Thanks very much for the reviews. I really appreciate you guys taking the time to comment. As always, mistakes are all my own horrible work, but Skins and the characters remain someone else's property. I've just borrowed them for a bit.
Emily
"Great Yarmouth?" I spluttered doubtfully as Naomi bought us rail tickets at Euston. We'd taken the Tube from Highbury and Islington after walking briskly from the park through the usual London street crowds. Even though it was early afternoon, there were still plenty of people about. I had the time, while I was trying to keep up with Naomi's longer strides, to offer a silent thanks for that fact. Crowds meant we were harder to spot, I guess. Still no reply from Effy, but that didn't surprise me. Knowing her, the warning text would be met with an arched eyebrow and a shrug. Not one to panic, my ex (and how odd that sounded, even in my head). I hoped she'd start to take this seriously nevertheless. It'd taken me a few minutes to get my head round the idea that this Max guy would do anything so drastic as order us killed, but one look at Naomi's grim face as she virtually pulled me along the road by my hand wiped out any doubts I might have had at her shocking news.
"Yeah...don't fucking laugh Em" she huffed adorably as she handed me my ticket. "My mum used to take me up there for 'holidays' in the summer when I was about 11 or 12...I hated it, stuck in some draughty caravan with a useless TV signal while she ponced off with random local hippies to protest about something insignificant. But its safe...no one but me and mum...and you now...know about it. Even Cook has no idea I've ever been to fucking Norfolk. If this hit man or whatever you call him is on your trail, I don't think a caravan park in East Anglia will be the first place he'll be looking?"
I cringed a bit at the caravan reference. Me and Katie had been subjected to caravans too when we were younger, even if my stuck up mother sniffed dismissively at the working class cachet surrounding that sort of holiday. She used to insist my dad book the biggest, most luxurious unit available on the site for us. Way too big of course, but it was the only way Jenna Fitch would soil her shoes in something that down market.
"Yeah, I s'pose..." I said dully, "...are we stopping for buckets and spades first?" regretting my sarcasm immediately as her face fell.
Naomi's eyes flashed fire at me. She pulled me into the first compartment on the waiting train, even though our booked seats were way down at the front.
"Em...listen to me?" she said fiercely "...this is no fucking joke, I'm putting my life on the line here too for you? If this guy catches up with us, I doubt he'll want any live witnesses to your execution?"
I swallowed hard at that. It was only then I think I began to realise just how far Naomi had stuck her neck out for me today. All she'd really had to do was sit tight back at the apartment and she would've been safe as houses. Cook would have got his shortish sentence in the slammer eventually, she wouldn't have faced any charges herself and Max would go back to being the feared Godfather of Docklands again. Apart from some separation issues with JC the dealer/boyfriend, life would have been back to normal for her.
Effy on the other hand...and me too if I'd been unlucky enough to be in the same room as her… would be pushing up daisies in some remote muddy field by the time Cook was released . Missing, presumed dead, isn't that what the press call it? Cold dread spread through me as we stood face to face in that empty train carriage. My brain was gradually waking up to the fact that because of Effy's stupid blackmail efforts, I would probably still be with my girlfriend in London right now if I hadn't been warned. Even if Naomi was right and Max's assassin wasn't a frequent user of Eurostar, I'm guessing we would've had a very unpleasant surprise waiting for us at our apartment very soon. A 9mm surprise.
"Sorry Naoms...it's the shock I think...makes me say even more dumb things than usual?"
Her face softened, then she cupped my cheeks in both hands. I shivered a bit at how cold they were, despite the warmish weather
"I meant what I said Em….when this is all over, me and you need to have a serious conversation about certain… stuff. But right now, my priority is keeping you and me alive until the heat dies down. Kay?"
I nodded hard, then leaned forward impulsively. She allowed me the briefest of gentle kisses before pulling back. I missed the softness of those full lips immediately. But I understood her reluctance. I hadn't earned the right to expect any more from her. In the back of my mind lurked the sordid secret I carried inside about what happened in Paris after all. She stared at me as I blinked stinging tears away.
But happily, she misread the reasons for my distress.
"Hey, hey Em...its OK...we'll sort things out. But for now…?"
She tugged me by the hand again and we walked the full length of the almost deserted train to the very first carriage. Finding our seats, we sat down opposite each other and Naomi spent the next few minutes on her mobile tablet, arranging accommodation for us in far off sunny Yarmouth.
…
Naomi
I hoped I sounded more optimistic than I felt back then. Luckily, Emily started dozing as soon as the train rumbled out of Euston, which was a bonus. I suppose she'd be understandably tired after leaving Paris so early and travelling virtually all day already. A stab of jealousy flared hotly in me at even the thought of Paris, I suppressed it with difficulty. I know how Effy operates. She's even more devious than she was back at college, hard as that is to imagine. Back then it was boys she mostly bewitched then coolly discarded, but I have first hand knowledge of her ability to enrapture the girl sitting opposite me too. Once she'd set her sights on Emily after I'd fucked everything up at 17, I was toast. And the situation hadn't improved that much since. I still had the bitter memory of Emily's ecstatic cries back at the apartment block, even without Effy's recent sly manipulation of both of us. The question of whether Emily'd succumbed willingly (again) to Miss Stonem's seductive techniques in the city of love was still very much to be answered. The only crumb of comfort I hung on to was the fact that Emily had left her of her own free will. That was something...wasn't it?
So instead of giving in to the sort of dark thoughts that path led me down, I tried again to book somewhere for us to stay. It was short notice and although it was still off season, a lot of places were already fully booked. But eventually I managed to find somewhere with vacancies. I debated at first whether it was safe to use my credit card online, given that I was now just as much a fugitive as Emily, but decided I had no choice. Cook would give me a bit of leeway if he could, even though I'd effectively rained on his parade from a great height. But I still knew him better than anyone. If asked, he'd cover for me for a while. Underneath that 'couldn't give a flying fuck' exterior, the boy who comforted me in my darkest hours back in college was still in there...just.
The booking site confirmed the payment and I relaxed a bit. We had an open ended lease on the quaintly named 'Falcon Holiday Home'. Basically a posh name for a 4 berth caravan. But I happily paid the extra for the so called 'luxury' fixtures and fittings shown on the site. It had the added advantage of being at the rear of the plot, furthest from the main road and was placed in a small cul de sac. Just the job, I thought...no passing trade. We could settle in there, attracting very little interest. It is 2018 after all, I told myself, girls go on holiday together all the time. We'd just have to tone down the….fuck, I thought as the possibilities of lots of alone time with Emily flashed through my overheated brain...there you go again Naomi. She's not yours...remember?
The reality of what our situation really was dampened my libido a treat. So after ducking along the carriage to find the trolley, grabbed two no doubt disgusting coffees from the bored attendant, I got back and settled in my seat. In less than five minutes, coffee untouched, I was asleep like Emily.
I woke up a couple of hours later when the train lurched a bit as it turned the bend into Norwich Station. It hadn't changed much since I came up here ten years ago, so after waking a slightly grumpy Emily, I walked with her to the back of the station and found the platform for the branch line to Yarmouth.
You know something about East Anglia? Its fucking flat...as flat as Kiera Knightleys chest. Not even a perky nipple to break the monotony. The train was already at the platform, so within minutes we were chugging out of Norwich on the local diesel train towards the coast. I wished I had drunk my now cold coffee, because there was nothing as sophisticated as a dining car on this old loco. But it was too late.
Emily had perked up a bit now she was rested and I spent the journey pointing out little waypoints. Nothing major...like I said, Norfolk is mostly flat and pretty featureless...but there was the odd windmill and eventually Breydon Water to show her. In less than half an hour, we were pulling into Great Yarmouth station. As soon as we got off and humped our bags out of the Victorian concourse, memories flooded my senses. The sound of hungry seagulls overhead. The smell of the sea, already taking me back to my pre teen years. Like Norwich station, the town sounded and smelled like it always had...a backwater...a faded Victorian holiday resort, down at heel but strangely comforting. I had time to wonder why I had chosen London to live in at all. Noisy, dirty and coldly indifferent. A big city, full of people who I'd never know. At least places like Yarmouth had some form of identity...a place where most people knew their neighbours…
But I had no more time for introspection after we jumped in a cab. I knew the holiday park was less than half a mile away, so it was only a few minutes later the taxi pulled up in front of the park reception. I left Emily in the cab and went straight through the double doors to check in. Once they'd validated my Visa card and given me keys and a map of the site (and a brochure with all the local 'attractions' listed on it), I walked quickly back to the taxi and gave him directions for 'our' caravan.
…
Emily
Well this is nice I thought as Naomi let me into the caravan. They called it a 'holiday home' but believe me, its still a caravan. It might be well furnished and have TV's and microwave ovens, but the floor still creaks a bit when you walk on it and I wouldn't like to stay here during a harsh winter? But today, with the sun breaking through the white clouds above us and the windows letting in a gentle spring breeze, it feels...homely. Yeah...homely.
I dumped my bag in the double bedroom, with its comfortable looking king sized bed freshly made up, then turned to see Naomi staring at me strangely from the doorway. My mouth dropped open as I realised I had just assumed we would be sharing the room…and the bed. Stupid me.
I saw her mouth twist with indecision and the patented Campbell lip bite told me she was thinking hard. I braced myself for disappointment. When she stayed silent, I sighed in resignation, then went to pick up my bag again. I knew there was another bedroom at the other end, so I started to walk back towards the door.
"No" she said as I passed her. "No Em...this is me just being stupid"
"W...what...but I thought...oh, sorry" I mumbled inanely. I don't know what I actually thought, but I knew I had assumed too much, as fucking usual.
"I mean, no Em...it's fine, really...we'll sleep in here together? We're both adults...yeah?...it doesn't have to mean anything...just as friends…?"
Right, that's true I thought, both 'adults'. Adults who have never once shared a bed without screwing each others brains out most of the night. What could possibly go wrong?
…
Cook's arm wobbled slightly as he refilled two shot glasses with neat tequila. His tastes were still familiar to anyone who knew him as a seventeen year old back in Bristol. But he didn't feel much like giving one of his famous wolf howls tonight. Even as he slopped the amber liquid into the heavy glasses, his mind refused to play ball. This was about forgetting, masking. It's what he always did when he'd fucked up. Do it all over again. He's Cook after all...the successor to his useless father. The bad boy.
But everything in the apartment reminded him of what he'd lost playing the fool one too many times. Naomi might be gone...probably for good...but her presence was everywhere. That was their reality. He earned the cash and she made him a home, a safe place...a sanctuary. It was only now...drunk and getting drunker...that the awful truth was setting in. Even the bonus of a gorgeous woman in the flat, matching him shot for shot, wasn't making things OK. He missed her, that sarcastic, moody cow. Missed her more than he could say.
He'd spent the past few years in a bit of a daze, unable to come to terms with the fact that the girl he had coveted since college was in his life… in his bed.
Permanently.
OK, it was a half arsed relationship, even in the good times. He knew Naomi still carried a torch for the little redhead from Roundview. He knew that whatever he did, she would always be 'the one' for his girlfriend. But Emily was in the past...swept away by the predatory Elizabeth Stonem for good. But fate and sheer bad luck had shattered that little bit of comfort in one spectacular night.
Even before that, he'd known he was playing with fire when he suggested that threesome weeks ago. Putting petrol on the flames, isn't that what they call it? Watching Naomi go at that random with hunger and almost desperate need had been exciting at first...very exciting. His teenage self would have been whooping with delight at seeing his girlfriend making out with another woman before his turn came. But in the end it proved a hollow victory, getting Naomi to lose those iron clad inhibitions. He'd almost been an irrelevance by midnight...used and discarded...a human dildo. Watching them go at it again...all smooth limbs and breathless moans, while he slunk out of the room...taught him a lesson he should have learned better. Naomi is bisexual thats true. But her hunger for a female lover was stronger by far than her desire for him...or any other man.
Her Saturday night surrender to his needs were more a duty for her than fun. Looking back, he should have realised sooner that eventually she would be stolen from him. But when Emily appeared, it was just a matter of hours until he did.
Tipping the glass back and downing the neat spirit in one, he winced at the harsh burn, then looked up to see the smartly dressed woman next to him do the same. She winced too, but he was gratified to see she was still keeping up. He really needed a drinking companion tonight. Naomi was fuck knows where...probably consoling herself with...well, that thought could just fuck right off, he thought bitterly. Whatever...she was gone and tonight he needed to get hammered and forget...or try to. Tomorrow would bring hangovers and cold reality. But tomorrow could fucking wait. He lifted the half empty Tequila Gold bottle, only swaying a little, and smiled at the woman next to him.
"Another?" he said. Considering the amount he had already consumed, a normal male would already be comatose, but Cook was no ordinary male. Add to that the three lines of top drawer coke he'd hoovered up his nostrils so far and he was surprisingly OK.
"Sure" Rebecca smiled, offering her empty glass to him. She'd arrived just after dark with the bottle of Tequila and a couple of grams of excellent charlie. Cook was suitably grateful for company, even if he knew she was probably only here to make sure Max's errant employee stayed exactly where he was put. The drugs were just the icing on the cake. After the raid, he knew it would be even more stupid to have anything illegal in the apartment now. So he showed her in, and now three hours later, he was suitably buzzed with booze and humming with the kick from the cocaine. Life was still shit, but stoned and pissed, the hard edges were easier to ignore.
She leaned closer and Cook got a whiff of expensive perfume. For a second his head swam at the sensation of being this close to a beautiful woman. His eyes flicked from hers to the small amount of cleavage he could see under that crisp white blouse. Always the professional, Rebecca had arrived in a business suit, grey and obviously Bond Street. The jacket was hanging in the hallway now, but the tight blouse and pencil skirt still made him lick his lips.
Forcing his head up, he met her eyes again. They sparkled with amusement at his obvious perving.
"My face is up here James...and the glass is down there...but thanks for the compliment?" she smirked knowingly.
He grinned back, unabashed. Flirting and admiring beautiful women was hard wired into his soul. This was something he was good at...always had been. Even tonight, abandoned by Naomi and on bail, his natural characteristics were evident.
"Sorry babe...force of habit. Can't blame a boy for trying...I know you play for the other team and all that...you have that in common with Nao..."
Rebecca's eyes flashed at the mention of the missing girlfriend.
"Where did you say she was again Cookie?" she asked lightly.
"Gone to her mums" Cook lied "...said she needed some space from all this shit. "Gone back to Bristol...left me here alone?"
His face dropped as the woman laid her hand over his as it held the bottle.
"She'll be back James...she loves you?" This time it was Rebecca who was lying and they both knew it.
"Naah...we both know thats a crock of shit 'Becca...she likes me...but it ain't the same as love, we both know that. Soon as that little Fitch girl arrived, I knew it was all gonna go tits up…?" Cook stopped and chuckled at his own unintended pun. "..yeah tits up...thats about right. Two pairs of tits...always trumps a stiff dick babe…?"
Her hand tightened on his.
"Well that might be true James..and I can't deny I prefer girls for fun too...most of the time...but who knows? Things might happen to change the future…?"
His mind swam as the meaning of her words hit home. The hit man...Max?
"Fuck...is Naomi in any proper danger Becca?...I don't want anything to happen to her even if..." he said quickly, putting the bottle back on the table with a clunk.
"Shhh" she soothed, still holding onto his hand "...that's definitely not gonna happen James. I can't do anything about this Effy girl..she signed her own death warrant when she involved Max in her stupid games...but there's no reason for Naomi to get hurt. The guy has strict instructions not to cause collateral damage. No...Naomi will be fine. She's down in Bristol you say…?"
Cook nodded after a seconds hesitation.
"Well thats OK then...you just relax...have another drink James...we have all evening to finish the bottle...and who knows..." she leaned over again, letting the glimpse of her creamy breasts grab his attention again "...maybe I can make an exception for once...sometimes a girl needs something a bit...firmer... to make her smile...yeah?"
Cook swallowed hard and returned her knowing expression. Maybe the evening would turn out better than he thought…?
…
Two hours later, Cook was a much happier bunny. Underneath him, a naked Rebecca was thrusting up eagerly to meet his driving hips, long legs hooked over his waist. Her designer nails dug into his sides as his movements grew uncoordinated. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold on until she came, but she was driving him to distraction, looking up at him with those wide unfocussed eyes.
"Fuck James...such a big boy...so fucking hard...that cock is gonna make me come again...you want to make me come again, don't you?"
Oh I definitely do, Cook thought, his stomach rippling as he tried to keep the right angle over her writhing body. Despite her sexuality, it seemed she was just as happy with a cock inside her as a female tongue. Again she raked his sides, making him hiss in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
"Jesus...you love it Becca...fucking love it...so tight...so wet" he gasped, pistoning in and out of her clinging heat faster and faster. It wouldn't be long now. He could feel his balls contracting and the unstoppable tingle in his cock. Soon...very soon.
He moaned again as she lifted her head and bit down on his nipple...again the mixture of pleasure and pain surged through him…
"Fuck" he said loudly "Can't hold on...grab my balls babe...grab my fucking balls...I'm gonna..."
He jerked into her hard, deeper even than he had before. She threw her head back and cried out, reaching underneath him to squeeze his balls just hard enough to make him lose it. Again and again he jerked, still buried in her to the hilt. Her cunt squeezed him rhythmically as his orgasm peaked. Slowly he reduced his movements until he was just gliding slickly in and out of her, gasping and staring at the bedroom wall over her head. Cook felt her fingers release him, then snake quickly between their bodies, moving then in quick efficient strokes. After a few seconds, she cried out too, her orgasm less dramatic than his, but satisfying nevertheless.
They separated slowly, carefully, His wilting cock held in his hand to keep the condom on. He got off the bed and walked stiffly into the bathroom. Rebecca heard the clang of the waste bin as he disposed of the evidence. Her face twisted in faint disgust at the necessary mechanics post intercourse. This was the bit she hated most. The fucking had been OK actually... Cook was a considerate lover, despite his cave man image. She rarely indulged in cock nowadays...women were far more exciting in bed, but true to his word, he'd not left her unsatisfied. Two orgasms in a night were unusual for her...at least with a man.
After he appeared at the bathroom door, she got off the damp bedsheets and crossed by him, closing the bathroom door firmly behind her. Opening the small cabinet over the sink, she was grateful to see a bottle of mouthwash unopened. Unscrewing the top, she swilled her mouth vigorously with the strong liquid. The five minutes reluctant fellatio had been the worst bit of the evening, but she'd been told in no uncertain terms by her boss to be the perfect shag for his star employee...and Cook was big on oral, it seemed. Luckily he was too impatient to get his dick inside her in the end...she didn't think, even for Max's massive salary, she could finish a man off that way any more. Too many teenage memories of having her head held in a guys lap, masking her disgust as she swallowed.
Refreshed, she waited a few more minutes nevertheless before slowly opening the door and peering out.
Cook was on his back, a thin sheet covering his lower body. She smiled in gratitude at that small mercy. A stiff dick might be useful sometimes, but a flaccid one was just about the ugliest thing on a human body she could think of.
His chest rose and fell regularly. Again she smiled. With ¾ of a bottle of Tequila inside him, he should sleep till morning. She had time to gather her things and get dressed while he snored. Home and a long soak in a bubble bath beckoned. The ache between her legs would need a lot of soothing.
…
A hundred or so miles away, the occupants of another double bed lay uneasily side by side. Neither slept. The proximity of another body...that body...so close made sleep hard to find. Naomi and Emily looked up at the bland ceiling, wondering what the morning would bring.
…
On Naomi's tablet in the other room, the almost silent alert went off from the BBC News channel. Neither girl heard the gentle ping. Probably just as well.
"The body of an English tourist has been discovered in a Paris hotel bedroom. Initial reports say that foul play is suspected. Police in France and England have asked the public to assist them in finding the young woman's missing companion...a Miss Emily Fitch...who they believe may be able to assist them in their enquiries"
XXX