Laura Ch. 01

And the smiles from him just now had reassured her that he still wanted her, was still interested.

The young girl had heard from gossip that he was married, but somehow that didn't matter to her, as she wove the dreams and fantasies in her head that included her and Robert, and a future together.

*

Rough large hands piled the wood in the corner of the empty room. A musty smell of old dust blew up from the floor where he was storing the planks of wood, and wiped away the sweet memory of her scent that he had managed to fill his lungs with, as she bumped into him this morning at the bus stop.

He walked out of the room to the hallway, stepping over the wires and debris left on the floor from the work going on in the old house and made his way downstairs. His brain swirled with images of her, stepping down from the bus, her beautiful green almond shaped eyes, her sweet little nose, the generous mouth and the high cheekbones, one marred with the beginnings of a bruise.

As he remembered the bruise his anger rose, his chest swelled and his fist clenched.

How he would like to hurt the man that was doing this to her. Only the other week she had a swollen lip, and weeks before that he had noticed red bruise marks on her neck that looked like a hand had griped her hard. Each morning for the last couple of months he had eagerly waited for her to alight from the bus, even to the extent of letting a bus go if she wasn't on it, rather than get on, hoping she would be on the next one and he could have his glimpse of her. His now lovely restored BSA motorbike sitting outside his home unused, just so he could travel to work on the bus each morning to see her.

He had noticed her wedding ring early on, and though he knew he had fallen for her hard, it was hopeless.

A painful crush on someone he couldn't have. She was out of his reach.

But he still wished he could get his hands on the bastard that was hurting her.

Each day as she passed him by at the stop he would take a deep breath, inhaling her natural scent and hold her image with him for the rest of the day, like a religious Icon, giving him comfort and allowing him to worship at it within his soul.

Picking up his leather jacket he shrugged his arms into the sleeves and pulled it over his wide strong shoulders, and slipped out through the front door to unload more planks from the back of the lorry parked outside. Picking up a pile of planks as if they were matchsticks, he walked upstairs and placed them on the floor.

Hard work should use up the pent up emotional energy, and if he really pushed himself he might be able to fall asleep tonight without thinking of her, his body burning up with need.

He felt like a schoolboy with his first crush. He didn't even know her name. He just knew that with every fibre of his being he yearned to cradle her and keep her safe. He yearned to stroke her skin, kissing a trail down her back from the nape of her neck to the swell of her small little bottom, and beyond. To drown in her eyes as she wrapped her legs around his hips, and to feel her teeth sink into his neck as he filled her up giving both of them so much pleasure.

A groan escaped his throat and he stopped from bending down to pick up another plank and adjusted his jeans as he walked over to the dirt smeared window and opened it to let in a breeze. He realised he must stop doing this, fantasising like this or he was going to drive himself mad.

Tonight he promised himself he would get cleaned up and go down to the local bar, maybe pick up a girl and try to get on with reality, and lose this obsession with someone he could never have.

*

The neighbour watched through the window as the girl walked down the garden path to her front door carrying a bag of shopping. Looking round at her husband sitting in the chair reading the paper she commented. "She's home. After the racket last night I thought she wouldn't be able to walk, seems to me that girl has nine lives, and most of them must have been used up by now."

Glancing up her husband frowned "It's none of our business. If they want to fight it's up to them, and anyway he seems like a good bloke. Seen him down the pub only last week drinking with the boys. Best mind our own business and keep our noses out of it."

"I don't think it's so much a fight as a one sided event."

The wife came and sat down opposite her husband. "Besides all that screaming and shouting keeps me awake. These walls are much too thin. I wish you would just say something so that we can have a bit of peace and quiet at night."

Her husband looked at her over the top of his glasses. "Are you mad? Say something!- Say what? I can just see it now," and lowering his voice he said as if he was being hard, "Hey mister can you stop beating up your wife as my wife can't sleep for listening to it!" he shook his head "What do you want, him to start on me next?" and he returned to reading the paper.

Getting up out of the chair and walking through the door to the kitchen the wife said over her shoulder "I wouldn't be surprised if one day he kills her, and then I'll remind you that you had your chance to be Sir Galahad."

"Well as long as he kills her and not me I don't care!" and with a turn of the page he dismissed all thoughts of next door from his mind.

*

Laura unpacked the shopping and carefully put it away, tins lined up just like Robert insisted, bottles with the labels facing forward in a line, just like soldiers, all with the same exact space between each one. Carefully folding up the plastic shopping bag she placed it in the draw and started to wipe the kitchen down.

Her thoughts turned to the afternoon upstairs in Mrs J's back bedroom, going through the drawers and the treasure trove of stuff she had found.

Under the old lady's instructions she had brought down to the sitting room the bits and pieces that might have use, and between them they had gone through the pile of things. Birth certificate, exam certificates, registration letters from the local college, an old Post Office checking account book that looked over 15 years old, letters from a local firm confirming an employment offer, and a doctors' letter with the results of a blood test.

In the another draw she found old makeup, half used dark red lipsticks, bottles of foundation, pots of blusher and so many shades of eye shadow all mixed up with hair slides, old cheap jewellery and tubes of face and hand creams of various sorts.

In the wardrobe hung a few pieces of clothes, the odd top, a couple of skinny jeans and a very short and tight skirt that looked almost as if it was a wide belt rather than a skirt. Laura had held the top up against herself and grimaced. The neckline was so low and wide that it would hardly cover what little breasts she had. Mrs J's Becky had certainly liked to flaunt it.

Quickly preparing the meal for tonight so that it was ready as soon as Robert wanted it, she then went upstairs to clean herself up and tried to make herself look good for him. A little blusher on her cheeks and soft pale lipstick, her hair scooped up on her head so that her long slim neck was accentuated and her softly rounded shoulders rose from her wide boat neck sweater like an alabaster statue.

Looking at herself in the mirror she saw a young woman of twenty-five, slim and fresh faced, nothing outstanding, not stunning, just sweet and fresh faced, with the lithe body similar to that of a ballet dancer. Long slim limbs, straight slim back, a gentle curve on the hips and a small round derriere. Walking gracefully downstairs and into the immaculate lounge, where Robert's large range of electronic equipment took pride of place, she sat down on the black leather sofa being careful not to mess up the cushions laid perfectly at each end of the couch. Picking up the remote she turned on the expensive large flat screen TV that Robert was so proud of, and settled down to wait, half watching the programme unfolding in front of her, half dreaming of her possible escape from this gilded trap of a home she had found herself in.

*

"Just one more?" he turned around, back leaning against the bar, and scanning the room, noting each woman until he found one who's eyes caught his, eyebrows raising and with a half smile he acknowledged the interest and continued his perusal of the crowd of people laughing and talking as they relaxed.

Julian passed him the glass of wine, and as the two of them sipped, he looked back at the tall well stacked female that had given him the eye.

"Looks like she's interested." his work colleague said over the noise of the crowd.

"Hmmm, too forward for me, nice tits though, be my guest if you want."

"Naw, my wife can smell another woman on me at 100 yards. Not worth the hassle man."

Robert looked at Julian, a look of disgust on his face "And you let her control you? What kind of man are you?"

"The kind that knows his place," Julian said laughing, and knocking back the last of his wine, placed the glass on the bar, and saying "see you tomorrow at the office." he walked out through the throng and into the night.

Robert looked back at the busty tart that had given him the eye, and smiling, walked over for a bit of entertainment for the night.

*

Chris sat at the table in the bar, untouched beer in front of him, watching the swirl of people laughing and talking and enjoying the end of the working day. At the table with him were his friends Tom and Charlie discussing this weekend's football games. He partially listened to the good natured banter between the two men comparing their respective teams' successes as he tried to look for someone, just someone who might stir his interest.

But each woman he looked at he compared to her.

He picked up the bottle, and tipping his head back placed it to his lips taking a long drink and letting the cold liquid relax him.

*

The tall auburn haired girl had lost interest with the man in front of her. She had seen him across the room earlier, and he looked so good, like he had money and style, But after half and hour of listening to him talk about himself since he walked over, she sensed he was a bore in love with himself, and what she wanted was fun. She looked over the bore's shoulder and her eye's settled on the guy sitting at the table taking a swig at the bottle, his head tipped back revealing a strong masculine neck, Adam's apple enticingly bobbing as the liquid slid down his throat. Thick black hair slightly too long to be fashionable, too short to be deliberately styled that way, curled slightly as it brushed the collar of his worn brown leather jacket.

As he put down the bottle she watched as he rubbed his hand across the bottom half of his face and smiled to herself as she noticed the two day old stubble, and casual white tee shirt under the jacket pulled tight over what looked like a really buff body. A sudden frission of sexual excitement rippled in her stomach and she looked back at the bore in front of her still intoning about his 'oh so important job, and his oh so important position in the company he worked for'.

Looking him in the eye she interrupted and said "Excuse me, just need to pop to the little girls' room." and without caring if he noticed or not, walked over to the well built man sitting at the table. Stopping at his side, she placed her hand on his shoulder, and as he looked up with ice blue eyes fringed with long black lashes, a quizzical look on his face, she smiled down at him and said with a nod of her head towards the bore now scowling across the room at her; "Hi, I need a friend to help me escape unwanted attention, and I've chosen you. Will you come to my rescue?"

Chris glanced over at the man scowling at the attractive woman at his side, her hand still resting on his shoulder, and pulling out the empty chair next to him nodded for her to sit down. As he rose up to his full six foot three inches he grinned and asked if she would like a drink.

"Red wine, house red." she answered, sitting down without taking her eyes from his.

He nodded, and then looking down at his two mates who during this exchange between their friend and the woman had stopped ribbing each other asked "Same again lads" and made his way to the bar to buy the round. The men smiled at each other and watched the woman's avid and openly sexual perusal following Chris's back as he moved away from the table to buy the round.

It was always the same; their friend didn't even have to try, even though he was not what most considered fashionably good looking. With strong features, deep smile crinkles ran from the corner of his eyes, grooves and dimples ran down the side of his mouth that deepened each time he smiled. And it was that smile that normally pulled the girls, infectious, sexy and usually ever present, his face lit up, eyes sparkling with warmth that people were just drawn towards, allowing his laid back sunny nature to appear. A contrast to his large, hard and well built frame, naturally strong from the hard physical work he had done all his adult life.

At the age of thirty one, Chris was comfortable with himself, easy going and open, enjoying his place in life, happy with his life style and usually totally uninhibited when it came to interacting with women, except the one that meant the most to him, the girl on the bus, the girl that held his heart.

Paying for and gathering up the drinks in his large and work toughened hands he went back to the table and placed the drinks down.

Sitting back down next to the damsel in distress he smiled, put out his hand to shake and said in a deep rumbling voice "I'm Chris, so tell me just what am I rescuing you from? Am I going to need to put on my super hero suit or will a scowl in his direction work for you?"

"Tricia," and she placed her small hand in his large one, feeling the rough calluses as they shook and laughing replied "and if you want to put on tight Lycra that's up to you, personally I prefer a man in jeans and tee shirt coming to my aid."

A big grin broke across his face, and his left eyebrow rose up high, "Just as well as I left my Super Hero Suit in the cleaners today, and I only own jeans and tee shirts so it looks as if I'm your man. Do you want me to give him the full bugger off scowl, or just the tough luck she's with me now scowl?"

"Oh the full bugger off scowl please." and she watched as Chris turned towards the bore that was now standing staring with a hard look on his face towards where they sat, narrow his eyes to slits and calmly stare the bore down.

*

Burning up with anger, Robert turned on his heel and strode out the wine bar.

"The bitch," he muttered to himself, "the big, fat titted bitch."

Climbing into his car, he revved the engine and with a screech of rubber drove home, unspent aggression flowing through his veins from the rejection, and the put down that the woman and that Neanderthal in the wine bar had given him. Pulling up with a screech in the driveway, he grabbed his brief case, slammed and locked the car door and strode up to the front door of his house, his teeth clenched and his breathing hard and shallow.

Laura heard the car door slam, and the fear she felt increased, tightening the ball of panic in her stomach. She had learnt over the past couple of years that her best defence was to make herself very small and quiet, and hope his anger would blow over quickly.

The front door slammed shut, rattling the walls and she heard him shout. "Where are you, you little whore? You fucking slag?" and as Laura's heart sank, and she shrank further into herself he came through the lounge door, crossing the room and grabbing her arm in a tight grip, pulling her up close to his body, he hissed into her face "Had a good day have you with your lover boy? Fucked you hard did he? You bitch, you fucking bitch!" and with a hard push she fell back on the sofa, confused and frightened.

"Robert please don't, I don't know what you're talking about." a hard slap across the face sent her sideways.

Screaming at the top of his lungs "All you women are fucking tarts, open your legs for any man, well you bitch open them for me" and grabbing her arm pulled the sobbing girl up again to his side, and then dragged her down to the floor. His rage seemed to be building, and Laura struggled as his body came down on top of her, his hands pulling at her jumper tugging it up over her breasts along with her bra, his knees pushing hard between her legs forcing them apart, as he ground his groin hard into her, hard and swollen. Her hands pushing against his chest she tried to push him off, crying and begging him to stop, but it seemed to inflame him, as he grabbed her hands in his and pulling them above her head, holding both her wrists in one of his, he reached down, unzipping himself and lifting up her skirt so that he could rip off her pants, and in one long stroke he entered her, grunting and cursing her as he did so.

Laura's body arched in pain as the onslaught carried on, and unheeding of her distress, her husband bent his head to her uncovered breasts and bit down hard on one small globe, causing Laura to scream. "Enjoying yourself bitch," he panted "like it rough do you?" and he quickened the pace, thrusting deeper and harder, watching as she tossed her head and sobbed for him to stop. "You bitches are all the same, I should kill you." and then grunted as he came.

Getting up from the body laying crumpled at his feet, zipping himself up, he said "No I guess you aren't seeing someone behind my back are you bitch, after all who would ever want someone like you?" He looked down at the body curled up at his feet, and then strode out to the kitchen to look for his meal "Where is it bitch, where is my supper?" and Laura could hear him opening the oven door and then slamming it.

Wrapping her arms around herself as she lay on her side, crying softly to herself, dazed and in pain, she dared not move. Praying he would leave her alone for the rest of the night, she curled up even tighter, taking stock of the damage he had inflicted on her shaking body.

Robert ate the lasagne Laura had left for him in the oven, and sat back in the kitchen chair his anger dissipated, and his fragile ego restored. He listened out to see if she was still crying, and when he couldn't hear anything except the drone of the TV, got up and wandered back into the lounge where his wife still lay on the floor where he had left her.

He noted with a pang of satisfaction her involuntary shudder as he walked into the room, and he stared down at her coiled up body noting with pleasure the red teeth mark now marring her small breast and the tear stained face half covered by her messed up hair as it had fallen out of the clip that had held it on top of her head. Her skirt was still bunched around her waist revealing her small tight little bottom, and an occasional shudder shook her body as she lay still at his feet.

"Get up you little cow and get cleaned up, you look like shit." and he sat down on the sofa, picked up the remote control and turned over the channel until he found what he wanted. "No wonder no one except me wanted to marry you."

Laura got up on her knees; head kept down, and carefully pulled down her sweater over her body.

"Go have a bath and get into bed, I'll be up soon. Oh and by the way my suit will need to be dry cleaned, drop it into the cleaners on the way to work tomorrow, I'll need it for Thursday," And all thought of his past hours activity forgotten, he watched the car chase in the film unfolding out on the TV in front of him. "and get the kitchen straight, that Lasagne was like slop as usual." he shouted as she walked slowly up the stairs.

Sinking her shaking and aching body into the hot water Laura realised that the violence was picking up, he no longer seemed to care what damage he did to her, and on what part of her body he hurt. The awful sex was getting more and more violent, and she knew now without a doubt she had to get away. Mrs Jackson's offer seemed like a gift from heaven, and this afternoon's plan was her chance to get away. But how quickly could she get away, and what did she need to do to put the plan into reality?