Witch: Hell of a Farmer's Daughter

By G.S. Bailey

Lester edged back some more until he was in a corner with nowhere to go. The girl crawled toward him, still smiling. Her chequered shirt had a few buttons undone. Her bra was all lace, and he could see her nipples through it. She had a silver pendant: the words FARMER’S DAUGHTER on a thin chain. Her legs were long and slender. There were pockets sticking out the bottom of her frayed jean shorts.
“Aw, what happened to you?” she cooed, edging close and stroking his face. “Does it hurt?”
Lester nodded. Her scent was a light perfume. Her fingers were soft, and her lips were full and plump. She raked her bottom lip with big, white teeth, a faint grin flickering there beneath the look of concern.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G.S. Bailey
• Release date: Jun 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310034169

G.S. Bailey

Aussie author of cold case crime, romance, erotica and light horror.

Book preview

Witch

Hell of a Farmer’s Daughter

G.S. Bailey

Edited by S.D. Chambers

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real life persons or situations is coincidental and unintended by the author. The places described in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Copyright © 2014 G.S. Bailey

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, without the written consent of the copyright holder.

1

Rosalinda dragged her fingers down her face as she peered closely into the mirror. She pulled the loose skin taut, stretching the wrinkles and remembering how she looked when she was younger. Age was a constant battle. It had crept up on her lately. She looked all of her eighty years old. Her hair was thin and silver. Her cheeks, and even her ears, were droopy. She smiled and noticed how her teeth were somewhere between brown and grey. When had that happened? There was a whiskery mole on her chin that had been there for some time. She shook her head. Pfft, silly old hag.

Rosalinda looked closer at her reflection, at her one redeeming feature -- her beautiful blue eyes that never aged. She had been looking into those same depths of wisdom for over two hundred years now. She had seen off countless presidents, kings, queens and tsars whilst watching the world evolve, from horse and cart to exploring the globe on Google Earth.

She put on her spectacles and lifted her nose to see through them. The YouTube clip she had found earlier was still there, paused on screen. She placed her frail, shaky hand on the mouse and clicked play, giggling to herself as the film rolled with a young reporter trying to poke his tape recorder into the face of some famous movie star, whose name escaped Rosalinda at that moment. The guy was pushed aside and trampled by the other dozen reporters trying to get sound bites for the vision of their news reports. The camera turned upon the hapless fellow under everyone’s feet, and he became the focus of the news clip—his glasses askew on his face, his shirt smeared with mud from the gutter he was lying in. A female reporter trod on his stomach with her pointy heel, and he let out a wail that had the whole group laughing at him.

Rosalinda paused the clip again, and she wrote down the young reporter’s name on her notepad by