The Bankers Wife Ch 03

My black stockings are held up with my midnight blue suspender belt. My little matching panties just about cover my pussy, and my bra lifts and squeezes my breasts together, offering them, like I had originally intended for Duncan.

I stride out onto the landing in my high heels. I smile as I hear the bed creak. I know I have Driver now. It won't be long before I can convince him to get me out of here. I take a deep breath before I move in the doorway. My little red dress hangs open at the back. I put my arms under my hair lifting it. I take a step in the doorway, facing away from the door.

"I have a bad shoulder. Would you mind pulling the zip up please?"

I can imagine his little lost look, staring at the back of gaping dress. The back of my bra will be visible to him, as well my soft white skin. I hear him get off the bed, and take hold of the zip. I wait, letting him gaze at my bare back like I'm sure he's doing.

Suddenly two hands slip quickly in my dress and come up grabbing my breasts. He squeezes and pulls them, and me, back into the bedroom.

"Well, it looks like you want a repeat of last night," Rough hisses in my ear, as his hands pulls me back against him.

My brain races a million thoughts through my head, as I'm dragged to the bedroom and flung on the bed. I shuffle back against the headboard shaking my head as he licks his lips.

"Wait...just wait a minute, please."

He stops and looks down on me, his eyes drop to my stocking tops and I slowly pull my dress down trying to cover them.

"Well, I must admit Driver did say you were a tease on that show, he does talk a lot about you, hell he talks a fucking lot anyway. You know, he was going to be here tonight, but we can't run the risk of him being away from his girlfriend, she keeps sending him text messages. I guess you've noticed."

"What about your wife? Does she know about this?"

"Well what do you think? And don't try telling me how awful it would be for her if I got caught....you haven't got a clue what it's like having to scrimp and save just to make ends meet. Stand up and I'll do your dress up, and then we can have a nice cosy meal together, just you, and me."

I feel his hands pulling the zip up, and a soft little chuckle comes from behind me. I wince as his right hand roams down over the curve of my ass.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to jump you now, we've got all night, if you fancy a little fun, later."

He watches me move around kitchen, as I put another plastic tray of food in the microwave.

I sit opposite him as he eats with all the manners of bear, which hasn't seen food for a few days. Now and then he looks at my breasts, covered by the tight red dress. He just stares, smiles, and then goes back to shovelling more food in his mouth.

"So, did you have to get your tits out to get that job?"

At first I don't want to answer him, but as he opens the whisky bottle for the third time, I change my mind, "Let's just say, it helped a little to begin with."

"So, you fucked your way to the golf job then? Is that why you have the condoms in your bag?"

I nod, looking down like I'm ashamed of myself. He chuckles and seconds later it turns into a full blown laugh. Again the whisky bottle gets tipped in the plastic cup.

"Does that amuse you then, me fucking my way to a job?"

He splurts out a little whisky, obviously not expecting the F word to come out of my mouth.

"Well, it does surprise me a little, but as Driver says, you are a fucking tease on the box, so I guess you'd stop a nothing to get what you want."

He starts chuckling to himself again, but more importantly he is drinking the whisky.

"Did Drvier tell you about me, going back to a hotel with a guy who won a tournament?"

"Yeah, and that Arab guy, I saw that myself in the paper....so did you fuck him, did he offer you cash. They are rolling in it those Arab men; hey did he want something different?"

Again I look down, at my lap, "Yes he did, but I don't really want to talk about it."

"Oh come on, don't spoil my fun, I bet he wanted your ass...didn't he?"

Again I nod, but still keep my head down. His chuckling dies down a bit, almost like something else has entered his head.

"I'm a bit like you I guess, I did it for the money."

"Yeah, maybe you are like me. So if I was rich, and I offered you money, what would you do for me?"

"That isn't likely to happen."

"Oh yes it is, soon I'll have more money than you and hubby. So how much did the Arab pay for your ass?"

"He had to pay a hell of a lot more than he would have to pay for my....pussy."

I hear the metal top spinning off the bottle again, and then the glug of whisky as it hits the empty plastic cup.

"And what if I want that pussy of yours, how much would I have to pay?"

"It's not going to happen. You don't have money."

"I will soon."

"So how much will you get?"

"We reckon we'll get between two and three million, each."

For the first time I look at him directly, "May I have some whisky, please?"

"Sure, if you take your dress off," he says with a smirk.

I stare right in his eye the whole time, as I stand up, and start pulling the zipper down on the back of my dress. He has stopped shoving food in his mouth now; the fork is inches from his mouth, as his eyes watch my dress slide to the floor. I step out of it, move forward, and pick up the whisky bottle. I tip the bottle refilling his plastic cup. He just sits there, in silence with his mouth open.

"Would you really pay me for sex?" I ask slowly.

His eyes roll down my body, like he is weighing up the very idea.

"You know, I could just take what I want?"

I offer him the plastic cup.

"Yes, but wouldn't it be better to have me willing, so you can enjoy it?"

He licks his lips, and then takes a gulp of whisky. His movements aren't as confident, his face is questioning me, but as my hands pull the straps of my bra off my shoulders, I can see the idea appeals to him even more than he can hide.

I hold my bra cups on my breast.

"How much, how much would you pay for me?" I stammer.

He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. He half grins and then stops himself.

"You're just jerking me off, teasing like you do on the box. You don't mean....."

His words trail off as lower the cups of my bra. Both my nipples and full round breasts are free to his gaze. He lunges at me, but I move back out of his reach, just one step is enough to stop him.

"I want some whisky, and I want to know how much you'll pay?"

He downs what he has left in his plastic cup, and then reaches for the bottle. He pours whisky in two plastic cups.

"Okay I'll play your stupid game, how about £10,000 then?"

"How about I put my dress back on?"

He half laughs and then stops himself, "Okay, 20,000. Hey, where are you going?"

"To get a cigarette, it seems you have a long way to go if you think 20,000 pounds is going to be enough."

He starts laughing again. But soon stops as I return in front of him. My right hand is holding a cigarette, and my left hand slips into the waistband of my panties. His eyes watch my fingers moving between my legs, my panties are covering them like a glove. Rough is watching and sipping the whisky again.

"£50,000, if we fuck," he mumbles, not able to take his eyes off my wiggling fingers.

I suck on the cigarette, and blow a long slow column of smoke out.

"Now you're getting the hang of it, but it is still not enough though."

I pick up the plastic cup and take a small sip, and then I turn my back to him and ask, "Are my seams straight?"

As his eyes look down to the backs of my legs, I drop two of my sleeping pills into the cup, and then I place it back on the table.

"Finish your drink, and then get your cock out."

He tips the whisky down in one go.

"£100,000 and you can fuck me."

"What makes you think you're worth that? I could buy 20 whores for that."

"Yes, but when you're sunning yourself sat on all that money. I guess you'll watch the telly now and then. Won't it be something to see me on the telly, knowing you've fucked me, as I sit there flashing my legs? You'll know all about my shaved pussy, you'll know what most men only can imagine is between my legs. You will have been there, and while I'm sat there and talking about a golfer who has put his ball in the rough, you'll know I can't avoid thinking about you."

My fingers are back in the front of my panties as I stand there, not breaking eye contact with him.

He swallows the last of his whisky and reaches for the now empty bottle. He recoils and his hand stretches across the table to my cup.

"That's mine," I say.

His hand retracts from the plastic cup. I can't afford to let him drink it just yet, I have to give the pills time to dissolve.

"You really are dumb, for someone who is on the telly. How do you think you can get the money out of me? I'll be long gone, and you'll look fucking stupid. You're more stupid than I thought. Fucking hell woman, you stand there fingering your pussy, oh please carry on there is no need to stop by the way, trying to get me all worked up, and I'll admit you did, but how the fuck were you going to get me to pay, I'll be long gone?"

"You miss the point. I know you are probably going to kill me. The money would be what you would have to pay in normal circumstances. I don't want to die, so if you promise to let me live, you can......fuck me."

He watches me and licks his lips.

"You know that Arab guy who paid for my ass?"

He nods.

"Well, he paid in advance, and never got what he wanted, I ran off. Obviously I can't run off from you, and that's why I'm making you the offer."

I slip my panties down, and he just stares right between my legs and groans a little.

"I might just kill you anyway."

I kneel down in front of him, "Please don't kill me. The others won't know until it's too late."

I slide my hands slowly up his thighs. I start caressing his bulge through his overall.

"You don't know what it's like, standing on a balcony interviewing golfers, knowing the people down below are probably more interested in looking up my dress, than what I'm asking the golfers about. I stand there knowing they are trying to get a look at my panties," I pull open the poppers on his overalls and pull his hard cock out, "I read those things on the web too, about the men who want me, and what they want to do. When I make some remark, ask one of the guests something like, just how big do you think the golfer can get? I know I've got guys watching at home, and fantasising that I'm talking about the golfer's dick."

I stand up and slide my pussy over Rough's cock. Inside I'm shuddering, but I try my best to keep it from Rough. I try to smile at him, but it isn't easy. Sliding my pussy up and down his cock I'm aware of the light lust filled grunts coming from his mouth. There he is enjoying it, while all I can think about is how I'm contaminating myself on his cock.

"Please don't kill me," I whisper softly.

I feed him my left nipple and it takes him a few seconds, but eventually he starts pinching and pulling it with his teeth.

"You won't kill me, will you?" I ask softly, as my pussy bounces slowly up and down on Rough's hard cock as he sits in the chair.

"Well, maybe....I could....tell the rest....I, I thought I had."

"Thank you, you won't regret it," I say and lean forward pressing my breasts back in his face.

I pick up the whisky and pull back a little from Rough. I hold the cup to his lips, he starts drinking but not quickly enough. I start squeezing my pussy around his cock. The plastic cup gets tipped further, and the whisky is soon racing down his throat. I just have to keep it up for a few more minutes. I turn his head to the side, and encourage him to rest it on my big breasts. I can put up with the tongue flicking over my nipple, if he just relaxes a little more until the pills take effect.

For 5 minutes I watch his eyes blinking, each time they take longer to open. I go to stand up, but he holds my tits pulling them back down.

"I want to make it good for you. I want to suck you for awhile," I purr.

He smiles a little, but it is a sort of vacant smile, far away. I can see he's fighting now, but he isn't sure what yet, but soon he will work out that I've done something.

Finally I'm free of him and his cock. Now it is dawning on him big time that it isn't just the whisky which is making him feel drowsy. I don't get on my knees. I stand back watching him, nervously.

Several times when he opens his eyes I have moved. His head follows me, but the movement is slow and jerky. His slips forward off the chair and onto his knees.

"Why don't you lay down, and sleep it off, you can dream of fucking me."

He slumps forward, and then forces himself back up right, "You fucking....bitch."

I smile as his torso drops to the floor again. His eyes are heavy and he fights to keep them open. Finally his head rolls to the side on the worn out carpet.

I take a deep breath and slip my dress back on. I rush upstairs and grab the handcuffs. When I get back down the stairs Rough is still fighting the sleeping pills. I sit down on the floor, brace my back against the old couch, and then push Rough over onto his stomach with my feet. I grab his left hand and snap one part of the handcuff on his wrist, but then I'm stumped, because I've got nothing to secure him to.

I'm panting and worried, the two sleeping pills and the whisky should have sent him to sleep by now, but they are taking longer than I thought. I bend his heavy right leg back behind him, and then after a lot of effort, I snap the cuff around his ankle. At least he can't move very quickly now, even if he can fight off the pills, but not with his left wrist cuffed to his right ankle behind him.

My phone is dead, the battery has lost its life, I could have been like that and I still might if I don't get away. I rummage through Rough's pockets and pluck the phone out that I felt when I was on my knees rubbing his thighs.

"You....fucking....cow," slurs from his dribbling mouth.

I watch his free hand trying to get into his throat to make himself sick. I struggle to get his hand out of his mouth, as I reach for the rat trap. I stand up pressing my stiletto heel into the back of his hand. Rough squeals a little, but finally his wriggling fingers trips the rat trap, which I held with shaking hands, trying to feed the jaw over his fingers tips. Rough groans a little in shock. I watch two beads of blood running down his fingers.

Finally I come to my senses; I rush to the door pulling up the zip on my dress. I take one last look back at Rough, and while he is still moving, it is just little slight movements with no real purpose. The blood from his fingers is now smeared on the old carpet, and it is much more than I thought it would be. For one moment I want to release his fingers from the trap, but I know if I return to him he might grab me, even in his drugged state.

With Rough's mobile phone grasped tightly in my hand, I pray I get to somewhere where I can get a decent signal, fast. I run up the gravel drive, towards the top of a hill and a road. It is dark and the stars and moon are hidden behind a thick covering of cloud. Owls hoot and strange noises seem to come from near and far, making me jump. I tell myself to just run until the signal on the phone becomes stronger.

I guess I'm a mile away from the house now, and on little used tarmac road. I can see a car in the distance, its lights coming towards me. My heart fills with hope, and then dread. What if it is the rest of the gang coming back? I slip down in the ditch which runs along the road. I lay low until the lights of the car passes me. I wait there until I can no longer hear the engine. Something curls round my leg and I let out a shriek. I clamber up out of the ditch, and look back to see some sort of grass snake slithering away.

Finally I get a decent signal, and I hold the phone to my ear, panting and crying, and waiting for the police to answer my call.

Four years on, and my book has made me plenty of money, plus the film about it all. I may have lost my husband through all of this, but hell I could have lost a lot more. The police caught everyone, apart from Eagle who I never saw, and Ryder. Rumours are Ryder went back to America. I know too Rough and Driver, will be out of prison soon, but that doesn't bother me, well not much.

Alternative Ending.

I still have trouble sleeping, and now and then I take the odd sleeping pill. I sometimes dream I wake up and I'm back in the room, tied to the bed.

I've had the dream again just like before, only something is different, the room is old and neglected, but the there is a lamp shade on the bulb. My wrists and my ankles are tied to the bed, but I'm wearing glossy black stockings, red high heels, and nothing else. There is a wardrobe door open, and as my eyes adjust to the light I can see my clothes hanging there. Two men stand over me, Rough and Driver. I try to wake myself up, but I can't.

Rough moves towards me pulling down his zip with two fingers missing from the rat trap, but that has never happened before in my dreams, in fact this is all different. Rough's hard cock is inches from my face, as Driver moves between my legs.

"We've waited four years for this, Bitch," Rough snarls.

"Yeah, we drugged your drink last night, just like you did to get away."

"Seems you made quite a bit of money out of us, well guess what, the sequel to your book and film is just about to begin. Only this time you aren't going to make any money, because you're not getting away!"