The Horseshoe

This story is for persons of eighteen years or over. All comments, good or bad, are welcome and all will be answered.

Part Four.

It was a highlight for the Horseshoe the following week when a cavalcade of cars pulled up at the gate. The driver of the first car got out and spoke a few words to Karl who then opened the gates to let them in. Two black limousines followed by a white stretch limo, and then two other black ones. They drove up and stopped with the white one directly at the path for number four.

People from the first car were out and opening the rear door of the white limo as soon as it halted. The other cars had halted, but the people erupting from them held back until from the white limo, a leg appeared, and then the rest of the body emerged, helped by an arm of one of the people from the first car.

Marianne Dyer, film star, Oscar nominee, the adored icon of many a male, arrived at her home, number four, the Horseshoe. There were at least twenty people milling about as she went up the short drive to the front door. Flash bulbs kept popping as her press agent kept pushing the photographers to take as many photos as they could. Half of this number entered the house, and the rest outside got back into the cars and departed leaving just one car that parked itself on the drive.

`God! This must be the arse end of the world!' Marianne declared as she swept into the lounge.

`You wanted solitude,' declared Henry Torque, her manager.

That I could get in Tibet! The only difference is it's warmer here!' she stormed. I know I said I wanted a peaceful quiet place, but this...this is. What's the word?'

`Rustic?' Cathy Styles, her maid offered tentatively.

`Fucking rusty I would say,' Marianne shot back.

`Pastoral! Peace and quiet as you requested,' Henry interjected.

Yes darling,' spoke Philippe Lamont, her current boyfriend, struggling to hold to her corgi Barney', who he eventually released to run around the room, sniffing every chair and table leg before cocking his own.

`Look! Even Barney has objections. He's started pissing all over the place.'

`He likes it! He's marking this place as his own already,' Henry exclaimed.

Much as I like him, he's not to piss in here!' she shouted. Get him outside. At once.'

Wilma, who was her script reader, managed to get hold of Barney and shuffled him out through the back.

Two men from the last car were piling up all the luggage in the hallway and as silently as they came, departed.

Cathy!' Marianne screamed, get our bags up to our rooms and prepare my bath. Ever since we've landed I feel as though I've been covered with all the shit that this atmosphere holds.'

Cathy rolled her eyes at Henry as she went over to the baggage, and taking the hint, went to help her.

`You too, you idle lump of shit.' This being directed at Philippe, lolling in an oversized armchair.

`Pierre, you overblown queen. You too! See that all is ready to do my hair when I've finished my bath!'

They all took this abuse in their stride. It was her normal attitude towards them all, and what they were being paid, was sufficient enough for them to tolerate her behaviour.

With everyone scurrying around taking the bags upstairs, Marianne Dyer strode round the ground floor rooms followed by Henry, her manager.

This is exactly what you wanted, Marianne,' he said. Seclusion and privacy while you were in England for your latest film, and we're not that far from the studios either.'

Hrmmph,' Marianne growled, but she was secretly pleased as it was exactly what she wanted, but it was better not to let the vultures that lived off her know that. I probably would have got more privacy living in the middle of Las Vegas.' She carried out her inspection of the property, finishing up in the master bedroom, which was hers.

`Your bath is ready,' Cathy announced when she entered the room.

About bloody time,' Marianne said, as she started to strip off on her way to the bathroom, and fix me a drink will you,' she called over her shoulder.

She drives me up the goddamn wall,' Henry raged as he paced about the lounge, his drink spilling as he gesticulated about him, after all the time I spent finding this place!'

Calm down,' Wilma said from the depth of a deep arm chair, you'll only burst a blood vessel, or have a heart attack.'

`A heart attack is the least of my problems, I...'

Enough, Henry,' Pierre interrupted, we've heard it all before. You come and go as you please, but us poor minions have to suffer this all day and every day. The trials and tribulations I have to suffer to create her perfect hair styles...'

`Oh for Christ's sake, shut up you poor misbegotten faggot.'

`Well...'

`Yes! Find one and drop in it!' Henry shouted back.

Oh drop it you two,' said Wilma wearily, It's the same old record we get where ever we go. But Pierre is right! You don't get it every day.'

`Ah, you two should get married! You're fit for each other.'

Wilma started to rise from her seat, but Pierre put a restraining hand on her shoulder, pouting, `Ignore him darling, he's just jealous that we can both get any man we want, while he can't even get it off with that bloody corgi!'

`You fucking sodomite,' Henry raged, making a move across the room. Wilma threw her drink in Henry's face.

`Now you shut up and listen for once.' Henry had stopped and mopped his face with his handkerchief.

`You take a percentage of what she earns. We get paid from what you shit stealing fucker leaves. If that's not good enough for you, we'll start on her to change her manager, and don't think that just because she shouts at us, she doesn't listen.' Wilma's face was bright with the fury that she was trying hard to contain.

`There!' said Pierre, standing protectively behind Wilma as he stuck out his tongue.

`Ah, you two make me sick,' was all he could reply before finishing off his drink and leaving the room.

`Thank you for standing up to him,' Wilma said sarcastically.

`I was right behind you all the way,' Pierre replied.

`Yes you do like it from behind.'

`That was uncalled for,' Pierre said petulantly.

`But true,' Wilma sighed, subsiding back into the chair. Pierre shook his head and mincing from the room threw back,

`While I'm doing the hair of the princess, why don't you go to the kitchen and see what you can cremate? Sorry, create.'

Oh dear,' Adrian said, as he drove the car into the Horseshoe, there are lights on in number four. That means that the queen of the silver screen has taken up residence.'

`Well as long as she keeps it quiet, what's the problem?' Peter Black, our Liberal M.P. asked.

`Where film stars are, there's never quietness.'

`Well let's hope that you are wrong this time,' Peter said as Adrian operated the remote control for the garage and drove the car inside. With the door closing itself, Peter left the car and went into the house via the internal door.

He had mixed up two cocktails by the time Adrian entered the lounge.

Here,' Peter said, offering a glass to Adrian, I think we deserve this.'

`You say that every night we come home,' Adrian replied taking the proffered glass and taking a slow sip.

`Well it's true! We work hard at the office and it's nice to be home. Away from the riff-raff that we have to associate with every day.'

`They are your colleagues in the house,' Adrian expostulated.

`Working class upstarts is more like it,' Peter retorted as he moved round from the bar and took Adrian's hand.

`What shall we have for dinner tonight,' he asked.

`How about me on toast,' he replied, giving Peter a kiss on the lips.

`Toast crumbs in bed I can do without. Let's just make it you! But, we'll make do with a lasagne and salad and one of our special bottles of wine before hand?'

`You got it, using the American vernacular. Go have your shower while I prepare it, and you can serve it up while I have mine. Then we can make an early night of it in bed.'

`As you say Adrian my sweet,' as he gave him a kiss before going upstairs for his shower.

They didn't bother with the washing up after their dinner, but took up a fresh bottle of wine and two glasses to the bedroom that they shared. With the glasses filled, they toasted each other and placing them on their respective side tables, turned, and embraced each other.

Their mouths melded together as they kissed. Not passionately, but with a languorous feeling of mutual love. They had been lovers for some years now, so there was no rush in their love making.

It was Peter's turn to be the `wife' this night. Adrian kissed him on the mouth to start, before slowly moving down his chest to his stomach. Kissing his way down to the erection that brushed his cheek. Holding it up with one hand, he took it into his mouth and gently chewed on it while he sucked at the same time. With deft fingers, he was able to hold back Peter's ejaculation for quite some time as he played with the erect penis. He eventually gave way and let Peter spend his load into Adrian's mouth, sucking and swallowing the come as it pumped into his throat.

Then with a pillow being placed beneath Peter's backside, he placed himself between his legs and helped lift them up to his shoulders. With a small dab of cream on the end of his erection, he guided it towards his goal. With practised ease, his cock slid inside until his thighs were tight up against Peter. Then Peter's legs slid down around Adrian's waist as he commenced to fuck his `wife'. Both loved this part, whether giving or receiving.

The sliding in and out of the hard flesh in the tight orifice was erotically exciting, that even when Adrian reached his peak and came, Peter came again, his seed spilling out over his belly as Adrian came inside of him.

When Adrian was the `wife', he mostly preferred the other position. That being on his knees with Peter coming in from behind. It was a deeper penetration, he said, and could feel more.

When they had finished, they showered together, gently soaping each other and then the drying, which was just as erotic as the former. Back in bed, they would kiss and cuddle and spend quite some time fondling each other, and if both got erections, one would turn round and they would suck and nibble, kiss and lick till one would say he was coming and hold back so that they both would come at the same time. Gently massaging their balls and swallowing each spurt until the sacs were empty. Then sucking and licking till they were both clean again.

Stephen Mattock was on the phone to the editor of his sleaziest magazine.

It looks like there's to be some kind of party going down tonight at that footballer's pad here. I saw four other members of the team arrive just now. Send one of the young bints to crash it. Get photos, inside dirt, you know what I mean.' He listened for a moment, No, not her. The other one. I can't remember her name. Yes,' he interrupted, `Jordan. Give her a couple of bottles of wine and tell her to say at the gate that she's visiting me. Yes, they live at number eight. No, mine's number five. Okay? Good!' and he replaced the receiver. You never know, he mused, it might just make some good copy.

It was about eight o'clock when the intercom buzzed.

`Yes?' he asked curtly.

`This is Carlos at the gate sir. We have a young lady here asking for you. Name of Louise Jordan.'

Yes,' Stephen interrupted, she's a member of my staff. Let her in please.'

`You can go up Miss Jordan, Mr. Mattock is expecting you.'

`Thank you,' Louise said, entering the Horseshoe. She was nineteen years of age, mousy blond hair, about five foot four and weighed around a hundred pounds. Her eyes were light blue and possessed a winning smile that showed a good set of small white regular teeth. She wore a white blouse and a black flared skirt and wore a thin neck bandanna. In her handbag, she had a small cigarette lighter that was also a miniature camera, and a bag containing two bottles of wine.

She walked up the road, excited to be sent out on her very first assignment. Having disposed of the bag, she rang the bell and waited on the doorstop with the two bottles on display in her hands. Mike Stevens himself opened the door.

Hi!' Louise smiled brightly, her words already rehearsed, I hope I'm not the first to arrive? Oh!' she evinced surprise. I'm sorry. I think I've come to the wrong house. I thought...' She gave a wry smile, even managing to blush a little. I'm sorry to stare, but aren't you Mike Stevens? The footballer?' she stammered.

Yes I am,' he laughed, and you are...?'

`Er...Louise Jordan. I...I must apologise for disturbing you. I was going to a party.' She waved the two bottles at him.

Go no further Miss Jordan,' taking her arm and pulling her inside, we're having one here too!'

`But...but...'

No buts,' he said, guiding her further down the hall, you're just what is needed to liven things up here. Look what I found!' he announced, flinging open the lounge door. Music was playing and two people were dancing and the other five drinking, all turned to look.

`Whey hey!' cried one of the men jumping up.

`Wow! Where do you find them Mike? Any more?' said another.

Oh my God!' Louise said, Is the whole team here?

No way! These thugs are enough,' Mike answered. Now, are you going to go, or stay at our party?'

`Stay, stay,' was the chorus from the boys. Louise laughed and gave a shrug of her shoulders and held out the two bottles.

`I might just as well,' she gave out a laugh.

She was soon sitting down with a drink in her hand and introduced all round. Then came the dancing, more drinks, snacks were laid out for them to help themselves if they felt hungry. Taking photos with the small lighter camera wasn't as easy as she thought. Not really being a smoker, it was rather difficult. Then to try to get the pictures she wanted. Nobody would stay still long enough for her to get a snap.

Then came the problem. She excused herself and went to the toilet, leaving her bag down by the side of the chair. The record being played was a real swinging song, and Silvia, being swung round, accidentally kicked the bag into the middle of the floor, spilling out the contents. One of the boy's went down and started to scoop it all up, stuffing it back inside when he noticed her press card.

`She's the press!' he whispered to the others. Another one picked up the lighter, and turned it round carefully in his hand.

`And this is not what it seems to be. I've seen one of these before.'

The four boys went into a huddle and had a fierce whispered argument that only lasted a few minutes and came to some sort of agreement

All appeared the same when Louise returned to the room, the two girls were being danced about, the boys drinking and laughing. Her drink had been kicked over and one of the boy's said he get her a refill. Not just putting the drink in her glass, he also added two tablets he had taken from his pocket. He swirled the glass round till they had dissolved before passing her the glass.

The evening carried on, and all the boys were waiting for Silvia and Celia to give up and go to bed. The bonus was that both Mike and George also gave up and went upstairs with the two girls. By this time Louise was really on a high. She didn't know what she was doing, but laughing with the boys and making a fool of herself.

Then because the boys started to do a striptease to the music, she did too. Soon all were naked dancing about the room, all the boys watching her heavy tits bouncing about. Each having a grope and feel as she was swung from one to the other. One of them fell down, pulling her down on top of him, kissing her. The others went down around her, all of them with erections.

She didn't really notice the difference when the lips left hers and the tip of a cock was put there. With it nuzzling her teeth, she opened her mouth and it was pushed inside. She sucked on it and didn't notice the flashes of the Polaroid camera.

Each in turn had two pictures taken of her avidly sucking on their cocks, but only with her face clearly seen. Then she was lifted to her knees and they took it turn to fuck her while she sucked off another. Again, pictures were taken.

The final pictures were of her lying on her back with her legs wide open, the wetness of semen glistening around the open lips of her sex. Two boys were jerking off above her face, and when the flash went off, it caught the semen splashing over her face and breasts.

When she had been fucked twice more, they lifted her up, and half dragging her, took her outside and threw her onto the lawn. Her clothes were thrown out after her, handbag as well. Though this was minus the cigarette lighter, but with a set of the pictures instead.

Louise was now into a crying jag, and not having any idea where she was or what she was doing, proceeded to crawl across the lawn.

It was with luck, though whose, it is hard to tell, that Vanessa had got up for a drink of water and went and stood by her bedroom window while sipping it. She saw this white thing splayed out on her lawn, and mused as to what it could be, until it started to move. Then she realised that it was a person.

She quickly donned a dressing gown and went down and outside. It wasn't easy to pick her up and support her indoors and up the stairs to a spare bedroom. She dropped her on the bed and turned on the light.

`God what a mess you're in dear girl,' Vanessa said slowly. Louise was covered in dirt and grass clippings. Her knees were grazed and bloody, as were her elbows and hands. Vanessa went downstairs and brought up a bowl, which she filled with warm water from the bathroom, adding a liberal dose of antiseptic. Then armed with this bowl and a flannel, went and started to clean up the girl.

She washed off the dirt and grass, picking bits of grit out of her knees. Then pulled her legs open, having seen the semen on her thighs, gently washed her sex and wiped her dry. Then tenderly washed her breasts, liking the heaviness of them, and wishing that she could do more with them, but had enough morals not to molest her while she was unconscious.

When finished, she rolled her over and pulled the covers back to slide her in between the sheets. With being moved about, Louise started to heave and Vanessa was just in time with the bowl to catch the contents as they were thrown up. When the retching stopped, Vanessa gently wiped her mouth and made sure she was lying on her side before leaving her.

She wasn't quite sure why she went back outside, but she went round the lawns and found her clothes outside of number eight.

`You bastards,' she said fiercely as she gathered them up, handbag as well, and took them back to her house. She took them into the kitchen where she made herself a cup of coffee before sitting down and looking into the handbag. Her press card showed who she was, but it was the photos that made her gasp.

You dirty filthy bastards,' she swore, looking at each photo in turn. Rotten swine.' She put them back in the bag and finishing her coffee, went back up to bed, cursing all men.

Vanessa was up early next morning, and looked in at Louise, who was still asleep, but seemed to be all right now. Vanessa laid out a dressing gown and turned on the bathroom light so that when she did awake, she could see where everything was.

It was late afternoon when there was a timid knock at the kitchen door, and Louise entered. Vanessa turned and saw the dishevelled bewildered girl standing there.

Come and sit down,' Vanessa said gently, pulling her to the chair. Here's a cup of coffee and some aspirins.'

Thank you,' Louise whispered. Where am I?' Vanessa told her and asked, `What do you remember about last night?'

Sipping her coffee and swallowing the aspirins, said, `I don't know. I...I was at a party. Yes a party, but...but I don't remember much of it.'

`Where was the party?'

`I don't know. It ...was...'

`Football mean anything to you?'

`No. Yes...yes it was at the footballer's house. But why am I here? I don't remember coming...or leaving.'

`Your name is Louise Jordan and you're a reporter right?'

`Yes, and, that's it! I was crashing the party for a story.'

`What happened there?'

`I...I...don't know. I can't remember.'

`Well it won't be a story you'll be wanting to be put about.'

`Why's that!'

For an answer, Vanessa took the photos out of Louise's bag and passed them over to her. Louise took them and started to look at them. Her face went white, and tears started to fall down her face. Her head went down onto her arms and she sobbed and sobbed. Vanessa was beside her, her arm round her shoulder as she cried.

When the sobs and crying subsided, Louise took the proffered box of tissues and wiped her eyes.

I'm sorry,' she whispered, I'm sitting here crying in your kitchen. I've slept in your bed and you obviously helped me last night and I've not said thank you. I don't even know your name. I'm sorry.'

No need. You were in distress last night. It was the least I could do. My name is Vanessa Brice, and I live at number three, The Horseshoe, where you are now.' She reached out and put her hand over that of Louise. How are you feeling now?'

`Disgusted with myself after seeing these,' waving the photos in her hand.

Let me put them away.' Vanessa said, taking them from her and putting them in the dresser drawer behind her. Why don't you go back upstairs and have a shower. Then I can put some embrocation on your knees. I have your clothes here too.'

She helped Louise up and followed her up to the bedroom, and laid her clothes out on the bed.

`Go and have that shower now. If you need any help, just call out and I'll come back up.'

`What was I like...I mean last night?'

`Well...naked for one thing, but don't worry. There wasn't anybody about at that time. Very dirty and blood on your knees and elbows.'

`You cleaned me up?'

`Yes.'

Louise gave her a kiss on the cheek, `Thank you very much,' she said in a whisper, and went into the bathroom. Vanessa put her fingers to her cheek where she had been kissed, and then went downstairs.

Louise was back down in the kitchen half an hour later. Vanessa made her sit down and again made some coffee for them both.

`What are you going to do now? Vanessa asked.

`I don't know. This was my first assignment and I've made a right hash of it.'

`What paper do you write for?' was the next question. Louise named the magazine and this drew a hiss from Vanessa.

I know,' Louise said, wearily, it's not a very good magazine, but I had to start somewhere.'

It's not that. Do you know who owns that rag?' Louise shook her head. It's owned by Stephen Mattock.'

Now I remember!' exclaimed Louise, that was the name I was told to ask for at the gate, but to then go to house number eight! Wait a minute, I've been set up!'

`It's possible. But if so, why?'

`To print those pictures of me!'

`They couldn't. They're classed as pornographic.'

`Not if they air brushed out, or covered their whatsits with little stars. It would still show my face and the positions I was in.'

Yeeees,' Vanessa dragged the word out, but why? You're not famous are you?'

`No. But they are.'

`You can't see their faces.'

`Oh. You're right. Then why?'

`Maybe they found out you were a reporter.'

Wait! I've got some pictures of them.' She rummaged around in her handbag, but then emptied it out onto the table. I had a small camera. It's here somewhere. It's inside a lighter!' There wasn't a lot in the bag, but no lighter. It's not here,' she wailed, they must have found it. I think you were right. They found me out somehow.'

`When you get back to the office, you can say you lost it,' Vanessa offered.

`I can't! I couldn't! They'd know! They would all know and laugh at me,' The tears starting to flow again. Vanessa comforted her by putting her arms round her and stroking her back.

`You have to go back. You want to be a reporter? Then you have to go back.'

`I can't. I can't. I'd be waiting all the time for one of the other hacks to suddenly drop copies on my desk and laugh. I can't. I'll have to find some other work to do,' and the sobbing started again.

Vanessa held her tight, stroking her back, thinking of what she had just said. When the sobbing stopped, Vanessa gave her some tissues and sat down next to Louise and held her hand.

`Now listen to me carefully Louise. Are you paying attention?'

`Yes. Yes. I am.' putting the tissue down.

Can you take shorthand?' A nod from Louise. Can you type?' Another nod. `How fast?'

`I was third fastest in my class. Maybe a bit slower now, but it would soon pick up.' Louise answered.

Vanessa paused, thinking it over. Would it work or not, she was thinking. Would she accept the offer?

`Louise. Would you like to work for me? Here. In my home. Let me finish. I can pay you the same as what you were getting from the magazine and then a bonus on publication. Now what do you think.'

`I...I...can't. I live in London.'

`I meant move in here. There's plenty of room, so we could still both have our own privacy.'

`You mean, live in and work, taking shorthand and typing? Is that all?'

`Yes.'

`But...but what is it that you do?'

`I'm a writer. I write books, and it does take me so much time in long hand and then typing it up later. This way I could do more and we would then both make money.'

`Have you had anything published, because I don't remember seeing your name anywhere.'

`Oh, of course. Vanessa Brice is my real name. I write under the pseudonym of Berry Nice.'

`Oh. I do know you. I've read some of your books.'

`Did you buy them?'

`No. I took them out from the library. Oh, I'm sorry.'

Don't worry about it,' Vanessa grinned, I only get a penny per book from the library readers, but it's still money.'

`Do you really mean it? I mean really really mean it?'

`Yes.'

`When do want me to start?'

`Do you have a car?'

`No. But I've got a driving licence, but I haven't been able to save anything to get one yet.'

`Well let's call a cab and go and buy a car. Then we can go and get your things, okay?'

`Yes ma-am!' Louise beamed.