A First Date With The Devil

By Limey Lady

Mary Rose is a successful young lawyer who plays as hard as she works. That is to say, she does in theory. In practice she works ridiculously long hours and playtime rarely seems to happen. The idea of attending a well-to-do gathering where no-strings sex is freely available appeals to her no end.

Okay, so she's been warned about the masks and amateur dramatics but, in her opinion, a few gimmicks can only add to the experience.

What could possibly go wrong?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Limey Lady
• Release date: Jan 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370558827

Limey Lady

Here's a confession for you: I'm not sure if "Limey Lady" is a pseudonym or my alter ego. Back in 2016, when she came into being, she was definitely a nom de plume. Now, however, I am not so sure.As background, I have always written stories but, up to 2009, writing took a backseat, way behind the demands of my family and career. Then a life-changing medical condition . . . well, it changed everything for and about me. Suddenly I had/have time to spare. Suddenly I was/am churning out tale after tale.I was born in York but brought up in West Yorkshire, in part of the Aire Valley often described as "Bronte Country". I must say, though, that although most of my stories are set locally, they have little in common with the fine works of Charlotte, Emily and Anne. So far my output can be divided into two: long stories featuring ne'er-do-wells, guns and some violence . . . and shorter stories featuring "liberated" women who rarely do what they're supposed to do.Limey Lady was created to be the author of the short stuff. But the longer novels all include feisty, uncooperative females - much like her characters - so I'm going to put her name to both as I publish on Smashwords.Watch this space . . .

Book preview

A First Date With The Devil

By LimeyLady

Copyright Mark C Woolridge (writing as LimeyLady), 2017

Distributed by Smashwords

All characters and events in this publication,

other than those clearly in the public domain,

are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons,

living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One - Getting ready to party

Chapter Two - Going to St John’s Wood

Chapter Three - Nibbles and aperitifs

Chapter Four - Proceedings begin

Chapter Five - Mary Rose really enjoys herself

Chapter Six - Reporting back to Heather

Chapter Seven - Heather’s way of easing her worries

Chapter Eight - A twist in the tail

Author’s Note

Other Books by LimeyLady

Prologue

The Thames was by no means the biggest river in the world but, as it snaked its way through London, it was majestic, wide and strong. It was also a good way to get rid of things. For countless centuries it had been used as the city’s main drain. How many billions of chamber pots had been emptied into it, how many tens of millions of tons of industrial waste?

One more piece of garbage wouldn’t go amiss.

The unremarkable panel van was nearing its destination. For a while it travelled parallel to the river at a distance of maybe a hundred yards. Then it took a left into what could only be described as an alleyway between boarded-up buildings. Moving slowly the van headed towards the water, its occupants silent.

The alleyway was in an undesirable part of town. A mile or so away real estate was ranked amongst the most expensive in the world. Here there wasn’t a price because nobody wanted to buy.

Under the tyres the road surface changed as smooth tarmac gave way to old cobbles. And they were very old, nothing like the smart ones found in touristy areas. No, these were uneven and out of line. A lot of them had been crushed or crumbled, some were missing altogether.

The driver grimaced as he steered the van through heaps of trash, trying to avoid the larger potholes. The Mayor might claim otherwise, but it was hard to believe that any repairs had been made here since the Luftwaffe paid their last overnight visit, sixty-odd years ago.

‘Your turn,’ he said as he pulled up and killed the lights. As if his accomplice didn’t know whose turn it was.

For perhaps ten minutes they sat there in the van, doing and saying nothing, listening to the tick of the cooling engine. They were parked in the very end of the alley. The broken cobbles continued for ten yards but on an incline, leading down and into the river itself. Once upon a time the locals would have used that incline to launch some shitty little boat. But not nowadays; nowadays nobody ever came here.

The loneliness of the place was why they were there, obviously.

Unromantic as he was, the driver admired the moonlight on the water. This was a wide stretch on a bend. The opposite bank had to be two hundred yards away. Chances of being observed from over there were zero.

And the silence was deafening. Not that a city the size of London could ever be silent at any time of day or night. Even now, after two in the morning, there was a buzz in the air. It was tricky to describe but there nevertheless: the intangible background sound of millions of people rutting, fighting, singing,