Bo looked just a little stunned, "I didn't know—"
"Let's discuss how it should go."
Terry Coop sat hunched on her bunk bed, clutching the blankets close to her chilled body. A rising uneasiness was making her even more uncomfortable. This minute space was what they called a cell, where a plasterboard screen in the corner hid a hole in the ground toilet and a tiny sink. She had looked disconsolately out of the small window to see that the snow had not ceased all night and was now too deep for anybody to come and move her on.
Her attempt to break through that damned border fence had turned into one terrible mistake. Terry was sure there had been no choice, especially since the death of Petri, that dear old man, could now be used by the state police to worsen the case against her.
Much of the night she had huddled on this bunk, reviewing how fate had turned so completely against her. All right, she had always known that the house she was running was illegal on that side of the border, but which jealous bastard had informed the state cops?
From the age of eighteen when she had escaped from the religious strait-jacket her parents had held her in, Terry had known she had a highly charged libido. The young nineteen year old, who had taken her virginity had expressed his shock at how avid she had been.
That avidity had grown as the years passed. If she went more than a couple of days without the thrill of a hard cock pounding into her she became so agitated and depressed. She had long ago admitted to herself that she was probably just two paces from nymphomania. Eventually, learning how much money could be made from her sexuality had led her into the illicit house of Michelle Fabret. Michelle had taught her so much more about channelling her wild desires, and eventually how to run the business with discretion.
The unfortunate illness that took Michelle had left Terry (known to her clients as Tereta) with the opportunity to take over the business. The six other girls had been quite willing to follow her lead. Terry was in a position to choose the men whom she knew could give her close to ultimate satisfaction, and pay her well for her lascivious attention. Her bank account was well stacked.
Then came that betrayal. A disgruntled client, or more likely the wife of some regular client who had discovered his indiscretions, Terry never really knew. Luckily, a frequent client, while cursing the state police, had warned her of a proposed raid they were about to make on her house. Terry just had time to provide some remuneration for the girls, before dispersing them.
With a heavy heart she had set fire to the place to ensure there could be no incriminating evidence. Swiftly leaving behind everything that linked her to her business as a madam, Terry had no real idea of what to do with herself. Her car was useless to her. She hadn't the necessary papers that would get her through the border gate, and driving it in these parts, it would be easily identified by the police.
Desperate and so alone, she trudged through the cold night until she found herself in a street that gave her some hope. A street of up-market houses where dear Petri Locoff lived.
Petri had been a client of the house when Terry first arrived some ten years earlier. Although In his mid sixties then, he had amazed Terry with his lusty ability to fill her with his proud cock. He always asked for her after their first occasion, and declared her to be the 'hottest lady' he had ever known. "Apart from my late wife," he would add with a wry smile.
Into his seventies, and with Terry now running the house, his visits became less. Occasionally he would request to just talk with her. Treating him as a friend and not just a client, Terry had been happy to oblige. On odd visits he would ask her to try to get him erect, and Terry would work with fingers, tongue and lips, occasionally delighting in how pleased he was when her encouragement succeeded. Terry never knew exactly what his business had been, but he always paid her generously.
One night when she held his stubbornly flaccid penis in her hands he had broke down in tears, and was so upset that she had driven him home. Now she was outside his front door once more, hoping for a place to hide.
The wrinkles in his face disappeared as he gave her a delighted smile of welcome. There was no hesitation in inviting her in, and his shock and anger were genuine as she told him of what had befallen her.
He insisted she stay until the initial fuss died down, and, for three weeks, Terry cooked for him, and gave him occasional asexual cuddles. Then one day he told her that there were wanted posters out for her. He laughed as he told her, "Fortunately they have spelled your name incorrectly and called you Fereta Coop , and the picture looks more like me" He showed her the bundle of warm clothes he had bought for her. The dear man.
She told him of her hopes of setting up a 'friendly' house across the border where it wasn't illegal. Petri had been eager to help her escape, hating the regime here as much as anyone could. He took her out in his car to show her where she might reach the fence without being detected, an area where sheltering trees were thickest.
Walking among the trees with him reminded her of one of the ew good memories she had of her father. Weekends, after church, of course, he would take her on a walk just like she was having with Petri. Terry had loved the feeling of being close to nature, of just breathing in the fresh air, and seeing the birds and small animals darting out of reach. It was an experience that, sadly, did not last long, and the life style she chose denied her the chance to take it further.
Taking that walk again, even though the air was freezing cold had been a pleasure swith dear Petri, who as they drove back told her, "When you get through the wire, I'll have driven through the border gates, and will pick you up and drive you into town."
What a darling he was. They agreed the date two days ahead, and he even provided her with a pair of cutters for the wire.
Hell, was it just yesterday morning as she lay in bed excited by the prospects of her escape that tragedy had struck? Petri had come into her bedroom wearing only his pyjama pants, and quietly asked for a farewell cuddle. Petri's body looked in better shape than men of fifty she had been with, and she had no hesitation in allowing him to snuggle against her naked body.
His skin was warm and felt good against her. Terry smiled to herself as she felt his limp cock against her thigh, but was surprised when it began to harden. Petri, of course, was over the moon, and asked if it might be hard enough to enter her.
His closeness had already moistened her, and she enjoyed the look of joy on his face as his erect rod slid up her willing passage. He had made two admirably lusty strokes when he started gurgling. Terry thought he was simply climaxing, but when she looked up she was shocked to see that his eyes had rolled up, and his lips had turned purple. Within seconds he was giving one long sigh, and he collapsed sideways off her.
All her efforts at resuscitation were useless. There was no doubt that Petri was dead, and Terry, in tears, sat beside the body, holding on to his hand. The one consolation she could find was in hoping she had made his last moments happy. Then she began to think about the consequences.
First, there was no lift to the spot they had chosen, but she decided that she could use Petri's car to get there. But, without Petri, there was no pick-up over the border. She knew it was very cold, but decided to take her chances.
Thinking she might need food she made some cheese sandwiches, and she took her time in breaking the stitching in the lining of the anorak Petri had bought, and in the space she sewed her bank card, which held her future, and the false passport, which had her picture, but the name Tania Turror.
Then she laid out Petri's body in a respectful position, kissed his cold lips, and, it being late afternoon, she dressed in the layers of warm clothes that Petri had purchased. She left the house and drove up to the chosen spot, thinking it wise to park the car some distance away to remove any chance of association.
It was all going so well. Through the trees and she was up to the fence. Nobody around as she began cutting herself a convenient gap. Silently she said a prayer for Petri for providing such sharp cutters,
A light snow drifted down as she began to slide her body through the gap. How lucky that she'd got here before she could have left tracks. Beginning to worry about the problems that a fall of snow might bring, Terry wriggled to free her jeans from a snagging wire, and that was when the commanding voice made her jump, and her heart sank. She looked up to see a young man in a dark uniform, pointing a pistol at her.
"Get up, keep your hands in sight."
He identified himself as being from border control, and pointed Terry in a direction which was away from where she knew the road would be. As they walked, with him occasionally prodding her to keep going, the light flakes of snow fluttered weakly around them.
At last they reached a small building three feet of brick and the rest wood with a wide veranda in front, and a sign above stating 'Border Patrol.' Inside, the warm temperature immediately hit her. She could have bathed in that.
