Hi all, this story is a bit of a slow burn while I build on the characters. I promise part two, will have some sex scenes in it. Hope you enjoy. Acknowledgements go to my editors, kenjisato, who did the heavy lifting, correcting my atrocious grammar, and to Chiefhal who did the final proof read.
Sunday just after midnight.
Pete Singleton stared at the pile of diamonds in the drawer of the safe; he’d already bagged the wad of cash, he estimated to be in the region of half-a-million dollars. He pulled a soft, drawstring bag from his pocket, and tipped the diamonds in. He checked his watch; the countdown timer told him he’d been there for four minutes. Three to open the safe, it should have taken two, but the mechanism on this one was trickier than the one he’d practiced on. The remaining item, what looked like a brick wrapped in plastic would stay – cocaine, most likely. Time to go. He slipped the diamonds into his pocket, shut the safe door and twirled the knob.
He made his way through the dark house; he had memorized the layout as part of his research. The house belonged to a notorious drug dealer, so he felt no qualms about relieving the man of his possessions while he was out. Defeating the alarm system had been a cinch for someone with his skills, so before he left, he reset it. Exiting by the back door and re-locking the deadbolt, he crossed the lawn, stripping off latex gloves as he went, bunching the left glove in his right hand, he peeled off the other glove. Both gloves were now inside out. He stuffed them into the thigh pocket of his black cargo pants. He would dispose of them later.
Peter jumped the fence at the back of the property, but fell heavily on the other side; he rolled, then got to his feet. Brushing himself down, he felt a twinge in his lower back. Hmmm, must have pulled something, he thought, clumsy dismount from the fence, I’m getting a little old for this caper. Passing swiftly through the back neighbor’s yard, he reached the street. The dark-green Range Rover Vogue was all-but-invisible, parked a block away outside a nature reserve. With no street lighting and no one about at this time of night, he made it back without being seen. He felt that twinge again, as he eased himself into the seat. The big V8 motor purred quietly, as he pulled away from the curb.
‘What’s wrong your husband?’ asked the stall owner. They were shopping at Rusty’s market in Cairns where, along with fruit and vegetable stores by the dozen; there were coffee shops, food outlets, secondhand books, knife sharpeners and dress stalls. It was the owner of a dress stall, an attractive, slim Asian lady who asked the question. ‘Oh him,’ he heard his wife say, ‘he’s just put his back out.’ She was admiring the dress she had selected in the mirror, holding it up against herself.
‘That one is too big for you,’ the stall owner said, ‘it’s a size ten.’ She selected another off the rack. ‘This is better fit for you, size eight. You want to try on?’
Dani looked around, there was a small, screened off area in the stall, the owner pulled back the curtain, there was a stool inside, and a rack to hold clothes. It was bigger inside than it looked. Dani looked at the dress again. She usually was a size ten, but she had lost some weight lately, so maybe the stall lady was right. She should try it on, she decided, before she bought it. ‘Okay I guess it won’t take a minute.’
She waved to her husband who was looking at old tools at an adjacent stall. He limped over, his back certainly was out, as he was L-shaped, stooped, so he looked shorter than his normal five-foot-ten-inch height. Dani handed him her handbag.
‘Just need you to look after this, while I try this dress on.’ She handed over the shoulder strap.
He slipped the strap over his shoulder, while looking around at the various dresses, tops and pants on display. His gaze finally fell on the stall owner. He gave an involuntary gasp, as his eyes met hers – she was stunning! Short, about five-feet-eight-inches in wedge heels, wearing a pair of loose fitting pants, that flowed on her figure without obscuring it much; a loose tank top revealed some cleavage and a nice firm pair of breasts. But it was her face, that attracted his attention the most – smooth, caramel complexion; expressive almond eyes; a beautiful aquiline nose; and Balıkesir Escort full lips, the lower slightly pouty and colored a subtle red – they were lips that yearned to be kissed. Her hair was shiny black, and cut short, so it just met her shoulders and framed her face perfectly; a pair of gold-hoop earrings dangled from her ears. Malaysian, he guessed, or Singapore.
He shook his head, as she walked over to him. She reminded him of a girl from an old online magazine he used to follow in 2003; Felicia Tang was a star from Mystique Magazine.
She traced a manicured finger over his shape, starting at his neck and following his L-shape to his belt buckle. ‘No good this’ she intoned, her voice deep and melodious. ‘It must be painful.’
‘Only when I walk,’ Peter said, ‘or sit, or stand, or lie down,’ he said jokingly. Only he wasn’t joking; she could tell.
She smiled, revealing even, white teeth ‘I can fix this,’ she said, placing her hands on his hips, and then giving a gentle wiggle. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt at all.
Just then, the curtain was drawn back, and his wife emerged, wearing the dress she had selected. She looked at the two of them and raised an eyebrow in a silent question. ‘Oh,’ Peter said, ‘she was just saying she could fix my back.’
The stall owner walked around behind Peter, for the moment ignoring his wife. She placed her hands once again on his hips and once again gave them a gentle wiggle. ‘Hmm,’ she nodded to herself, stepping away and appraising the other woman in the stall.
‘Looks good on you,’ she said, about the dress, ‘this size much better for you, what do you think?’ She addressed the question to Peter. He looked once more at the stall owner and back at his wife.
‘I think it’s great, the colour really suits you. Even under this light,’ he indicated the soft glow of the bulbs strung around the stall.
‘Okay, I think I’ll take it,’ she said, stepping back inside the change area, and drawing the curtain.
The stall owner observed Peter again. ‘How long you been like this?’ she asked.
‘I woke up like this, this morning; think I overdid it yesterday, um, landscaping in the garden,’ he lied. She went over to a stand that held the credit card machine and a slim jar in which a solitary stick of incense burned. Reaching into a shelf behind a colourful curtain, she produced a business card and handed it to him.
Peter looked at the card. On a pale green background was one word in red – “SIA” and below in a smaller font it read, “Acupuncture she was holding a pair of pants against her waist, then shaking her head as she put them back on the rack. ‘Thank you, Sia,’ Dani said, walking back over to them. ‘Are you all set now Peter?’ she asked. ‘Got the address and time?’
‘Yep, all set,’ he said, looking once again at Sia. Dani turned and walked out of the stall followed by Peter. ‘Bye, Sia,’ he said, congratulating himself for not saying “See Ya Later”.
Sia smiled, once again showing off perfectly straight, white teeth, and waved as they walked away. ‘Bye, Peter. See you tomorrow. Oh, text the number on the card, leave a message, then I will have your number… in case of any change.’
As they walked Dani looked over at Peter. ‘Stop staring,’ she said.
‘I wasn’t staring,’ he replied.
‘Yes, you were. I don’t blame you though; she’s very attractive. How old do you think she is?’
‘Dunno, maybe mid-thirties; hard to tell, though,’ he said.
‘Yeah, some Asians have such smooth skin. Anyway, you’ll see enough of her tomorrow, so you can stop staring now. I want to get a couple of pineapples from that stall, then we can go.’ She looked at the way he was walking. ‘I think you’ve suffered enough for today. And I think I feel one of my headaches coming on.’
As they left the market, Dani pulled out her cigarettes, and lit one up taking a deep drag. By the time they got to the car, she had virtually sucked the whole thing down. It was one of his rules, no smoking in the car – ever.
Peter peered through the teeming rain, looking for a street number. He had arrived five minutes early, guided by the GPS system, but through the rain it was hard to see house numbers. ‘That’s it, I think,’ he muttered to himself, looking at the house.
The house was a small cottage, very well presented, with a neat well-watered garden. It was still bucketing down. He thought Balıkesir Escort Bayan about an umbrella, then realized he had taken it out to dry and not put it back in the car. Oh well, he thought, I’m sure not made of sugar, so I won’t melt. He eased himself gingerly out of the car, getting soaked immediately, and walked up a flagstone path to the bull-nosed veranda. A couple of outdoor chairs sat in front of a paneled section of glass doors. Lace curtains restricted vision of the inside of the house. He knocked lightly on the screen door, dripping water on the welcome mat, she should be expecting me, he thought. He peered in through the dark mesh of the screen, and saw a figure approaching the door.
Then it was opened. Sia beckoned him inside, closing and latching the door behind her, blocking out the noise of the rain pelting down outside.
He stood in a small, tiled area which led to a cool comfortable lounge room, where a ceiling fan turned lazily. He had noticed a shoe rack off to the right.
Sia spoke behind him. ‘Good, you are early. Wait here, please. I’ll get you a towel; meantime, please remove your shoes. You can put them in the rack there.’
Peter had dressed casually in shorts, and a tee shirt, and flip-flops. He kicked off the flip-flops and placed them in the rack, thinking it was interesting that Sia’s grasp of English seemed to have improved since yesterday.
Sia returned with a towel which Peter used to pat some of the water from his face and arms, then his legs. Sia now moved around in front of him and stepped onto the carpet of the lounge room. ‘Come, come inside,’ she said. Two wicker chairs and a lounge were arranged around a small coffee table. ‘Please sit, while I get some tea for you.’ She placed another towel on the lounge for him to sit on.
Sia was dressed in a short, white, wraparound dress, which was loosely belted and tied at the side. It barely came to mid-thigh, the V-neck in front, revealed a hint of cleavage. The contrast to her natural, caramel complexion was striking. Peter side-stepped around a small coffee table and sat. He watched as she padded barefoot to the kitchen, the dress clinging to her bottom, as she walked.
Peter glanced around the room – a bookshelf with some titles he couldn’t read; a small side table stood against the wall, holding a small shell collection, a small gold Buddha, and a framed picture of an older couple. The walls had some prints hung, scenes, he guessed from somewhere in Malaysia. An ornate, gold clock in a glass dome ticked away on an old sideboard, as three small, gold, balls spun back and forth. He looked at his watch, four minutes slow, he noted.
Sia returned less than a minute later, with a tray containing a teapot and two small cups, which she placed on the coffee table. She sat next to him on the lounge, the dress riding up her shapely legs. ‘Now,’ she said, as she poured tea into the two cups, ‘this is a special tea to help you relax for your treatment. As you drink, I would like to ask you some questions about your back and your general health. It’s important that I get to know about you, before the treatment begins.’ Sia asked some general questions, how old was he?
‘I’m just a shade under fifty,’ he said.
How was his general health? Was he a smoker? No, never. Any allergies? No. How about alcohol? He thought the questions had little bearing on his current situation, his L-shaped, painful back, but as he sipped the tea, he relaxed, and he was enjoying the sound of her voice, so he went along with the questions. What about work?
‘I don’t really work’ he said. ‘I’m kind of semi-retired.’
‘Oh, so what kind of work did you do?’ Sia enquired.
‘I was a locksmith, still am, I suppose. Now, I just do the occasional job. Small jobs, mainly for friends, people locked out of their houses… or their cars.’ He left it at that, not wanting to get into the nitty-gritty of what he did as his part-time work.
‘Fifty is very young to be retired, isn’t it?’ Sia queried.
‘I suppose it is,’ he admitted, ‘but I have done a few jobs that were very profitable.’ Including the one last night, he thought.
‘I see,’ said Sia, although she didn’t really see at all. ‘So, it looks like your tea is finished,’ Sia stood, and pushed the coffee table to the side. She held out her hand to him and he took it as she helped him to rise. Her hand was cool to the touch. ‘It’s Escort Balıkesir this way to the treatment room.’ She led him down a short hall to a bedroom.
The room was cool, the shades drawn. Light came from a single lamp on a small table in a corner. In the middle of the floor was a professional-looking treatment bed, with a hole at one end for the face to go. It looked to be wider than other treatment beds that Peter had seen before. A cable ran from the bed to a power outlet in the wall. Against the wall was an old-fashioned sideboard with some overhead frosted-glass doors. The surface had what looked like an autoclave on it, some small stainless steel bowls, drawers and several bottles of liquid; below were two drawers and two cupboard doors below. Another table held a water jug beading with condensation, and a glass. A crisp, linen sheet was placed on the bed, the sides hanging down concealing the works. Sia stepped to the bed, placed her foot on a control and the bed began to lower.
‘Please take off your clothes and your watch. You can put them on the chair over there. Put on these underwear.’ She handed him a small pair of disposable paper underwear, more like knickers, really.
‘I will come back in a minute.’ She left, closing the door behind her.
Peter stripped out of his clothes and put on the skimpy garment. Hope I don’t get an erection, he thought, these won’t hide much.
Just then, Sia walked back into the room. She came towards him and placed her hands on his hips; she gave them a gentle wiggle. ‘Hmm,’ she said, and nodded to herself. Then, she came around behind him and repeated the process.
‘Please get on table face down.’ Peter got on the table placing his face in the opening. Sia went to the table, and Peter watched, as she selected several items from the drawers, and poured some liquid into a bowl.
‘Are you comfortable?’ she asked.
‘As comfortable as I can be, I guess,’ he replied.
‘I am going to start with some acupuncture now, then I leave you for maybe, twenty minutes; after that, we will start the massage.’
‘Okay thanks,’ he replied, placing his face back in the table’s hole. He heard a hum, as the table started to rise. Sia stood to one side, her hands smooth on his lower back. A minute later, she announced that she was finished and he should relax. He hadn’t even felt the prick of any acupuncture needles.
‘I leave you now, are you thirsty?’
He replied, ‘Yes,’ and she poured some water into a metal cup, put a straw in it and held it to his lips. He drank half the water. ‘Thanks,’ he said. Sia left the room, and he was alone.
Peter woke to the tinkle of something hitting a metal bowl. The needles, he thought, I must have dozed off. He counted about ten needles being dropped into a steel bowl.
‘That’s amazing,’ he said, ‘I didn’t feel any of those go in.’
‘Ah, you are awake,’ Sia said, ‘I learn my acupuncture from a Taiwanese master, you should not feel the needle, your body will draw the needle in to the correct depth, if it is done correctly.’ She took the bowl and set it down on the table. ‘I will clean and autoclave these later, so don’t worry about hygiene.’
‘Thanks, that’s good to know,’ he replied.
She returned to the table with a bottle, and proceeded to pour something over his lower back, the liquid was cool on his skin. She then started to massage him, progressing to his upper back and shoulders, her hands slid smoothly over his skin, he wondered what kind of massage lotion it was. She then moved down his arms to his hands and fingers; the process repeated for the other arm. She moved out of sight to the foot of the table, and proceeded to massage his feet; calves then his thighs, working up to his buttocks. He felt her hands pushing under the material of the little knickers she had given him.
‘Peter, for this part of the massage, I need to remove these undies, they are getting in the way. Can you raise your bottom up for me please?’ Peter thought this was a bit unusual, but did as he was asked. As he had expected and despite all his efforts, he was sporting an erection. Sia slipped her fingers in the waistband and pulled down. As the underpants were pulled down his cock caught on the elastic, he went to move his hand to free it, but it seemed Sia had anticipated this, and her hand moved quickly to lift the elastic over his cock. She pulled the garment the rest of the way off, down his legs.
‘Please now relax.’ He lowered himself back down. Her skillful hands worked now on his buttocks and lower back, then moved briefly between his legs. The table motors hummed, as it was lowered. ‘Now, I need you to roll over, onto your back. Don’t worry about your erection, this is quite normal.’