Part 11: Florence
By Gortmundy.
Portia set her coffee cup down on the table and looked at the man.
"So, you're telling me that, according to one of our informants in the village, for some unknown reason the good doctor's wife decided to take an evening stroll along the dockside and goes aboard some dingy boat where she spends the night being shagged witless by a bunch of randy sailors before staggering back along the pier in the wee hours, virtually naked and in an intoxicated state whereupon she proceeds to have a sexual liaison with another two men to get home. Is that what you're telling me?"
"Er, not exactly ma'am, it seems the two young men she made the deal with to get home didn't quite fulfil their part of the bargain and instead took her to a nearby hut where they shared her with a few of their friends first."
"Oh dear."
She gave a long-suffering sigh, "And we have no idea what brought this on? There's no history of infidelity, drug abuse, sexual deviance, or sporadic bouts of insanity?"
"Not that we're aware of."
"What about Stefan, does he know?"
"Not yet. He was away tending an injured fisherman and while It's not exactly what I'd call 'lucky' there was another medical emergency on a nearby island in the meantime. I sent the boat plane to pick him up and take him across. I suspect we have a couple of days grace before he gets back."
"What was the emergency?"
"A young swimmer was mauled by a shark. Her injuries are extensive, but as you know Stefan is an excellent doctor. I'd say that with his help her chances of survival go from basically zero to maybe one in three."
"What do we know about this boat and its crew?"
"Not a great deal ma'am, it moved off later that morning and its whereabouts are meantime unknown."
Portia sipped her coffee and looked out across the bay for a moment as she considered.
"Very well, this is what I want you to do..."
Afterwards, she sat back with an exasperated expression, "You know, I've lived here for a while now and the most exciting thing that happened was Helen giving Gunter a damned good seeing to after a drunken birthday party and now..."
Helen looked aghast, "You knew about that?"
"Dear God Helen, you made enough noise to wake the dead and my poor coffee table's not been the same since."
Helen blushed and Gunter looked away, manfully stifling a grin.
Portia continued, "But now it seems I have a trio of sex-mad fishermen having their way with whatever castaway they can get their hands on, Cassius invites a sadistic rapist for tea, a petty smuggler puts his hands on me and then assaults one of my friends, and now the good doctor decides to take leave of her senses!"
She turned and placed her coffee cup back on the table, "You know, I'm beginning to feel a tad
put out
by all this."
Gunter watched the woman, not fooled by her whimsical tone for an instant.
"Be a dear and ask Florence if she would pop in to see me would you Gunter?"
The big man looked at her as if she had asked him to hand her a grenade.
"You sure?" he asked after a moment.
Portia gave him a bright smile, "Oh yes, quite sure."
Marta sat on the floor of her apartment surrounded by empty bottles. She had no idea how long she had sat there, but it had been long enough to finish off the gin, and the vodka, before starting on the wine and now the best term for her, she thought blurrily, was '
shit-faced
'.
She was still naked but had wrapped a duvet around her. She had hoped the drink would help her forget, but it didn't, it just helped her feel sick. Groaning in misery she remembered the events of last night as they played in her head like some vile horror movie. She recalled being passed back and forth between the men like a joint of meat, slobbering on them as they laughed at her, shoved their dicks in her, and came all over her. She was still covered in their filth; it stuck to her hair and streaked her face. There was more of the residue on her breasts and crusted between her thighs and she moaned in disgust.
She remembered the dock workers who had ushered her into a dingy hut with promises of driving her home. She had desperately agreed to the bargain, dropping to her knees to suck them both, before they bent her over a stack of wooden pallets to screw her from behind. Marta remembered their calloused hands gripping her ass as they shoved their dicks into her. They had fucked her hard, each of them shafting her furiously until they came inside her, leaving her breathless and leaking. When more of their grinning friends arrived, she had moaned in dismay, knowing what she was in store for.
For the next two hours, Marta was roughly fucked on the floor of the filthy hut and forced to suck one cock after another. She had seen money pass back and fore between the men and wept, knowing that to these men she was nothing but a cheap whore.
When she had finally made it home, she collapsed on the floor, completely spent, feeling nothing but hopelessness, disgust, and misery. She had already puked twice and now nothing but bile and alcohol remained in her stomach.
She almost missed the cheery voice calling from downstairs, "Hello! Doctor Marta, are you here?"
Hearing light footsteps on the stairs Marta looked up blearily from the floor as a woman popped her head through the door. It was difficult to make out her features, what with the room pitching and spinning as it was, but she seemed to have ginger hair, a disgustingly bright smile and way too many freckles. Marta was too far gone to understand much of what she was saying, but she seemed to have a strange, but weirdly familiar accent.
"Oh, my. You're looking a wee bit rough. Well, don't you worry lass, we'll soon get this sorted out."
Marta puked and passed out.
When she awoke, she was in clean nightclothes and wrapped snugly in her own bed. She had no recollection of it, but she had obviously been showered and her hair brushed. Someone was humming a cheerful tune and she could smell something cooking.
The strange, ginger-haired woman bustled into the bedroom carrying a tray, the smell wasn't bad, but the thought of eating made her stomach roil.
"Welcome back to the land of the living doc."
The woman set the tray down before helping her to sit up, placing pillows behind her to make her comfortable.
"Right, that's a wee bit scrambled egg and some dry toast. The orange stuff is called 'Irn Bru', it's a bit of an
acquired
