Gutshots: Ten Blows to the Abdomen Read online

  Gutshots

  Ten Blows to the Abdomen

  by Graham Smith

  Published by Graham Smith, 2012

  copyright 2012 Graham Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or

  transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

  Graham Smith has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  All of the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance

  to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Hoggett Creative.

  There are many people who have supported and encouraged me to write and I’d like to thank them all.

  In no particular order I’d like to thank Col Bury, Matt Hilton and the others at ThrillsKillsnChills where I made my debut as a writer. Great advice, friendship and encouragement are only a small part of what they have done for me. Sheila Quigley, Zoe Sharp, Dave Barber, AJ Hayes, Paul D. Brazill Sue Harding, Kate Pilarcik and all the others from around the interweb. You know who you are guys, but you’ll never know what your support has meant to me.

  Thanks also go to all the friends and family members who have shown me great support. Chris over at Crimesquad.com for taking me on as a reviewer and supplying me with more good books than any man could ask for.

  Last and by no means least, my wife Helen and son Daniel who have never once complained about me sitting behind my laptop, shushing them as I tried to work something out.

  A Girl I Once Met

  This story came from a recent role as best man at my cousin’s wedding. After the obligatory stag party, I started thinking about the possible consequences of a one night stand taken on such an “away day” event. I must stress though that the story is entirely fictional and not based on a personal experience.

  May – Happenstance

  I was my brother’s best man, and with stunning originality he decided that the best place for him to go for his stag party was Blackpool. We did all the usual clichés.

  We drank in the Bier Keller, ate nearly inedible fast food from dodgy seafront stalls, rode the ‘coasters on the Pleasure Beach and of course went up the Tower.

  Around one in the morning hunger and tiredness won the battle with duty, so I said goodbye to the lads and went in search of a kebab or a pizza before heading back to the hotel we were staying, although hotel was rather a grand word for the crummy establishment with its box rooms and penicillin producing bathrooms.

  I found a pizza shop which didn’t look too dirty to my beer clouded vision and ordered a hot and spicy pizza. As I was waiting for it to be cooked, a gang of women came in. They were obviously well fuelled although one girl was clearly still stone cold sober.

  She was wearing a red dress which ended mid thigh and was scooped down the front to reveal tanned flesh all the way to her navel. She’d be five nine or so in those killer heels she was wearing and her weight was sufficient to fill the dress perfectly without spoiling the effect. Her eyes were a clear jade with tiny speckles of brown which twinkled with amusement at my staring. High cheek bones and a lovely soft mouth completed the face which could have graced a million magazine covers. To complete the look, auburn hair was twisted around her head until it hung in a carefully tangled knot over her left shoulder.

  I’d seen many women around the town tonight and had spent two hours in various strip clubs with women dressed for sex and yet none had stirred me the way this girl did.

  ‘You got a light?’ she’d asked of me while pointing to the cigarette packet protruding from my shirt pocket.

  Being a gentleman, I escorted her outside and chatted while we smoked a couple of cigarettes. I was enjoying myself more than at any time since arriving in the seaside resort.

  ‘Twelve inch Hot and Spicy,’ yelled a voice with a Turkish accent.

  I collected my pizza and went to say farewell to the girl in the red dress. She was squatting down picking up her handbag and the split in the side of her dress revealed a stocking top. I was captured in the headlights of desire. Stricken helpless. To my mind there is nothing more seductive than the flash of a stocking top whether intentional or accidental. I went from genial drunk to predator at the glimpse of one inch of nylon and elastic.

  I’m one of life’s fortunate’s in that I struck it lucky with the genetic lottery. I have all my own teeth and my hairline is where it was when I celebrated my twenty first birthday some fifteen years ago. My metabolism is active enough to prevent me from having to work out and my face has always been looked upon favourably by the girls and women I’ve met.

  All thoughts of Emma and the vows we’d exchanged last year flew from my mind as I focused my attentions on getting Briony into my bed, her bed, hell under the nearest pier would do. I just wanted her with every animal instinct the drunken male carries inside him.

  I leaned against the pizza shop window and resumed our conversation in between bites of pizza.

  She was funny, entertaining and when she asked to share my pizza I knew I had her. When the pizza was finished and I was about to ask her if she’d like a quick drink, she surprised me by asking first.

  Twenty minutes later we were in her hotel room fucking each other with reckless abandon. She was the most accomplished lover I’ve ever known and was utterly without inhibition.

  The next morning I managed to sneak back into my own room without any of the lads knowledge. I wasn’t proud, but as a complete one off event I could live with it. What I certainly didn’t want was for Emma to find out about my indiscretion.

  July – Coincidence

  As the car pulled up a face peered out of the back window at me. Shit, was that Briony?

  It was. There was nothing I could do but make the best of it. Thank God Emma wasn’t with me that day.

  I was here in my official capacity as a wedding photographer. Today I was hired to spend five hours doing a mixture of traditional and reportage style photographs to capture the essence of the happy couple’s most memorable day. Well that was the guff on my brochure and website.

  I raised the camera to my eye and called ‘smile.’

  The bride climbed out of the wedding car and flanked by Briony and another bridesmaid, walked towards the church.

  Such was my distraction by Briony’s presence I nearly dropped my camera. My mind was racing with how I was going to handle things.

  I saw Briony’s eyes widen and then narrow in comprehension as the three ladies posed on the steps of the church. She’d placed me as surely as I’d recognised her. Credit where it’s due though, her smile slipped for only a fraction of a second and was instantly repaired. I could tell by the one glance we’d shared that she had tried unsuccessfully to contact me on the number I’d given her and had failed. As a way of covering my tracks I had given her a false number and surnames had thankfully never been discussed.

  * * * *

  The bride was a work colleague of Emma’s sister Claire, which was how I’d got the job. Naturally Claire was coming to the wedding but at least she was only an evening guest.

  My most pressing concern was that Briony would tell the bride about the night we’d shared. Once she found out I was finished. My professional reputation would take a battering and Claire would certainly waste no time telling Emma.

  Claire wasn’t a nasty or vindictive person and would gain no pleasure from breaking her sister’s heart, but after discovering her own husband in bed with a neighbour she was not one to tolerate any kind of infidelity.

  My hands were working automatically and I knew that if I didn’t get my act togeth
er and start concentrating on what I was doing then I’d have no decent pictures of the ceremony. Shutter speeds and focal lengths had been adjusted negligently. There was only so much that could be corrected with Photoshop.

  By the time the ceremony was almost over, I’d decided to try and speak to Briony quietly with some bullshit about accidentally giving her my old mobile by mistake. As plans go it was half arsed at best, but it was the only one I could think of at the time.

  The day progressed naturally and while I worked I sensed from Briony that she was not going to spoil her friend’s big day with bitter tales of her own love life.

  When I finished up the staged pictures, the bride and groom went to talk to their guests while I snapped away at random, while watching out for Briony.

  I wandered around trying to find her so I could be the one to make the first move. As I went I took candid pictures of all the key wedding party members. Thank goodness they all wore matching suits or dresses which identified them.

  As I was immortalising the groom and best man laughing with the ushers, a voice in my ear said ‘I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve thought about our one night together every day. I’m so sorry that I haven’t called you, I must have written your number down wrong. I can see you’re busy just now darling, I’ll talk to you later.’

  Cold lances of ice had pierced my heart at the implication that her words carried. I’d expected a scene and here she was acting like she’d bloody fallen for me.

  When I’d looked round to find her she was talking gaily with a bunch of guests and when she saw me she mugged for the camera. Dutifully I took her picture and then moved on.

  As I was snapping random reportage shots a couple of hours later she came back to my shoulder. ‘Do you realise how good it could be for us? We could be perfect together.’ There was now the beginnings of a slur in her voice from the wine she’d been guzzling.

  When I had finished taking all the pictures I’d sought Briony out and tried explaining to her that I wasn’t looking for a relationship. She had taken the news fairly well although she did try to talk me into a date. I had, however remained strong and stuck to my guns.

  * * * *

  Sitting in the studio with a bottle of beer that night, I gave up trying to edit the pictures I’d taken that day and focused my mind onto answering one two-parted question. Had I let her down gentle enough to get away with it, or was she gonna track me down via the bride and take a wrecking ball to my marriage?

  Today – Enemy Action

  Two months had past since I saw Briony at the wedding and I’d heard nothing from her. Claire hadn’t mentioned a thing and hadn’t even looked at me in an odd or loathing way.

  I was starting to believe I’d gotten away with it.

  Not scot free of course, as my nerves had jangled for weeks after that chance encounter. Just undetected.

  Emma and I were working away in the studio packaging up different orders ready for collection by either the customer or the courier service we favoured over the Royal Mail, when she told me of a last minute booking she’d taken and was due in an hour.

  The booking was a boudoir style photo shoot which involved the client having suggestive snaps taken of herself as a present for a loved one or sometimes for a modelling portfolio.

  I was never comfortable with doing these as It felt odd to me directing scantily clad women around so I could get the best pictures possible. It was very often embarrassing all round. I mean when the model is five, two and fifteen stone then it needs a magician not a photographer to take sexy pictures.

  Usually I got Emma to do these shoots and because there wasn’t a male presence in the room the women were more relaxed which made for better pictures.

  Occasionally though I would be unable to avoid the issue and would have to grab my Nikon and get to it. Have you any idea how hard it is to hold a camera steady when you’re squirming as a fat lass rolls around in front of you trying to look sexy?

  ‘You do it,’ I told her.

  Emma’s reply had cut off that avenue of escape. ‘She wanted a male photographer. She wants a man to tell her which poses are sexy and which aren’t.’

  Capitulating with bad grace, I went through to the area we use for such shoots and made sure that the box lights, fans and so forth were all working. There was nothing less professional than setting up in front of a client and having equipment let you down because of something stupid like a blown fuse.

  I was double checking the studio flash umbrellas when I heard two pairs of heels come clacking through to the “live” studio.

  When I looked up I nearly shit myself. Standing right beside my wife was Briony wearing an overcoat which ended at her knees.

  Emma made introductions although Briony was calling herself Jane today.

  It soon became evident to me that Briony was not going to blow me out of the water just yet. First she was going to play with me the way a cat plays with a mouse.

  My mouth would hardly work and I struggled to speak coherently.

  I could see from her face that Emma could tell something was wrong and either she was being professional, or thought I was nervous about the fact she knew I’d soon be taking suggestive pictures of what was obviously a pretty girl.

  ‘So Jane,’ Emma said. ‘What exactly do you have in mind? It will really help Kirk get better pictures if he knows what your aim is. Are you looking to give your boyfriend or husband a present, or do you want some shots for a model portfolio?’

  Briony’s reply fucked me as surely as she had in Blackpool. Before answering she’d removed her coat to reveal the same red dress she’d worn the night we’d met.

  ‘I’ve only worn this dress once before. It was the night I met my boyfriend. He’s asked me to wear it since but I never have. What I want you to do is take some very sexy pictures of me wearing this dress. I want to surprise him with them.’

  Somehow I’d manage to say ‘Uh, okay’ legibly enough to be understood.

  ‘How risqué do you want the pictures to be? That dress is beautiful on you but it is very … suggestive.’ Emma asked. I was glad she’d asked because there was no way I’d dare. I could take a wild guess at the answer having experienced Briony’s lack of inhibition first hand so to speak.

  The words she used were gentle yet they hit me like a spring-loaded sledgehammer. ‘I won’t be taking my dress off.’ I clearly remembered asking her to leave the dress on when I fucked her. The little bitch was seriously winding me up and while I was struggling to keep my composure, I could hear my world creaking and cracking as it prepared to come tumbling down around me.

  ‘So, no nudity then,’ said Emma. My mouth was too dry to allow speech and Briony’s next words turned my tongue into a useless ashen lump. ‘I want Kirk to take the sexiest shots he can. While I’m not going to take my dress off, I don’t mind if my breasts or bum end up in the pictures.’

  The next hour was spent in a purgatory hell. Briony refused Emma’s offer of tit tape, so whenever she bent forward her breasts were exposed to my camera. When I told her of how much flesh she was showing, she laughed and reached inside her dress to tweak her nipples erect.

  Briony was in her element tormenting me in front of my wife. If Emma hadn’t been there then I would have been seriously aroused as Briony was a born tease.

  When Emma nipped to the toilet I asked Briony what the hell she was playing at and she just told me to wait and see.

  I was terrified of what she’d do or say but Emma came back before I could find out her intentions.

  As the shoot progressed Briony grew bolder and more brazen by the minute. At one point when she was posing on all fours with her back to me she reached behind her back and lifted the dress to display her naked bottom.

  Emma surprisingly came to my rescue. ‘Okay Jane, we’ve only got a couple of minutes left of your booked time. Are there any shots you want Kirk to take before we finish up?’

  ‘Can you just take a few pictures of me standing over
here?’ said Briony walking over to the white background curtain.

  I adjusted a couple of lights without paying any attention to what she was doing. When I lifted my camera across and looked through the view finder I could see Briony had hefted her hem up until it surrounded her waist. She had also exposed her breasts.

  She was now to all intents naked in front of me, my wife and my camera. I started snapping away but she stopped time with a couple of sentences.

  ‘Don’t bother taking any more pictures Kirk. You’ve seen it all before. Remember?’

  ‘What the hell do you mean?’ snapped Emma.

  I just stood there helpless. I couldn’t believe what was happening before me. Every second lasted an hour as Briony waited for Emma to make the connection herself.

  ‘I said, what do you mean?’ Emma’s voice was now shrill with tension and I could see her lips thinning as her anger rose.

  ‘He’s the boyfriend dummy. He’s going to leave you for me. This is the dress I wore when we met and slept together when he was in Blackpool. May the third it was.’ She then turned to me and said ‘Tell her darling. Tell her about all the plans we have for the future.’

  As I opened my mouth to protest at the delusional lies, Emma beat me to it by flipping out. Screaming abuse and obscenities at me, she grabbed my camera tripod and swung it bat like at my head.

  I managed to dodge the tripod although I cracked my head off a shelf as I ducked backwards from her murderous swing. While I was still dazed, Emma flew at Briony who ran out the back door of the studio in an effort to avoid having to fight her.

  Shrugging off my dizziness, I gave chase to the two women. As I got outside I could see that Emma had almost caught up with the demented Briony.

  A stumble from my wife gave Briony a break and she made it down the street and ran around the corner onto