“Penny for them,” Sally said, her voice drawing me back into the room, as would a hypnotist clicking his fingers. We were now alone. She sat in a wicker chair in the corner facing me as a low murmur of thunder sounded over the hills in the distance.

“What?”

“What?!” She mocked, impersonating my cockney accent, “You were miles away, sweetie.” I felt the right side of my neck, running over the tip of my finger over the sore, swollen spot.”

“Was I?”

“Yes, so where did you go last night?” she questioned, her tone, although light-hearted, couldn’t hide the sense that she was probing. In my mind, I travelled through the previous night’s events before I came to an abrupt halt as I looked out of the window.

“I just wandered around the place and chatted to some guy in the wheelchair.”

“Max.”

“I don’t know his name; American bloke, talks a lot.”

“Yes, that’s him,” she said, smiling, but I noticed that something was missing; her mouth grinned but her eyes remained cold, hard and searching. Her position worried me slightly and as far as I was aware, I hadn’t done anything wrong, but her position told me otherwise.

“Strange night.”

“Yes, it was,” she replied, ignoring my appeal to change the subject. “Were you with him all night?”

There it was again, this mild interrogation. My mother would use a similar tactic when she knew I had been naughty, hoping that making me feel uneasy would make me crack. It was obvious that she was pushing to find out how much I either knew or had seen.

I guessed that it had something to do with the car and the scrambling, panicked bodyguards that I had seen from the window. If that was the case, then she could have interrogated me until Christmas as I didn’t know anything.

“So, who else enjoyed the pleasure of your undoubted talents Joey. One of the waitresses maybe? Max can be such a devil.”

“No-one. Not that the opportunity wasn’t there, it just didn’t happen.”

“You were a huge hit, mon adorable garçon, I’m sure there were a number of old maids there last night who would have eagerly dropped their drawers.”

“Like you?”

“Touché.”

“It’s strange you say that. There was something that Max said to me last night. He wants me to call him; he says he has an opportunity for me.”

“Doing what?”

“Fucking rich women, I assume.”

“A gigolo?”

“What’s that?”

“Joey, you amaze me,” she said, laughing out loud and theatrically clasping her hands to her face. “I forget sometimes, but he’s probably right. After hearing some of the comments, I think you could be quite successful.”

“How much?” I asked, partly out of interest but also getting a kick out of watching the effect that the conversation was having on her. Her pupils were dark and dilated, and an innocent pink blush coloured her pale cheeks.

“Are you asking how much I would pay, or how much the lonely women of society would?”

“Both. Do you think it will be worth my while?”

“I don’t know. I would imagine that some of your fee would be for your service, and the rest, possibly the greater portion, for your discretion.”

“They value their reputation more than a good fuck?”

“Don’t put yourself down Joseph, I am sure you will provide a valuable service, but I wouldn’t have put it quite so crudely. Yes, of course, they want to protect their reputation; none of these women however will leave their husbands and run away with you; why would they? But never think your role isn’t valuable. You would become the clandestine, stress-relieving fuck while their husbands are away on business or, if the poor man has managed to piss her off, maybe even with his blessing.”

“Really?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“So, I could earn a living?”

“Yes, I imagine you could. Max is nothing other than shrewd and I’d bet that he’s already got a diary full of paying clients ready to go,” she said, looking out of the window towards the threatening black clouds on the horizon.

“And you?” I asked.

“I thought we already had a financial agreement if my memory serves me right,” she chuckled, “a pound a peek wasn’t it?”

“But how much for more?”

“Are you really asking how much I would pay you to fuck me?”

“Yes, I am. How much?”

“Believe me I know many who would.”

“Yes, but would you?” I said, trying to draw an answer from her while pulling back the bedsheets and exposing myself. I love that look in a woman’s eyes, the way they widen, momentarily drinking in the prospect before her.

I wouldn’t consider myself big-headed to say that I knew exactly what she was thinking and what she wanted, I’d seen that expression so many times now that I’ve become quite accustomed to it.

“I suppose it depends on how much you’re charging.”

“I’ve no idea how you calculate it. A hundred pounds a centimetre maybe?”

“Oh, I think with the clientele that you will be servicing, it may be best to keep it imperial. Let’s say one hundred and fifty pounds an inch.”

“Touché,” I returned, “so what are we looking at?”

“I don’t know Joey, just how big are you?”

“I’ve never measured it. What do you think?” She looked at me from across the room and bit her bottom lip.

“Well, I guess there is only one way to find out.” she said, rushing from the room, only to return a moment later with a rolled-up, pink sewing tape measure.

“I think we need to coax our boy to his full potential,” she said, staring down at the flaccid cock that lay across my pelvis. Sitting down on the bed beside me, she let the tape measure slowly unravel in her hand. I watched as she reached out, enthusiastically rubbing my cock, smiling as her touch immediately began to have the desired effect, and soon ‘our boy’ as she called it, stood proud and erect in her grasp.

“Well, here goes,” she sniggered eagerly, licking her lips, “the tape never lies,” she added, burying the small metal tip into my pubic hair while placing the cotton tape against my skin. Gradually and with great drama, she began to count the numbers out loud as the tape ran through her fingers, slowly rising towards the tip of my cock.

“Four, five, six,” she called out as each number revealed itself. “Seven,” she continued, pausing only to turn her head towards me. “You really are a big boy, aren’t you? Eight,” she giggled to herself as the tape touched the sensitive, ridged crown, making my dick twitch in her hand.

“Nine,” she announced as the tape arrived at its final destination. “Wow. Nine-and-a-quarter inches.”

I looked up beyond her as I spotted something shifting in the room opposite. It took me a while to work out exactly who or what was standing in the semi-darkness of the broom cupboard. Only his outline was truly visible against the dim light from the small, frosted glass window. I had no idea how long David had been there observing proceedings, watching his wife lovingly measure her lover’s cock.

“And seven inches around,” she proclaimed proudly, unaware of her husband’s presence behind her.

“You have no idea how many boys from school would love to be in my position right now” I started, waiting to see her reaction

“And what position is that?”

“Like this,” I answered, spreading out my arms, “naked here in a bedroom with the school’s sexiest teacher.”

“Well, aren’t you the lucky one,” she said, her fingers skating around the coarse crown of my cock, “I think I got the pick of the litter.”

“How do you know? How can you be sure there isn’t someone else?”

“Believe me, Joseph. If you had any competition in that department, I’d have heard about it.”

“Is that how you heard about me?”

“Yes, it is; I remember it well,” she began, moving towards the window and leaning back on its sill, “it was Mrs Price. She entered the staff room one day and excitedly cornered a group of us in the kitchen area.”

I sat up in bed, resting my head against the cold bars of the headboard. Across the hall, I noticed as the ghostly mass slid his tight shorts down around his ankles and sat back in a chair.

“She couldn’t wait to tell us, ‘does anybody here teach Joseph Potter?’ she said. I didn’t want to say anything at the time. I’ve never been one to get too involved in idle chatter or gossip and assumed from her overly zealous manner, that she was about to drop a bomb. That said, eavesdropping in on a little scandalous chit chat never hurt anyone, and it can relieve the boredom of a rainy Wednesday afternoon.”

“I listened like the others for her to complete her announcement. ‘Well, I overheard some girls talking in class this morning, and by all accounts, he’s hung like a horse.’ Trust me, Joseph, if anyone else was blessed like you, we’d have heard about it.” She stopped talking and sat back down on the bed. There was something that this weekend had conjured up inside my head and now seemed as good a time as any to bring it up.

“When you came to the changing room that day, was this weekend already planned?”

“Yes, this gathering had been arranged long before our encounter.”

“At what point did I get involved?”

“That, my dear, was David’s idea. As I told you yesterday, there are no secrets between us, but there must have been something in what I told him about you that touched a nerve. We have an arrangement, an understanding, but I think you already know that. He has his lovers and I have mine, but when I told him about you, your age, your …, well, your cock, he became almost obsessed and wanted to know every tiny detail. He rearranged the evening so that it was you that fucked Eve, rather than the customary black stallion. The fact that she was a school administrator just added a touch of spice.”

“Why is it always a black guy?”

“Tradition I suppose; it’s the way it’s always been. It goes way back to the slave-trading days. Une grande bite de noir, a big black cock. Isn’t that supposed to be every woman’s fantasy and every man’s nightmare? The original choice was kept for the purple room.”

Just the sound of those words piqued my curiosity. “The purple room?”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes narrowing as again the interrogator returned, “I take it your explorations last night didn’t take you down there.”

“I heard it mentioned.”

“Yes, well …” she said, her voice trailing off as she turned her face towards the window. Outside the first drops of rain were beginning to fall on the warm stone patio outside. You could smell the change in the air, a strengthening wind was gradually beginning to find its way through the thin gaps in the wooden shutters.

“A storm is forecast for later,” she stated, her voice breaking through whatever thoughts preoccupied her. She continued to stare blankly out through the window slats, before returning her attention back to me.

“So, tell me, what do the boys say about me?” The question came out of nowhere and took me back for a second.

“How long have you been storing that one up?”

“Just curious.”

“Really?”

“Tell me.”

“Well, your tits and arse are most definitely a regular subject in the common room. And I’m sure that you are aware of the gang of boys who gather at the bottom of the stairs in block C waiting to see your famous tits bounce as you come down, but you already know that don’t you miss?”

It was clear from the way her nipples hardened noticeably through the black nylon of her bikini top that the thought turned her on. I’m sure she would argue that it was the sudden rush of a cool breeze through the window which caused the effect, but that would be a lie.

“You once asked if I thought you dressed for me at school. Did you choose your clothes just to turn me on? Well did you?”

“Of course not.”

“Are you sure, because sometimes it felt like you did?”

“What do you mean.”

“The low-cut tops and short skirts. Surely you knew what effect it was having on us.”

“Did I turn you on, Joseph? Did you sit at the back of my class with a raging hard-on? Do you think I’m unaware of all the comments? I don’t think it mattered what I wore, those adolescent dicks would still have responded.”

“So you enjoyed it?”

“Who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t enjoy hearing that you are the centre of someone’s ardour? Knowing that somewhere a boy is lying in bed at night, masturbating while thinking of me. You must think the same.”

“What, that someone’s wanking over me?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“Bullshit. You can’t be unaware of what people are saying about you.”

“Who?”

“Ahh, now who’s intrigued?” she said, laughing. It was infectious and I couldn’t help but concede.

“Okay, you got me.”

“It’s a tale as old as time,” she said, absentmindedly, running her fingers through her tangled red hair and giving me a look that reached deep into my soul. ”The teacher and the pupil.”

I knew exactly what she meant, as she returned the wicker chair, sitting back, her right leg crossed over her left, her dressing gown tantalisingly riding up to expose a large expanse of pale white thigh.

“What do you think your husband would say, if he saw us here, right now?” I asked, staring out in the direction of the shape across the landing.

“David has a complex personality; it’s difficult to judge. He can be a possessive man who likes to be in control, so I don’t know how he would react,” she answered. “You fascinate my husband, Joseph, do you know that? He is always curious to know who or what has been keeping his wife amused while he’s away.”

“I amuse you?”

“Yes, you do, very much.”

“Just something to play with while hubby’s away?” I said, asking her the question, but secretly directing my comment towards the shadowy figure across the hall.”

“It’s really not like that.”

“It is, Sally. I know my place in all this. And after last night I have an inkling where my future heading. You once said to me, ‘everybody has a talent,’ do you remember? Maybe if I use mine wisely, I could stash some money away for a rainy day. By the way, did you know my other talent is mind-reading?”

“Really?” she said, in a kind of uninterested way.”

“Absolutely.”

“What am I thinking at this precise moment?”

“That’s easy,” I said, closing my eyes and looking up to the heavens as if for guidance, “at this precise moment, I can see that there is only one thing in your head.”

“And what is that pray tell.” I could sense the smile on her face even with my eyes closed, the slight giggle in her voice giving her away.”

“You’re thinking, ‘how can I get his cock inside me?’” I sensed a slight shuffle from the room across the hall as I spoke, and maybe I imagined, it but I swear I heard a groan as David brought his dick to life.

“What makes you so confident that I will be that easy?” she asked, staring at me.

“It’s in your eyes. I have learnt to recognise that look.”

“From me?”

“Yes, and the others.”

“Others?” she asked, showing just the slightest hint of indignation, which of course I enjoyed.

“Oh, there are quite a few now?”

“You’ve become a popular boy.”

“So it appears. I can’t see the attraction myself.”

“Well maybe your nine-inch cock has something to do with it,” she said, standing and walking towards the wardrobe that stood a metre from the foot of the bed, and taking two scarves from a rack inside.

“Do you want to play?” she asked, holding up a green and yellow scarf in her left hand and a dark navy blue one in her right. I knew exactly what this indicated.

“I’m in,” I murmured, licking my lips, maybe a little too enthusiastically thinking back, my mind overdosing on lust and the wicked opportunity of fucking Sally in front of her pompous ass of a husband. I mean what would you do?

Now here’s a thing. My old grandad used to say, ‘measure twice, cut once.” It’s an old carpentry expression, but he adapted it to mean, ‘always think before you answer, never jump in without considering the consequences. ‘Every action has a reaction,’ was another one of his. As the soft silk singed the skin on my left hand, which was tightly knotted to the brass headboard behind me, his voice should have been screaming in my ears.

I watched as she dragged the dressing gown from her shoulders, expertly reaching behind her back and unclasping the bikini top with her right hand. There was that brief, glorious moment as she unclipped the top, a vision which I have never tired of.

It’s the gentle shimmer as her unsupported breasts drop slightly. It’s not much, barely noticeable at all in fact, but every time I see it makes me wonder, ‘just how did I get here? How did I go from being a schoolboy ogling Mrs Harrison’s obvious charms from the back of the classroom with my friends to being alone in a room, watching as she strips in front of me?’

She knows that she has my attention and plays on it. Over the course of this year, I’ve seen it so many times, the way she reveals herself, her full, plump breasts along with the subtle sway from her hips; it does it for me every time.

Slowly she pulled at the drawstring on the right hip of the bikini bottoms, and I watch as they fall away down her thigh revealing the smooth milky white skin on her pelvis, and she stands there, holding them up in front of her naked body.

“What do you want?” I asked, “it looks like you’re very much in charge.” She climbed onto the bed, across the sheets and straddled my hips. Behind her, in the doorway, I hear a heavily accented voice.

“Hola,” Rocío said, standing by the side of the bed. She was wearing a matching peach coloured bra and G-string.

“I want to fuck you,” Sally said, “I want to ride your beautiful cock until you cum.” She added, taking my cock and guiding it between her legs. I studied her expression as I pressed against her, feeling the soft, wet folds of her opening. Her eyes closed tight, making her brow furrow, then a gentle whispered exhale, long and controlled from her mouth as I entered her, and she took all of me inside.

Rocío stood beside me, her hand running along my arms, down over my chest and across my face, directing me towards her. It all happened so quickly; sudden and unexpected. Sally was leaning over me, her arms supporting her body on the mattress, her hair touching my skin. Her steady movements, rocking back and forth, controlling the rhythm, grinding my cock against her.

Then I felt it against my mouth, gentle at first then more insistent.”

“Don’t worry, chico encantador,” Rocío said, her soft voice seducing me.

“Embrace it, Joseph,” Sally breathed, “don’t fight it ma chère.” I didn’t, and at the time it all felt so surreal, like an out of body experience. It’s difficult to explain but it all felt so natural.

This just doesn't happen to a boy from the east end of London, none of it. I felt powerless and empowered all at the same time, surrendering myself to them. It was only after I had opened my mouth, allowing her to enter and feeling her soft skin on my lips, the first tang of her on my tongue, that I heard the distinctive sound of a camera’s click.

“Suck me, Joseph.” Rocío said, forcing more of her cock inside my mouth and making me gag and panic as it connected with my tonsils.

Click!

Suddenly she withdrew, turning her attention towards Sally, taking her breasts into her mouth and sucking on her hard, erect, pink nipples as she leaned back, resting her hands on my legs.

“I won’t cum until you do,” I said, as I felt her pulsate on my cock.

“No, mon chér, don’t wait for me, cum as nature demands,” she moaned, as Rocío kissed her on the mouth, her fingers teasing Sally’s exposed clitoris, drawing an immediate response, her hand reaching down for Rocío cock.

Sally had this strange look on her face; a mixture of mischief and contentment, as her eyes locked on mine and then towards Rocío before she nodded.”

“Sí?” The question was veiled and confused me.

“Oui,” she answered, kissing me on the mouth, I could feel the heat and lust, but there was something else; an excitement on her lips bordering on frenzy.

“Say it,” Rocío demanded, but this time there was a distinct taunt in tone, “tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me Rocío.”

“Where, Sally? Tell me; tell Joseph,” she said, bringing her hand down on Sally’s bare behind, “tell him what you want me to do,” she added, administering another blow, this one extracting a startled yelp in response.

“Mon cul.” I sensed the smile on her lips as she kissed me hard, breathing the words into my mouth. ”Fuck my arse …fuck my …“ She was still kissing me when I felt the pressure of Rocío‘s cock pierce her sphincter, her muffled whimper tremoring on my tongue, followed by a delightfully determined sob as she pushed back.

Click!

A natural rhythm was established between us, a kind of intense see-saw motion. I entered as Rocío withdrew, leaving not one second where Sally didn’t have a cock inside her, and it was beginning to take its toll.

Her warm, clammy body lay on my chest, her mouth hanging open near my ear, where only faint, barely intelligible murmurings were heard.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh,” she hummed into my ear as each thrust brought her closer.

The snap of Rocío’s hand on her bottom made her raise her head and she bit her bottom lip while wild staring eyes searched and found mine, and a wicked grin lit up her face. Lost in the moment, I doubt she could even remember her name if asked.

“You like it, baby?” Rocío taunted.

“Mmmm.”

“You like our cocks?”

“Mmmm.”

“Say it.”

“Mmmm.”

“Say it.”

“I like it,” she growled. I could sense her body strain, and pant, soothing at first through closed lips, then slowly building until she grabbed me tight around my neck.

“My beautiful boy,” she breathed, “oh my beautiful, beautiful … ohhh, I’m cumming, I’m cummmmm ….”

I stopped as her voice trailed off and I felt her begin to climax, leaning over me, hair hanging down touching my face, her eyes closed, licking her lips as the euphoria paralysed her body. Flickers of contractions gripped my cock, along with the pressure of Rocío who continued to drive into her from behind.

“No more,” Sally sighed, her hands pressing down on my chest. Behind her I heard Rocío laugh and spank her forcefully on the behind, knocking her towards me.

“Yes?”

“Ohhhhh no. No, no, no, no,” Sally panted, blowing her fractured answer into the void, throwing her head back as her cum washed over me.

Rocío released her and stepped back, giving Sally one final playful spank on her arse, laughing as he did so, affording me the peculiar view of seeing this naked woman, standing with her large erect cock protruding from the side of her G-string.”

Sally rolled to one side and lay in a breathless heap on the bed beside me. Her hair clinging to her forehead in matted clumps, as beads of sweat ran down over the crimson blush on her neck. Her face beamed; first a smile before joining Rocío in an unrepressed laugh.

“You, my boy,” she said, pulling me to her and looking in my eyes, kissing me through sweat-smeared lips,” are going to make the ladies of leisure very happy, and their husbands redundant.”

It was suddenly in that instant that I remembered Hamilton sitting in the cupboard across the hall, the dull light picking out his shape as he continued to spy on us.

Rocio crouched down between my legs, gripping my cock in her hand. I felt her kiss the swollen purple head before taking it into her mouth. Maybe half of my cock had disappeared inside before she began to gag and came back up.

I glanced over at Sally who gave me a knowing look, that self-satisfied expression of a woman who knows that she’s the one, the only one who has ever been able to achieve the feat of holding all of my cock in her mouth, giving the exquisite pleasure that it brings. Over the course of this year, many women have tried and failed, some almost choking themselves to death in the process, eyes streaming and bulging in their quest.

I’m fully aware of how arrogant this sounds, but most are content just to be in my company, my reputation amongst the local female population being such that many are desperate to join my growing club. I notice them talking behind closed hands as they see me exit a house. It’s a dangerous game, I know, but it all adds to the thrill.

I’ve always found it quite reassuring to see a woman reach the point when I assume she would normally have all of her husband’s cock down her throat, only to realise to their astonishment that there is maybe fifty per cent more to go. Sally possesses a gift that few have and that look on her face reminds me of the wonderful woman that I know and the times we had shared.

My private education at her hands has been invaluable, but I had a feeling that it was coming to an end.

It felt quite fitting that, at that moment, the heavens aggressively opened above us, sending enchanting flashes of lighting bouncing off the white walls and illuminating the darkened bedroom, followed by great resounding claps of thunder, shaking the house and setting off the alarms of the cars parked outside.

All this signalled the end of summer, and I feared it was the end of my tuition.

I felt her breath on my cock and her tongue lay on her bottom lip widening the passage. I could picture it as she slowly inched further down until she arrived at the point where others fail, before passing through. It’s a curious mixture of sensations, first the pleasurable as you enter the soft, tight tunnel of her throat, followed by the ego-boosting knowledge that this woman is doing this for you and you alone.

Rocío silently left the room as Sally’s nose nestles among my wispy pubic hairs before then slowly coming up and leaving a trail of drool on my skin, gasping for air as she released me.

Hamilton is still there. I could sense his presence even though I can no longer see him through the gloom. Sally bows her head again, her tongue dancing around the edge of the crown, fingers slide on the spittle-covered organ, imploring me. I’m close.

“What is the biggest cock you’ve had in your mouth,” I asked. After a moment’s pause, which I found rather disconcerting, “Yours.”

“But you had to think about it. Who else? David?”

“No, not David,” she said, with a quiet chuckle, making me smile in the knowledge that her husband was listening in to every word. I imagined him sitting in the room opposite, masturbating to the performance before him.

“Who?” Her hand moved faster, pushing me to the point where I knew I wouldn’t return. “Who?” I moaned in vain as my testicles tightened. “I’m cumming,” I cried, “where?” I felt her remove her grip from my cock and looked at me in an almost motherly way.

“My face,” she whispered, “cum over my face.”

It’s strange what goes through your head in moments like this. I distinctly remember asking her why so many women chose this over anything else, and why she disapproved. ‘Guilt,’ she had replied to me at the time, ‘penance for their sin against their husband. It’s the most degrading of acts to inflict on any woman. It feels like the man is branding her with his seed, claiming his property.’

I watched as she prepared herself, scraping her deep red hair back off her face with her hands, holding it behind her head, and closing her eyes.

“In your mouth?” I bartered, giving her one last chance to change her mind.

“No Joseph,” she countered, “I want to feel your cum on my face. I want you to be the one.” The first spit flew up into her hair, followed by a slight pause where the warm ecstasy washed over me and I aimed my cock at her, feeling it rise and spew over her face, catching her eyes, nose and mouth, until it was over, and we lay in silence.

It was just the two of us again. Rocío had disappeared and something told me that Hamilton had as well. Sally sat at my feet, searching for something to wipe her face, my sticky goo covering much of her features before she gave up.”

“I think I need a shower, you messy boy,” she said, padding almost on tiptoes away from me and down the hall. It felt like the end somehow; no one had said anything, there was no final whistle or raised flag, but it felt like the end all the same.

******

I stood, looking out of the kitchen window when he came to collect me. I was drinking a cup of tea, watching the rain dance across the empty patio.

“We need to go now, sir, if you are going to make your train.” The tea was half drunk, but I could sense the undercurrent of urgency in his tone. I collected my rucksack and belongings from the bedroom and joined him at the bottom of the stairs. The house was silent and there was to be no fond farewell on the doorstep, no one to wave me off. Sally had left me earlier to shower and never returned.

“I think you might need one of those,” the driver said, pointing to a china stand by the front door, full of umbrellas of various shapes, sizes and colours before we both dashed through the pouring rain to the safety of the car.

In contrast to our journey only twenty-four hours before, the driver was quite chatty, almost pleasant. He was talking about the weather and how much it had changed since yesterday.

“Bloody country,” he said, as the serious-sounding jingle for the news began in the background, “you never know what to wear from one minute to the next.”

Then the announcer said something which, for a second, stopped the world.”

“The actress, Katarina Vaskova, famed for her role as Sasha in the current box-office hit, ‘24 hours,’ was found dead this morning in her New York apartment. Police investigators are interviewing a suspect and are following enquiries that this was a possible sex-game that had gone tragically wrong.”

I stared at the back of the black driver’s seat, my eyes following the dark grey threads that connected and formed an army of small triangles, trying to work out the timeline between our conversation last night and her being found dead on the other side of the world. It was impossible, wasn’t it?

“Everything okay sir?” the driver inquired. I didn’t answer as I was lost in my thoughts while a deep dark pit opened up in my heart. “Sir?”

“Yeah?” I said, my mind running back through that last meeting, playing last night’s events over in my head. ‘There aren’t any buts Joey,’ she had said, ‘it’s just the way it is, the way it’s always been, I guess. I want something, and they can make it happen. As I said that’s the deal, the payoff. They got me the role, and …’

Then I focused on the scene through the window, the car parked outside on the gravel, the panicked bodyguards, surely there was a connection.

“So how long have you known the Hamiltons?”

“About a year,” I answered, almost on autopilot, rather than listen to what he was saying.

“How do you know them?”

“She’s my schoolteacher.”

“Mrs Hamilton?”

“Yeah.”

“How old are you son?”

“Seventeen.” I replied my thoughts absentmindedly elsewhere. Little did I know at the time, but that short conversation had struck a match. Everything we said was being recorded on his phone and would later be used as evidence. Soon that match would light a fuse that would smoulder and threaten to burn under the feet of the establishment.