Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 5

Moaning and still undulating her ass on the bed, Carol cried heavy tears of pain and ecstasy while his cum trickled deeply into her ass, tickling and stinging at the same time. Well, if that was supposed to be an act of perversion, she couldn’t care less! Anything Jack did to her was beautiful — as long as they got married. Marriage to this handsome, charming stranger was her wildest dream come true, her sole reason for breathing now, and her simple mind clung to that fact ferociously.

And very, very dangerously. Glancing at his watch, Jack was suddenly cold and crisp. “Come on, Carol, let’s move it. It’s time to go.”

Slowly she got off the bed, her mind dazed, and she dressed. When they were ready to leave, she hugged him and stared into his eyes fiercely.

“I wouldn’t do this for any man in the world except you, Jack,” she whispered. Her intensity sent cold shivers up his spine. He’d always had unerringly sharp instincts about women — what turned them on, what made them cling, how to get rid of them without losing his life or his precious dick. But this one frightened him, she was too fucking intense.

“Then let’s do it,” he said abruptly. They left.

The night watchman at the Apex Supply Company took another bite of his crunchy-chewy peanut butter sandwich, hoping his dentures would hold out, and turned to the next page of his pin-up magazine. He leaned back in his chair with his legs propped up on his desk, his eyes bulging on a set of watermelon-sized tits. His wife Martha had tits almost as big as that when he married her fifteen years ago. Now they damn near hung to her knees, for Chrissake. Pussy loose and flabby, ass like an albino elephant, didn’t even want to give head no more.

If he had to do it all over again he’d many some skinny little bitch and fatten her up, because it was a hell of a sight easier to put it on than to take it off. He heard movement in the front office and he quickly flung the magazine and his sandwich aside and got up, his hand resting on his gun-butt. He knew damn well it had to be someone working late, because nothing ever happened around here, but still he felt heroic and fearful as he crept forward and peered through the glass partition.

Then, smiling, he went on into the office. “Hi, Carol,” he said, furtively eyeing her ripe tits. Now those would never sag to her knees, lucky girl. “Workin’ late, huh, honey?”

She smiled nervously at him, fussing with the coffeepot, “Going over the books for an error, Harry. You go back to your desk and your reading. I’ll bring you a fresh cup of coffee, okay?”

“Well, that’s really nice of you, Carol — sure is,” he grinned feeling a twinge in his cock. She’d always been nice to him when she worked late, and occasionally Harry jacked off thinking about the plump blonde, feeling an awful guilt later — especially when he’d fucked her in her lush breasts. You just didn’t do things like that to a nice girl like Carol.

Five minutes later she brought him a cup of steaming coffee and went back to the office. Harry sipped it gratefully, turning the page to a loose-lipped brunette who winked at him while she wiggled one tit in her hand. Nice-lookin’ dish like that probably had six, seven steady boyfriends, couldn’t get enough of that hot stuff. Probably drove a man half-crazy with her sultry mouth.

If Harry, in his rustic innocence, had known the truth about the sexy brunette — that she sucked off other female models at every opportunity, on the floor of her publisher’s office while he avidly watched, in front of the photographer, in the ladies’ toilet, eating them out until they fainted, blowing them with such ferocity and lust she was known in the trade as Mad Mouth — he would have flung the magazine away with shock and disgust.

As it was, he was asleep ten minutes later, gently snoring. The four Nembutal Carol had mixed in his coffee knocked him out for the next few hours. Carol unlocked the side door to the warehouse. She watched in nervous silence as Jack removed three large cardboard cases from the trunk of his Ford. He lugged them, one by one, into the warehouse and onto the shipping desk. She helped him unload the decks of cards, each wrapped and sealed like a fresh deck. She knew better than to ask questions, especially when she already knew the answers. They were duplicates of cards used by the Green Wheel in Reno, a steady custom of Apex. They were marked, probably with very subtle marks almost impossible to detect. It would be a simple matter to get a shrink-wrap machine to seal the cards, but she couldn’t guess where he’d originally gotten them. And she didn’t dare ask.

Next she helped him unload the three cartons of cards ready for shipping to the Green Wheel tomorrow, which he put in his original boxes. Together, still in silence with their breathing rasping loudly in the huge warehouse, they filled up the original shipping cartons with Jack’s decks. Then he watched her tensely as she worked the Apex sealing machine on the cartons. He lugged them back to their original position near the shipping desk.

“They’ll go out early in the morning,” she said in a low voice. Tears filled her eyes when she realized she wouldn’t see him for two whole weeks. She suddenly hugged him desperately.

“Don’t do it, Jack, please!” she begged. Gently but firmly he disengaged her arms, his eyes icy with purpose.

“I gotta go,” he said. “Wait for me, Carol. I’ll send for you, but wait for me! Understand?”

She wiped her cheeks and nodded eagerly. “I’ll wait, Jack, I swear I will. Be careful, please be careful!”

He grinned his easy charming grin and she watched him lug the original decks of cards to the trunk of his car. When he was in the driver’s seat, she poked her head in the window and kissed him furiously and with all her passion.

“I love you so much I’m almost crazy with it,” she murmured.

“Wait or me,” he said and then his Ford swiftly pulled away. Through the haze in her eyes, Carol Shaw watched her handsome thrilling lover disappear into the night, watched the bright red taillights recede and vanish.

Wait for me, he’d said. She stared into the night, a sudden breeze billowing her long blonde hair, drying the tears on her cheeks. His words began to burn themselves into her mind, etch themselves into her brain like trails of acid.

Wait for me.

She would fall asleep with those words on her lips every night like a prayer, wake to them every morning, chanting them in her mind, echoing them in her loneliness.

It was those three words which would guide her to her destiny, to her vengeance — a beautiful, icy, everlasting vengeance — and she felt curiously pure and like an angel a she stood in the night, whispering, “Wait for me.”