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4. Soon Kelly, SoonI stand by my car under the bright winter stars, smoking a spliff. It is not the same cigarette I put out on Ronson’s arse but a new one, rolled by the man who stands beside his motorbike near Ronson’s trailer.“Soon, Kelly, soon,” the man says.Ronson is inside, probably asleep. Before that, he asked what relationship I had with Dave and why I would do something like this for him. I explained that I happened to be passing, that what has emerged from this evening is the idea of a ‘Love Exchange’, and that I am being traded on it. Ronson then asked if I would like to be traded again, and I said yes.Cue the forwarding of my photo to a man Ronson owes drug money to, who showed up ten minutes later on a Harley that throbbed in the night like a lazy beast roused from dreams of slaughter.This individual is called Mutant John, a large, grizzled leather and denim-clad Hell’s Angel with long grey hair, a beard, and a slab-like upper body that ought to have gone to fat by now – he is at least sixty – but for some reason hasn’t. He sounds like Lemmy from Motörhead: weirdly classless yet cool and authoritarian. His eyes are blue, his face impassive.As Ronson stood nearby in his jeans, his face excited and aghast, Mutant John told me he was going to stalk me through the woods and then fuck me. I said that was fine.It was agreed that to cover the evidence of his dreadful ‘crime,’ he will wear a condom and that because I am a slut who has already been fucked tonight, I will be pre-lubed. I will also be high – a corporate princess who has strayed from the path in search of extreme pleasure, who falls into the wrong hands.As we went through the same contractual texting process as before, Ronson’s eyes shone with unshed tears.“My poor Mistress,” he said.But he did nothing to stop what was about to happen. Instead, Mutant John handed me the large and probably overwhelming spliff with a red Bic lighter. I picked up my handbag, strutted outside to my car, and lit the spliff.It was as strong as I expected, and I didn’t take too much down. Instead, I plucked a bottle of poppers from my handbag and inhaled from that. The combination of drugs sped up my heart and made me very eager.Mutant John came out of the trailer, Bostancı Escort and the light inside went off. Mutant John crossed to his monster bike, where he sparked up his own spliff as I tucked the poppers through my blouse into my bra.“Soon, Kelly, soon,” he says again.“I beg your pardon?” I say, in full entitled white woman mode, as if I am about to complain to a manager.Mutant John says nothing. He has a heavy brow, and his pale blue eyes glint beneath it.The dope kicks off a spurt of paranoia. What the fuck am I doing? That guy is huge. I suspect I can outrun him, but I won’t be able to outfight him. He will overwhelm me just by lying on me.The poppers join in now – because him lying on me is what I want. I loved dominating Ronson, but I expected to be fucked and now I’m going to be.Mutant John takes a step closer. His hands are by his sides, and the ember of his spliff glows near the left one like a loyal firefly.I frown.“How do you know my name, anyway?”“I’ve been watching you.”Again, my paranoia flares. Has he been watching me? Would I even have known? Perhaps Mutant John set this whole thing up! No, wait, it wasn’t Mutant John – it was someone much worse.It was me. I look at my spliff again. It has gone out, so I click the red Bic a few times and get it going. I shouldn’t smoke too much of this, I tell myself, and then I do – a great big lungful that seems to reveal hidden structures in the night around us, as if instead of marijuana, the stuff is made of those particles that pass through matter to give it physical form. I take my time exhaling and sometimes take little breaths to mix the drug with oxygen.I feel gloriously adrift, and then I remember what Mutant John just said.“How dare you watch me! I shall report you to the police.”“The police won’t get here in time.”I stare at him as if I don’t know what he’s on about. I can be a very good actress.“In time for what?”For a while, he says nothing. Then… Is that the ghost of a smile?“Soon, Kelly, soon.”I lick my finger, put the spliff out and tuck it into my blouse pocket with the Bic. Then I take another hit of poppers, and as chemical heat rushes through me, I feel myself open completely to the night. Bostancı Escort Bayan I gasp and pant in the chill December air as I feel the stars watch me and wonder where the moon is.Mutant John is suddenly by my side. I can smell him – leather, smoke, and the meaty scent of a big man’s body.“Why do you keep saying that?” I say, tucking the poppers back in my blouse.“You’d better start running, pretty girl.”“Why?”“Because I am going to take your clothes off, one by one, and then I am going to fuck you.”“N-no!”My handbag slides off my shoulder and is suddenly in his hand. Outraged, I stand up straight with my breasts out – and he grips my shoulders, spins me around and snatches off my jacket. I back away from him. My jacket and bag hang in his huge hands like tiny baubles. Everything of mine feels like it’s his, from my car to my body.He holds my jacket to his face and inhales. When he looks up, he is smiling.“Soon, Kelly, soon.”I back away slowly, as if keeping quiet will hide me from him even as he watches me go. He turns away suddenly, carrying my things back to his bike. It’s got panniers and he folds my jacket, slides it in and puts the bag in after it. Clicking the pannier shut, he swings his long legs over the saddle and the bike roars to life as its headlamp floods everything with dazzling white light. The thing seems to leap at me, and I turn and run into the woods.Blinking to get the glare out of my eyes, I blunder through the wood with zero grace. It would be hard enough in trainers, let alone these boots. There is no path I can make out, and branches slap at my face. I hold out my hands to push them away as the bike snarls up behind me. Soon I can see my own shadow. Will he run me over?Is that what he really wants?I have no control over this situation now. Whatever we have agreed could just as easily be un-agreed according to his whim. Or, I suppose, mine, but he is the one on a monster machine that sees no barrier in everything currently smacking me in the face and legs as I stumble on.Scared now, I realise this is the thrill – that I am too often in control, in environments I don’t like to stray from. Yet, what is the point of that? Better to be Escort Bostancı here, stalked through the woods like Red Riding Hood, my blood ablaze with fear and wonder, my mind lit up with drugs, and my body eager for extreme gratification.The bike cuts left, and I veer away from it through the trees onto a path. The bike follows, chugging behind me as I run. I should get back among the trees – I am making it too easy for him, but perhaps that is what I want. The bike revs, the light swings – and then there is only darkness and silence.I don’t look back and keep running as best I can – an odd trotting motion that enables balance on these heels. Such motion would be hard enough on a flat surface and sober, and I am fully aware that only luck has prevented me from twisting my ankle.The path curves around. I follow it deeper into the wood, and soon all sounds of pursuit cease. Has he given up? Disappointment is a thud in my chest.I stop and peer around.In the soft luminescence of starlight, the indifferent trees surround me and cold wind whispers among them. The dense silence of the English countryside is a blanket of solitude. The only thing I can hear is my panting breath and thudding heart and the rustle of the wood as it goes about its ancient, mysterious business.I start to walk again, placing my feet carefully down. Time does that peculiar thing it gets up to in the strange hours of the night, passing in odd, twisty ways that confuse and beguile. I should not smoke anymore, in case it gives my location away, or gets me so high I fall over, but I spark up the spliff again nonetheless. It charges around my racing system, making everything seem giddy with possibility.“Soon, Kelly, soon.”I scream in terrified shock, so hard and pure that I drop the spliff and run again. I can’t see Mutant John, but his voice sounded close. Can he become invisible? Is the fucker a werewolf?Ridiculously, the path simply ends. Should I go back or risk making my way through the trees –?I am seized so hard and tight that the pressure is total, and it doesn’t even occur to me to struggle. Large hands probe the front of my skirt, and then suddenly, I’m not wearing it anymore, the wind cool against my stockinged thighs. I’m pushed to my knees as legs longer and more powerful than mine grip them together so I cannot move. A huge male weight presses down as those same monster paws undo my blouse buttons with unnerving delicacy.Then I’m alone again, kneeling on the soft, damp leaves amid the smell of wet soil in nothing but my underwear.

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