The Dark Star Descent Pt 01

Beginnings

Chapter One; Long Odds

The phone vibrated on the desk to my left hand side snapping my conscience away from the screen my eyes hadn't left for the last hour or so.

I adjusted my still erect dick in my jeans as the visuals flashed through my mind.

Picking up my phone I flick open the text:

SENDER Smalls: Are we still all good to meet for half 2.

I sent a quick response hovering over using the thumbs up icon that my phone suggested; I fucking hate emojis.

SENDER My Iphone: All good with me... need to escape.

Carefully I deleted my browsing history and I shut down the laptop and stepped away from the desk. Sarah was mad enough at me at the moment, my marriage might have been hanging by the thinnest of threads, but it was prudent not to give her any cause for further complaint. Discovering page after page of videos of young girls being restrained and fucked in the cache of the internet browser would not certainly play out well.

When did internet porn get so harsh? When I was a kid we had to rely on borrowing a mate's brothers dodgy VHS. These days every taste was catered for within a few clicks of a mouse. Bondage had always mildly appealed but even with her Christian Grey fantasies across 3 fucking God-awful novels I'd never managed to convince Sarah even into a little 'tie and tease'. Even back when we had sex.

I headed to the shower. 5 minutes later, having relieved myself over the memory of a brunette tied face down taking an extremely harsh fuck in a dark basement, I towel off and grab a pair of jeans and a black freshly laundered shirt from the wardrobe. The contents of my wardrobe needed and overhaul I felt like I lacked identity. Fuck that it wasn't just my wardrobe it was my whole life needed an overhaul.

Slipping my watch over my left wrist I knew I was pushing my luck time wise if I was to meet the boys ahead of the game.

I head in to the kitchen where my Wife and my Son sit finishing the remnants of sandwiches; nothing prepped for me I note.

"Hey Champ" I turn to my 17yr old Son Jack "What you up to for the rest of the day?"

"Can I grab a lift into town with you?" He replies eagerly "Might go meet some friends."

"Sure but I really gotta go... like now so you all set?" I look him up and down. My pride and joy. Dressed in a White Tee baring an unknown designer logo with skinny fit jeans I could only hope to pull off he's Tall around 6ft 2 easily these days; a trait from my side of the family, only now he's started to fill out in a healthy way. Switching from PlayStation to actually getting out and exercising has no doubt helped him. I'm not sure about the floppy hair, but what do I know with my receding hairline. I wish I had a fringe to be floppy

"Good to go." Jack states "I'll just grab my jacket."

As Jack exits the room Sarah looks over at me from the kitchen sink "Lend him some cash ...I think there's a girl involved somewhere."

"Sure," I say genuinely surprised by the rare interaction with her "Do we know who?"

"He won't say... secretive like you." the swipe couldn't be any more obvious. I bite my tongue refusing to be drawn into another exchange of words with my Wife

"Well good for him..." I say out loud as I turn and walk out the kitchen; sarcastically adding "Don't wait up."

I don't wait for a response

————————————————————

45 minutes later I'm sat behind a table in a busy Sports Bar watching football on a huge projector screen. 15 minutes into the first half

Sat next to me 2 of my oldest friends Rich Smalling, Smalls as I've seemingly always known him since we were at School together as 7 year old's and Doug Brazier who I've known for well over 20 years as well.

"So things ain't improved any?" Smalls questions as he places down a half-eaten burger in the plate in front of him "Fuck I'm so fucking nervous about this game I can't even fucking eat."

Responding to his first question I turn to Smalls with a shrug "Things ain't going to improve fella...The D word is in the air."

I take a sip from my second bottle of lager; "We're barely keeping it together for the sake of Jack, what with his birthday in a few weeks' time and his exams and that. He ain't a fucking kid... he knows I'm in a spare room every night."

"Fuck...Divorce that'll be final though." Smalls raises an eyebrow at me "I'd say I'm surprised but you did get caught out fucking that Teacher ...not that I blame you" he slaps a heavy black hand on my shoulder as he chuckles "She was as fit as."

I shake my head but I'm not sure why; the affair 3 months ago had been as fleeting as it was passion fueled. Leah Davis had only been a teacher at Jacks school since September. I'd heard the rumors about her via the grapevine of the ubiquitous WhatsApp group set up by several other Fathers at the school. 25 years old, slim, long red hair. I'd probably become the subject of gossip and speculation long before Sarah had surreptitiously checked my bank statements and questioned charges from local restaurants and hotel when I'd supposed to have been away with work. Such a fucking cliché. Had I been accustomed to the dark art of deception then perhaps I'd still be fucking the energetic Miss Davis now.

"Mind on the game." I mockingly chastise Smalls as I point towards the screen with my beer bottle.

The game should mean nothing to us; our team doesn't even feature. Our team can only dream of winning the league on the final game of the season. The game means so much because of the accumulator bet placed on the result way back last August. It's the same sketch every year. A punt definitely sums it up. A wild combination of league and cup winners nominated that's usually blown out the water by September. This year's different though; by pure luck every other result has gone the way of the bet, all bar the result of this game.

"Fourteen thousand ...fuck that'd really come in handy." I smirk as Smalls speaks aloud to himself while Doug nods an excited agreement. The bet at such long odds of 14'000 to 1 should never pay out. What do we know about who'll be the Champions of England let alone Albania, Switzerland and Belarus amongst others? Each season we place a £10 stake in blind hope over any kind of certainty. This year though I'd fucked up; or I thought I had at the time. An innocuous double tap that I'd accidentally committed to. My £10 stake was actually £100. For fear of cursing the luck of the bet I'd not even confided in Doug or Smalls that I stood to win £140,000

That kind of money would be a new start

——————————————————————

I watch in disbelief.

The Corner kick swings in and is met with a header at the near post.

The ball loops up and somehow the player in red, I can't even think who, sticks out a toe and deflects the ball past the Goalkeeper seemingly rooted to the spot as mesmerised as I am

The net of the goal billows

3-2 in the last minute of injury time

Pandemonium

Drinks go over. Fists pump the air. Smalls grabs hold of Doug ruffling his hair like as he pulls him into a head lock. Screaming out "You Beauty ...You fucking beauty." over and over again

I sink back into the seat the sights and sounds of the bar blur into the background

One hundred and forty thousand pounds. One hundred and forty thousand pounds. One hundred and fucking forty thousand fucking pounds.

Smalls grabs me; his grin from ear to ear, he drags me to my feet "Can you believe it... can you fucking believe it?"

Dougie grabs hold of me wrapping an arm around my shoulder. None of us have waited for the final whistle I realise as the game plays out still on the big screen. Another cheer penetrates the room as the TV Cameras focus on ecstatic players in red embracing one another

I open my phone and bring up the electronic version of the bet slip

"Boys ...boys ...I've something to share with you."

——————————————————————

6 hours later the whole worlds a blur

In a toilet cubicle I bend over sniffing a thick white line of cocaine from the screen of my mobile phone with a 20 note. Its poor quality shit cut with fuck knows what, but the instant mild tingle suggests it's good enough

Crashing out of the cubicle I wash my hands and face briefly in the sink. The other side of the door I hear the heavy bass of music from the club. I skinny black kid offers me a paper towel and a choice of aftershaves "No Spray...No Lay." he chuckles. The 7th or 8th time I've heard this pitch since I entered the Gents.

I drop a few coins into his hand accept the towel and take a liberal spray from an Armani after shave before heading out the door.

Stumbling once more, pissed on champagne and now fueled by the Cocaine I feel in my bloodstream I head back towards the booth where I'd left Doug and Smalls.

"Hey ...Hey...rich little white boy." Smalls grins at me as I approach the table. A surprising amount of hangers on attracted by our impromptu celebration. Like flies around shit. "We out of fizz ...it's your round ...get yourself to the bar."

Without challenging I head towards the bar; looking around my surroundings. Night clubs ain't my thing anymore but why are they all so similar; where's the catch? Where's the unique attraction? Where's the appeal these days? No wonder the place is half empty, even on a Saturday night, and half of them fuckers seem attracted to our booth.

My mind snapped out of my thoughts by the blonde stood at the bar. Early 20's at a guess, long legs in silver strapped heels. Her toned body squeezed into a short red dress. Running fingers through my hair I tuck in then untuck my shirt. The coke speaks for me before I realise "Can I get you a drink?"

"Well its original I'll give you that." she says. Her blonde straight hair frames a petite face her bright red lips form into a sweet smile. "But if you're offering I'll have a Porn Star Martini."

I refuse to make the comment that passes through my mind as I nod and lean against the bar, assuming I'm looking casual I catch the eye of the Barman we've been tipping heavily since arrival. "2 more bottles and a Porn Star Martini please Sir". It's all I can do not slur my words in front of her.

"Better make that 2 Porn Stars." I confidently hear stated from over my shoulder.

No need to turn as stepping up alongside the blonde is a vision of near perfection. Soft caramel skin her black slightly wavy hair falls to the shoulders. A little black dress wraps tightly around her body and her toned legs are enhanced by black high heeled boots to the knee. It's her eyes that genuinely captivated me. In the dim light of the club they appear almost ultraviolet.

"Who's your frien..." She's about to continue when she stops herself short "No ... no way ...no way Mr. Hughes is that you?"

At a loss for words I stammer as the Barman places the drinks on the bar and I hand him my debit card for payment. "Um...yeah...it is... sorry do I know you?"

"You used to..." the mixed-race beauty states with a wide grin that reveals perfect white teeth. "It's Mica ...Mica James."

Fucking hell. The last time I saw Mica James must've been 7 years ago. I worked with her Father, Marcus; he'd been tragically killed in a car accident when she was younger. Mica had been at school with Jack, they'd been on a Swim Team together . A year or two after her Father's death the family had moved to Scotland to be with her Mum's Family. She was s little older than Jack, but, how the fuck can she be only what 19 years of age? She looks far older than her years. Dangerously so.

"Mica?" I narrow my eyes "Marcus Wise's Mica... you're back... what visiting or?"

"Mum moved back about a month or so ago" she grins as she helps herself to the drink from the bar. I've practically forgotten about the blonde. "I can't believe Jack never said anything."

"He only usually communicates in grunts." I grin and my response elicits a chuckle from both girls.

"So you met Gemma then?" Mica makes the formal introduction I hadn't had chance to make. "Gemma this is Jack Hughes Dad...Logan."

"Wait... " Gemma states with a giggle "You're the guy who shagged Miss Davis."

I hold my hands up "Guilty."

"No way you know I heard that goss' within like 5 minutes of starting at Saint Luke's." Mica interjects cheerfully.

"Who hasn't?" Gemma chuckles

From the corner of my eye I see Smalls agitatedly waving me over. His thirst can't be that bad.

"I should..." I don't want to make my excuses I realise "...look were having a few drinks to ..."

Stopping myself short of letting on about the windfall I continue "...feel free to join us."

"The need to dance is stronger" Mica teases as she winks at me "Maybe later Bad Boy ...thanks for the drinks."

"Bad Boy." I repeat back to her.

"All girls love a Bad Boy Mr. Hughes."

I try not to overthink the way Mica bites her lower lip as she turns with Gemma and walks away in the direction of the dance floor. They both finish their drinks and place empty glasses on a table before heading into the melee of bodies. I watch her more than the blonde as she moves with grace and ease as she steps on to the dance floor. She slips effortlessly between bodies until she finds her space. Her body winds and moves in time with the beat of the music. Almost immediately she's attracted not just my attention but the attention of every male around her and Gemma. She gyrates against one male before pulling Gemma close to her and the two young girls fuel fantasies as they press themselves against one another, smiling and laughing as they dance.

"Oi" Smalls voice booms in my ear "Man could die of thirst over there."

Two more hefty lines of Coke later, Champagne flowing I look to my phone. No missed calls. It's now a little before 1am; my head spins, the pace of the day and night is maybe taking its toll. Dougie sits there talking at me but I can't decipher a word he says.

I'm watching her again. Watching Mica. She dances with tall blonde haired guy now; moving his hands up off her ass when they linger a little too long, he tries his luck again and she pushes him away to dance alone again.

My eye catches her eye as I watch her from the booth that faces out across the dance floor. She smiles. A wicked smile. She beckons me over with a finger before she turns her back time to me as her young body sways and moves to the music. She looks back over her shoulder at me. Tantalising.

Before I know it I find myself stepping away from the table. Doug stops talking at me and Smalls deep in conversation with a brunette in a silver dress, breaks his attention away asking the unanswered question "Where you going man?"

Before I know it I'm moving myself through the crowds on the dance floor picking my way through the crowd to her. She intoxicates me. Something intoxicates me. Is it the coke? Is it the Champagne? I'm stood before her before I know it.

Mica's places her hands on my shoulders. Once again she bites gently on her bottom lip. She leans forward and whispers in my ear seductively "I shouldn't be tempting a Bad Boy should I?"

Barely believing what's happening as I hear her words echoed through my coke addled mind. My hands slip around her slender hips and I pull her close to me. Our faces close together as she straddles my left thigh rubbing herself up against me, the skirt of the dress riding tantalisingly up her thigh. All eyes seemingly on us but I know they're actually on the lithe caramel skinned beauty as she sleekly gyrates against me. I feel a little subconscious as I sway my hips to match her movement but in no time our entwined bodies find a rhythm as the dance music invades my senses. I feel myself grow hard as she presses against me. Her fingers grip my shoulders as she arches her back and drops her head back.

I spot her friend Gemma locked in an embrace to my left just as Mica brings her head near level with mine. She grins a devilish grin and my hands slip around her well-toned ass. I try to reason with myself; an internal caused by the sexual conflict in my mind from having the 18year old daughter of my one-time colleague pressed up against me. My lust fueled by the moment, the occasion, the spirit of the day. Her mysterious eyes look back at me and then she suddenly breaks away from me.

I grin; cheeky little cock tease being the first thing that runs through my mind as I process the rejection.

Mica's hand grabs mine and before I know she's leading away from the dance floor. As we sidestep revelers I watch her form from behind. The tight black dress accentuates every curve of her body; those boots, god damn those boots, make her legs look great. Mica leads me into an empty booth in a secluded corner. Sat beside her I look at her, a thin layer of sweat from her exertion on the dance floor covers her face as she lays that cheeky grin on me again. She fans herself with her hand "So hot."

'You are'my coke addled mind wants to state.

"Drink?" Is the suggestion that my brain eventually formulates.

"Uh uh." she shakes her head and before I can interject she straddles my lap and her right middle finger presses to my lips as her left hand tucks hair behind her ear. " You think you're a Bad Boy ...you ain't seen nothing from this Bad Girl yet."

Before I can speak her cherry red lips press to mine as her hands cradle my jaw and she kisses me deeply with a wild abandonment. She tastes like the sweet exotic cocktails she's been drinking all night. I match her kiss and my hands find her hips which she lowers and grinds on top of me. Her tongue wraps around mine as breathlessly we embrace.

She breaks the kiss keeping her face close to mine and rubs her crotch over the unmistakable bulge in my jeans "That'll get you into trouble Mr. Hughes." her mischievous eyes hint at the trouble.

"It generally does." I reply with a lopsided grin before her lips lock to mine of her own fruition once more and we kiss deeply.

Mica starts to pull away breaking the kiss as I sit there nursing an uncomfortable hard on. She glances to a silver watch on her left wrist "I'm getting a lift at 1 ... already late."

"Damn" I look up to her "What about ..."

"Nice seeing you again Mr. Hughes ... I'll see you around." she smiles, and a subtle confident wink comes from her left eye as she bites that lower lip again. "If you're lucky."

She turns on the exquisite heels off those boots, spotting Gemma she waves her hand in the air and hurriedly heads towards the main exit laughing and joking with the blonde in the red dress.

I shake my head as my dick slowly subsides in my jeans. Did she just play me?

Technically that was all kinds of wrong I think to myself as I head to the bar; I mean fucking hell it's the cliché but I was old enough to be her Father, she used to be friends at school with Jack. I fucking knew her Father. Still I'm unable to lose the grin from my face as our new favourite Barman spots me and heads straight over to me "Another bottle?"

"Nah give me a Brandy and Coke please."

As I sip from the glass handed to me I consider what's a fucking roller coaster day it's been. I take out my phone and check; still disbelieving the account balance on my online gambling account. £140,100.00 sits there highlighted white on a green background. My grin broadens as I gaze out across the club; my thoughts returning to my earlier musings. All fucking night clubs are the fucking same these days.

I feel a hand slap on my shoulder "You been sharking?"

Turning I see Smalls wide smile his one gold tooth slightly visible as he continues "I mean you gotta remember Logan ...,,,you might be a rich fucker ...but you still an ugly fucker."

I shake my head; mentioning the encounter with Mica can wait. It'd only be dismissed or discredited in their pissed-up states.

"Listen listen" Doug slurs as he approaches from behind Smalls "We got ...we got an important decision to make..."