Tarton Ch. 01

Tarton is a town I have made up for this series of stories. I've imagined it along the south coast of England. There are towns over here with strange and rude names. Piddletown was a small village on the river piddle. The village name was changed to Puddletown before a state visit by Queen Victoria, because it was considered too rude. I've imagined Tarton changed its name from Tart Town a few hundred years ago for a similar reason. The small unnamed village as it was back then was called Tart Town, because there was a cleansing on prostitution in nearby big towns. No one knows who scrawled the name Tart Town, probably as a joke, on a wooden sign in red paint, but it stuck. While the name has changed, the town still has more than its fair share of tarts, and this is the story of a few of them.

Sylvia's Story

Nathan Murray is in the pub with a group of men in suits. They are in a happy mood, laughing and joking and hanging on Nathan Murray's every word. He tells them taking their business to his company will be the best choice of their lives. One of the men wags his finger at me. I smile and walk over with the menus.

Nathan Murray catches my eye; he looks me over like I'm part of the menu I'm holding.

"So what are the specials then sweet cheeks?" Nathan asks.

"Sorry we don't have a special, everything we serve is on the menu."

His hand pinches my ass and I jump forward a little, which causes stupid giggles amongst his group at the table.

Nathan's eyes follow me as I deliver the plates of food. I stretch over the table and I feel his hand high on the back of my leg. As I straighten up I bat his hand away, which again causes chuckles. I have thoughts of tipping the remains of his dinner in the Tory MP's lap, but I don't.

An hour later the guy with white hair comes up to the bar to settle up.

"Mr Murray has given you a large tip, and he would like to see you," he says nodding to the door marked toilets.

I push the tip back in his hand and go to walk away but he grabs my arm.

"Don't be like that Sylvia; he has a proposition for you."

"I'm not interested," I reply sternly.

"Mr Murray is a well respected member of parliament; you would do well to meet him. It can't be easy for you working full time in York's department store, and then here at the pub."

Nathan comes swaggering out to the back of the pub with a fat cigar in his mouth.

"Your man, or whatever you call him, said you had a proposition. I told him I'm not interested, but it seems until I tell you face to face that I don't do that anymore, you won't give up on pestering me."

"I would have thought that after a few years, you might have softened a bit. Come on it wasn't all that bad. I remember how eager you were to get your husband's promotion sealed. I still remember coming round to dinner with you, and seeing you all dolled up in that black dress."

"It wasn't black it was blue," I say correcting him.

"So you remember it better than I do?" he says with amusement in his eyes.

I was 20 barely married a year, and yes I did it to get my husband or rather ex husband as he is now, promoted.

He takes out his hanky and wipes it over a stack of beer crates, and then sits on it.

"You sent him down the shop to get me more cigars, while I stood there with my hand up the back of your dress pulling your panties down. I told him to be gone an hour, and we went to bed. You enjoyed it Sylvia, sucking me and then fucking afterwards. I often wonder what happened when I left and he came up to find you still naked on the bed."

"It didn't end there though did it? You'd send him away on business trips and come round to me."

"You didn't stop me, in fact I remember you coming to my offices, dropping that long coat and being naked underneath. I must admit I enjoyed doing you across my desk, and then sending you on your way."

"I was young and stupid back then. You weren't the first if that's what you're so smug about?"

"Oh I know you cheated on him with quite a few guys before, and after me."

"I didn't cheat on him, he liked it."

"Oh yes the cuckold asked you to sleep around. I bet he didn't know everyone you bedded though, did he?"

I watch a plume of smoke rise above his head from his cigar.

"You used me, making me sleep with men to get you some contract for some bloody thing or other. Then there was that fat oaf out there."

"Oh yes Barnaby," he says with a smile, "I didn't think you would fuck him, which is why I blindfolded you and let him in. That was quite something getting you all excited, and then watching him take over. You were too far gone to stop him fucking you when I took the blindfold off, and anyway you got paid. You enjoyed the money, and your husband enjoyed the details afterwards I'm sure."

"You're so fucking arrogant; you walk in here thinking I'll jump when you tell me. I told you no more a few years ago, and I mean it, still."

"Yes you did, after about the fifth guy you slept with. Anyway I've got others who do that now."

"So why are you here bothering me again?"

He ignores my question for a moment and takes another drag on the fat cigar.

"I guess your ex husband is happy now. He's moved to a different town with his new wife, Cherry Anne, my god what sort of a fucking name is that? He was sleeping with her, or so I gather before you split up. Does it hurt that he can treat her differently? I hear she doesn't do what you did."

"Believe it or not I'm happy for him. He told me just before we split up he couldn't stop asking me to sleep with guys, it was our thing I guess."

He raises his eyebrows.

"And you're not bitter in the slightest that he can have a far more normal sex life with her?"

"We stopped doing it for a while, but it was always there in the back ground. Like an alcoholic who has been dry for months, it lurks there underneath, and then it started again. He couldn't help himself he asked me to see other men. I refused for a while, but our sex life started to dry up."

"So you got back into it, and you've never stopped spreading yourself around the town. I guess it's easier now you don't have a husband?"

He gets up off the crate and walks forward. I back against the wall, as the rain starts to fall.

"Yes I've heard a lot about you Sylvia. I hear you're still sexually active, with random men. I was wondering if we could come to an arrangement like we used to have."

"No I don't want anything to do with you."

I go to walk away and my arm gets pulled and I'm spun round, and pulled back under the roof of the lean-to.

"Nobody walks away from me, Sylvia, not without hearing me out, and then they are usually quick to change their mind."

He blows on the end of the cigar. I watch the brown leaf turn red with fire, inches from my face.

"Did you know a cigarette can get to around 800 degrees C? I wonder if my cigar is hotter than that."

I'm staring at the red end as he puffs on it.

"Now all you have to do is take one of my friends to bed. You'll be paid £1000. After all you still get your kicks from fucking around, so why not get something in return, instead of just a full pussy?"

I watch him suck on the cigar and the red tip glows even more. He pulls it from his mouth and looks at it.

"Now, as I remember you were always good with your mouth. So while we are here, alone, perhaps we could have a little fun?"

I watch the cigar getting nearer my face.

"Alright, just.......just put that down."

I'm down on my knees undoing his trousers. I hear him chuckle with a mouth full of cigar, as I suck his cock to an erection.

"Tomorrow night you'll take him to the hotel by the singles bar, a room has already been booked in your name, and there you'll let him fuck you. Then I'll pay you."

I take my mouth off his cock.

"I want the money first."

He sighs, "Okay, but you had better do a good job."

"Why bother me, why not get one of your whores to do your dirty work?"

"Because the guy likes you, he told me he had seen you in the singles bar one night. This is a one off Sylvia, I promise," he sniggers and pushes my head, so that my mouth goes back over his cock.

I feel his cock letting go, and he holds my head. I swallow and feel it slide down my throat.

"Mr Murray, we should really be on our way."

"Just a minute Giles, Sylvia here has some tidying up to do. Well put my fucking dick away," he snarl's down at me.

I watch as he flicks his cigar in a puddle, as the rain bounces off the concrete.

"Sylvia, if you don't turn up tomorrow night, it won't be me or a cigar which causes you pain and suffering, it'll be a guy I know who works in a welding shop."

I'm back in the pub a week later after fucking the guy that Murray wanted me to. My car is being repaired with some of the money he gave me, and I'm trying to forget about Nathan Murray.

The door burst open and in rushes some woman with hatred in her eyes. She hits me across the face and slams me against the fruit machine.

"You fucking little whore!"

She pulls my hair until I'm on the ground, and kicks me in the stomach.

"Fuck my old man would you, you worthless piece of shit!"

She grabs my top and rips it, my breasts spill out in front of the whole pub. The 40 something year old with badly dyed blonde hair, spits in my face, grabs my right breast in her fat fingers, and then squeezes and twists. I grab her hair, and pull it until she let's go.

"I'm going to fuck you up real fucking good!" she yells and I watch her reach for one of the broken glasses which fell on the floor when I pushed her back against the table.

A hand grabs her hair and drags her away from me. I look up and Olive the town gossip has her in a vice like grip. Two of the regulars pull the angry woman away, but she still manages to kick me in the ribs.

"Fucking bitch, you fucked my husband, and don't deny it. I've seen the recording you made with that fucking hidden camera in some seedy hotel room!"

Olive helps me up.

"You really are a stupid silly girl. It's a good job the landlord is away on holiday. Well?"

"Thank you Olive," I say trying to cover my breasts from the pub's gaze.

"Don't get me wrong you deserved everything you got, but when she reached for the glass, well even a little tart like you doesn't deserve that."

That night I'm on the phone to Nathan Murray.

"So you got a slap by his wife."

"Well you bloody well set me up," I screech.

"Oh did your two brain cells rub together and work for a change. Look the guy owed me a lot of money, and despite repeatedly telling him he'd lose everything he still didn't cough up, so I let him think he got away with it for a few weeks. Yes I had a camera installed, and yes I sent it to his rather jealous fat wife. I'm sorry she found out where you worked but hell, you've been paid. So quit fucking whining and don't bother me again."

Cynthia's story

I'm watching him working out the problem, watching his eyes, and his brow as it furrows. He taps the pencil on his chin and then scribbles on the page. He nods to himself and sits back, nods again, and then smiles.

"I've finished Mrs Harrison."

I pull my chair a little closer, and turn the page so I can see it. I turn my head and smile at him. His eyes flick up from my cleavage. I feel nervous behind my smile. I realise one of the buttons on my blouse has opened. As I gaze at his answers, I'm feeling a tingle on my neck, I should do the button up, but I don't.

"Yes, that's right, you're coming along Simon, three weeks ago you wouldn't have had a clue, but yes that's the right answer."

My eyes shift quickly to the side. In the mirror I can see he is leaning forward a bit more than he needs to. I can see his eyes are looking down at the gap in my blouse. He isn't breathing like he normally does, in fact I can't hear him breathing, it's like he is holding his breath because he doesn't want the moment to end.

The door slamming shut stops my thoughts. Simon jumps up as my husband comes in the lounge throwing his coat on the chair.

"Hello Mr Harrison."

My husband looks at him, and then at me. He turns back to Simon.

"Hello young man, are you here again?"

I stand up like I have to explain everything yet again, and for some reason justify Simon's after school tuition.

"He's doing very well Robert, we're making great progress."

"Isn't that what school's for?" my husband replies pulling at the knot in his tie.

"Mrs Harrison is a good teacher, but at school it's difficult, some of the others just mess around."

My husband nods like he isn't even listening.

"You know young man, when I was your age I was out chasing the girls. You don't want to be left with the ugly one, do you?"

"Robert, Simon is...."

"Oh shush, I'm only pulling his leg. Now what's for tea, I'm starving?"

He moves past me and slaps my ass. I feel myself blushing, and quickly glancing at Simon doesn't help.

"I, I had better be off. See you at school Miss."

I nod, and follow my husband into the kitchen as Simon leaves the house.

"Robert, please don't do that."

"Do what?" he asks, pulling a bottle of beer from the fridge.

"Tap my....well like that in front of Simon."

"Jesus Cynthia, he's an 18 year old boy, it might give him some ideas."

"What do you mean?" I ask in a slightly alarmed voice.

He looks at me with the beer bottle tipped in his mouth.

"Christ C, I'm only saying he should be out chasing skirt, not sat at the dining table with his head in books, poor kid."

He starts chuckling.

"What?" I ask.

"My god, I didn't mean ideas about you......although the button on your blouse is open."

I feel for the button doing it up, and again my husband laughs.

"Jesus woman, you're 26, you might have a fit body under those shapeless clothes, but he's 18, he isn't likely to be thinking about you like that. Hey I bet he thinks about his sister."

"That's a horrible thing to say; anyway he hasn't got a sister."

"Christ, will you relax C. I'm going for a bath and then down the pub, it is darts night, so get my tea ready will you sweet."

He goes to swat my ass again but stops himself.

"Oh and find my lucky socks will you," he calls from half way up the stairs.

At 10.30 I go out into the hall knowing my husband won't be home for another hour. I stare up at our huge wedding photo. Robert wanted to put it there, I didn't. It dominates the hall, and is the first thing visitors notice. Both of us are smiling, but I can still detect the nervousness in my blue eyes. My blonde hair is piled up on top of my head. Caroline did my hair, and to be honest I wanted it just normal. Even the dress was a little too tight under my bust. I was 20 when the photo just outside the church doorway was taken. Robert was 29, yes older, but as my father said, you can't go wrong with a guy like Robert. He asked for my dad's permission to marry me. We hadn't even discussed it; it just came out of the blue.

I really hadn't left the tiny village I lived in back then, apart from trips out with the school, or days out with Robert in his car. I look up at his smiling eyes, in the ridiculously large framed photo. For some reason I see an expression in his which says, gotcha! No I'm being cruel about that, because I do love him.

I did have one other boyfriend which lasted just a few hours, he asked me to the cinema to watch a film. I left before the film ended, horrified that he wouldn't stop when I asked him, not to put his hand in my blouse.

So my husband took my virginity on our wedding night. He was gentle and caring, and put up with my little whimpers and asking him to go easy. He pulled out, and went to the bathroom, he called through the open door, "Cynthia, can you trim your bush sometime."

I look at the alarm clock as the front door slams shut, 12.39. I hear his shoes being dropped on the floor. He belches on his way up the stairs, and then goes in the toilet. I pull the bedcover up over my ears to drown out the sound of pee hitting water in the toilet. Why can't he shut the stupid door?

He stumbles in the bedroom, and pulls back the covers.

"Hey, are you awake?" he asks in that tone which usually means he wants sex.

"I'm tired, it's late, and I have school tomorrow."

"Come on C, you only have to stand there and get them to read Shakespeare or something. Hey guess who I saw walking up the road with Sylvia the barmaid, Mark."

I feel his cock slip inside me.

"She's a right one. But hell does she dress for it. Skirt up round her thighs, high heels. I bet he'll be slipping out in the early hours. Hey one of the guys in the pub told me she got a slapping a few days ago from some woman who claimed Sylvia had slept with her husband. Fuck you're tight, I bet she's not, I bet she doesn't object to giving a guy a blow....."

"Enough!"

"Hey okay."

He pulls out.

"What now, where the fucks are you off?"

"Downstairs on the couch, I'm not listening to you go on about her that tart, while you're...."

"Christ C, okay she dresses like a tart, but I wasn't thinking of her.....hell I haven't seen your knees for fucking years!"

I'm up at 6.30, and I catch a glimpse of Mark walking down the road with his shirt tails out, and his hair a little ruffled. I go in the bedroom trying to ignore the snoring from under the duvet. I look out the bedroom window, and see Mark again, he has stopped. Now he's pushing his hand down the front of his trousers, pulls it out, and then he sniffs his fingers.

I turn back to the bed and watch my husband sleeping. For a brief second I wonder what it would be like to be Sylvia, in her short skirt, high heels, and low cut tops. I've been in the pub with my husband, and seen half the men leering at her wishing to get lucky, the other half of the pub probably already have.

"I couldn't dress like her you know," I say, and then realise my husband has a mystified expression on his face, because I've gone back to what we were talking about last night, without reminding him first.

Two hours later I smile at Simon as he walks in the classroom. He's a good 5 inches shorter than the rest of the class.

"Now how did you all get on with your homework?"

"Mrs Harrison, I've got stuff to do in the evening, homework sucks," Toby says and flicks an elastic band at the back of Simon's head, which has the rest of his gang chuckling.

"Well I'll give you tonight to finish it."

"Sorry, it'll be the same answer."

"Toby this is your last year before your exams, you need to knuckle down."

"Why for fu......god's sake, you know I'm going to work for my dad. Hey, I'll be your husband's boss, so go easy on me or I'll be giving Mr Harrison homework."

The class giggles again.

"You won't be his boss, Mr Harrison is older and you'll be sweeping the floor, dumb ass."

"Do you want a smack in the mouth Simple Simon?"

"Stop it.....please.......Toby sit down, and stop picking on Simon, he's worked very hard to improve his grades."

"Oh did I upset the teacher's pet....sorry Mrs Harrison, perhaps your grass isn't the only thing he trims."

I watch as Simon starts brawling with Toby. I'm shaking as the school bully pins Simon on the ground. Chairs get kicked to one side as Simon thrashes his legs out. I'm trying to pull Toby off; his hand reaches out and grabs at my neck. My necklace comes away in his hand.

"What the hell is going on here?!" the headmaster yells.

The boys stop fighting as the headmaster comes in.

"Simon said I was only good for sweeping floors at my dad's company, Sir. He's always winding me up."

"Come to my office now, all three of you!"

I'm stood shaking in the headmaster's office, as he tells the boys off. They are just staring at each other with hatred in their eyes.

They go back to class after a resentful handshake. The headmaster closes the door, and then turns round facing me.