The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 18zwbyPAUL C©
(c) 2004 by Paul C. All rights reserved
Rubies are Red. Part 18zw
My thighs felt sore from the continual moving of his body on top of me. At least he hadn't attempted to get his prick inside me, although I felt its hardness against my pubic mound and abdomen. He looked into my eyes. I smelled tobacco and whisky. I wished he'd get off, but I didn't dare move beneath him in case it encouraged him. Now he moved. Standing, he reached for his gun before turning off the light above the bed. I heard voices in the corridor then the sound of a key in the lock and the door handle turning. I tried to scream to warn him but only a muffled grunt escaped.
Paul stood in the doorway looking at me then at the man and his gun. "Jenny?" He sounded surprised to see me. "What?"
"Come in and close the door." The man said quietly. His voice had changed as he held part of the torn towel in front of his mouth. Paul hesitated. "Come in." The man insisted pointing the gun at me. "You don't want her to get hurt." I realised my legs were still wide open from when he'd lain between, them so I closed them. Paul took a step forward and closed the door.
"What do you want?" Paul asked, his voice trembling. "If you've hurt her..."
"I haven't. Yet. Nor will I if you do exactly as you are told." The room was suddenly very dark only lit by the light from the bathroom, but I saw him pointing his weapon at Paul's chest. "Lay on the bed beside your wife. No. Face down."
Paul lay on his stomach beside me. I saw him smiling in the gloom. "Are you all right?" He asked. I nodded and began crying, tears running down my cheeks. "Shush. It'll be alright." He murmured.
"Be sensible and it will." The man said standing at the foot of the bed. "Here is what you will do. I know about the envelopes you left in the hotel you stayed in last week. You will collect them and bring them here. Then we'll go for a little drive. Don't call the police and don't tell anybody else and you will both be fine. Do you understand what you are to do?"
"Yes. Who are you?" Paul asked.
"That doesn't matter. Best you don't know. Go now." The man moved to the far side of the bed from Paul and stood still while Paul kissed me and climbed from the bed. "It shouldn't take you more than twenty-five minutes." The man said as Paul stopped by the door. "Do as you are told and no harm will come to her."
"I'll be back soon, Jenny." Paul said as he opened the door.
"I'd hurry if I were you. Your wife has a lovely body." The man said. I saw Paul hesitate in the doorway then step into the corridor and close the door. The man switched on the light above the bed again. He looked at me for a moment then untied my hands and allowed me to remove the gag.
"Don't talk." He said. "Just get dressed."
I stood for a moment looking at the door to the hotel bedroom. What is Jenny doing here? Who is he? How does he know about the bonds in the other hotel's safe? What should I do? I don't care about the bonds. After all, they aren't mine. The bonds are his as long as he doesn't hurt Jenny. Should I call the police? That would be the sensible thing to do, but Jenny might get hurt. Should I trust him? If he gets the bonds, there's no reason to harm us. I didn't know who he was. Who am I kidding? I did know who he was. I had just spent four hours in the aeroplane with him. The hair threw me at first, but I knew him well enough to recognise him even in half-light. I didn't let on I knew him and I didn't like him referring to Jenny's body as nice. And her legs were open, wide open as if she had just been fucked. I hurried away from the bedroom door and pressed the button for the lift. It seemed to take an age arriving.
"Ah. There you are Paul." My grandfather said, as he was about to step from the lift. "Are you going somewhere?"
"Yes." I said waiting for him to step from the lift. "I'll be back soon."
"I'll come with you." He said, stepping inside. "There's nothing else to do. How are Howie and Heather?"
"I won't be long." I insisted, hoping he'd take the hint he wasn't wanted. I looked over my shoulder. That was a mistake. He'd been in too many situations where to stay alive he'd had to rely upon reading the other's body language.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"Nothing." I answered too quickly.
"There is. Come on." He urged. "I know you."
I would have said the same before I saw him raping Bill. "I have to go to the other hotel and get the bonds we left in the safe."
"What do you need them for?" He asked.
"I can't tell you. I just need them."
"Come on." He urged once more. "I may be able to help you." We reached the ground floor and I hurried outside and waved my hand at a passing cab. Without asking, Grandfather climbed in beside me and sat in the seat whilst I gave the driver the hotel name. "Well?" Grandfather asked.
"Jenny's in the hotel room." I told him.
"Jenny? Here?" He exclaimed. "But how?"'
"I don't know." I replied. "Major Peterson is with her. He wants the bonds. He has a gun. He says the three of us will go for a ride and we will all be safe."
"You believe him?" Grandfather asked.
I saw the eyes of the driver in his rear-view mirror. "I don't know." I confessed. "He's wearing a disguise. I thought if I didn't let on I knew him, he'd have no reason to hurt us."
"I think that's highly unlikely." Grandfather said, shaking his head.
"Same here." The cabbie joined in. "You should call the cops."
"You're right." Grandfather said. "We should."
The taxi pulled to a stop in front of the hotel where Heather and I stayed the previous week. Was it only a week? What's he doing to Jenny? Why hadn't I gone straight to reception and called the police at the other hotel? Having my grandfather meet me in the lift flustered me. Trying to avoid telling him what was happening was a mistake. "You get the bonds." Grandfather said.
I had to climb from the taxi on the traffic side, which caused one car to swerve and sound his horn. I hurried into the foyer of the hotel and went to the reception desk.
"Yes, Sir." The pretty, young woman behind the desk asked as I approached her.
"I don't suppose you remember me, but I left some envelopes here when I stayed last week. My name is Paul Wagstaffe."
"Just one minute, Sir." She said and disappeared into a room behind her. I heard her talking to somebody, and a few seconds later, she reappeared followed by a young man I recognised as a duty manager from my previous visit. He carried my envelopes.
"Ah yes. Mr. Wagstaffe. Do you have ID? Just for the records." He asked, reaching beneath the desk for a pad of forms. From the breast pocket of my shirt, I produced my battered passport. A couple of soakings plus a lot of sweat hadn't done it much good, but it was still recognisable. The duty manager opened it, noted some details onto one of the forms, and then handed it to me.
"It got wet." I offered by way of explanation.
"Yes, Sir." He replied offering me a pen with which to sign the form. I did so and returned it. He handed me the two envelopes. "Thank you, Sir." He said as I took the envelopes and turned to leave. "I hope you come and stay with us again soon." I was already halfway to the door by the time he finished.
Grandfather had moved across the seat, so I could climb in from curbside. He coughed. He wasn't looking very well. "Are you all right?" I asked.
"It comes and goes." He smiled weakly. "I'll be better soon." The cab pulled away, making a u-turn across on-coming traffic. "When we get there, you go while I call the police." Grandfather said as the car approached the hotel. "Try to stall him."
"I can get my dispatcher to do it." The cabby said over his shoulder.
"Good idea." Grandfather said. "Don't do anything silly."
"I won't." I didn't want to be a hero. I climbed from the cab and walked up the steps to the hotel entrance.
"You took your time." Major Peterson's voice came from my side as I passed through the revolving doors. He stood with one hand around Jenny's arm and the other inside one of his trouser pockets.
"Are you all right?" I said to Jenny.
"She's fine." Peterson answered for her. "Now outside." I turned and walked through the revolving doors again. I hadn't been very good at stalling him. "Into the cab." He said. I opened the door.
"What?" Grandfather said.
"Hey Buddy." The cabby said. "What's going on?"
Major Peterson pushed Jenny into the cab and onto my lap; he then climbed in and pressed the barrel of his gun to the cabby's neck. "Drive, Buddy." Peterson said. The cab joined the flow of traffic. I heard police sirens in the distance. "You called the police?" Peterson asked watching the police cars pass in the direction we had just come. There was a voice on the cabby's radio.
"My dispatcher wants to know what's going on." The cabby said.
"Tell him you've got a fare. Don't be a hero." Peterson replied. We all listened as the cabby spoke into his handset. I just realised how nice Jenny smelled. I smiled at her and she kissed my forehead.
"I wanted to surprise you." She said.
"You did." I agreed.
"Shut up." Peterson said poking me in the ribs with his gun. "No talking anyone. Where's the plane?" He asked.
"Wang's pier." Grandfather answered.
Grandfather had been very quiet. I looked at him. His face looked grey and old; too old for all this. "I don't think my grandfather is very well." I said to Peterson receiving a second poke in the ribs for my trouble.
"I'll be all right, Paul." Grandfather said.
"You heard him." I thought he would poke me in the ribs again. "Now shut up. Go to Wang's pier." Peterson ordered the cabby.
There was more talking on the radio. "The dispatcher wants to know what's going on." The cabby said.
"Why?" Peterson asked. "What is going on?"
"I had the cabby get his dispatcher to call the police." My grandfather spoke, his voice little more than a whisper.
"Tell him it was a hoax. Just a mad old man." Peterson said. "Tell him he can call off the cops."
His dispatcher sounded short with him. We turned off the main road and entered what looked like an older part of the docks. Two old iron gates stood open and we drove through them. A number of people fished from an old wooden pier and I saw an old Chinese man standing outside a ramshackle office. Everywhere I looked appeared rusty. I saw the Catalina standing on its wheels on a grassed area behind the office.
"Stop here." Peterson said. "Now everybody be good while we walk to the plane." I saw the old Chinese man begin to walk towards us, but my grandfather waved him away with a backhand motion. I saw the Chinese man turn and hurry into his office.
We reached the airplane and my grandfather handed me the key. I opened the door and stood aside to help Jenny. Grandfather and the cabby climbed onboard. Grandfather climbed very slowly. Then, it was my turn. I tossed up the two envelopes and using the old half oil drum to stand, pulled myself into the plane. Major Peterson's head followed. Grandfather swung the bucket we had used as a toilet through the air. It clanged loudly as it struck Major Peterson's head. He staggered backwards off the oil drum. Without thinking, I leapt from the plane on top of him. He fell backwards and I landed on top of him. His body moved beneath me and I found myself flying through the air. I clambered to my feet as he reaching his. His hand with the gun remained in his pocket; I leapt at him and we fell again. I heard the airplane engines starting. The air was suddenly full of dust and sand. I struck him with my fists. He hit me.
His gun hand was almost free from his pocket, so I grabbed his wrist. We fought for what seemed like an age. I was tiring. He was forcing the gun towards me. I threw my weight first one way then the other. His hand banged on the ground and he released the gun. He pulled at me then pushed and I found myself rolling away from him. I got to my feet again. He already stood holding his weapon. I heard the noise from the planes engines increase as Grandfather swung the plane around and headed towards us. Peterson turned and fired twice at the cockpit. I saw my grandfather jerked backwards in his seat. Peterson stepped backwards away from the approaching airscrew. I leapt at his back pushing him forward. The force with which the airscrew struck him threw us both backwards. I scrambled to my feet from beneath his body. I looked down. My stomach churned as it had when I saw how the shotgun blast separated the Roger's son from his arm.
The plane still moved. I ran after it and scrambled onboard as it reached the slipway into the water. Jenny stood on the ladder between the pilot's seats. She looked over my grandfather. I climbed behind her feeling her ass cheeks against my prick and thighs as I reached over her and pulled the throttles idle, clicked off the switches, and turned off the key in the ignition. The plane swung from side to side as it settled into the water. I squeezed past Jenny, knelt on one knee on the second pilot's seat, and looked at my grandfather.
"Peterson?" He asked faintly.
"He's dead." I told him. Blood welled from a hole in his chest. I ripped off my shirt and tore it into strips. I formed a pad from one and pressed it against his chest. He looked down then up at me and smiled.
"You are so much like Alistair." He coughed. "So much." Jenny was crying. I heard police sirens and the cabby shouting to somebody. "Margaret wouldn't have let me go." Grandfather's voice was weakening. "Too old. Too old."
I felt a wave of emotion well inside of me at the mention of my grandmother's name. "Don't talk." I said. "They'll get an ambulance."
He coughed again. "Too late." He said, starring at his hand on the half circle wheel. "I'll take her down. Margaret will be waiting." He lifted his other hand to the control column then looked at me.
"So much like Alistair." He said and closed his eyes.
I turned in our bed in the hotel room and looked at Paul. He lay on his back looking at the ceiling. "What are you thinking about?" I asked.
"This and that." He replied. I lifted his arm and placed it about my shoulders then lay my head on his chest.
It was past midnight when we left the police station. They interviewed Paul for hours. As we had left, they told us the military authorities would interview us later. Paul didn't seem as shaken by the death of his grandfather as I'd been. I knew he was very sensitive and expected him to cry. Perhaps the pace of events after the police arrived had prevented him. When Carole heard what had happened, she came to the police station armed with a brace of lawyers.
Paul nuzzled my hair with his nose. I placed my hand on his prick. It was soft. I cupped his balls then ran my fingers up and down its length. I felt it twitch at my touch. "Do you think he died happy?" I asked, holding his prick and working his foreskin back and forth. "Your grandfather sitting at the controls of a plane?"
"I don't think he was happy to die." Paul replied squeezing my shoulder.
"No. I know. But if he had to die, was that how he would have wanted?"
"I suppose so."
He didn't seem interested. Something bothered him... a lot. On the bed, I straddled his hips and lay his slowly hardening prick along the lips of my fanny. I slid along its length. He turned his head to one side. "What's wrong?" I asked continuing to slide back and forth. "Tell me. Please."
He turned his face to mine. He looked angry. He looked at my fanny then guided me away from his prick with his hands upon my hips. "Put it inside." He said roughly. I reached between my legs, guided the tip of his prick into place between my fanny lips, and sank onto it. I lifted and fell twice before fully impaled. I remained motionless for a few seconds watching his face. I began to move up and down. "I wish I'd never come on this trip." He said suddenly.
Stopping my motion, I said, "You had to come." I assured him. "What would have happened if you hadn't? Your grandfather and Roddrego both might have been killed for all you know. You had to come."
"So many people died." I hadn't heard the full story, but Carole told me bits Howie told her: Roland's rescue from the interior ministry, the hotel shelling, sneaking through the darkened city streets, staying in an old school house, Paul stealing a lorry, the American soldiers, Paul stealing a plane, Howie being shot, Paul rescuing them, and more ending in Paul killing the deranged Major Peterson.
I looked down at him and squeezed my fanny tight about his prick. He smiled at me. I quickened my movements. He reached and held my breasts.
There was a lot more Carole hadn't told me. Louise came to the police station. There was something between her and Paul. The way they wouldn't look at each other while we sat in a waiting room. Then, there was Heather. Who was she? Louise avoided my questions saying she was Paul's friend. I might have understood it if Carole said Howie. I don't know a Heather and fairly certain Paul doesn't either. A woman named Bill was mentioned. There was so much to find out without letting on about Ron.
I closed my eyes. There was a lot to discover, but not now. Now was for Paul. Looking at me and smiling, there was a swelling beneath one eye and a lump on his lip. Scratches and bruises covered his chest and back. But he was smiling.
"You don't like Rubies? Do you?" He asked as his hips began to move beneath me.
"Diamonds are a girl's best friends." I answered, panting.
"They're red. Rubies. Blood red." He said. He moved his hands to my hips and held me still as his cum pumped inside me.
"I hope I never see another."
Paul and Jenny will return.
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