Helen...

Harry looked at the number again on his mobile phone. It was definitely Saskia's number filed under her name. "Where did you get that number?" he asked. "I never gave you any numbers, not even mine?"

"A phone was delivered to the apartment this morning. It had a number on it, so I called." Helen explained. "It came by parcel post." She looked at the package closely. "It's stamped and the postage mark is London. Is Saskia in London? And why is she sending me her phone?"

Harry had to think about that. His girlfriend. Missing. Why would the phone be sent to an address she did not even know? "Wait... there is something wrong here," he replied. "I don't like this one bit."

He asked Helen to describe the make and style. The description fitted exactly. "Can you meet me on the High Street market? I'll be in my usual place, the DVD stall?"

"I'm on my way."

Within the hour Helen arrived at the market and noticed Harry standing under the canopy, shivering in just his usual clothes. He caught site of her and waved her over. The snow was still falling heavy but the grit was melting it as fast as it was falling. She handed the phone to him. "What is going on?"

"Fuck knows. This is mystery." He looked in the video file. Something Helen neglected to do. "One video. She had loads as far as I know." He started the video running. His eyes widened at what was recorded. He turned away and vomited instantly, throwing the phone onto the stall counter. Helen watched wondering what he had just seen. She moved to help him, but he put out his hand to stop her. "No, don't. Leave it." He grew pale, the burn of the cold on his skin suddenly reduced on his face. "Don't look at the video. Leave it."

Helen stepped back and waited for him to return to some normality as he caught his breath. "Ok, what is on that thing? What did you just see?" Helen demanded. He leaned on the counter staring at the phone.

"Saskia is dead. Definitely dead."

"How do you know? The video recording?" Helen asked. He looked up at her and nodded slowly. "Then you must go to the police with it. Get whatever happened sorted out."

"It's not that simple."

"What do you mean? May I see it?"

"No. Don't, it's not pleasant. Infact it's fucking horrid. Shaun O'Grady is a dirty cruel bastard." Harry replied with bitterness. "I knew he'd hurt her. But there was no need to kill her. Not the way he did."

He realised that Hoffman was doing nothing about it, or so he thought. And why did Martin O'Grady throw him out onto the street? Why not kill him as well as Saskia? There were many questions now popping up in his head. He found it hard to think, but Helen being close by consoled him just a little.

David gave his lecture in his usual smooth toned manner. His voice clear to all of his students across the lecture theatre as he explained the theory behind the Electra complex and incest. His eyes gazed around, trying to seek out Helen, who he now feared would reveal his secrets. She was not there that morning and that worried him even more. Perhaps the job he had asked for was done without payment up front as it were? He doubted it. Hoffman never worked that way.

Later as the winter evening drew darker, Hoffman parked his car, an old model, scruffy pea green and not worth gathering the attention of anyone. Conspicuous in other words. Always conspicuous. He waited at the forecourt entrance for the one he needed to speak to. The heater in the car barely worked, but it provided some heat to take away the cold of the outside. He lit up a cigarette and noticed that the snow had stopped falling, watching the students pass by. He liked the young females and his mind began to wander a little. In his anima instinctive imagination he could smell and taste their hidden sex.

He caught the burly figure of David crossing the fore court, trying to stay upright on the icy snow. Has he got closer to the car, he beeped his horn and opened the passenger side door. "Get in, quickly before the heat escapes." David slid in and closed the door.

"I suppose you are either desperate for your money or you have come to deliver more eyeballs for the hawks?" David asked. "I have your money." He slipped a brown paper wrapped wad from his briefcase. "It's all there, sixty grand you said?" Hoffman just stared ahead without acknowledging him, smoking his cigarette calmly. "The job I ordered. The girl?"

"I know who you mean," Hoffman replied. "The nice one. Too nice to die without pleasing first."

"Well, if that's the way you want to put it yes. It would be nice to be there when you do it. But I suppose you are far to clinical in your work to oblige me that pleasure?"

"You are a pervert professor." Hoffman replied.

"No worse than you my friend." David grinned, handing over the wad. Hoffman looked at it and pushed it back. "What?"

"I don't want it. Not yet anyway."

"Up front, like you said. Take it."

Hoffman wound down the window and threw out his cigarette butt. Then he turned to David. "Are you demanding again? I thought you were a clever man professor? Can't you understand English?"

"My apologies. I didn't expect you to reject payment."

Hoffman wound his window closed and quickly started the car, moving it out into the traffic. David was not expecting a lift home. "Where are we going?" he asked. Hoffman remained silent. "I'm not staying at the manor. You don't know where my cottage is." Still Hoffman remained silent, concentrating on his driving.

"Nasty job," the police officer said to his colleague, as he looked up at the bridge. His colleague looked up and watched the suspended body hanging by the neck from the bridge's iron barrier. "I think it's the weather that makes people commit suicide. That and other things." They continued to watch has the police rescue men hauled up the body, laying it on the bridge pavement for the paramedics to confirm death. David's eyes stared up at them, blank and lifeless as they removed the rope noose from around his neck. It was the third suicide by hanging that day. Winter depression and cold weather forcing stressed out victims to take their own lives.

Martin O'Grady opened his front door. "Ah! There you are," he said in a happy tone. "I was wondering when you were going to turn up." Hoffman stepped in and opened his scarf. "I've got my lads with me in the living room, so we can chat in the kitchen. A bit a of irish malt."

Hoffman followed and threw the opened wad of money on the kitchen table. "There, twenty grand in cash." He said. Martin smiled, pleased to see his money back. "I told you I'd give it back. And..."

He reached inside of his coat taking out a thicker wad of money, laying it on the table. "That's forty grand extra."

"What for?" Martin poured out two glasses of whiskey. "I'm not greedy Mister Hoffman. The twenty will do nicely thank you."

"It's for Shaun."

"Shaun? Why Shaun. He did a runner on Christmas day with the..." Martin suddenly realised that he had accused Shaun for taking the money from the apartment and running off with it. He looked at Hoffman. "Where is Shaun?"

"Where some people think he ought to be."

"And, tell me. Where would that be?"

"Now that would be like giving away a trade secret." He grabbed the glass of dark malt whiskey and drank it in one long swallow, allowing it to warm him. He had been out in the cold far too long that day and he needed a quick means of relieving his arthritis.

"Listen Mister Hoffman, whoever you really are, I want to know what you did with Shaun and I need to know right now. You are playing with the wrong man here and I can make you regret it."

Hoffman smiled as he stared back. "You like being the tough daddy of the gangster world don't you? Well, you and the rest are just playing like children in my opinion. Your threats don't even touch me."

"Oh I see. You like to play with fire and guns too? You know I thought you were a decent kind of fella' when I first met you. Seems you need to know who is who around here. Not even the cops will touch me or my family, you know that?"

Hoffman continued to smile unimpressed. "They can never find me. So I think we are kind of equal on that score." Martin became annoyed by his guest's bravado and insolence. He opened the back door and called out for Mick, supposedly working on something in the garden shed. There was no reply.

"Climbing over your backyard wall quietly, set off my arthritis pain. It wasn't nice."

Martin called out for Mick again as his two younger sons entered the kitchen from the lounge to see what the fuss was all about. Hoffman turned quickly and fired his gun, hidden within his coat. Two direct head shots and they fell to the ground as the silenced gun popped its charges.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Martin cried out. "Those are my boys you bastard."

He ran to their limp bodies leaning against the door frame on either side of the lounge door, instantly lifeless as Martin made a desperate shout again for Mick's attention.

"No use calling for Mick," Hoffman said, pointing his gun directly at Martin's head. "I think you'll find him in the garden resting in peace."

Martin looked up. "You fucking murdering bastard." Hoffman looked down at him and agreed with a slow nod of his head. "You killed my fucking boys for nothing. They have nothing to do with all this."

"I don't agree. I'm sure I made a promise to someone that I'd make all of you a job lot. Including the big Chinese guy in your garden. He wasn't that easy."

"I hope you rot in fucking hell for this." Martin growled.

"Still the tough guy right up to the end," Hoffman replied. "I admire your corruptness a little more now. I did expect you to plead for your life. Don't even think about moving Mister O'Grady," Hoffman noticed his victim try to make a quick one on one dash for the gun. "I don't like making people suffer. Quick and easy, that's my method. Not like your gang who have been known to hurt and torture their victims for almost nothing." Martin listened as he stared up at his predator. "This arthritis of mine really does hurt." Hoffman turned his head away, and in the same instance, pulled the trigger.

Whilst Gerry Hoffman continued his frenzied killing spree, Harry and Helen put the situation to one side for a while. Saskia was dead and has yet Harry did not know why. Helen took him back to her apartment to make the most of Jack's absence in Paris, knowing that he would be catching up on old sexual acquaintances, male and female now it seemed, if David was to be believed. She did not care one iota about Saskia. She could not bring herself to do so because she had been her playmate's lover and probably if they had stayed together, she would never have met him again.

The blinds on the windows shielded out the winter outside. The king size bed with its black satin sheet became their playground as both lay naked upon it. Helen turned and lay upon his body, teasing him with tiny kisses on his lips that grew more deep and passionate by the second. It was time to show Harry what she could do in the art of seduction, this time hoping for a more positive result that Jack could never give her in love making. Sensual and satisfying. Harry lay back, submitting to her moves, enjoying the control she had over his body. Soft romantic jazz music played in the background.

Slowly Helen moved over his body, placing gentle licks over his chin, finding his erogenous zone on his neck and dwelling there listening to his responsive moans. A place she had found and enjoyed giving him pleasure by. She moved further with her tongue, slowly moving over his chest settling on his nipple, the cold of her saliva making him harden, goose bump as she moved over his navel. His manhood twitching between her breasts, getting harder by the second. She looked up at him and saw his eyes closed signifying that all was well with what she was doing.

Her tongue licked gently over his cock, making it throb with pleasure. Harry was well endowed, just the right size for her. The smoothness of its head, purple and shiny to her tongue and lip caresses made her hot for more. She looked at how it's almost bow shape lay against his navel, furled with a tangle of veins. Its base wrinkled with skin that formed the bulge of his sack, too irresistible not to lick, giving teasing bites now and then. Harry began to moan in response, running his fingers through her soft smooth hair. His light brown preened pubic hair signified that he took great care in the appearance of his sexual parts. He tasted clean and if the rest of his body did on occasion smell sweaty, his manhood was fresh and hygienic. Helen was determined to change all of that. If he was renown to cum so hard, now she was going to see how much she could force him to do so with oral sex. His treat and her desire.

Harry lay back stroking her hair and reaching out to feel her erect nipple and breast as she slowly took him into her mouth, feeling him on her tongue until she was confident enough to take him deeper, slowly, sucking gently, covering every centimetre with a mix of her saliva and his precum the more she took him in until her lips touched his pubic hair. She held him there until she pleasantly gagged upon him, releasing him to twist stroke him, which drove him crazy with ecstasy. She knew she had to slow down her technique a little or he would cum far too soon. To remedy the situation and cool down his ardour, she began to hold him the base and give him gentle licks up and down his cock. The more she tongue played against him the more his fingers pulled and twisted on her nipple, sending tingling sensations through her body, raising her orgasm, making her moan with pleasure.

It was now too irresistible to ignore the feel of him inside of her. She needed to ride him until he was ready to yield his charges, hoping for the best yet. This time she was not allowing him to cum onto her face or in her mouth. This time she wanted to see it. Helen straddled his hips and guided him slowly into her moist vagina. Wetness against wetness made it easy. So easy she tightened her muscles around his shaft, riding it, letting herself eventually cum first. His hands grasped her buttocks and rhythmically swaying hips as he watched her pert breasts move with the smooth slow motion upon him. It felt so good to both of them. He could not resist holding her breasts and running his thumbs over her taught nipples, watching her close her eyes in total pleasure as his cock touched that certain magic spot within with each of her controlled thrusts onto him.

Her total control brought her to her orgasmic climax, holding back the need to scream, until she could no longer constrain herself. Her massive gush of love juiced bathed his cock within. He felt it running over its length until it spilled out over his sack. It was not a great deal, but enough to soak him with her liquid love, filling the air with her sweet essence. Allowing herself to throb around him, quiver in ecstasy, she could tell by his moans that he was almost ready to shoot.

Slowly she dismounted, much against his need to stay inside of her. She took him in her hand keeping the rhythm going until he jerked and gasped out. He was cumming and she continued to stroke until the first spurt arrived, followed by more and more thick creamy spunk, which landed in a thick pool on his navel. Now she could see it and let the last drops run down her fingers. There was always something wonderful about watching a man cum so much. It was irresistible to want to taste his salty tang. As Harry gasped to recover, she licked her fingers, showing him how much she appreciated it.

Then she began to lick the remainder from his navel, consuming it, making him quiver with the sensation of her tongue and sight of her taking every drop to swallow. Simultaneously, he could feel her cumming on his fingers as he sought out the moistness of her sex.