Gull Cottage Horror

She pulled her panties snugly in place, smearing somebody's blood over her hip in the process. She levered and slapped the trap door closed, tugged the carpet over it, and shoved the key under the mattress of her bed.

"Open up! Police!" the sheriff bellowed and rapped insistently on the front door.

"Come in - hurry," she yelled with as much strength as she could muster. Her voice was hoarse from chanting through the night. "Back here," she added, and suspected it would be the last words she spoke for a while.

The official sprinted to his son and knelt checking for a pulse. Tears streamed down Iris' face.

"Man down," the distraught father snapped into a radio strapped to his shoulder. He looked toward Iris and her heaving chest as she sobbed. "Are you injured?"

Iris clasped her tattered blouse closed for a degree of modesty and shook her head, "No."

The radio chattered back and forth. More sirens and lights filled the void beyond the window. Iris allowed herself to be wrapped in a heavy coat and stashed in the back of a police cruiser.

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Scene 11: Better Times

Ian's chest gleamed with the perspiration of his Physical Therapy. He held his left arm away from his body while squeezing a red rubber ball.

"That's much better," Iris observed with a twinkle of pleasure in her eyes.

For the hundredth time, Ian informed her, "The scars make me look like a pirate - a sexy pirate."

Iris smiled her agreement. "That's enough for today. Get in the bath."

She enjoyed the sway of his sword as the naked pirate approached. It grew bigger as he wielded it, and so did her nipples. Ian savored the view while gingerly lowing himself into the steaming water. He reclined his shaved head against breasts while feminine arms reached around his sides to steady him.

"Start singing, mister," she ordered. "You promised."

Ian belted the first bars of "Impossible Dream" from "Man of La Mancha" while Iris kept time by stroking his skin flute. It felt good in her hands.

"I kept my promise to let you watch. I don't think we'll be needing this anymore," she teased and wriggled and extracted the Martin-shaped dildo. Ian's eyes followed its trajectory as it skittered across the floor. "I have a new toy."

Ian crooned, "And the world will be better for this: That one man, scorned and covered with scars, still strove, with his last ounce of courage, to reach ... "