Everything

Simon hesitated for a moment.

"It's ok; I am just waiting for my friend."

The salesman practically pushed him up into the seat and he sat down. Everything smelt of leather. Simon gripped the steering wheel: it felt soft and substantial. He looked through the tinted windscreen and saw Sarah jumping down from another Range Rover outside grinning widely. She was with a very experienced salesman, Edward, who guided her to the front of the car to show it off in its best light. He needn't have bothered.

A moment later she turned on her heels and breezed into the showroom, pulling her hair back over her head and taking off her sunglasses. She saw Simon and marched right up to the car.

The salesman leant across Simon's lap and opened the window, then closed the door effectively trapping Simon in his seat.

"I was just telling your husband what a beautiful car this is."

"Is this the same model as I have just test driven?" Sarah stood back slightly as she spoke, recoiling at the strong smell of warm garlic on his breath."

"This is the Vanden Plas model madam. It's got all the toys on it, and the 5 litre engine, so it's a little bit pricier."

"I love it. I want this one, but in white. Yes white would be lovely. Ellie can have this one, she loves silver cars."

Simon gripped the wheel tightly and turned to the salesman.

"This one and one in white then."

An hour later he left the showroom alone. He had just spent £130,000 on two ridiculous Range Rovers. Sarah had long gone, given a lift home by Edward who, partially distracted by Sarah's long legs, calculated his commission in his head, not quite able to believe his luck.

Sarah, on a whim, invited him in and after a rather awkward fumble on the hall floor sent him off with empty balls and a cheque for half of his commission lying neatly on the hall table.

A month later Simon sat in his Accountant's reception, looking down at the Financial Times lying neatly folded on a walnut coffee table. He opened it up and read the headlines

"UK in recession again.' 'Unemployment at a 20 year high. Bank of England in crisis talks with lenders.'

His accountant wore a dark charcoal suit, a crisp white shirt and an expensive gold tie. As Simon followed him up to his office he noticed his shoes. They were expensive and highly polished.

Simon sat down on the sofa and helped himself to a biscuit whilst George Atkinson FCA poured the coffee.

"I'll be Mum" he said brightly.

"Help yourself to milk and sugar Simon."

Half an hour later George put his pad down and turned to Simon.

"Not my position to pry old boy, but you has been spending an awful lot of money over the last three months, and the debt situation you have got yourself into, well it's a bit bizarre to say the least. Is everything ok?"

"You mean have I lost the plot George?"

"Well it isn't like you to make such bad decisions. It looks to me as if you are trying to impress a girl. That is fine, but this is serious now Simon. Your cash position is not good at all, and you are going to have to rely on your income just to cover your costs and service your borrowings. You are going to have to stop spending until the business starts to build up your reserves again."

Simon wasn't really listening. He felt a rush like a gambler and snapped a biscuit in half against the plate, popping a piece of shortbread in his mouth.

"I have plenty of investments George, I can use those, and there are masses of equity in my flat."

"Simon, you are talking as if you have some sort of need to spend your money. Your investments are an important part of your financial plan for the future, and your flat is your home. You need to stop."

Simon put the rest of the biscuit in his mouth and took a final sip of coffee. He didn't respond.

"Concentrate on the business Simon. These are tough times, you know that. Don't take your eye off the ball now, and don't spend any more money."

Simon took a deep breath as the door closed behind him and walked slowly in the dank morning air into Sloane Square .As he walked he started to think about his investments, calculating in his head just how much they were all worth, roughly. Bonds, equities, some cash. It must be close on £700,000 surely, and the flat was worth, god, what, £1.5million, with say £800,000 in equity. He shrugged his shoulders and took a taxi to Hatton Garden. Checking his watch he had an hour before meeting Sarah at noon.

It started to rain heavily in the cab, and Simon looked out through the streaked windows as a girl took shelter in a doorway holding a magazine over her head. Simon turned his mobile phone over and over in his hand nervously. His heart was racing. After paying the cabbie he ran into a coffee shop and called Sarah.

"I am here Sarah, in the coffee shop, opposite Greville Street."

"So I see."

Simon looked around and saw Sarah in the corner sitting quietly with a coffee. She wore a massive hat over a powder blue suit. Simon blushed. She could have been a Duchess.

Sarah beckoned him towards her and looked up at him, taking her sunglasses off and placing them in his hand.

"Well then, let's go shopping."

Outside the rain had stopped and the sun came out. It was a humid airless day. Sarah carefully stepped over the puddles on the pavement and stopped outside a small nondescript terraced house. She rang the bell. A minute later they heard the sound of bolts being drawn and the door unlocked from inside. An old man opened the door dabbing his nose with a dirty handkerchief, his hair greased back in an appalling comb over. The hall smelt of wax polish and stale sweat.

"Come in my dears, I have been expecting you."

The old man lent heavily on the bannister and slowly climbed the stairs with great effort .In his tiny office you could just see through the filthy windows down into Hatton Garden. A police siren filled the room for a few moments and then was gone"

The old man wore a pair of fingerless woollen gloves, and pointed at a bench seat as he sat down heavily at his desk, mopping his brow and stuffing the handkerchief flamboyantly into the breast pocket of his suit.

"Those stairs will be the death of me, to be sure."

Sniffing loudly, he opened the desk drawer and pulled out a small velvet bag and emptied the contents on his blotting pad.

"Your good lady suggested that you wanted pink stones. These are the best I could find. No stones are perfect, but these are pretty close.

Simon looked down at three cut pink diamonds the size of peas. Sarah picked one up and held it up to the window.

"That one would make a very acceptable ring Miss. The other two are so closely matched they would be lovely as a pair of earrings. I really would like to sell them together. I can give you a good price for the set."

Sarah put the stone back on the table and smiled.

"I am going to lunch. I am not going to spoil this moment by talking about silly money."

"Of course not my dear."

"Don't get up, I'll see myself out."

Sarah stood up and left without another word. She knew how anxious Simon would be not knowing when they would meet again, not knowing whether she wanted the diamonds or not, and it gave her a huge thrill. Outside it started to rain again just as she jumped into a cab.

"A very beautiful girl Sir. You are a very lucky man, to be sure."

Simon looked at the old man carefully.

"Tell me about these diamonds then. What are you looking to sell them for?"

"These are near perfect stones, and pink stones are incredibly rare. I couldn't let them go for less than two hundred each."

Simon looked at the old man. He had no expression at all on his face.

"So £300 for all three, or would there be a discount?"

The old man cackled.

"Very funny Sir, but his is Hatton Garden not Rapley's. These stones are worth £100,000 each. They are unique."

Simon went pale and looked down at the diamonds again. He felt a huge rush of adrenalin.

The old man shrugged and started to put the stones back in the velvet purse.

"I think you might have to disappoint the young lady."

Simon started to think about his investments.

"Give me your best price. Just tell me the very best price you will give me for all three."

The old man looked up with a look of weary exasperation.

"Five hundred and thirty. This isn't an Egyptian bazaar. I don't haggle my prices. That is that. You have to decide."

Simon wiped his hands on the top of his trousers.

"Keep them for me. I will be back, ok?"

The old man nodded, and put the bag back into his drawer.

"I can keep them for three days at that price, with a £5000 deposit. Non returnable."

Back at home Simon rang his stockbroker.

"Henry, its Simon"

"Hi Simon, how are you? Rumour has it you are all loved up."

"Henry, listen. I want you to sell my entire portfolio, everything. Can you do that for me?"

"I can do anything you want me to do Simon. But can I ask why?"

"I just want out of the market. It doesn't feel right out there, and I would prefer some liquidity."

"Well you would certainly be liquid if you sold everything."

"Good, then that is what I want you to do. Out of everything in the next 24 hours, ok?"

"Ok Simon., I will get onto it right away."

Simon put the phone down and looked out of the window. What was he doing? He picked up the phone again. He had to stop this madness. His mobile rang, it was Sarah. Simon held both phones, one in each hand. He had a choice now, a genuine choice.

Chapter 3.

The leaves were falling from the plane trees and the nights were drawing in. Sarah looked in the mirror. Her lipstick a subtle shade of pink matched exactly with her earrings and necklace. A young man, naked and toned, walked approached her from the bed and squeezed her shoulders gently.

Sarah sighed, tilting her head back slowly, her hair tickling his fingers as they massaged her shoulders gently.

"That was nice. Note to self, spend more time in bed with beautiful young men."

Charlie laughed.

"Come back to bed then."

Sarah sat up right and clapped her hands.

""No, no. I must be strong. Today I am going to have a meeting."

"A meeting. Well, now that is exciting honey."

Sarah put her arms through an exquisite pink and cream bra and reached behind her, fastening the clasp. An hour later she sat in the British Library in a quiet booth watching Simon dry his eyes.

"I am sorry Sarah. I just can't give you anything else, everything has gone now. I can just about pay the minimum amount each month on the store cards and the debts. My bank won't lend me anything more until I start paying off some of my borrowings."

Sarah smiled and took Simon's hands into her lap. Simon started to cry again. This was the first time that Sarah had shown any affection at all since all this had started, and he found it difficult to control his emotions.

"Shh, shhh. Don't cry now. Let me help you. All you need to do is sell your flat. London house prices are booming at the moment. That will give you more than enough money to pay off all your debts and then you can rent."

Sarah lifted Simon's head up with her hand under his chin and smiled at him with her mouth. Simon looked into her cold eyes and could see no emotion at all. They were shark's eyes. It made him shudder with fear and he felt a stirring that left him breathless with desire.

A month later his solicitor rang.

"Hi Simon, its Fiona here. All done. I've transferred the funds into your account and will send you the Title documents shortly."

"Thanks Fiona, I really appreciate your help."

Simon put the phone down and stared out the window. His heart started racing and he felt the most incredible rush. The phone rang a minute later, it was Sarah.

"Hello Simon, any news." Simon felt his penis press hard against his trousers. He swallowed hard.

"It's done. Now at last I can start to get everyone off my back."

"There you go. You just needed little old Sarah to help you think straight. Come over for a drink, we can have a little celebration."

"What, you mean at your place Sarah?"

"Of course, why not, it is about time isn't it?" Sarah sounded hollow and distant, she was on hands free sitting astride Charlie, slowly raising and lowering herself as she spoke.

"About seven. See you then." She pushed the button on her mobile and took Charlie into her, right up to the hilt. She was going to cum like a train and scream like a witch. She tightened her pelvic muscles around Charlie's penis which hardened inside her, causing her to gasp.

At 7.32 pm sitting at Sarah's kitchen table Simon pushed the send button. Sarah sat next to him, her arm around his shoulder.

"See. That didn't hurt at all. Now we just have to wait for the little blue circle to stop turning."

They both looked at the screen, transfixed. A moment of unfathomable sexual delight for both of them. The world disappeared, melting away as these two people watched the screen.

(Thank you. You have transferred £842,316 to Miss Sarah Carrington.)

An hour later Simon, naked, on all fours sucked Sarah's right big toe as she sat on her toilet seat, the bathroom door locked.

"Now Simon, time for that celebration drink, and then you leave forever, understood?"

Simon, broken, bankrupt, naked and ruined looked up and nodded, a smile forming on his lips. Sarah stood up pushed him onto his back with her heel and sat astride his chest. He closed his eyes, feeling the hard wiry hairs against his top lip, encouraging him to open his mouth. As the warm salty fluid poured into his mouth large globules of cum splattered against Sarah's back, and ran down the crack between her buttocks. Nothing mattered anymore.