Depravicus (21 page)

"Father Kosher
had been up to my room?" she frowned, biting her glossed lip. "I
don't know what's going on," she sighed as he placed a cup of
coffee on the table. "Someone's taken some photos from my drawer,
and a cassette tape." She stared at Will accusingly. "You tried to
steal my tape in the lane, didn't you?"

"I like
music," he smiled. "I only wanted to borrow it."

"Borrow it?
You tried to snatch it. If that copper hadn't come along and...
What else did Father Kosher say?"

"He was saying
that this girl, whoever she is, sucks the Bishop's cock off in the
woods. Apparently he has photographs of the girl kneeling on the
ground with the Bishop's knob in her mouth and spunk running down
her chin. I'll find out who she is later this morning."

"I... I'd
better go," she said, rising to her feet.

"What about
your coffee?"

"No, I... I'd
better be going. I have to see someone."

As she left, Will grinned and rubbed his hands together. That
had put the fear of God up her arse, he mused. Wondering why he'd
not seen Levan for some time, he pondered the note she'd left
him.
Gone to spread some
disinformation
. Unless he knew what she was
telling people, he couldn't play along with the trouble-making
lies. Perhaps she'd joined forces with Esra again, he thought,
realising they were another two girls who'd suddenly appeared in
the village. He again wondered whether Josie had set him up. But
she wouldn't be able to round up half a dozen girls to test his
fidelity, would she? Knowing Josie's past, her time as a tabloid
journalist...

"I'm going out
for a while," Lolita said, popping her head round the kitchen
door.

"Yes, all
right," Will murmured distractedly.

"Do you want
anything from the village?"

"No, no. I'll
see you later."

She was a
strange one, Will thought as the front door closed. The more he
thought about the onslaught of teenage pussy arriving in the
village, the more suspicious he became. He'd been surprised that
the Reverend Mother had made a come back after her arrest six
months previously. And now a gaggle of girls had descended on the
village. Had this anything to do with Josie? Recalling Josie saying
something about a girl lurking in the lane, he decided that the
time had come to find out exactly what was going on. But first he
had to check on the stock in the bar. He knew the beer would be
running low, and there was nothing worse than a pub with no
beer.

"God," he
breathed, looking around the pristine room. Clean glasses arranged
neatly on the shelving behind the bar, the ashtrays gleaming, he
gazed at two ice buckets placed either end of the bar. Lana must
have taken it upon herself to organize the place, he thought,
wondering where she'd obtained the half dozen stools lined up along
the bar. If Lana was a spy, then why was she doing such a good job
with the bar? He noticed a crate of vodka on the floor. "Where the
fuck did she get that?" Returning to the kitchen he grabbed the
phone and called Jack at the pub. There was nowhere else the girl
could have obtained booze, and he hoped she wasn't running up a
huge bill.

"No one's been
here for crates of fucking vodka," Jack replied to Will's question.
"Why do you fucking ask?"

"I just
wondered," Will said. "Have any of your ashtrays gone missing?"

"No, they
fucking haven't. What's this all about?"

"It's OK. I
might pop in for a pint later."

"You'll be the
only fucking one in here," he sighed. "It's been dead the last
fucking day or so. I can't fucking think where the bloody punters
have got to."

"Er... Neither
can I," Will murmured guiltily. "I might see you later." There
again, perhaps not.

Replacing the
receiver, Will rubbed his chin. Bar stools, vodka... Lana was up to
something, but what? Making himself toast and marmalade for
breakfast, he wondered what the girl had done with the bar takings.
He doubted she'd run off with the cash. She'd hardly bother to
organize the bar and then do a runner. Walking into the garden as
he munched his toast, he eyed the bushes, wondering who'd been
lurking there. Fucking spies, he thought angrily. But did it really
matter? Whoever it was had obviously enjoyed a free live sex show.
Free? A free sex show? Ambling across the lawn, a wicked idea
coming to mind, he opened the shed door. Setting to work chucking
out the garden tools and other useless junk, he began to transform
it into the Devil's Den of Iniquity.

"What are you
up to?" Lana asked as she wandered around the side of the house a
couple of hours later.

"Oh, hi," Will
smiled. "You're just in time to see my new... Where are the bar
takings?" he asked her accusingly. "And where did the vodka
and..."

"I bought the
vodka with the takings. The rest of the money is wrapped up in a
towel beneath the bar."

"Ah, right,"
he murmured. "You've done well, Lana. I'm most impressed."

"Thank you.
I'd better get ready for opening time. I was hoping to get here
earlier, but I was held up. God, look at the time," she sighed,
checking her watch. "The fruit machine will be here at any
minute."

"Fruit
machine?" he echoed, his dark eyes staring at her.

"Sorry, didn't
you want a..."

"Yes, of
course. It's an excellent idea."

"I thought
you'd make some money by having a fruit machine in the bar. A
friend of mine works for a... Let's just say that the machine is
only fifty pounds. You'll get that back within a few hours of
switching it on."

"I have to say
that you're doing a brilliant job, Lana. I can't thank you
enough."

"That's OK, I
enjoy it. Oh, there's a till arriving this afternoon. I can't use a
biscuit tin as a till any more. Apart from security reasons, it
doesn't look professional. I'll leave you to get on with whatever
it is you're doing to the shed."

As she
wandered through the back door into the kitchen, Will shook his
head. She was a godsend, he reflected. But, however efficient and
profitable the bar was, Josie would still blow her top when she got
home. Josie was the only real problem, he thought, entering the
shed. PC Bridlington had nothing on him, the Reverend Mother and
the Bishop weren't worth worrying about... But Josie was a real
problem. Looking around the shed at the mattress, the vibrators and
handcuffs, Will wondered what Josie would say about the den of
iniquity, let alone the bar. She treasured her sex toys, and now
they were available for use by the punters.

"The phone's
ringing," Lana called from the backdoor.

"Coming," Will
replied, wishing he was coming as he left the shed. Grabbing the
phone in the kitchen, he cringed as he heard Josie's voice. "Where
are you?" he asked.

"In Moscow,
where do you think?" she laughed.

At least she
sounded happy. "I thought you were coming home."

"No. I've been
thinking, Will."

"Really?"

"This meeting
you had about the grass verges. I admire that. You've done a lot
for the village, and I admire you for that."

"Oh, thanks."
What was she up to?

"Why not turn
the dining room into a sort of permanent meeting place?"

"Er... Yes,
good idea." He could smell a rat. "That's an excellent idea."

"To be honest,
we don't use the room. You might as well turn it into... Oh, I
don't know. Perhaps arrange some seating and a few small
tables..."

"Actually, I
have one or two ideas on that front," Will broke in rather too
eagerly. "I'll get onto it right away."

"Be careful
with my furniture. Oh, that reminds me. Did the French polisher do
a good job?"

"He... he
didn't turn up."

"Oh, that's
odd. I'll contact him when I get back. Right, I'd better be going.
I'll ring you this evening."

"OK. Er...
Until this evening."

"Bye, Will.
Love you."

"Yes, I love
you too."

That was a
turn up for the books, he reflected, unable to believe Josie's
change of attitude. She'd virtually given him carte blanche to do
what the hell he liked in her shrine-like dining room. Well, not
quite. Wandering into the bar, he gazed at Lana, scrutinizing her
very short, red skirt, her partially-opened white blouse. Recalling
the double fisting she'd enjoyed, he felt that the time had come to
subject the nymph to another bout of anal and vaginal abuse. She
really did know how to enjoy her body, he thought, wondering
whether he could get both fists up her tight arse. She was a
godsend in more ways than one. Suggesting that she rip her clothes
off and bend over the bar, he lifted his cassock and exposed his
rampant erection to the girl.

"No, not now,"
she sighed. "I have work to do."

"Just a quick
anal fisting and a..."

"No, Will,"
she returned firmly. "The fruit machine will be here soon. I can't
have your fist up my bottom when it arrives. By the way, I've
ordered a couple of barrels of lager and three bitters."

"Where
from?"

"The
wholesaler I used when I worked in a pub last year. Oh, and I've
ordered a cylinder of gas. We need some..."

"Some girls?"
Will broke in.

"Girls?" she
echoed.

"Prostitutes.
For my little business venture in the shed."

"You are
awful," she giggled.

"So, do you
know any prossies?"

"Certainly
not."

"That's a
shame. OK, I'll just have to advertise in the parish mag."

"You can't do
that."

"You just watch me.
Wanted. Girls for
sessions of sex. Apply in writing to
..."

"Ah, that'll
be the fruit machine," Lana broke as the front doorbell rang. "You
get back to your shed of sin and I'll deal with it."

Back in the
shed Will couldn't believe how well things were going. Lana was an
amazing girl, and an amazing fuck. Josie was happy, the bar was
running smoothly... Noticing the bushes moving as he happened to
glance out of the small window in the back wall of the shed, he
made out that he was busy with something as he watched out of the
corner of his eye. Again, the bushes moved, a branch moving aside
as someone peered at the shed. Not sure what to do, he left the
shed and stood in the middle of the lawn. Ambling down the garden,
he stopped by the bushes, making out that he was looking at the
flower beds.

Whoever was
hiding in the bush daren't move, Will knew as he sat on the grass
and made out that he was relaxing beneath the summer sun. Sure that
the voyeur was female as he caught a whiff of perfume in the air,
he wondered where Lolita had got to. Lana was in the house, Lolita
had said that she was going into the village. Lolita wouldn't hide
in the bushes. That left Esra, Levan, Marianne... Disinformation,
he mused, deciding to mumble to himself for the benefit of the
spy.

"What to do
with the body?" he sighed. "Bury it in the garden, I suppose." The
bushes rustling, he concealed a grin. "I'll have to leave it in the
shed until it gets dark." Climbing to his feet, he wandered back to
the house and went into the kitchen. The voyeur was bound to take a
look in the shed, he knew as he spied through the kitchen window.
He was right. A teenage girl he'd never seen before emerged from
the bushes and look about her. Clutching a handbag, she crept
across the lawn and slipped into the shed. Leaving the house, Will
stole across the lawn and closed the shed door. Clicking the
padlock, he rubbed his hands together and returned to the kitchen
for a well-earned can of lager.

He'd deal with
the intruder later, he decided, swigging from the can. There was no
rush. Besides, the girl had a mattress to sleep on, and vibrators
and sex toys to play with should she become bored. But who the hell
was she? She was tall with short black hair, dressed in a miniskirt
and tight T-shirt clinging to her lovely breasts. He'd have
remembered if he'd seen a raving beauty like her around the
village. Cumsdale was attracting more girls than a netball match
attracted men hoping for a glimpse of navy-blue knickers. But
why?

Finishing his
lager as Lana opened the front door to the fruit machine men, Will
was impatient to discover the identity of his prisoner in the shed.
Leaving the kitchen he walked across the lawn and hovered outside
the shed door. He could hear the girl moving about, mumbling
something to herself as she tried in vain to open the door. Finally
releasing the padlock, Will burst in to find the girl cowering on
the mattress in the corner.

"And who might
you be?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"I was looking
for number twenty-three and..."

"Shed number
twenty-three?"

"No, no."

"OK, I want
the truth," Will hissed. "You've been lurking in the bushes, spying
on me."

"No, I..."

"Unless you
want me to rip your knickers off and shove them up your wet pussy,
you'll tell me who you are and what you're up to."

"I can't tell
you. Please, you must let me go."

"I'll start by
ripping your T-shirt off and forcing it up your rectum."

"All right,
all right," she sighed. "But you must promise not to tell
Josie."

"Josie?" he
gasped. "You know Josie?"

"She's...
she's my sister."

"I didn't know
she had a sister."

"She has
now."

"So what are
you doing? I mean, why hide in the bushes instead of coming into
the house and introducing yourself?"

"I'm checking
up on you. Josie asked me to keep an eye on you and tell her if you
screw around. From what I've seen..."

"You'll say
nothing," Will interrupted the girl. "In fact, you will say
something. You'll tell her that I've been a model..."