Nigel Hewitt eased the gear down into third as the car approached the road that passed by the nightclub. The Vauxhall Zafira's powerful headlights cut through the night air in a searching beam illuminating the dark stretch of road ahead. It was the third time Nigel had driven down the road that night but not the last time. This was his happy hunting ground and once the clubs had closed the hunt was on. At 43 Nigel was very much past his prime -- time and lifestyle had taken its toll and he found himself a pot-bellied, balding middle-aged man and worse yet, he was single too. Patricia had left him four years ago, stupid bitch and good riddance too. She said it was his fault their marriage had gone downhill, his drinking and gambling was one thing another was his demands in the bedroom things he coerced or forced her to do and the abuse he heaped on her if she didn't .
Stupid frigid cow, what was wrong with a little roleplay and bondage, what was wrong with water-sports? She would say it was degrading, unhygienic -- always some sort of lame excuse. Nigel didn't understand her attitude, her reluctance to give these things a go. The girls on the online porn site did all this stuff and they loved it. When he'd pointed that out to her she told him he should have gone out with a porn star then. He should have seen it earlier in their marriage -- their relationship -- she just wasn't into sex. Well, not like he was. He'd tried a prostitute once but wasn't happy with the experience, she'd hadn't been cheap to start with but then it was extra to go without a condom, and then afterwards he'd worried about what he might have caught off her -- luckily, he found he was clear when he had a check-up at the doctors. That was the last time he'd tried a prostitute, he didn't like the idea of paying for sex much anyway, but wasn't that the only way a man his age could bed a twentysomething hot chick?
The idea, surprisingly was one he got from reading a newspaper article on unlicensed cab drivers picking up drunken girls late at night and having some hot fun with them when giving them a lift home. It was so perfect he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it himself. Every weekend after night clubs closed there were plenty of sexy young girls, wearing not much clothes, at least half pissed and desperate for a lift home -- all you had to do was cruise around near a nightclub at closing time and it was a dead cert to pick one up -- or two if you were lucky -- and more often than not weren't these girls fairly promiscuous? and even if they weren't you could grope them or more and the next day they wouldn't remember it or if they did they wouldn't remember what they agreed to not, so if they went to the police they didn't have a leg to stand on.
What these things came down to in court was your word against theirs and if they'd been pissed at the time, dressed like a prostitute and were frequently engaged in casual relationships and one night stands with men, well that was way more cause for reasonable doubt for any jury. In other words it was a win-win situation for Nigel and men like him. You still had to careful Nigel reasoned, not prowl the same nightclub area too often, widen the size of your hunting ground. So Nigel had made a study of all the nightclubs and bars in the city the best ones to hunt near. A top rating hunting ground would have a large nightclub with frequent events, a reputation for drugs (girls on drugs weren't likely to go to the police) and be fairly isolated with poor transport links especially in the early hours. Find hunting grounds like this and you were nearly guaranteed to pick up some lone inebriated girl staggering home who was only too grateful for a lift in a warm car for a stranger. The warmth in the car was another ingredient in a successful hunt and Nigel always turned the heat in the car up once he'd picked up a girl, it made them loosen their clothing and it made them drowsy and easier to manipulate and if they passed out so much the better. The Vauxhall Zafira was prepared too.
Its capacity as a seven seater meant that when the backseats were down there was plenty of space to lie down and have fun. Bedding, pillows and sheets as well as rope, handcuffs, a mouth gag, sex toys and other sexual paraphernalia was piled to one side at the back. Nigel liked to think of himself as a beast and car was his sexual lair -- a web to ensnare his prey. And tonight the hunt was on. Halloween, almost as good as Christmas eve, because it was cold in October and that meant the lure of a ride home in a warm car was all the more alluring to half pissed girl trying to get a taxi the in the bitter cold of the early hours. Nigel anticipated a successful hunt. The nightclub he'd chosen was on the outskirts of the city with plenty of countryside around and that meant dark empty roads, lots of convenient laybys and even better; no CCTV cameras.
He reached the roundabout about a mile past the nightclub and circled for his next pass slowing the car to take more time before his next sweep. It was 2.50am, the club had finished twenty minutes ago which meant the place would now have emptied, on his last sweep the young clubbers had spilled of the club into the street and were standing in small groups chatting, snogging, arguing, calling for taxis, finishing a drink off from the club -- all the usual sights you saw after closing time at countless pubs and clubs up throughout the country. Within half an hour or so almost would have either gotten taxis or lifts or started to make their own way home on foot. Nigel just had to keep cruising past until he found some quarry. On his fourth pass he slowed the car taking in tonight's menu. Of course, this being Halloween nearly all the young people in some sort of costume, a variety of outfits and guises were present, vampires, zombies, witches, one in a Freddy Krueger outfit, and for some reason quite a few young men were in clown costumes. Bizarre, Nigel thought, then he recalled there was that hit Stephen King film out wasn't there? 'It' wasn't that the film? Stupid name for a horror film. A little way past the club Nigel sighted his first quarry. Their forms illuminated in the darkness by the Vauxhall's searching headlights. They had their backs to him as they walked. Two girls, with curvy asses in short skirts and equally skimpy tops, they both had thick manes of hair, one jet black the other peroxide blonde. Both wore calf high- heeled boots. Nigel slowed the car to a crawl to match their walking speed and lowered the window letting in a blast of cold night air. Seeing them in profile the girls were both clearly stunners, their faces were powdered white with Halloween make up with heavy dark mascara around their eyes. One had blue lipstick the other ruby red. Neither were particularly busty but the outfits made the most of what they had, pushing up their boobs to create more cleavage. Even from several feet away, Nigel caught the smell of alcohol from them.
'Hey girls,' how's it going?' he said, doing his best to sound casual and friendly.
They both looked at him suspiciously. The blonde spoke up. 'We're fine, thanks, how are you?'
Nigel noted they were still walking. 'I'm good thanks, I guess you girls were at the club tonight yeah? I like your costumes by the way.'
'Thanks,' the blonde said, then shared a look with her friend who muttered something and they both laughed.
A good sign, Nigel thought. So far so good, he let his smile widen as if sharing their joke whatever it was -- it was best to show he was good humoured. 'You girls got far to walk? It's freezing tonight isn't it?'
'You can say that again, we're going to Bushy if it's any of your business.' The blonde said, some of the friendliness gone in her tone.
'Bushy? That's a couple of miles away. I'm going that way, I can give you a lift if you like.'
'Really? You a taxi then?' The blonde said after sharing another glance with her giggling friend.
'No, no, I'm not. You don't have to pay me. I'm just being friendly, you know,' he grinned . At this the blonde stopped walking and so did her friend. Nigel braked. He sensed victory.
The blonde leaned down, giving Nigel a great view of her cleavage. 'Yeah, I think I know, a friendly guy who just happens to be driving about nightclubs at three in the morning,' she said coldly. 'I know your game pal, I saw you driving past the club twice, so how about you take your friendly offer to give us a lift and shove it up your ass you fucking perv!'
'Hey,' Nigel said, dropping his friendly act. 'There's no need to be like that.'
'I think there is,' she spat. 'I know your type, now fuck off back to the hole you crawled out from.' This insult provoked more giggles from her friend. They started walking again and Nigel took his bake off so the car rolled forward. This was a fail, but he wasn't going to let these bitches get away with speaking to him like that.
'You're a fucking bitch you know that, a dumb ugly slut of a bitch,' Nigel yelled at her . The blonde smiled sourly at him. 'How original, now I know what a nice friendly guy you are. I tell you what friendly guy, I'm going to count to ten if you aren't out of here by then, I'm going to key your car.' And giving weight to her threat she took out a bunch of keys from her handbag.
'You fucking evil bitch, Nigel spluttered. 'You goddamn whore of a cunt, you . . . .'
'one, two, three . . . ' the blonde intoned looking ahead and speaking in a calm disinterested tone.
'You know bitches like you need to be taught a lesson, you need to be . . .'
Seven, eight . . .'
'Fuck you!' Nigel shouted and sped away before she could make good her threat.
As the car sped off the two girls were swallowed up into the night. Nigel was angry, he felt humiliated by the encounter and the hard on he'd had when he saw them in the cars headlights had swiftly died. That blonde bitch had spoilt his mood. Now he'd have to try and get in the right frame of mind all over again. He decided he'd drive on another five minutes then turn and go back to do another sweep of the club.
He had not driven far when the car's headlights lit up another female form. This one was alone. Always a better bet, Nigel thought. She was in a witch's outfit, the dress tight against her body accentuating a wonderful round ass, under which were two shapely legs in clad in thigh high boots. She held a broomstick on one hand and perched on her head to complete the outfit was a pointed witch's hat.
Nigel slowed the car and wound down the window. 'Hey, how's it going?' he said, back in casual friendly mode.
She looked at him and smiled, 'I'm fine, thanks, apart from having tits frozen off out here.'
