Sweetie (36 page)

She lifted the latch on his back gate and pushed open the six-foot door panel to find him standing behind it, closer than expected, shielding her view of his back door. ‘What do you want?’ he barked.

‘George, I’m sorry, but it’s your garage. I think some kids have broken into it . . . the red one, number forty-nine . . . that is your garage, isn’t it?’

Her words came out in such a rush that she could feel herself tripping over them. Her heart began to bang now; he was really close. A look of confusion drifted across George Rush’s sweaty unshaven face and he said defensively, ‘Yeah, that’s mine, number forty-nine.’

Grace steadied herself and tried not to look flustered as the sweat started to bead on her forehead and trickle down the sides of her face.

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‘Well, I think you’d better come and have a look. I was on my way back from the shops when I saw a group of kids running out of there with a load of tools – they’d left the door wide open. Do you think we should call the police?’

George didn’t seem unduly worried until she said the word ‘police’, and then for a moment Grace wondered if he’d tell her to mind her own business, but he said, ‘No, don’t bother with the police, there’s no point. I’d better go and get a shirt on. You wait

’ere, sweetie.’

He looked at her in the same way he had stared when she was leaving the church after Wayne’s funeral. It made Grace’s stomach tighten, but she held her ground. She waited by the gate, casting nervous glances up and down the alleyway for the minute or so it took George to get his shirt and jacket, exhaling slowly through her mouth so as to stay calm.

They walked together towards the garage, a good three minutes away, and she struggled to find some -

thing to say, finally managing, ‘Are you feeling better now, George? I mean, have you fully recovered?’

‘Like anyone around here gives a fuck about me,’

he snorted bitterly.

‘People do care, of course we do,’ said Grace, thinking how bizarre this all was.

He looked at her sideways, trying to weigh her up, taking in the pert breasts straining through her vest 367

and the slim waist above her denim shorts. His big dirty cock began to stir in his trousers and he fell behind her slightly to take a better look at her arse as she walked. Not ideal, but he’d fuck it anyway, given a chance.

Grace turned and gave him a smile which said she liked him looking at her, and it threw him. Women never gave him a second look so why was this beauty giving him the eye? He’d fucking show her what happened to a cock-tease like her!

‘What’s a pretty girl like you worrying about an old man like me for?’

‘Just looking out for you, George, same as I’d do for anybody else. Look, there it is.’

Grace pointed to the garage door, up on its hinges, one corner bent back, as they rounded the corner and reached the garage block. Just before she turned she spied the shiny blue of her Jag parked up Gossett Road and walked wide to make sure they saw her.

She wanted to wave but knew she had to stay cool.

George let out a sigh of dismay and Grace followed him into the darkened garage where tins of paint and varnish had been strewn around, with boxes of nails and screws and spirit levels and spanners scattered over the floor. They picked their way carefully through the debris.

‘Take me bloody ages to clear this lot up,’ he grumbled.

Grace stroked his arm. ‘I’ll help you,’ she offered, 368

and bent down provocatively in front of him, picking up six-inch nails and putting them back in their box.

She heard him breathe deeply behind her and kept going.

‘They’ve taken my Black and Decker drill, cost me a bloody arm and a leg that did,’ he said, surveying the shelving for missing items. He straightened a couple of paste boards and buckets, tutting and cursing under his breath. Then he saw it. Potty’s childish hand had scratched ‘SEX CASE’ across the bonnet of his blue Cortina and his face went puce as the graffiti came into focus.

Grace pretended she hadn’t seen it and found a broom in the corner with which she began to sweep up some broken glass. The garage door was still open so she pulled it lower, saying, ‘You don’t want everybody looking in, I’ll just close this a bit. Have you got a light in here?’

George pulled the cord on the overhead bulb and dispelled the gathering darkness.

‘Just the two of us then,’ he smirked.

Grace knew that this was her moment. She hadn’t been able to plan for it, but now it was here she had to act. She sidled around the edge of the car and stood in front of him. ‘That’s all right with me,’ she said, gazing straight into his eyes.

She looked for a sign of something, but found nothing. There was nothing at all behind his eyes, nothing she recognised as human. He took her hand 369

and steered it down to the growing bulge in his filthy trousers.

‘Rub my cock! Go on, rub my big fat cock.’

She felt giddy at the thought of actually touching him. His filthy talk and dirty trousers made her want to gag. She was twelve years old again and in her pink and white child’s bedroom, rubbing Uncle Gary in the same way George wanted her to touch him, and it was all real and happening again. Grace forced herself not to give way to panic. This time it was her in control, and she knew what was going to happen next.

She grasped him and gently moved him back and forth in her hands, feeling him stiffen beneath the greasy fabric. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he sighed, his eyes closing,

‘go on, rub it harder.’ She did so until he was quite rigid, planning her next move as he panted for her to speed up.

Then, lowering his head, he swiped his tongue against the corner of her breast by her bra strap and licked her, hard and wet, across the entire width of her cleavage. She felt completely sickened and hurriedly straightened up; she had to break free for a moment, regain the upper hand.

‘Let me close the door properly, someone might be able to see.’

He just leered at her and unzipped his trousers, letting them drop around his ankles, settling on the top of his scuffed boots. He made no move to take them off but stood proud with his large cock swing -

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ing beneath his bulging gut, its tip glazed, bulbous red and angry.

Grace pulled the door to with a loud bang and hoped to God the others had heard because there would be no going back now. Dead or alive, she wouldn’t be coming out of this garage unfucked if they didn’t move soon.

‘Come here then, give me some loving. What’s the matter, doesn’t your old man know how to love you properly?’

Grace knew she couldn’t stay leaning against the garage door for ever but was reluctant to move forward. But the harder she looked at George, the more she saw her Uncle Gary and all the other sick fucks who got their kicks from spoiling the innocent, and then she felt strength burn through her like a flame. This time she was in charge. ‘Lay down,’ she said simply.

‘What?’

‘Lay down. You’re gonna work for it today, George.’

‘What do you mean? Come here and bend over.

You know that’s why we’re here. Come on, darling, suck it.’

‘No,
you
suck it.’ Grace’s voice was firm, not loud but assertive. George stood before her, trousers round his ankles, rubbing himself to try and maintain his erection.

‘I want you to get down on that floor, George, and 371

then I’m gonna sit on your face, and you’re gonna eat till you’re all full up and then some.’ Grace’s eyes challenged him: Defy me if you dare.

George’s lecherous expression changed to one of confusion. All the time Grace was thinking, Come on, come on, come on, hurry the fuck up! But she was holding it together, she was doing it, it was happening. They’d talked about it and imagined it and planned for it and called for it – but now it was here, and she was driving the engine, it felt fucking wonderful.

George lowered himself slowly to the ground, encumbered by the hastily dropped trousers above his boots, but still holding on to his cock like a talisman and snorting with effort.

‘I’ll eat you then, you little slag, but I’m going to poke my fingers up your arse until you scream!’

This man was not human at all. She thought instantly of her baby, Adam, and the destruction and damage caused to his little mind and body. She was now delirious with the taste of sweet revenge.

‘Not till you make me come you’re not.’ Grace slowly moved forward until she was standing over him. She stood above his face, one heel to either side of his head, and popped the button on her denim shorts before slowly lowering the zip. George breathed harder. One leg at a time she removed the shorts and exposed the crutch of her black skimpy knickers at him. She swivelled her hips and sucked 372

her fingers while she stared down into his sickening face, faltering briefly.

He spotted her moment of hesitation and seized his chance to regain power here. He reached up and grabbed at her thighs. His grip was vice-like, and momentarily panic shot through Grace then. She smiled at him, licked her lips and pushed his hands down but was at a loss for what to do next. Then, finally, she heard the metal door of the garage begin to move. There was a whisper of

‘Quick – get in!’ and then the sounds of four women falling over each other in their rush to get in the garage and close the door behind them as quickly and quietly as possible. Potty had come instead of Lizzie, she saw.

George started muttering beneath her, ‘Who the fuck’s that?’

Grace stepped to one side, looked down at him and said, ‘You filthy, dirty scum!’ And then from behind her they all rushed in at once, each going for an arm or leg, exactly as planned, except for Michelle who had a screwed-up tea towel in her fist, soaked in paraffin. The others were clumsy and fumbled to bring down their full weight on his meaty limbs as he thrashed about beneath them, but Michelle simply dropped on him like a stone and lay full-length on top of his body. She had the tea towel in his spluttering gob in a matter of moments.

‘Get the fucking rope!’ Sue hissed then.

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‘I haven’t got the rope!’ Potty hissed back.

‘I’ve got it, here,’ said Gillian, dropping the two cut pieces of sisal rope they had bought that morning from the ironmonger’s.

George kicked out and caught Sue in the hip, making her yelp as she struggled to get the rope around both his feet while Gillian sat on his legs to keep them down. He was strong and put up a fight, but it was his size that let him down. He was too fat.

He had power but lacked speed. The women were all over him like a rash.

Once Sue had managed to loop the rope around both his ankles and yank it into a tight knot, she straightened up and got her breath back before pulling herself into a standing position and surveying his prone form. Then she landed an almighty kick across his backside, making him groan audibly through the stinking gag.

Michelle pushed the paraffin-soaked rag into his mouth, harder and harder, pulling back the flaps of his cheeks and his lips to really cram it in until the corners of his mouth began to bleed and the paraffin turned the red parts of his mouth white.

While she was down there she lifted him by his hair and cracked his head against the concrete until Sue said, ‘Stop it! We don’t want to knock him out, we want him to feel it.’

Crouching down next to his head, she stared into his face. ‘You hear that, you dirty fucking animal?

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We want you to feel it, every bit of it. Every fucking nook and cranny you think is your own we’re gonna take from you . . . just like you took it from our kids!

I hope you like pain, you cunt, ’cos you’re gonna be getting a lot of it today.’ She spat into his face then stood back to let Grace through. She was trying to retrieve her clothes.

‘Don’t worry about your sodding shorts!’ Gillian bellowed. ‘Come and help me hold him!’

Busy at the top end, Potty and Michelle had tied his hands together behind his back so that his body lay in a twisted position, chest down and his bum sticking out to one side in what was obviously an excruciating manner for a man of that size. With trembling hands Potty assembled the enema kit. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out five pairs of rubber gloves, courtesy of Carnegie Ward, which they stretched over their hands.

Grace hushed the other women into silence and they formed a circle around his twisted body. ‘George Rush, it’s the unanimous verdict of this group that you are guilty of the rape, buggery, assault and murder of our children. We know you don’t care about their souls, or their mutilated bodies, or the memories that will haunt the survivors all their lives, but you will feel their pain and our pain, and suffer as they did.

‘Sue, the broom handle. You don’t need gel, do ya, George? Ram it up his fucking arse, Sue, like he did 375

to your Wayne! Michelle, ram that cloth further down his throat, and then grab his cock and rub it off till he comes.’

George was not in pain. In fact, he was loving it.

He’d always wanted to be buggered and was happy to let the women continue. He felt himself come and his eyes rolled back in his head with the sheer ecstasy of it.

Sue removed the broom handle and shit and blood oozed from George’s anus, but he still seemed quite unmoved. Potty prepared the tube for the enema.

‘This is for little TJ.’ In seconds, she was pouring a jugful of soapy liquid into the tube that had been inserted as far as possible into George’s arse. To deny him any release, Michelle grabbed another tea towel and slowly began to push the material up into his anus. His back passage was now blocked completely and the enema was building up inside his body.

George started to colour and his face turned red and blotchy. Sue had started the wanking process again, but she used more force than the others. Semen started to spurt, but this time it was mixed with blood. Relentlessly she continued. Slowly, water burns seemed to erupt the length of his penis. George tried to raise a scream, but no sound came out. His eyes rolled again in sheer pain.

With total abandonment Michelle raised her foot and kicked him in the stomach. Potty followed with a judo punch to the back of his head, and before long 376