April 10th.
My husband has not punished me yet, maybe the gold was enough for him. To my surprise, I saw the young Arab gentleman on the news last night. He was being interviewed by a reporter. He spoke perfect English, and yet he had not spoken at all to me, apart from the whispers in my ear in his own language. He had three women round him, and the reporter said they were his wives, and that his fourth wife was pregnant and was not with him. Their faces were covered so I could not tell if they were pretty or not. The interview was on the Arab gentleman's expensive luxury yacht. It would appear that we are buying oil from his country, and the young Arab is a billionaire, who was at Cambridge with Prince Charles last year.
April 15th.
Begrudgingly I went to see Mr Martin Bolton. He laid out plans for a photo shoot for his magazine. He made the offer, which was quite an attractive one, but I refused, after my husband's instruction, not to accept the first offer made. He had ideas, lots of them, and I find myself drawn to them in a sexual way. He would make short films too, where he could use my girls as extras. Eventually I agreed to a photo shoot, any filming would require more payment, he seemed happy with the outcome, but we have yet to set a date.
I returned to my brothel to find quite a commotion. A new girl, one of the ones my husband had turned up for the opening night and I had employed thereafter, was in tears in my office. Kenny explained a man had wanted anal sex with her, and she declined. The man went into a rage and tried to force himself on her, but Kenny had intervened and the man had left. Dolly the whore, explained all was going well, until he demanded anal sex.
April 17th.
Dear diary, my brothel was raided by the police yesterday. I was not there, but when I rushed over, a tall policeman with a lot of pips on his uniform was stood in my office. Kenny whispered to me that he was the man he had ejected a few days ago, who had wanted anal sex with Dolly. The policeman I recognised from one of the photos, which I have now hidden in the safe in the very room we were standing in. He told me no drugs had been found, but my brothel would continue to be raided as he saw fit.
I have such loathing for him and his arrogance, which was made worse by him telling me, it would be beneficial for me, to tell my sluts to give him what he wanted. He said I had come a long way from ass wiper in a nursing home, and he had been asked by certain interested parties to reopen the cause of Mr Taylor's death. I asked him if new evidence had come to light, he smirked at me, and said new witnesses could be found quite easily.
I asked him if he would accept my apologises, and return later, and either Maxine, or Iris would give him what he desired. I even suggested I would escort him to Dolly, and have her say sorry. He seemed a little surprised by offer, but just for good measure I said I was trying to build a good reputation for my brothel, and did not want to upset such a high ranking police officer.
I went to my safe and gave him the photo of him fucking the whore; I said it was taken before I was in charge. I gave him a lighter and said it was the only photo I had found. He set the photo alight and asked if there were anymore. I repeated it was the only photo I had found, and to rest assured I would dispose of anymore which came to light, in good faith that the case would not be reopened. He eyed me with suspicion. I told him it would be best if there were no more raids from his men, in case they stumbled across anymore photographs. His jaw tightened and he gripped my neck. He hissed at me that if any more was found, and I used them against him, he would make sure Edith Taylor got her wish. He turned and left and I slumped in my chair, gasping for breath with a pounding heart, and trembling all over.
April 21st.
Yesterday I went to the garage to fill up with petrol. I paid Mr Jennings the garage owner, and he went back into his garage. A hand grabbed my hair and pulled me round, and I saw rage in the eyes of woman I knew. It was Mrs Dickinson, who my husband had ejected from one of the houses he owned.
She snarled at me that she and her husband had nowhere to live, and I was one toffee nosed bitch, with my fancy clothes and flash car. She punched me in the stomach, and then dragged me by my hair to a bucket. I caught a glimpse of Rick watching from the garage. She forced my head into the bucket of water, and then pulled me up, she cackled at me like some deranged witch. Through my soaked hair I saw Rick leaning against a car with his arms folded, just looking on like it amused him. He pushed himself off the car, and started to casually stroll over.
My head got immersed in the cold water again, and then I felt her backing away. A sound kick landed on my backside, and when I looked round Rick was holding her off the ground with little effort, as she kicked and screamed at me. Mr Jennings, Rick's father, offered me his hand, and I got to my feet, as Mrs Dickinson continued to kick out, and yell such disgusting words about my husband and me.
I was escorted into the garage, and then to a back room where Mr Jennings found me a towel for my hair. I assured him I was alright and did not need to go to the hospital. He left me there to sort myself out.
Rick came in as I dried my hair. He stood over me looking down. He did not enquire as to how I was, he just stared at me. I looked up and he held out a pack of nylon tights for me. I looked at the ladder on my leg. Rick said they aren't as fancy as those that had been ruined, but his father said I could have them free of charge. I took the pack from him, and thanked him. He crossed his arms looking down on me still. I thanked him for pulling the woman off, he did not respond, he just walked out the room.
I reached under my green mini skirt and pulled off my torn tights. I opened the pack and pulled out the brown nylon tights. I gathered up the legs as I sat on the chair. I was aware that an eye watched through a hole across the other side of the room. I slipped my left foot in the tights pointing my foot, and pulled the nylon up my leg. Then I did the same with my right foot. I gathered the tights up over my knees, smoothing the nylon as I went. I did not need to, but I stood up and pulled the side zip down on my skirt, and felt the skirt fall to the floor.
I knew I was teasing the eye staring at me, and I did not care. Rick could have come to my aid sooner, but I got the feeling he liked watching Mrs Dickinson, duck my head in the bucket. I pulled the tights up and smoothed them again, slowly and deliberately. I turned my back to the hole in the wall, and pushed my hand down in the top of my tights, and spread my fingers, like I was adjusting the thin nylon over my pink panties to gain more comfort over my backside. I slipped on my shoes before pulling my skirt up. I had to hold my hair casually, but in a slightly sexually suggestive way, off the side of my face, as I concentrated on wiggling my toes in the shoe. I even looked directly at the spy hole, watching the eye, watching me.
Such a slow and deliberate way of dressing, would not be my usual way. I was hoping the boy watching, would be excited beyond his wildest dreams and he would never forget the sight of a woman he will never have. With my second shoe on I ran my hand over my legs again, just one more teasing display for my stupid little voyeur, again I looked at the eyeball, with a serious expression on my face, which would have suggested I was not intimidated, by such a pervert.
I pulled up my skirt and did up the zip and button. Just as I had finished the door opened. Rick and I made eye contact. For a few seconds I gave him a knowing glare, letting him know I could match his gamesmanship. He bent down right in front of me blatantly staring at my legs. He looked up at me, and I stood looking down on him, in more ways than one. He picked up my laddered hose, and I watched a little flummoxed, as he put them round his neck like a scarf. I went to grab them off him, but he grabbed my wrist stopping me. His grip was powerful, but not in a way that he was hurting me. I tried to yank my hand out of his grip, but he held on strongly. I gave him an angry look and he slowly let go. I walked past him and stopped at the door, I looked back at him still angry with him. He just stared at me, as he pulled my tights from around his neck, and pressed the fine expensive nylon, to his nose.
I turned and went to my car, my feet rushing slightly to get away from the young pervert. Those eyes were firmly embedded in my mind. The way he looked on me as he sniffed my tights.
While his eyes are a crystal clear blue they could not hide such dark and disgusting thoughts. I would tell my husband so he would talk to Rick's father about his son's lustful leering at me, a married woman. I would take such joy in Rick being humiliated like that.
Mrs Dickinson had been forgotten, but one thing I have learned is, I do not have sympathy for Mrs Dickinson, although a few short years ago I would have. All she had to do was have her husband tidy the garden, and all would have been well. Such a simple request, which would have taken a couple of hours of hard work, yet it would seem to have been akin to climbing Mount Everest.
I drove past that same house, and smiled at the young couple who were moving in with such joy in their faces, and a young child, a girl, of around 3 or 4 years old pushing her toy trolley laden with wood painted bricks, around the lawn. I would have stopped and welcomed them, but a tear rolled down my cheek.
April 24th.
Finally I told my husband about Rick, and what happened at the garage. I did not get the reaction I expected.
Damn it! My mobile goes off and I put my sexy grandmother's diary down. Still the text has brightened me up, the text is from Harvey, and he said he wants to come round. I'm guessing he misses my pussy, and it will give me a chance to talk to him about this weird thing he wants.
As I look in the mirror I'm pleased with what looks back, namely a right little tart. I wore black high heels, black opaque stockings, and a red tartan miniskirt. I pulled my tight red jumper with a plunging neckline down a little further. I thought about panties and bra, but well, why bother?
Yummy bright red lipstick is coating my lips, and two generous squirts of perfume lay soaking in to my cleavage. I adjust my hold ups so the wide lacy band is visible below the hem of my skirt. Even now before I see him I can feel my pussy getting wet. Now I'm not one of those girls who spray a little perfume between her legs. Believe me it happens in the toilets in a pub or night club. One of my friends did once, and the guy who went down on her ended up with a rash on his face, due to a reaction to the perfume.
He's here, pulling up in his van. Now this might seem a little desperate, but well I am. I open the door and turn round and bend over, legs slightly apart. I can feel from the blast of cold air that everything is open to the elements, and his lovely sexy eyes. I fiddle with the contents of my handbag, which I've left on the bottom stair, as I pretend to be searching for something. I can feel a shadow behind me, and I let him have a good look for a few more seconds, before I straighten up.
I stand up straight and spin round feeling my tits carrying on moving to the side, whilst the rest of my body has stopped. I had a smile on my face, but now my chin has dropped to the floor.
