Seph

By Robert William Saul Harvey

SEPH

When twenty-three-year-old Siobhan decides she wants something better in life, she sets out to find a suitable Sugar Daddy, one who would be able to keep her in the style to which she wanted to become accustomed.

Forty-two-year-old Company Finance Manager, Wilson Wilson, is always on the lookout for an easy lay. Their eyes meet across a crowded room and, to Wilson’s surprise, he feels a twinge of conscience. He is reluctant to try it on with one so young until, that is, Siobhan takes the initiative and takes her first step on what she sees as the road to riches and an idle life-style.

However,
Siobhan’s brother has other ideas. Wilson doesn’t much care for the man, or his ideas, and decides it’s time to take matters into his own hands.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert William Saul Harvey
• Release date: May 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311699695

Robert William Saul Harvey

Robert was born in 1949 in the small Scottish hamlet of Douglas West, Douglas in Lanarkshire, but moved to England when his father, a miner, had to move south for a job.Having left school at the age of fifteen, without any qualifications whatsoever, he started work in a small engineering firm. He soon got fed up coming home covered in dirty grease and having a spotty face so, after six months, decided that engineering was not for him. With nothing to lose, he ran away to sea, so to speak. He joined the Merchant Navy and happily spent three and a half years travelling the world and getting paid for it!Meeting his future wife at the age of nineteen convinced Robert to leave the sea and settle down. There were not many jobs around for a nineteen-year-old and he ended up doing bar/cellar work until deciding to get married at the age of twenty. That was when he joined the Royal Air Force, in which he spent nine years as a Clerk Secretarial, attaining the rank of Corporal before leaving in 1979.After applying for various jobs, Robert finally got one with the National Coal Board in a colliery Stores Department. Ok, this would do him for a while, whilst he looked around for something better. Thirty years later, as a Supply and Contracts Manager, he retired from the Coal Industry at the age of fifty-nine and now has an allotment where he plays at growing vegetables (very nice they are too), and spends his spare time dabbling on his laptop; bliss.Now, with seven books on Smashwords, an eighth under construction, and number nine in the pipeline, who knows where it will stop?Second in the series, Beryl's Pup is now also available.

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Seph

(A girl on a mission)

Robert William Saul Harvey

Published by Robert Harvey @ Smashwords

Copyright © 2015 Robert Harvey

All Rights Reserved.

The moral rights of Robert Harvey to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and a product of the Author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

SEPH

When twenty-three-year-old Siobhan decides she wants something better in life, she sets out to find a suitable lover, one who could keep her in the style to which she wanted to become accustomed.

Forty-two-year-old Company Finance Manager, Wilson Wilson, is always on the lookout for an easy lay. Their eyes meet across a crowded room and, to Wilson’s surprise, he feels a twinge of conscience. He is reluctant to try it on with one so young until, Siobhan takes the initiative and takes her first step on what she sees as the road to riches and an idle life-style.

However,

Siobhan’s brother has other ideas. Wilson doesn’t much care for the man, or his ideas, and decides it’s time to take matters into his own hands.

Prologue

A cold, mid-November night, overcast and threatening rain.

A dark, almost deserted car park belonging to a dull, featureless supermarket, closed for the night.

To one side of the building, a narrow exit road with no gate to stop anyone from entering.

Along one side of the car park, a derelict warehouse, dark and foreboding, in being demolished, silent now because work had ceased for the night.

A large crane with an enormous wrecking ball hovered silent and unmoving over a pile of bricks, wood, and other debris, like some long-necked dinosaur waiting to pounce on an unwary prey.

Four dumper trucks, all sitting idle, nearby—spectators awaiting the rising of the sun in the expectation of further action.

On the opposite side of the car park, a building site with numerous half-built dwellings, little more than brick boxes at this stage, surrounded by scaffolding, ditches, and hillocks of excavated earth.

Along the fourth side, between the warehouse and the building site, a tall, dense hedgerow which acted as a barrier between the car park and a now silent divided, or dual, carriageway along which hundreds of angry commuters would race their yet unpaid for vehicles in the morning rush-hour as they battled for position before the road narrowed at the next roundabout.

In one corner of the car park, next to the meeting of hedgerow and building site, the shadowy outline of a small hatchback, without lights, the inside of its windows covered in condensation.

Nothing moved, except the car, as it gently rocked from side to side…

* * * *

It made for a bloody uncomfortable position, hunched over the way he was, kneeling on the back seat of the car with his trousers and boxer shorts around his ankles.

The woman kneeling in front of him, with her pantyhose around her knees and her skirt hitched up above her buttocks, moaned about having her face squashed up against the ice-cold window and urged him to get a move on.

He told her to shut up as he clumsily continued his business from behind, doggie style.

His breath condensed in small clouds as he puffed in time with each hurried thrust.

Because he had only driven a short distance, taken less than five minutes to reach this car park, the weak heater had never warmed the interior of the vehicle.

This did nothing to ease the seething anger he felt at being denied a quickie in the warmth of the toilets in the Dog and Duck public house.

Gents or ladies, he would not have minded which—either would have been better than this.

But, no!

The silly cow said she did not want anyone to catch them at it.

Not that it would have mattered—everyone knew she was a whore and she would let anyone have their way with her for twenty pounds, even him!

The woman groaned and tried to readjust her position, pushing back slightly, to ease the pressure on her face.

She eventually made a slight gap, of a couple of millimeters, between her face and the ice-cold window.

Still painful, the way her neck cramped to one side, but she could not straighten it because the man had her firmly wedged into the corner; her left foot on the floor, her right knee on the upholstered seat.

The way her right hip was pushed firmly against the backrest, she could not move her hips to ease the strain on her spine.

He pressed down hard on her buttocks with firm hands.

Ah. Shit, he growled when she tried to bump him backwards, Keep still you daft cow.

He made an extra hard thrust, which shoved her back to her original position and crushed her face against the freezing cold glass.

Now. Stay there!

The car rocked in time with his frantic movements, its suspension squeaking noisily.

The woman groaned again and wished he would get it done with. Then she could get back to the warmth of the pub and use his twenty pounds to purchase a small wrap from the spotty-faced pusher sitting by the one-armed bandit and a large, treble gin and tonic.

Then she would stagger back to her cold, stark bed-sit to get as high as a…

Shit! It’s like throwing a sausage up the Mersey tunnel, whinged the man between puffs. You’re like the bloody TARDIS, bigger on the inside than on the outside.

Bollocks. Hurry, for shit’s sake, gasped the woman in a gravelly, smoke-hardened voice. My back’s bloody killing me. So’s my neck!

Shut up, he snapped between breaths, If you were tighter, I might’ve been able to come by now.

The woman winced when he made another violent thrust, again pushing her face almost flat against the wet window, even more so than it had been.

She growled through gritted teeth.

As if to teach the woman a lesson, the man moved both of his hands from their place on her buttocks, slid them up onto the back of her neck, and pushed down.

Increasing his efforts, he needed to get something out of this. If he could not reach orgasm, she would not get her paws on his cash.

‘All this huffing and puffing for three seconds of…’

The woman clawed wildly at the window and the roof of the car, seeking a means of purchase and feebly croaked, I can’t… bloody… breathe!

He ignored her protests.

She tried to push herself backwards, if only to get her face away from the window.

The man, with his feet wedged against the opposite door, was too strong, immovable.

Her efforts only encouraged him to bear down on the back of her neck and thrust quicker, panting with the effort.

‘Not giving up now!’ he thought and increased his brutish action.

The car bounced up and down on its rear suspension, which squeaked in protest.

As he wheezed, the woman’s face slowly relaxed against the glass and her weakly flailing hands stopped clawing at the side window and backrest.

A long, low moan escaped from the woman’s open mouth.

The deep, guttural, animal-like growls rumbling from the man’s throat as his orgasm exploded drowned out the sound of her voice.

The man made three, four, five more thrusts; each one accompanied by a grunt.

Each thrust became less forceful than the previous one, until he finally flopped forward to rest his chest upon the woman’s twisted back and his chin upon her shoulder.

Urgh, he huffed, finally satisfied.

He remained thus for a matter of seconds whilst he regained his breath.

That was sodding hard work, he moaned. I ought to get a bloody rebate. What do you think?

When the woman made no reply, he raised his head, canted it to the left, and peered at her face.

He could not see much in the dark but could just about make out the way her face was squashed up against the window, eyes closed, tongue hanging out of a silently snarling mouth, as if she were mocking his efforts.

Yeah. Hilarious, I don’t think. Come on. Stop messing about. Time to go, he urged as he pushed himself backwards, withdrawing from her.

Whilst the man kneeled precariously on less than one-half of the seat, he deftly removed the condom with practiced ease, and tied a knot in it.

If it gets out of this, we’ll call it Houdini, he joked as he dropped the condom into a black plastic dogie-poo-bag he had previously retrieved from the pocket on the back of the passenger’s seat.

After tying a knot in the bag, he lobbed it over the front seat, where it landed in the passenger foot-well, aiming to get rid of it in a trash bin somewhere, later.

The man shuffled around awkwardly and hauled his grayish-white boxers and trousers up over his thighs before tucking his dark green, V-neck pullover into the waistband of his baggy, gray trousers and fastening the zipper and press-stud, then hooked the buckle on his belt.

Still panting, he leaned back on the seat, and playfully smacked the woman’s exposed buttocks, made a face and shuddered.

He did not like excessively hairy women, much preferring small, neat, shapely women with a smooth, hairless mound.

Much more hygienic, in his opinion.

Yum.

Trouble was all the ‘nice women’, who sported such a delightful playground, were out of his league.

He could neither attract nor afford them.

Tearing his eyes away from the disgusting sight of the woman’s rear-end, the man roughly nudged her left buttock with his right elbow.

Hey. Come on now, shit face. Time to shift it, eh?

The woman remained where she was.

Unmoving.

Puzzled, the man leaned forward, rested his right arm on her shoulder and peered at the woman’s face.

She had made no movement whilst he was getting dressed, looking the same as she did a few minutes ago.

He put a hand on her back and gently shook her.

Don’t go to sleep on me, girl. Come on. Shift yer ass.

Still no movement.

He shook her again, harder this time.

Nothing.

Bugger, he whispered. I don’t like the look of this.

Concerned, the man turned around and leaned over her shoulder.

Lifting her left eyelid told him she was…

Nothing.

The eyeball rolled up in its socket, the bottom rim of the pupil barely visible.

Bollocks!

Even an idiot like him could tell she was dead…

* * * *

The man’s first thought, ‘Pushing down hard on her neck like that, must have broken it. Oh, shit!’

Damn! Damn! Damn!

He sat back on the seat and rubbed a hand across his face, his mind in turmoil.

Fear stabbed at his heart.

What the Hell do I do now?

Wiping both hands down his face, forehead to chin, only smeared a few tears across his cheeks.

Brushing his fingers through his hair, his mind a blank, the man sat like this for more than a minute, until the spell finally broke.

Back to reality.

He dropped his hands into his lap and shook his head from side to side in stunned disbelief.

Thinking, ‘This has got to be a dream. I’ll wake up in a minute. Probably pissed. Flaked out at home on the couch.’ did not make his situation any less of a nightmare.

Got to think about this, he mumbled as he tried to figure out what to do next. There’s no way I can call the police. Nah. Those bastards are bound to pin this on me.

He giggled nervously at the image of a long-wigged judge banging his gavel as the doddering old git sentenced him to life without parole.

Nah. No way.

He glanced at the woman’s corpse and shuddered.

Got to find some way of getting rid of the daft bitch.

No way did he want to end up in prison.

He never fancied being bum-fucked three times a day by a group of sweaty inmates.

With his good looks, he would be a top target for every slobbering, weirdo ass-stabber on the lookout for a bit of fresh meat…

* * * *

Got it!

The man hurriedly opened the door and climbed out of the car.

The chilly night air hit him as soon as he stood up, the icy wind immediately drilled its way through his thin pullover and turned his breath to vapor as soon as it left his mouth.

Closing the door behind him, the man shivered and wrapped his arms around his shoulders to shield his upper body from the wind.

Brr. Shit, he muttered as he cast an eye upwards, towards the swiftly moving clouds, and shivered again.

Don’t rain now, he muttered. Don’t you bloody dare piss down on me.

Turning his back to the wind, the man hurried around to the rear of the car and opened the off-side door whilst taking care to place his left hand on the woman’s shoulder to prevent her from falling headfirst onto the tarmac.

Holding her head up with his other hand, her neck easily bent backwards.

Too far and too easy.

When she slumped forward, he quickly caught her left shoulder with his right hand.

Bugger. I broke her neck. No wonder she’s sodding dead.

With difficulty, the man dragged the woman’s limp body from the car and laid her on the damp tarmac.

Thankfully, the dark, deserted car park was well away from the main road, protected from prying eyes.

There was no way he could explain all of this to some nosy Neighborhood Watch snoop who might be on the prowl with a flashlight, pen, and paper.

He glanced around to make sure they, he and the dead woman, were alone.

‘Thank fuck there aren’t any lights or cameras around here,’ he thought as he roughly pulled the woman’s pantyhose up, not caring about the small, sharp bits of gravel scooped up by the flimsy material, or the way the back of the woman’s skirt got itself caught up in the elasticized top of the pantyhose.

Nobody will see them.

This called for some quick thinking and even quicker action.

The man peered thoughtfully at the nearby building site, a matter of yards from where he stood.

New houses.

Little more than shells at this stage, and a few half-prepared footings.

Some half-built walls with accompanying scaffolding and a lot of semi-prepared drainage.

Perfect.

He squatted, clumsily hoisted the woman’s body onto his right shoulder and staggered the few feet between them and a broken chain-link fence.

The fence was only a foot high at this point.

Once he stepped over the fence, he sought a suitable place to dispose of the woman’s corpse.

Right there.

In front of him, a large trench about six feet wide and at least six feet deep by his reckoning.

‘This’ll do nicely.’

The main sewer was not quite finished. Most of the pipe-work was installed, but one section, about six feet long, three feet in diameter, with a two feet diameter branch pipe, had not yet been fitted. Presumably, the branch pipe would sit perpendicular to the main pipe to act as either a drain, or an access point. Once this was in place, the workmen would presumably fill the trench.

Good.

Perfect.

The main pipe-work was lying flush on the bottom of the trench, except for one suitable gap, where the last piece was yet to be inserted—there was a one-foot depression at this point, lower than the bottom of the rest of the trench. Presumably, this was to enable workers to fit the last piece of pipe-work into place.

Brilliant!

Just what he needed.

The man hoisted the woman’s body off his shoulder and unceremoniously dumped her into the trench, close to the small depression.

He jumped down into the trench, picked up a spade which someone had deposited nearby, and quickly dug away the loose earth beneath the right-hand section of pipe, until it was a good four feet deep and more than long enough to accommodate the woman’s corpse.

‘Wouldn’t do to have her feet sticking out.’

Huffing and puffing with the effort soon got the job done.

With his hands, shoes, and trousers covered in mud, he managed, with little difficulty, to shove the woman’s body into the gap beneath the pipe.

He rammed the body in as far as possible and jumped on top of her corpse to make sure it was lying on the bottom of the extra hole he had dug to made sure the soil he dumped on and around her would completely cover the dead woman with at least two feet of soil and rubble.

Then he quickly filled in the hole, shoveling soil and clay over the woman’s body.

Having trampled about to ensure there was little sign he had disturbed the earth, he made satisfied.

Phew!

‘Fucking warm work his digging lark.’

This end of sewer pipe was now lying flush on the bottom of the trench, as far as he could tell, it did not appear to be any different to the other end of the pipe.

Nothing showed.

Nothing out of place.

Excellent.

The man stood, leaned on the shovel, and surveyed his handiwork as he waited to get his breath back.

Whilst he had been in the trench, it sheltered him from the cold, November wind and the exertion needed to dig out the shallow grave had kept him warm to a certain extent.

Now,

However,

Evaporating sweat quickly cooled his skin, but he was too pleased with the results of his labors to notice how much he was shivering, uncontrollably so.

‘Phew. Yes! Sorted. At last.’

He made silent congratulations and mentally patted himself on the back.

‘You’d never know the bitch was in there. Once the trench is filled in properly, no one will ever find the body; at least, not until they demolish these houses, in about a hundred and fifty million years from now. When they finally dig up the body, I won’t be around to worry about it. So sod them. This will end up as one of those little mysteries that makes life so fucking interesting…’

Chapter 1

Wilson did not want to be there.

This sort of thing was not his cup of tea.

He detested being in the limelight at events such as this and hated having to play Mine Host.

Neither could he give a toss if those present were enjoying the party or not.

If the Company Chairman had not been so damn insistent upon