1. Sleep of the Guilty


    Date: 2/15/2015, Categories: Wife Lovers, Author: marlowe, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    and neither did the inevitable confrontation with Jimmy. The option of joining the French Foreign Legion suddenly looked promising. A comforting hand squeezing his thigh broke his reverie. “As soon as I’ve parked the car on the drive, I’ll go straight to my bedroom. Once Jimmy knows I’m home, he’ll let you out of the boot.” A glance in a compact mirror, refreshing her bruised mascara and lipstick, a confident smile forming words he didn’t want to hear. “It’s time to get back in the boot.” The ominous sound of the key turning in the lock and the haunting click of the boot opening made his entire body tremble with fear, bringing hundreds of small goose-pimples surfacing on his arms and legs. He was no trained actor but he knew as soon as Jimmy opened the car boot he would have to give the performance of his life. Even in the darkness surrounded by a million stars he could still make out the shadowy outline of Jimmy’s threatening physique staring down at him, his penetrating eyes ready with questions and a bitter face demanding answers. “Help me out, Jimmy, for Christ sake,” he cursed. Once he had his feet firmly on the ground he quickly slipped into character, feigning a limp and shuffling his feet in a comical Charlie-Chaplin-like-walk, stumbling around with theatrical exaggeration, holding his chest with both hands and faking a pained expression. “Never again Jimmy... Never again,” he croaked, glancing at his watch. “What a waste of time that was. Seven fucking hours, cooked ...
    up inside the boot of a car just to find out Sandra was meeting another woman.” He lowered his head trying to avoid any eye contact with Jimmy, but for some reason he couldn’t prevent looking up. It felt like his eyes were being drawn to his under some kind of hypnotic trance. Jimmy looked at him suspiciously, his half smile and cold eyes indicating disappointment. “You’d better get yourself away home. You can tell me all about it tomorrow.” With the relief of getting away with all his teeth intact an exhale of air spilled from his lungs. But just as he turned to walk away he felt a strong hand gripping his arm. “Just one more thing before you go,” Jimmy said, squeezing his hands together, cracking his knuckles and pulling him close until their faces were almost touching. “Have you started smoking?” Mary Boyd had never been a beautiful woman. She was only in her mid-fifties but she carried another ten years on her shoulders. Her eyes were deeply hollowed and her face was heavily lined with fatigue, no doubt brought about from years of smoking and living a life of pain and suffering. Mary had every right to live on her nerves. Suffering from anxiety disorders, she had no trouble getting through a bottle of vodka and three packets of cigarettes a day. And if it wasn’t for the repeat prescription of valium and the many other pills and medication keeping her alive, she would have probably ended up in a mental health institution. It had been a long time since anyone had seen Mary ...
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