Debbie, my flatmate, had been acted oddly for about a week now. Something was bothering her but she seemed reluctant to talk about it. Initially I just put it down to man troubles, but normally she talks to me about those. When she started griping about the lack of a current boyfriend I knew that whatever her problem was it apparently wasn't a man. I dropped a few broad hints that she should tell all but she ignored them. Unusual, as normally she spilt everything.
I came home on a Friday evening to find Debbie both worried and relieved. An odd combination. She finally decided to tell me all. She has a small problem with gambling on occasions. She doesn't bet on credit but if she's got excess cash she blows it. How she gets excess cash is beyond me, but she manages to.
It turned out that she had five hundred coming to her from some old biddy who'd died and left it to her. Anticipating the money coming in Debbie had placed a largish bet with her bookie and blown the lot. The bookie wanted his money and then Debbie found there was a minor delay in the settling of the estate and she'd have to wait a while for the money.
The bookie not being a patient type Debbie had taken steps to avoid him and he'd sent her a number of stroppy messages. Now, finally, her money had come through. She had the cheque in her hot little hand. All she had to do was bank it, wait until it cleared, and give the money to the bookie. All would be sweet.
Unfortunately, having been avoiding the bookie, he'd left a message saying he would be around tonight to collect. She could show him the cheque and promise early payment but, and it was a big but, the past avoidance meant he might decide to teach her a lesson for delaying without explanation.
What she wanted from me was my presence when the bookie rolled up so that she'd have a witness. She didn't think he'd pull any stunts while there was an innocent witness standing by. I didn't really have much choice but I put the cops on speed dial on my phone, just in case.
That evening the doorbell sounded off and Debbie when and answered it, coming back to the lounge room with a couple of strangers. Talk about your freaking odd couple.
"Ah, Suzie, this is Andre, my bookmaker. Um, I don't know his friend's name."
"Is Boris," said the second man.
Now let me describe these two gentlemen. First we have Andre, the bookmaker. Neatly dressed in a very nice tailor-made suit. His hands were so neat and clean that he must use a manicurist. His hair was just so, the signs of an excellent barber. He was smiling and handsome and seemed quite affable. A very nice sort of gentleman. A trifle short for my taste, though. He would have had to stand on his toes if he wanted to reach the five foot mark. He could have got a job as one of Santa's pixies with no problems.
Boris, the second man, was something else again. More casually dressed than Andre, but still neat and tidy. Ugly, but in a pleasant way, if you know what I mean. With a face like his you would automatically respect him and decide not to get on his wrong side. He was also on the larger side. Like, the size that Andre was missing, I knew where it had got to. Boris had stolen it. He was massive, standing there like a great chunk of granite. He wasn't obviously muscular in the manner of body-builders, just huge and fit. I suspect that he'd probably eat a body-builder and look around for another one. Oh, and his voice was a soft mellow tenor, that just seemed to say trust me, even though all he'd said was his name.
My immediate assumption was that Boris was Andre's enforcer, and a pretty fearsome one if he got nasty.
"Before we discuss the outstanding account, why is Suzie here? I thought this was to be a private meeting where we could amicably settle our problem?"
"You've brought Boris along," I pointed out. "I'm just here to make sure you don't try to get physical with Debbie."
"Ah, I see. You're afraid we might beat her for not paying on time. I wouldn't do that. She's been a good customer apart from this little lapse, which I'm sure we'll sort out. However, certain legal constraints mean that I must ask you to move to another room while I chat to Debbie. I'm sure you can understand why."
I could. He didn't want to discuss illegal gambling in front of a non-customer. I might be a witness against him and he wouldn't want that. It didn't matter. I wasn't budging.
"Still, I can see where you might be worried and I feel your concern. To ease the situation I'll have Boris go with you. That should ease your fears that Boris might come on strong with Debbie. I assume that you are not going to fear me trying to beat up Debbie, what with her being so much larger than me?"
He said that rather whimsically, smiling. Debbie looked insulted that he was inferring that she was a large woman, but she was somewhat larger than Andre, I had to admit. Somehow I just could not see Andre trying to attack her.
Debbie shrugged, indicating that Andre's solution was OK by her. With Boris out of the room she would probably feel a lot more confident. Reluctantly I departed, shadowed by Boris, and went and sat in my bedroom. I could hear Debbie starting off with a tangled tale, starting with the recent demise of an elderly relative. I was prepared to guarantee that she'd spend the next fifteen minutes telling her story. I hoped that Andre would be able to follow all her circumlocutions.
Boris calmly sat down on my bed. I couldn't really complain as it was probably the only piece of furniture he'd actually be able to sit on.
"So, could you give me little scream, please?" he asked.
"A what?"
"A scream. As if you'd seen mouse or spider. Can you do this?"
I was alone with a nut. To humour him I gave a little scream.
"You are kidding, yes? That is supposed to be scream?"
Boris just reached out, picked me up, and dropped me across his lap. From that position it was dress up and panties down and a genuine scream.
"That is better scream," observed Boris. "Another like that, please."
"What?" I was definitely in a small room with a certified maniac.
Boris sighed and popped me on the bottom. My god, it sounded like a clap of thunder when his hand landed on my bottom and of course I gave another scream. It was in the aftermath that I realized that he hadn't actually hurt me. The spank had been loud but, apart from a minor sting, painless.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded.
"Scaring your friend," he replied. "She hears scream coming from here and her imagination will suggest all sort of things. All in her mind and no one gets hurt. Is simple, yes?"
I have to admit that it was simple. Debbie was probably having kittens hearing me scream. I extended the time it would take for her to explain things to Andre. She'd probably gone back to square one.
"Well, fine, I guess," I grumbled, "but can you let me up so I can pull up my panties."
"Ah, no. I like seeing your bottom. It's nice and white and round and very soft."
I was stuck there, seething, while his hand rested on my bottom. At least, he wasn't trying to grope me.
"OK. Time for you to ask me to stop it. You don't want me doing want I'm doing. Tell me loudly."
More frigging theatrics. I gave it my best performance, pleading with him to get his hands off me.
"Give me a break," Boris said, sounding disgusted. "I tell you this, free of charge. Don't take up acting for a career. You'd starve. You need to put some feeling into it."
To assist me in putting some feeling into it he ran his hand down between my legs and started massaging my pussy.
