"Umm Maria?" Sean poked his head into Underworld's office, "there's some coppers here to see Mrs. Connor."
"Eh?" Maria's head popped up from the paperwork she was checking over, as the two officers stepped into the office, "Oh, umm I'm sorry but Carla's running a bit late this morning, she's on her way back from the bank. Is there something I can help you with? I'm Maria, her PA."
"Nice to meet you," the younger officer stated as he shook her outstretched hand, "this is officer O'Reilly, and I'm officer Paltry. We're just here to follow up on the incident involving Mrs Connor that occurred on March the 1st. We called around to her flat but she had already left."
"Incident?" Maria folded her arms across her chest, "what incident?"
"At the bar in Didsbury last Tuesday night?"
Before Maria could question further, the office door swung open and Carla walked in, her eyes taking in the sight before her, "what's all this, then?" she asked curiously
"Mrs. Connor, this is officer Paltry, and I'm officer O'Reilly. Do you remember us?" The older officer asked
Carla's eyes darted about the office, "should I?" she responded truthfully, and Maria's eyebrow raised
"From Didsbury, last Tuesday?" Paltry stated,
Maria watched as Carla's face drained of all colour momentarily before a smile graced her features and she shook her head slightly, "oh, of course, sorry. Not the greatest with faces and all that," she lied before turning to her PA, "Maria could you bring us some coffee love, please?"
Maria's eyebrow remained raised at her, "sure," she responded, "anything for you officers?"
"No thank you, we won't be long," O'Reilly answered with a smile,
"Alright, be back in a tick," Maria said, walking out of the office and throwing Carla a concerned look
"Sorry, about that," Carla said, dropping her purse on her desk and sitting down, "obviously my memory from that night is a bit hazy. Please sit down," she gestured to the seats across from her
"How are you feeling?" Paltry asked
"Yeah, fine. They managed to get it all out of my system at hospital, so..." she scratched her head awkwardly, "umm what can I do for you?"
"Well we're here to confirm that the lab results came back on the blister pack that was found, and it definitely was Rohypnol," O'Reilly explained as Carla bit her lip and nodded, "we just need to follow up with a few questions, if that's alright?"
"Yeah, of course," Carla sat back in her chair
"We know your mind will be a bit hazy from the time you ingested the drug onwards, but can you recall anything that occurred prior to that?"
"Such as what, exactly?" Carla asked.
"Well, how many drinks had you had prior to going to the bar that night?" Paltry asked
"None," she responded truthfully, "I had a DUI last November, and even though I were barely over the limit, I've been ensuring I cut back..."
"And how about when you arrived at the bar?"
"No, I stuck to fizzy water, and a lemonade, until one former client of mine insisted and bought me a wine, and I felt bad if I just chucked it, you know?"
"Do you know who that person was?" Paltry prodded
"Yeah, Paul. Paul Stokes."
"Did you have reason to be suspicious of this client's desire to buy you a drink?"
"Well, no of course not. I've worked with these men for years now," Carla responded, "we've been to multiple business mixers in the past where they've bought me drinks and vice versa," she folded her arms across her chest, "besides, I watched the bartender pour the wine into the glass and then hand it straight to me. Paul and I cheers'd, had a quick conversation and then I went to speak to Rory from Macnees."
Paltry scribbled down the details on a pad, "Right, we'll follow up with Mr. Stokes on that. Can you think of any moment when you may have left your drink unattended after receiving it from the bartender?" He lifted his gaze in time to see Carla's brow furrow, her eyes downcast as though remembering something, "Mrs. Connor?"
"I were bumped into," she answered in a low voice, "after Paul and I took a sip of our drinks, I was turned to face him, and we were chatting, and someone bumped into me really hard, and knocked me forward into Paul. He had to catch me before I fell flat on me face," she bit her lip and shook her head, "when I stood back upright, I turned to grab my glass thinking it probably got knocked over as well, but there it was, sitting a little further from me than I had put it. I just didn't think anything of it at that point, I thought - I thought maybe the bartender moved it to avoid it getting knocked over."
"Can you remember who may have bumped into you?"
She shook her head, rubbing her forehead in frustration with herself for not seeing it then, "no, it were packed at that side of the bar at that point. That's why I grabbed my glass and moved over to the other side where Rory was. I had been sat with him for a bit before I started drinking my wine again, and that's when things start to go fuzzy." She watched as the two officers nodded, both writing in their respective notepads, "God, you both must think I'm a right idiot."
O'Reilly lifted his eyes to rest on the now self-deprecating factory boss, "why would you think that, Mrs. Connor?"
"Because," she shrugged frustratedly, "It's the oldest trick in the book, innit? Bump into a woman and drop a roofie in her drink while she's distracted," she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers into the flesh above her browbone, "I can't believe I were so stupid..."
"Mrs. Connor," O'Reilly stated gently, "you need to stop being so hard on yourself. You'd be surprised how many women who are as careful as you are, slip up by no fault of their own. Sexual predators can be incredibly devious and cunning. You mustn't blame yourself for this. You took all the precautions, he just managed to create an opening that you couldn't have foreseen."
"It's true," Paltry added, "Just be thankful that the bartender and your business associate managed to notice something was off. It could have turned much worse otherwise."
"Yeah," she nodded, mentally reminding herself to call Rory to thank him, "you're right, of course." She looked up, her eyes drifting between the two and she sighed heavily, "You're not gonna be able to find out who did this, are you?"
"To be honest, it will be hard to find out who it was, Mrs. Connor. We found no fingerprints, so it'll be difficult to pinpoint exactly who it was who pushed you and if it was that same person who also slipped you the roofie. But we are going to continue with the investigation, and if you can think of anything else, please don't hesitate to call us," Paltry stated as he and O'Reilly rose to their feet, handing a card to Carla, as she stood up from her chair,
"Cheers," she responded, "I appreciate everything, thank you."
"Just doing our job, Mrs. Connor," O'Reilly responded with a smile, "We'll be in touch."
"Thanks," she nodded, watching as they both filed out of the office. She collapsed into her chair, her hand coming up to rub her forehead just as Maria entered the office again, placing a cup of coffee in front of her.
"You going to fill me in then?" the younger woman asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest, "and don't try to change the subject or brush me off, Carla."
Carla raised her eyes to her PA, "Maria..."
"No, Carla, the truth!" Maria stated as she pulled up her chair, "you were supposed to be at Peter's that night. Said you ate something that turned your stomach. Now them coppers," she motioned over her shoulder with her thumb, "tell me you were in Didsbury in a bar that night, and some incident occurred. So come on then? What happened?"
Carla sighed, "alright, I'll tell you what happened just," she picked up her phone and began dialling a number, "just let me make this call first, okay?" At Maria's nod, she placed the receiver to her ear, "Rory! It's Carla, love. Yeah I'm doing well, and that's all down to you really. It's the reason I'm calling actually. Wondered if you have an hour to spare this afternoon so I can buy you a drink and maybe pick your brain a bit? That's great, how about The Rovers Return on Coronation Street, say noon-ish..."
Peter stood at the bar in the Rovers, smiling to himself as he played with the coaster, remembering the evening and morning he spent at Carla's flat before they both shared a taxi, with them dropping her off at the bank in town, while he headed back to open the Bookies.
He couldn't deny how much happier he'd been the past few days, and that was down to Carla. Their banter was effortless, her smile and dirty little giggle infectious.
And the sex...
Well, he couldn't deny it was the most exhilarating sex he's had in his life, and for a man who had his fair share of sexual partners, that was saying something.
They just connected: passionate and enticing, each time they fell into bed together it was simply mind-blowing.
He took a sip of his orange juice. Their constant fight for dominance in the bedroom was a ridiculous turn-on for him. He loved when she took control, but he couldn't deny the ego boost it gave him at how submissive she was with him. Carla: the strong, no-nonsense, take-no-prisoners, fought-her-ex-husband-off-when-he-tried-murder-her factory boss, would become almost like putty to his ministrations. Reluctantly so, he noted, but she definitely let go of some of her need to control things between the sheets this past weekend. And having this woman become so docile, so malleable, and compliant to his gentle commands, was such a thrill to him that he wondered if she had ever been that yielding with the men that came before him. Just the thought that he may be the only one to have ever seen her like that, caused an overwhelming sense of admiration of her, as well as a sense of pride at just how lucky he was. His cock twitched in his trousers, and he coughed slightly, adjusting his stance to subdue his now growing arousal as Steve came to lean on the bar next to him.
"Alright," Steve began, "what's the grin for?"
"Oh, nothing Steve mate," Peter replied, "Just thinking is all,"
"Hmmm, and would a certain factory owner have anything to do with that?" Steve smirked knowingly at him
"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" Peter responded
"Hey, Peter? Isn't it?" a voice stated from beside him and he and Steve both turned their heads towards where Rory now stood next to them
Peter nodded, "Yeah, and ummm sorry your name again?" he held his hand out to the man next to him
"Rory," the man stated, gripping Peter's hand in a firm handshake, before reaching over towards Steve, "Steve, right?"
"Yeah, nice to see you again, mate," Steve responded, shaking the man's outstretched hand, "What brings you here?"
"Carla asked to meet me for a quick drink, though I'm sure it may have something to do with the coppers doing their investigation into what happened at the mixer," Rory answered
"Oh, right," Peter answered, his interest piqued, "did they come up with anything?"
"No, they couldn't find fingerprints on the blister pack so they were just looking for anymore information that we may have overlooked," Rory stated, his head turning as he heard the door open, "and there she is! Carla!" he stated, reaching for her and kissing her on the cheek, "right on time, as always,"
"When have you known me not to be?" she winked cheekily at him, before locking eyes with the man behind him, "Hiya Peter," she greeted him with a smile
"Hi Carla, you're looking good," he responded playfully
"Ahh well I had a very relaxing night last night," she responded cheekily, "must have been just what I needed," she turned to Rory, "what are you having Rory?"
"Oh, I'll have a glass of red wine thank you," Rory responded, "but I'll get these in Carla,"
"Uhh actually, neither of you are paying, these are on the house," Steve said quietly,
"Oh, well, cheers, Steve," Carla said, her eyes glancing between him and Peter, "umm could I get a glass of red as well please, as well a glass for white for Maria, she's just on her way..."
"Sure, you go sit down, I'll bring them over."
Carla turned to the bookie, "gonna join us?"
"Won't I be gatecrashing a business meeting?" Peter asked
"Well, no," she scratched her head, "it's actually umm, it's about what happened last week. Maria knows now, so you may as well come over and find out what I were told by the coppers as well."
"Yeah, okay," he smiled and rubbed her arm affectionately, "I'll just get a refill, and head over."
Forty-five minutes later, saw the four of them seated in a booth, going over the details both Carla and Rory were given by the officers.
"So you've no idea who would've slipped something in her drink?" Maria asked Rory, "Has this happened before at any of your business mixers?"
"No, it were the first time it's ever occurred as far as I'm aware." Rory responded, "I'm just glad we were able to figure it out before something bad happened."
"Yeah, me and all," Carla responded, finishing off the wine in her glass, "And I have you to thank for that, Rory. Honestly, I'm in your debt."
"Well, maybe the next time I need to place an order, you could knock a bit of the price off and we'll call it even?" Rory winked,
"You cheeky..." Carla poked him with her finger, "alright, I'll see what we can do."
'I'm just gonna nip out for a fag," Peter stated, as he rose to his feet, "Car, could you come for a bit? Need to run something by you about that present for Simon."
Carla looked a bit perplexed but nodded, "oh yeah, sure," she pushed herself out of the booth and turned back to Rory, "You'll still be here, right?"
"Yeah, I've another half hour before I got to be back, so how about I buy us one more drink for the road, eh?"
Carla nodded, "yeah, sounds good," she grabbed her purse from the booth, "just uh wait five minutes before ordering yeah?"
"You're the boss!" he mock saluted her,
"As long as you recognize..." she chided him, giving Maria a wink before following Peter out to the back garden.
Maria chuckled into her almost empty glass, "I can't believe she never said anything about it to me," she said in a low voice
"Happens she were just embarrassed, though she shouldn't be. It certainly wasn't her fault," Rory stated
"Yeah, well I can see why she might be embarrassed. She apparently asked Frank Foster out for dinner after she'd been slipped the roofie. She's probably worried about what else she may have done unknowingly..."
"She didn't ask out Frank," Rory said thoroughly confused, "at least not after she was slipped that roofie."
"How do you know?" Maria asked
"Because she didn't leave my side the whole time," Rory responded knowingly, "I made sure of it the moment she started acting intoxicated. Other than making a phone call while I was speaking to the bartender, she didn't talk to anyone but me."
"That's odd," Maria said, "Carla said that Frank told her she asked him out, and he had assumed she had drank too much,"
"Nah, other than Foster reminding me to call Carla that night, he was barely on his own with her. He did try, if I recall, but he then almost disappeared about the time she was slipped the roofie. Didn't see him the rest of the night. I just assumed he went home."
"Why would he tell her that she did then?" Maria asked, feeling an uncomfortable ball forming in the pit of her stomach
"I dunno, maybe he was pulling her leg?" Rory offered with a shrug, "Or maybe she asked him prior to her getting slipped the roofie? I mean, I did head to the toilets for a bit, so they may chatted then..."
Maria polished off the remainder of her white wine, and nodded with a crooked smile, "yeah," she acquiesced, "yeah that's probably what it was. Her mind's a bit fuzzy from the night she might just be getting a bit confused."
"Understandable," Rory stated, "from what I saw, it has one hell of an effect on a person. I'm going to hit the loo quickly, and then same again?"
Maria nodded with a smile, "Cheers," she responded, watching as Rory pushed himself up and out of the booth. Her fingers began drumming along her now empty wine glass as she mulled over this new information.
She couldn't help that uneasy feeling that Frank had more to do with this mixer business then it appeared. And she was going to make damn sure to find out just how involved he actually was...
Carla fell into step behind Peter as they entered the Rovers back garden.
"Simon's present?" She teased
"Sorry, I couldn't think of anything else off the fly," Peter apologized with a smile, turning to face her, "I just needed to get you alone,"
"Oh aye?" she smiled, leaning against the wall and biting her lip, "and why's that?"
Peter's expression turned serious as he locked eyes on hers. He stepped forward and cupped her cheek, "because I feel responsible for what happened to you last week..."
Carla was taken aback by his words, her eyes widening and she shook her head in confusion, "what? Peter why?"
"Because if I hadn't been such an arrogant ass to you that night, you wouldn't have left the flat," he answered regretfully, "you wouldn't have gone to that mixer and none of this would have happened..."
Carla sighed and nodded, "okay, well that's one way of looking at it," she agreed, watching as his face fell further, "but here's another: if you hadn't been an arrogant ass that night, then I wouldn't have left the flat. I wouldn't have gone to that mixer, and I wouldn't have been slipped a roofie. If I hadn't of been slipped that roofie, then you wouldn't have taken me to hospital, and you wouldn't have stayed the night and I wouldn't have been taken care of by you," she smiled at him, "We never would have that dinner do-over, and Simon would never have crashed it. We wouldn't have watched Ratatouille, and we wouldn't have slept together. We wouldn't have attempted making dinner with Si, and we wouldn't have blown up my oven -"
"-you wouldn't have blown up your oven-" he mumbled teasingly and she slapped his arm playfully
"Whatever, Barlow - and we wouldn't have had dinner at Ken and Dierdre's; and you and I wouldn't have spent the better part of the weekend together." She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer to her, "Peter, the only person to blame for slipping me that roofie, is whoever slipped me that roofie! I may have been peeved at our first attempt at dinner last week, but," she sighed, "I wouldn't change anything that happened. Okay?"
Peter nodded, and smiled "okay," he responded
She leaned in and kissed him passionately, pulling back so her lips hovered over his, "how long do you reckon it'll take to talk about this 'present for Simon' thing?"
Peter wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, "what did you have in mind?"
She captured his lips between hers again, "got your flat keys...?"
They ran across the cobbles towards the Bookies flat, giggling as their eyes darted about quickly to ensure no one saw them. As he put the key in the lock, he pushed her back into the door, his lips crashing hungrily against hers as he pushed the door open and closed it immediately behind them. They continued to kiss at the base of the stairs, and Peter began thinking of just where in the flat he wanted to have her. But as his tongue continued to wrestle with hers, he mentally counted the stairs leading up to the flat and despaired at how many there suddenly seemed to be. The heat between her legs and her grinding up against him instead caused him to reach down and grasp the back of her thighs, lifting her up and carrying up a total of three stairs before placing her down on her back, his body laying atop of hers, his hands gripping the hair on both sides of her face with a fervor he couldn't rationally explain.
He wanted to consume her, and in that instant, the few remaining steps that led to the inside safety of his flat just seemed too damn far.
Her hands gripped his biceps, as she steadied herself from sliding down the stairs beneath him, planting her feet on the steps on either side of his knees, and she slowly edged her hands up, her fingers curling in his hair and pulling his head towards hers as she continued to crash her lips upon his.
Peter was losing his self control in the stairwell. He could feel the unforgiving wood beneath his knees and could only assume how uncomfortable it would be for her, but she wasn't complaining, her ministrations as desperate for this contact as his was. And so instead he focused on the way her hair felt in his hand as he gripped the base of her skull while his other hand slid down her body. He heard her kick off her boots and listened as they tumbled down the stairs behind him. Without thinking, he tugged at her pantyhose, raising himself away from her long enough to pull them off of her and toss them behind them onto the floor by the door. He quickly undid his belt buckle, and pushed his trousers and boxer briefs down past his knees.
"Do you want me?" He whispered huskily as he climbed back over her
She whimpered against him as she tried to grind against him, only to have him shift away from her, "answer me, Carla." He gently ordered her
"Yes," she moaned, the wood of the steps digging into her back relentlessly. She knew she was going to regret this choice of location for their quickie when the bruises along her spine would undoubtedly appear the following morning, but for right now she didn't care. Before she'd finished answering him, her black lace knickers she'd worn had been pulled off her body, the rush of cool air on the now exposed, aching flesh between her legs a welcome feeling to quell her senses before she lost herself entirely to him.
She moaned when his fingers slid inside her, circling and thrusting and she bucked against him.
God, she wanted him; and as she stared up at him between her hooded lids, he steadied himself between her legs and she bit her lip in anticipation.
Peter worked himself into her, feeling her legs open wider to accommodate him in their awkward position. He paused upon entering her entirely, pressing his forehead to hers as he relished just how tight she was around him. Pressing a kiss to her lips, he began to build a pounding rhythm. This was not their slow sensual sex of late. This was going to be hard and fast, and oh so satisfying.
He drove into her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning loudly with each thrust he made into her.
He grunted against her for minutes on end. They were so loud and vocal, he was sure the locals would her them in the Rovers, and he silently hoped they would. He wanted everyone to know that he was sleeping with Carla, and that he was the one causing those adorable yet feral, lust-filled noises to emit from behind those pillowy lips of hers.
He looked down upon her as he continued to thrust faster and deeper inside her. Her eyes closed in complete ecstasy as she gripped him to her, her orgasm beginning to overtake her. He reached down with one hand, using the other to steady on the step beside her head, and he began to viciously rub her clit between his thrusts. Unable to hold back any longer, Carla screamed out, her thighs squeezing around his waist and her fingers gripping into his shoulders. The feel of her squeezing around him was enough to drive him over the edge, and with two final thrusts, he released himself inside her before dipping his head and capturing her lips with his own.
They both lay there for a few minutes, each trembling in each other's embrace while continuing to kiss hungrily. Wanting the moment to last a few moments longer before they rushed back to the Rovers...
Frank watched as Carla and Peter exited the bookies flat, both smiling like love-sick teenagers, as they headed back towards the Rovers back garden, and he felt his blood boil.
He had just been walking towards the pub when he saw the two of them giggling and dashing towards Peter's flat. Watched as Peter pressed her back into the door and lay a smouldering kiss upon her lips as he pushed it open, and quickly closed it behind them.
Frank didn't know what drove him to the door of the bookies flat, but that's where he next found himself. Listening to the moans and grunts of the two inside as they engaged in a what he could only surmise was a quickie in the hallway.
This was the second time he caught them in the act. The first being in the Rovers back garden following his dinner meeting with Carla. He enviously watched as Peter pushed her against the wall, commanding her to bend to his every whim before pulling her into the hut where he bent her over the table. He felt his jealousy rising as she then pushed him back, straddling him atop the bench and riding him until she came. They had been quiet that time, so as not too arouse any unwanted attention. But this time, they almost seemed to be goading him with their moans. He heard her scream Peter's name, and he balled his hands into fists, angrily pushing himself away from the door, and marching across the street to the bench across from the hairdresser's, where he remained as they exited the flat some minutes later, heading back towards the pub and quickly fixing their disheveled hair, as if they hadn't just ripped his heart into a thousand shreds.
He needed to plan his next move. He needed to drive a wedge between them, and ultimately woo Carla to him. He wanted to be the only man to make her cry out like that, and he was more than sure he would be able to if he could just remove Peter flamin' Barlow from the picture...