Dangerous Desires (3 page)

for? she giggled inwardly, imagining his solid penis driving deep into the hugging sheath of her neglected pussy. Realizing that she’d quite like a relationship with Dave, she felt her clitoris swell as she again pictured his solid cock embedded within her hungry pussy. But he was a friend, and nothing more.

“I wouldn’t mind Dave fucking me,” she breathed, stepping off the black cloth as she realized that she’d not had sex for God only knew how long. Dressing before flinging the curtains back and blowing out the candles, she laughed. Voodoo, black magic ... It was nonsense, she thought, checking her watch. Six-thirty. Grabbing a sandwich, she hadn’t realized how quickly the time had passed. What with reading the book and messing about with the ritual, the hours had flown by.

Leaving the house, she hoped that she wouldn’t bump into Brian as she walked the short distance to the Hare And Hounds. Had she known that he was going to defame her with his slander, spread lies and malicious rumours, she’d have moved to another town. He had said at one point that it would be nice if they could at least remain friends. Annabelle had been all for the idea. After all, there had been no hatred in the marriage. But now, it seemed that Brian wanted to breed hatred. Perhaps he hated himself, she mused, walking into the pub.

“Annabelle,” Dave greeted her as she approached the bar. “What are you having?”

“White wine, please,” she replied, her dark eyes scanning the pub for Brian.

“Pete can’t make it, I’m afraid. He rang and said something about problems at work.”

“Not to worry,” she breathed, quite happy to spend some time alone with Dave. “Thanks for plumbing in the washing machine. I should be buying
you
a drink.”

19

“I wouldn’t hear of it. Did you get the box of stuff?”

“Yes, thanks. I’ve read the book.”

“Have you tried the ritual?”

“Er ... No, not yet. Have you read the book, Dave?”

“I’ve flicked through it. It seems interesting but the proof of the pudding will be in the eating. When are you going to try it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Shall we sit over there?” she asked, pointing to a table.

“Yes, why not?”

Sitting next to Dave, this was the first time that Annabelle had been out with another man since leaving Brian. She’d had coffee with Dave in the café, but that hadn’t been prearranged.

This was a date, she reflected, sipping her wine. Wondering what the hell Brian would do if he discovered that she’d been out with another man, she tried to push all thoughts of her ex-husband to the back of her mind. After all, it was nothing to do with him. As Dave began talking about decorating his flat, Annabelle found herself thinking about her ex-husband again. Why wouldn’t he let go and move on? The marriage was over, the divorce final, so why was he still a major part of her life?

Nodding and smiling when appropriate as Dave talked about his flat, Annabelle recalled the time when she woke one morning to Brian asking her why she’d thrown a cup down the stairs. When she’d said that she’d done nothing of the sort, he’d said that she was deluding herself. The fact that there was no broken cup at the bottom of the stairs didn’t seem to deter him.

Persisting, he accused her of throwing the cup down the stairs just before she went to bed the previous evening. Unable to listen to his insane accusation, Annabelle left the marital bed and 20

took a shower. The only way to deal with Brian’s crazy mind was to ignore him. There were a thousand weird incidents when he’d ranted and raved about something, and she’d had no idea what he was talking about.

“Something weird happened to me earlier,” Dave said, breaking Annabelle’s train of thought.

“Oh?”

“For some reason, I found myself thinking about making love to you. It was really strange. I don’t mean that you’re not attractive. I mean it’s strange that ... I don’t know what I mean.”

“Funnily enough, I was thinking ... When was this?”

“About an hour ago. Why?”

“Tell me more,” Annabelle murmured, thinking back to the ritual.

“I was getting ready to go out when ... A sex scene loomed in my mind, as clear as anything. I wasn’t even thinking about sex. In fact, I was thinking about wallpapering the lounge.”

“That is odd,” Annabelle said, smiling at him. “Is this your usual chat-up line?”

“No, honestly ... This picture just came into my mind. I was making love to you and ... It sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

Frowning, Annabelle began to wonder whether her thoughts while standing on the black cloth had somehow reached out to Dave. But that just wasn’t possible, was it? It was purely coincidence, she concluded. He obviously wanted to bed her, and this was his way of turning the 21

conversation round to sex. Her stomach somersaulting, she rather liked the idea of slipping beneath the quilt and making love with him. It would be nice to be held, cuddled, loved ...

“And then I heard ...” Dave began. “It doesn’t matter. The whole thing’s crazy.”

“What did you hear?”

“It’s daft but I ... I heard a girl’s voice.”

“Saying what?”

“It wasn’t very clear. It sounded like someone was saying,
I wouldn’t mind Dave fucking
me
.”

Her eyes widening, Annabelle froze as she recalled murmuring those very words. “Are you sure?” she asked shakily. “I mean, it might have been someone outside in the street or ...”

“Annabelle, girls don’t stand in the street calling out that they wouldn’t mind me fucking them. That’s what it sounded like, anyway. Perhaps it was wishful thinking,” he chuckled.

“Perhaps,” she murmured pensively.

This wasn’t coincidence, she mused fearfully. Trying to recall exactly what she’d been thinking about while standing on the black cloth, she remembered picturing Dave’s penis driving deep into her tight pussy. Unable to concentrate on Brian, her thoughts had centred on Dave, but

... There was only one way to find out, she decided, knocking back her drink. Later that evening, she’d slip out of her clothes and stand on the cloth again. But, this time, she’d concentrate on Brian.

“Tell me more about you ex,” Dave said, sipping his drink.

22

“God, where do I start? He was ... He
is
mental. We’d have a conversation and, two days later, he’d have no recollection of it. What
was
frightening was when he swore blind that we’d discussed something, and we hadn’t. He used to say that I was trying to make out that he was losing his memory. I must admit that there were times when I thought that I was going mad and I questioned myself. Everything about him was weird. He came home from work once and I said hello and kissed his cheek. I asked him how his day had been and he said that I’d not even bothered to say hello to him.”

“Is he really mental?”

“Yes, I firmly believe he is. He has strange mannerisms and his face sort of contorts when he’s about to go on one of his mental trips. I never knew from one minute to the next how he was going to be. One minute, he was fine, chatting and joking. And the next, he’d rant and rave about the way I was and ask me when was I going to change my ways. The strange thing was that nothing triggered his mental fits. He’d just flip for no reason at all.”

“It’s no wonder you divorced him,” Dave laughed.

Annabelle again wished that she’d left Brian years ago. She’d tried to make a go of the marriage, tried to live with his peculiar mental ways. But it wasn’t possible to live with mental derangement. Would black magic work? she wondered as Dave went to the bar and bought her another drink. She didn’t want any harm to come to Brian. All she wanted was to be left alone, left in peace. The black cloth was still on the floor, the candles and symbols arranged in a circle.

It was worth trying, she reflected.

22

rawing the lounge curtains and slipping out of her clothes, Annabelle lit the candles and D stood on the black cloth. Although she was feeling tired after drinking too much wine at the pub, she wanted to complete the ritual before going to bed. If it worked, then Brian might be out of her life for good within a couple of weeks. If it didn’t, then nothing would be lost. The book had said that the ritual was perfectly safe and couldn’t be used to harm people.

Did Annabelle want to harm Brian? All she wanted was peace.

Trying to drag her thoughts away from Dave, Annabelle closed her eyes and concentrated on her ex-husband. The alcohol muddling her thoughts, for some reason she found herself imagining that Brian’s car had broken down. Again, she tried to concentrate on her ex leaving her in peace, but it was impossible. This wasn’t going to work. She should have waited until the morning before performing the ritual. But, although she was very tired, she was desperate to be rid of her ex-husband and decided to try one more time.

“Concentrate,” she murmured. “Brian, I want you to leave me alone. Go away and leave me in peace.” A shiver running up her spine, she opened her eyes and looked around the darkened room. Feeling that she wasn’t alone, she folded her arms across the mounds of her firm breasts and frowned. No one was watching, she knew, but she felt that unseen eyes were staring at the curves and crevices of her young body. The room becoming cold, the candles flickering as an icy draft whipped up around her naked feet, she wondered whether she’d closed the front door. The door
was
closed, she remembered locking it when she came in.

23

Finally putting her fear down to her imagination, she turned her thoughts to Dave.

Pictures of his solid penis driving deep into the hugging sheath of her pussy looming in her mind, she tried to think of anything other than Dave. But the images continued to form, vivid pictures of his erect cock swamping her mind. She imagined wanking his huge penis, watching the sperm jetting from his slit as she rolled his fleshy foreskin back and forth over his throbbing knob. She could almost taste his sperm as she pictured his swollen glans between the pretty lips of her mouth, the white liquid bathing her tongue as he drained his heavy balls.

“I want you to fuck me,” she breathed, wondering where the crude words were coming from. “Come here now and fuck me. Come here and use and abuse me.” Shaking her head and frowning, she tried to clear her mind of her uncharacteristic thoughts as she stepped off the black cloth and switched the light on. Gazing at the circle of flickering candles, she again felt that she wasn’t alone in the room. An icy draft blowing the candles out, she checked the window. There was no way a draft could whip through the lounge. Something sinister was happening, she knew.

But what? Finding the front door closed, she dashed into the kitchen and grabbed the ringing phone.

“Sorry to call you this late,” Dave said. “It’s just that ...”

“What is it?” she asked as his words tailed off. “Are you OK?”

“Would you mind if I came round?”

“What, now?”

“Yes. I have to talk to you, Annabelle.”

“It’s very late, Dave. Can’t it wait?”

24

“No, I don’t think it can.”

“All right, come round now,” she conceded, fearing the worst.

The ritual had worked, she was sure as she slipped into her dressing gown and cleared the candles and cloth away. Recalling her words, she felt a chill run up her spine.
Come here now
and fuck me. Come here and use and abuse me.
Had Dave heard her thoughts? she wondered. If he was possessed by some hideous entity and raped her ... Filling the kettle, she knew that she was being ridiculous. Too much alcohol, over tired ... Her imagination was running away with her. After all, the book had said that the ritual was safe. Pulling her gown together as she answered the front door, she recalled the candles blowing out. That hadn’t been her imagination.

“Have you tried the ritual yet?” Dave asked as he sat on the sofa. He seemed jittery, nervous. “Have you tried it?”

“I was in bed when you rang,” she lied. “What’s all this about?”

“You haven’t tried the ritual yet?” he persisted.

“No, I haven’t,” she replied shakily. “What’s happened, Dave? What’s the matter?”

“I heard that girl’s voice again. And I ... I saw a picture of us making love.”

“You’re becoming obsessed with me,” she giggled, again imagining the fleshy shaft of his penis driving deep into the wet shaft of her tight pussy. “You look tired, Dave. You should get some sleep.”

“I want you, Annabelle,” he breathed, his dark eyes staring at her. “I want to fuck you.”

“Well, I ... I don’t know what to say,” she replied, walking into the kitchen and pouring the coffee. “You don’t hang about, do you?”

25

Allowing her gown to fall open as she took the cups into the lounge, she watched Dave eyeing the firm mounds of her young breasts. Why was she doing this? she wondered. Had she been influenced by the ritual? As much as she fancied Dave, she’d never have deliberately displayed her naked body to him. She was behaving like a common tart, she knew as her gown opened wider. Was it coincidence that Dave had phoned and asked to come round? He’d said that he’d heard the girl’s voice again. This was no coincidence, she knew as he reached out and held her hand. Standing before him with her pubic curls on display, she felt her stomach somersault as he gazed longingly at the creamy-wet valley of her pussy slit.

Annabelle wanted sex with him, but not if he’d been influenced by some unseen force.

This wasn’t natural, she reflected as he leaned forward and kissed the smooth flesh of her lower stomach. His fingertip slipping between the wet petals of her inner labia, he massaged the pink flesh surrounding the creamy entrance to her hot sex sheath. Breathing deeply, Annabelle looked down at the elongating teats of her brown nipples, her darkening areolae. She needed this, she knew as she felt her clitoris swell. She needed sex, sex with a man.