't think too much of it. Mark led me into the lit room; his wife was reading a book and smiled when she saw me being pushed reluctantly through the door. Mark asked her if she wanted a cup of tea, coffee or a wine, she opted for the coffee option. Mark asked me if I'd like a drink but something at the back of my mind told me to refuse his offer.

Mark left the room for a while and his wife asked me what my name was as soon as he walked out of the room. "Victoria."

"Victoria what my dear?"

"Victoria Porter."

"Come and sit by me Victoria."

I sat on the sofa next to Dawn, "Where did you meet my husband Victoria?"

"On the park three days ago."

"You met Mark three days ago; you must be the girl that climbed up the drain pipe for him, so how did you meet him again today?"

"He told me he drank in the King's Head and if I was bored he'd buy me a drink."

"And you got bored?"

"No, I read something in the local newspaper that worried me so I wanted to ask him about it."

"Did you turn down his offer of a drink in the King's Head?"

I sat for a moment; it suddenly struck me as being quite odd that I was sitting next to Dawn, Mark's wife and talking about helping her husband commit a crime, well, I wasn't actually, I was being as cagey as I could manage under the circumstances. Dawn touched my arm and brought my attention back onto her, "Did you turn down my husband's offer of a drink in the King's Head?"

I shook my head, "No, I let him buy me a cola in the pub."

Dawn reached up to my face and lifted my right eyelid and looked closely at my eye and smiled at me again, "Something must have gone wrong!"

"Oh, yes I think it did, Mark got Steve the barman to put some breakfast cereal in my cola but Steven thought it was GBH or something, Steven messed up and your Mark was mad at him."

Dawn laughed, her left hand was now flat against my cheek and she was stroking my face down to my neck, "Tell me Victoria, how old are you? Fifteen, fourteen?"

"I'm eighteen actually; I guess I'm a little small for my age."

Dawn's hand slipped inside the neck of my T-shirt and she stroked across my shoulder, pulling my neck open wider than it should go, "Oh, lilac and lacy, should look very pretty...do you mind if I take a look?"

Look, look at what slowly wandered through the treacle that was filling my head but I needn't have bothered myself wondering because by the time I looked down I could see that Dawn was pulling the front of my T-shirt out of the waistband of my skirt, she pulled the front right up and exposed my bra. I looked over at the doorway into the living room, Mark was standing there with two cups in his hand, he grinned when he saw my lilac bra cups and Dawn's right hand stroking over my bra cup. Dawn's left hand was now at the back of my neck, massaging the muscles joining my head to my shoulders.

Mark put both cups down and then knelt on the floor in front of me; he started to rub his hands over my left breast, still through my bra cup while Dawn concentrated on my right, Dawn started pushing my head forward towards her husbands, as my lips approached his he tilted his head slightly so that our noses didn't crash together, Mark kissed me gently and I felt Dawn let my head go, I didn't move away, just sat there leaning forward while Mark kissed me and rubbed my breast through my bra.