hope75
05-30-2013, 02:31 PM
With a relentless assault, the rain poured as it had done for most of that day. The crowd huddled uncomfortably in the tiny dry space of the bus shelter as the passing traffic heaved by. Those unlucky enough to be at the front soaked from the spray of the numerous puddles, now shimmering black in the late evening darkness.
Nestled at the back, as he was at the same time most evenings, Dennis tried in vain to read the trashy fiction he had grown to love on these dreary commutes home. He glanced at his watch and noted that the bus was now over twenty minutes late and the hustle of the irascible crowd against him began to wear his patience.
The growl of an engine followed by the screech of brakes caused Dennis to look up from his book. Turning the corner he spotted the 145 that would finally get him home and back to Amy.
He boarded the bus, flashing his travel card quickly at the uninterested driver before taking the nearest available seat. Resting his briefcase on his lap he returned to his trashy tale of the pauper who fights for the love of the fair maiden, hoping this would block out the chatter of those seated around him.
It was after ten when he stepped off the bus into the cold, biting, damp air. The smell of the nearby slaughterhouse invading his nostrils as he made his way across the by now deserted small road that led to his home.
Drenched and tired, he unlocked the door of his shabby bungalow and stepped inside, relieved to be finally out of the rain. Making his way down the hallway, he stopped at their bedroom and quietly opened the door. Amy lay with her back to him, her raven coloured curls resting on the porcelain of her exposed shoulders. He pulled the fallen bedclothes back over her shoulders and went out to the kitchen to fix his supper.
He ate in silence, flicking through the files he had brought from the office. The McMahon report had to be finished within the next few days he thought to himself before returning it to his briefcase and washing the utensils he had just used.
Dennis then did all his safety checks – making sure the front door was bolted and the back door was locked. Happy that all was in order, he dried his thinning auburn hair in the bathroom and returned to the bedroom.
Amy felt cold on his skin as he spooned next to her naked body. He could smell the faintest hint of coconut still lingering in her hair that now filled his face. He ran his hand over her right breast, causing him to stiffen against her buttocks. Pulling her curls back he began to softly kiss her neck and upper back. Moving himself into position he guided himself into her. Her sex felt dry and tight around his, penetrating her deeper. Gyrating harder and faster began the catalyst that would eventually lead him to orgasm, which inevitably occurred moments later. Satisfied, Dennis lay onto his back and was soon enveloped by sleep and dream.
The shrill, electronic shriek from the ringtone of his phone on the locker beside the bed abruptly stirred him from this state the following morning. Focusing his tired eyes, the number of the office flashed as incoming on the device.
“Hello”, he answered.
“Good morning Dennis, Mr Boyce would like you to come in early today, there is an urgent meeting and he would like you to attend”, the tinny voice of his boss’s secretary replied.
“Oh, yes that is fine. What time does he need me there at”, Dennis asked still thrown by the earliness of the call.
“If you could get here in the next hour, that would be great”, was the quite demanding response.
“Yes, yes. I have a few things to sort out at home but will try to make it in as soon as I can”, he conceded before Mr Boyce’s secretary rudely hung up.
Dennis got up slowly and went to the bathroom. He turned on the shower which he hoped would help wash the sleep from his being.
Standing under the pressurised hotness of the water, he slowly started to freshen up. Drying in front of the mirror he observed his sagging middle aged body before turning away, almost in disgust.
In the kitchen, he once again ate in silence, organising the McMahon files for his upcoming meeting as the toast crunched in his mouth. It was then he noticed the familiar odour that began to creep through the air of the small bungalow.
He dashed down the hall to the bedroom where the pungent stench was now more prevalent. Getting down on his knees, he lifted the bed covers and pulled out a white air freshener from beneath the bed. Dennis put the box to his nose. The lime breeze perfume that should have greeted him was now non- existent. He pulled out another, followed by another and found they were all beginning to lose the freshness that their adverts would have people believe.
Leaning in closer to Amy he realised then what was happening. Dennis would have to get rid of his latest ‘girlfriend’. It was a shame he thought, he had loved Amy more than any of the previous ones. Danielle, Pauline, Sarah, he remembered the names he liked to give them.
The heavy rain of the last few days had made the soil in his secluded back garden soft and easy to dig. Dennis carefully laid the body now draped in the sheet into the newly dug hole beside his other ‘girlfriends’ whom also ended up in the seclusion of the pretty back garden of his shabby little bungalow with pretty flowers now growing where they lay. What flowers would he grow on top of Amy? Yes lilies, he thought.
Nestled at the back, as he was at the same time most evenings, Dennis tried in vain to read the trashy fiction he had grown to love on these dreary commutes home. He glanced at his watch and noted that the bus was now over twenty minutes late and the hustle of the irascible crowd against him began to wear his patience.
The growl of an engine followed by the screech of brakes caused Dennis to look up from his book. Turning the corner he spotted the 145 that would finally get him home and back to Amy.
He boarded the bus, flashing his travel card quickly at the uninterested driver before taking the nearest available seat. Resting his briefcase on his lap he returned to his trashy tale of the pauper who fights for the love of the fair maiden, hoping this would block out the chatter of those seated around him.
It was after ten when he stepped off the bus into the cold, biting, damp air. The smell of the nearby slaughterhouse invading his nostrils as he made his way across the by now deserted small road that led to his home.
Drenched and tired, he unlocked the door of his shabby bungalow and stepped inside, relieved to be finally out of the rain. Making his way down the hallway, he stopped at their bedroom and quietly opened the door. Amy lay with her back to him, her raven coloured curls resting on the porcelain of her exposed shoulders. He pulled the fallen bedclothes back over her shoulders and went out to the kitchen to fix his supper.
He ate in silence, flicking through the files he had brought from the office. The McMahon report had to be finished within the next few days he thought to himself before returning it to his briefcase and washing the utensils he had just used.
Dennis then did all his safety checks – making sure the front door was bolted and the back door was locked. Happy that all was in order, he dried his thinning auburn hair in the bathroom and returned to the bedroom.
Amy felt cold on his skin as he spooned next to her naked body. He could smell the faintest hint of coconut still lingering in her hair that now filled his face. He ran his hand over her right breast, causing him to stiffen against her buttocks. Pulling her curls back he began to softly kiss her neck and upper back. Moving himself into position he guided himself into her. Her sex felt dry and tight around his, penetrating her deeper. Gyrating harder and faster began the catalyst that would eventually lead him to orgasm, which inevitably occurred moments later. Satisfied, Dennis lay onto his back and was soon enveloped by sleep and dream.
The shrill, electronic shriek from the ringtone of his phone on the locker beside the bed abruptly stirred him from this state the following morning. Focusing his tired eyes, the number of the office flashed as incoming on the device.
“Hello”, he answered.
“Good morning Dennis, Mr Boyce would like you to come in early today, there is an urgent meeting and he would like you to attend”, the tinny voice of his boss’s secretary replied.
“Oh, yes that is fine. What time does he need me there at”, Dennis asked still thrown by the earliness of the call.
“If you could get here in the next hour, that would be great”, was the quite demanding response.
“Yes, yes. I have a few things to sort out at home but will try to make it in as soon as I can”, he conceded before Mr Boyce’s secretary rudely hung up.
Dennis got up slowly and went to the bathroom. He turned on the shower which he hoped would help wash the sleep from his being.
Standing under the pressurised hotness of the water, he slowly started to freshen up. Drying in front of the mirror he observed his sagging middle aged body before turning away, almost in disgust.
In the kitchen, he once again ate in silence, organising the McMahon files for his upcoming meeting as the toast crunched in his mouth. It was then he noticed the familiar odour that began to creep through the air of the small bungalow.
He dashed down the hall to the bedroom where the pungent stench was now more prevalent. Getting down on his knees, he lifted the bed covers and pulled out a white air freshener from beneath the bed. Dennis put the box to his nose. The lime breeze perfume that should have greeted him was now non- existent. He pulled out another, followed by another and found they were all beginning to lose the freshness that their adverts would have people believe.
Leaning in closer to Amy he realised then what was happening. Dennis would have to get rid of his latest ‘girlfriend’. It was a shame he thought, he had loved Amy more than any of the previous ones. Danielle, Pauline, Sarah, he remembered the names he liked to give them.
The heavy rain of the last few days had made the soil in his secluded back garden soft and easy to dig. Dennis carefully laid the body now draped in the sheet into the newly dug hole beside his other ‘girlfriends’ whom also ended up in the seclusion of the pretty back garden of his shabby little bungalow with pretty flowers now growing where they lay. What flowers would he grow on top of Amy? Yes lilies, he thought.