his rather bizarre views on fidelity. That had all change when she’d discovered that the bastard was knocking off Henry’s wife.
She decided to forgo the coffee ritual and just get home. That chip shop wasn’t due to open for another few days; that meant that her shop would be full to bursting point tomorrow lunch time again. If she didn’t take a relaxing bath and take something to clear her head, she’d be dead on her feet in the morning.
Her tired bones gave Debra complaint as she lifted her frame out of the chair. Hopefully, a rested and tranquil Debra would be able to bluff her way through their usual routine when the two men came into the shop tomorrow for their sandwiches. She decided there and then that Debra would tell poor Henry that she’d been mistaken about William, that she’d got him mixed up with another man. With a bit of luck, William would find somebody else by the end of the week and this whole nasty matter would be forgotten and brushed under the carpet.
If any of this got out, it would destroy that poor mild manner man. As for William, she shook her head. Debra doubted that he’d change his habits. She recalled the waves of pleasure that tore through her when William used his expert fingers and tongue on her that Saturday night, Sunday morning. Debra hadn’t shed an ounce of guilt for William’s good little wife, sitting at home, no doubt wondering what her husband was doing.
You hypocritical bitch,
She then smiled wistfully. William was such a good lover. He was the first man, ever, who’d satisfied her.
As Debra reached for her coat, she experienced pangs of jealousy; she’d only tasted a small slice of William while Henry’s wife was having the full cake, the bitch.
Debra then stopped in mid-thought when she heard the sound of somebody trying the door handle. Her usual response of shouting out that the shop was closed dried in her mouth when she realised that the noise was coming from inside the shop.
There was somebody in her shop! She heard them try the door handle one more time. they pulled the one of the bolts back. Were they trying to get out? Jesus, she fucking hoped so. She dropped to the floor and crawled over to the door separating her from the intruder. She didn’t want them to know that somebody was still in the shop; perhaps they’d just open the front door and leave. Debra eased the door shut wincing as the Yale lock clicked shut. She collapsed against the door. There was no doubt that she’d have been unable to lock the door, she was shaking like a tree in a hurricane. What the fuck was wrong with her? Christ on a bike, as far as she knew, it could be just some kid back there!
A massive weight slammed into the door on the other side. Debra squealed, the realisation that there was no way that this flimsy door would stop the intruder from reaching her.
The intruder smashed into the door again; this time Debra felt the blow. She imagined the wooden frame splintering, the door flying open and a huge black claw reaching for her neck.
There’s a monster in my shop! The idea was just ridiculous but Debra just couldn’t shake the notion that the thing trying to get her was not human.
“Oh god,” she moaned. Debra leaped up and raced through the back room, towards the side door, praying that she’d forgotten to lock it last night. The shop keys were still on the counter, next to her mobile phone. Oh god, that was so unfair.
How long would it have taken the police to arrive? Two minutes at the most, the station was only down the road. The door banged again, Debra whimpered. It would probably only take another hit.
She reached the side door and pushed down the handle, already knowing what the outcome would be. The image of her turning the key last night played through her mind in glorious technicolour.
“Oh fuck, I’m trapped!” There was no way out. She forced down the fear, looked around the sparse room for anything she could use as a weapon, there was
She decided to forgo the coffee ritual and just get home. That chip shop wasn’t due to open for another few days; that meant that her shop would be full to bursting point tomorrow lunch time again. If she didn’t take a relaxing bath and take something to clear her head, she’d be dead on her feet in the morning.
Her tired bones gave Debra complaint as she lifted her frame out of the chair. Hopefully, a rested and tranquil Debra would be able to bluff her way through their usual routine when the two men came into the shop tomorrow for their sandwiches. She decided there and then that Debra would tell poor Henry that she’d been mistaken about William, that she’d got him mixed up with another man. With a bit of luck, William would find somebody else by the end of the week and this whole nasty matter would be forgotten and brushed under the carpet.
If any of this got out, it would destroy that poor mild manner man. As for William, she shook her head. Debra doubted that he’d change his habits. She recalled the waves of pleasure that tore through her when William used his expert fingers and tongue on her that Saturday night, Sunday morning. Debra hadn’t shed an ounce of guilt for William’s good little wife, sitting at home, no doubt wondering what her husband was doing.
You hypocritical bitch,
She then smiled wistfully. William was such a good lover. He was the first man, ever, who’d satisfied her.
As Debra reached for her coat, she experienced pangs of jealousy; she’d only tasted a small slice of William while Henry’s wife was having the full cake, the bitch.
Debra then stopped in mid-thought when she heard the sound of somebody trying the door handle. Her usual response of shouting out that the shop was closed dried in her mouth when she realised that the noise was coming from inside the shop.
There was somebody in her shop! She heard them try the door handle one more time. they pulled the one of the bolts back. Were they trying to get out? Jesus, she fucking hoped so. She dropped to the floor and crawled over to the door separating her from the intruder. She didn’t want them to know that somebody was still in the shop; perhaps they’d just open the front door and leave. Debra eased the door shut wincing as the Yale lock clicked shut. She collapsed against the door. There was no doubt that she’d have been unable to lock the door, she was shaking like a tree in a hurricane. What the fuck was wrong with her? Christ on a bike, as far as she knew, it could be just some kid back there!
A massive weight slammed into the door on the other side. Debra squealed, the realisation that there was no way that this flimsy door would stop the intruder from reaching her.
The intruder smashed into the door again; this time Debra felt the blow. She imagined the wooden frame splintering, the door flying open and a huge black claw reaching for her neck.
There’s a monster in my shop! The idea was just ridiculous but Debra just couldn’t shake the notion that the thing trying to get her was not human.
“Oh god,” she moaned. Debra leaped up and raced through the back room, towards the side door, praying that she’d forgotten to lock it last night. The shop keys were still on the counter, next to her mobile phone. Oh god, that was so unfair.
How long would it have taken the police to arrive? Two minutes at the most, the station was only down the road. The door banged again, Debra whimpered. It would probably only take another hit.
She reached the side door and pushed down the handle, already knowing what the outcome would be. The image of her turning the key last night played through her mind in glorious technicolour.
“Oh fuck, I’m trapped!” There was no way out. She forced down the fear, looked around the sparse room for anything she could use as a weapon, there was
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