Susie Learns the Hard Way by Roger Quine Read Free Book Online

he’s the one screwing her, not Andy.
    â€˜But she’s doing all right out of it,’ she mused, as Annie squealed her way through another orgasm, her third or fourth of the evening. ‘Unless of course she doesn’t like it and those are squeals of distress.’ She dismissed the thought almost before she’d had it. ‘No, she’s coming all right,’ she said thoughtfully, a spark of envy flickering deep in her tummy.
    But was she? And what about the argument just now? It wasn’t the first time those two had argued and then made up in bed... unless, in light of the evening’s events, they’d argued and then he’d made her get up to it in bed with someone else.
    Could that be it? Could Andy be keeping Annie prisoner, and selling her to his mates as a sex slave? The thought was interrupted yet again by the sound of feet on the stairs, heading down. He was leaving.
    She huddled by the window, peering through the narrowest crack she could open between the curtain and the wall.
    A broad figure with a flat hat jammed on his head waddled down the path, and as he reached the gate a thin figure emerged from the shadows. Andy! He’d obviously decided against the pub and had been hanging around outside instead. ‘Well, I’ll be...’ she exclaimed in hushed tones. The bloke was giving Andy something – money; he was counting out notes. At least five of them. Fifty pounds? Maybe more! And for what? For services rendered, that’s what. ‘And those services were rendered by Annie, if I’m any judge,’ she concluded, as flat-hat-and-beard climbed into the Jaguar and drove away.
    And not necessarily of her own free will!
    Recalling the angry words, she reconsidered Annie’s infallible gasps of what she’d taken to be pleasure and decided they could be interpreted as gasps of displeasure, or even distress. Perhaps, she wondered, perhaps he’d kidnapped her and was keeping her prisoner. He looked shifty enough, and she had never appeared in daylight since the day they arrived, except as a ghostly face at the upstairs window.
    â€˜Yes,’ she said to herself. ‘Yes, that’s it!’
    Those weren’t his friends he was bringing home; they were customers!
    The evidence mounted up the more she thought about it. All the strange noises late at night, and those strangers arriving all evening. She was actually living underneath a master criminal who’d kidnapped the girl and was using her as his sex slave. Why, she’d read a story in the paper only the previous Sunday, where a gang of criminals were kidnapping girls and smuggling them to brothels and harems in the Middle East.
    Excitedly she went over the evidence in her mind, and could find no flaws to her theory.
    â€˜This could be the story that gets me into the big time,’ she concluded, very conscious that with Finals in a few weeks she would soon be needing a job, and that she would soon be writing to all the Sunday tabloids asking for an interview. She knew she had a talent for writing and she just knew she could write sex stories better than anyone else. And now she had the perfect opportunity to prove it and persuade some editor to give her a job. She could write a brilliant, perceptive and very sexy story about white slaving in the Home Counties, get a banner headline and a massive fee, and a job too!
    As it suited her very well to stay at home for a few days, that’s what she did, keeping a careful watch from the slit in her curtains and using her cheap holiday camera to take some very hazy pictures of Andy and some indistinct shapes of individual men as they came and went. She only used it for the rarer daytime assignations, because the evenings would have triggered the flash and alerted them.
    And there was plenty of opportunity to keep watch; Andy would arrive regularly with a different bloke, there’d be the regulation thudding followed by Annie’s