Chapter 10
I know what you’re thinking. I can hear your judgement from here.
But listen … I don’t care. I was having a crap evening, and Errol was hot.
And unlike the last time I got any action, I had no close connection to him.
In a fortnight, Suzy would probably win the election, and Errol would be off to do whatever dark political arts he did somewhere else.
I’d never have to see him again.
Did I mention he was hot?
He took me up to the second floor, where his room was located. “This is their deluxe suite,” he said.
“Suite?”
“I think they’re including a bathroom to make it a suite. I don’t know, it’s the countryside. I’m glad there’s electricity.”
He opened the door to a small but pleasant room. A floral bedspread drew in the eye – away from the pine furniture and beige carpet. It was, also, swelteringly hot. Just walking inside made me break out in a sweat.
“Functional,” I offered, wiping my brow.
“I’m hardly ever here. Suzy has her first campaign event in” – he checked his watch – “Christ, nine hours. You don’t mind if I sneak out early?” he asked.
“You’re letting me stay the night?”
He sat on the bed and opened his arms wide. “I’m a gent, bruv.”
I walked up to him and stepped in between his open legs. “Hopefully not that much of one.”
He grinned and pulled me down on the bed. His kisses were sweet and tasted of beer. His body was like iron underneath me. “Jesus, how much do you work out?” I asked as I made my way down his stomach with my mouth, slowly undoing buttons.
“I … uh, I’m incredibly vain and self-involved.”
I looked up at his face. “You work in politics. You didn’t need to tell me this.”
He gave me a shove. “Get back to it, writer-boy.”
I grinned and began to undo his belt. His trousers came off and out sprung all of Errol’s equipment.
“Bloody hell,” I yelped as I leaned back so as not to lose an eye. “You weren’t joking.”
“Were you?” he said, palming his enormous dick and giving it a terrifying thwack against his hand.
I shrugged. “I’m happy with what genetics gave me.”
He grinned and gave his head a flick to tell me to keep removing clothes.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be home with my dog, listening to all those messages from Verity and Ollie. I should not be doing this. Should not be. Should—ooh, he was good at that.
I rolled over, and Errol took off the rest of my clothes. After some perfunctory foreplay, we got down to the main event.
“Would you be keen to …” He flicked his eyes up.
It took me a second to click. Oh. “Sure thing.”
He grinned and grabbed a condom from the side and passed it to me. Then lay on the bed and waited for me with an eager expression.
I rubbed up against him, and apparently, I was making more noise than I realised. “I’ll put some music on,” he said, easing out from under me to grab his phone and turn on a playlist.
“Sorry, people tell me I’m loud. I always forget,” I said. He returned to his original spot.
“Just try not to wake half the county—”
“What about you, are you loud? Especially when …”
“When what?”
“When I do this—”
He gave a deep guttural yell and arched his back so hard I thought he was gonna bend in half. I grinned and pushed in deeper.
“Good?” I asked.
“So, so good,” he mumbled in a language I think was English.
I gripped the headboard above me and, for several minutes, went to town. I took the grin on his face as proof that I was doing a half-decent job.
When I let my mind drift, all those emotions of the past week came back to me.
So instead, I drove my hips down to get closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around my chest. I used the headboard to leverage myself up for some traction.
We both dripped with sweat in the hot little room; the bedspread underneath Errol was going to be soaked, but right then, it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was keeping my pelvis bucking in the perfect rhythm so that the expression of absolute pleasure stayed on Errol’s face.
Too soon, that rhythm faltered, and I let out a gasp. Errol had seconds to finish before I did. He managed to achieve his goal as I let out a long shuddering sigh and rammed it home one last time.
I fell forward and rested my head on my arm atop the headboard above him. Panting for dear life.
He ran his fingers down my damp body and laughed.
“Good?” he asked.
“Bloody excellent.”
“Pretty sure all of Dorset heard.”
“Lucky them,” I said sincerely. “That was a ten-out-of-ten effort.”
“You weren’t bad either,” he said as I dislodged myself. He stood up and went to the fridge in the minute kitchenette.
“Drink?” he asked.
“Only if it’s alcoholic.”
He passed me a beer. “Luckily, this campaign drove me to the booze weeks ago.” He took a swig. “Do you wanna grab a shower?”
“If I’m allowed.” I jumped off the bed and swigged my beer.
“Take it in with you, I’m not gonna judge.”
I shrugged and did that. Drinking beer in the shower always makes one feel rebellious, but tonight it felt extra so. Ten minutes later and a lot of sweat lighter, I exited the bathroom, fully nude. Owning the point of a one-night stand was making me feel liberated.
Errol looked up from where he lay on the bed, reading Twitter, and grinned. He was in the nude, too. But more importantly, there was a breeze. “Where did you get a fan from?” I asked while air-drying a few certain body parts in front of it.
“Last week, when I realised this weather wasn’t going anywhere. It’s the only way to sleep in this furnace.” He departed into the bathroom, giving my bum a squeeze on the way.
I finished my beer and resisted the urge to check my phone.
Errol finished up in the shower and switched off the light. “Shall I wake you in the morning for a quickie before I leave?”
“If I’m not too sore to move, sure,” I said.
He reached over and gave me a kiss, and then the light went out.
Obviously, I didn’t sleep. Long after Errol’s breathing turned to a regular chorus of soft snores, I stared at the ceiling, wondering what life would bring in the morning.
The night began to give way to light, and Errol stirred. His eyes opened, and I grinned. He was instantly on me, and a perfectly credible blowjob later, he was in the shower while I lay dozing.
He sauntered out and started to dress. “You’re welcome to stay until a more sociable hour,” he said. “I’m aware leaving first thing in the morning is a bit unbecoming, but I’ve got to be in Compney Parva for 7 a.m. and I need coffee by the bucketload.”
“No worries, I promise to stay an appropriate amount of time and not be here when you get back.”
He grinned and gave me a quick kiss. “This was fun.” He left, and I slumped back down. My eyes had just closed when my heart gave a thump.
Kenny.
He’d been on his own for ten hours. He’d have torn the house to shreds. I hadn’t taken him out for his night-time pre-bed wee in the garden. Oh, no, he must have been so confused.
I was up and dressed and closing the door to Errol’s room in thirty seconds.
There was cash in my wallet. The taxi firm by the station was slow, but I knew it was officially twenty-four hours. Hopefully, there would be someone who could get me to Lilbury before lunchtime. Maybe I could call Nigella if they took ages?
It wasn’t even 6 a.m., yet already there was blazing sunshine, and the heat was building. It was going to be another scorcher. “How is this England?” I asked, looking up at the unspoilt shade of Morning Blue sky.
Sittingston was deserted. I walked for several minutes before I saw another person. A teenager tottering down the street in the opposite direction to me, swigging from a bottle of cider, his own vomit on his shirt. We nodded as we passed.
Having lived in the area for a few months now, I knew the shortcut across to the station parade where the taxi office was located.
You had to hang a right at an intersection and then cut through the car park at the back of the High Street, which went through to a green space, and then up the hill to the station.
I turned right after a small café, meandered past a travel agency, and entered the car park.
It was a large, unkempt space of empty concrete with shabby back doors to shops and the entrances of flats above.
There were derelict-looking garages on the other side.
Weeds grew out of the cracks in the slabs of concrete.
It was bereft of life. Except for one car parked exactly in the middle. It was a late model SUV in black. A more generic car you couldn’t think of. The engine was running. But it wasn’t moving. And why was it parked in the middle? Parking along the edge would be more practical.
My gut instinct was to cling to the edge of the space and walk as close as I could to the walls of the shops.
But a voice was telling me that there was something wrong. Something very wrong. I had to check.
I made my way forward. Every step akin to walking through molasses. If I turned back now, it wouldn’t happen again. If I walked in the opposite direction I’d be okay.
Reaching the driver’s side of the car, I could see the window was wound down. Adrenaline coursing, sweat poured from me and my guts churned. Light-headed from an empty stomach, beer, and no sleep. It was all catching up on me.
I looked in the car window.
His body was slumped sideways, leaning over the gearstick. Hair flopped over his face, a line of blood from the bullet hole in the side of his head. All his black hair steeped in red.
Riz was very, very dead.