fbpx ivermectin for humans philippines price can you buy ivermectin over the counter in india ivermectina dosis adulto tabletas ivermectina tratamiento escabiosis ivermectina estructura quimica goat ivermectin dosage ivermectin farmaco ivermectine oral

Jim Harper

Jim Harp­er is a young man in big trou­ble. Last night he lost con­trol and did some­thing unfor­giv­able, some­thing that’s almost cer­tain­ly going to cost him his mar­riage, his home, his job… every­thing. He’s gam­bled every­thing he has of any val­ue, and for what? Anoth­er con­quest? A notch on some­one’s bed­post? But as Jim is about to realise, his prob­lems are only just beginning.

Warn­ing — this sto­ry con­tains strong lan­guage and sex­u­al references.

I’m in big fuck­ing trou­ble. I can’t believe what I’ve just done. Christ knows how I’m going to get myself out of this one.

There are mis­takes and there are mis­takes. There are minor indis­cre­tions you can brush under the car­pet, and there are fuck­ing huge mis­takes that you know are going to cost you big time and haunt you for the rest of your life. This is the biggest of all the fuck­ing huge mis­takes I’ve ever made. This is the worst thing I could have done.

I’m in a hotel room. It only took me a cou­ple of sec­onds to get my bear­ings after I woke up. I’m here on a course from work. This is only day two of five but the way things are going it could well be my last day in the job. It’s a quar­ter to eight and the first ses­sion of the morn­ing starts in less than an hour. I’ve missed break­fast but that doesn’t mat­ter. I couldn’t eat any­thing. I feel sick to my stom­ach. Prob­lem is, this isn’t my hotel room.

I’m keep­ing as still as I can, lying on my side and look­ing out of a crack in the cur­tains at a dull and rainy morn­ing out­side. I’m try­ing to work my way back through the events of last night, try­ing to remem­ber every­thing that hap­pened. We’re here for the week — Mon­day morn­ing through to lunchtime Fri­day. There are sev­en­teen of us from dif­fer­ent out­lets up and down the coun­try. We had a for­mal meal last night to break the ice and get to know every­one, then we moved into the bar. And that was where we stayed. I got talk­ing to a cou­ple of lads from up north, then I end­ed up with two girls who work in my area. I’d met one of them before, but I didn’t recog­nise her friend. Turns out she was Helen Hunter — the daugh­ter of Bill Hunter, my area direc­tor and one of the nas­ti­est bas­tards you could have the mis­for­tune to come across. My mis­sus, Chloe, works in his office.

And here’s where things get real­ly, real­ly fucked-up. I haven’t plucked up the courage to look yet, but I’m nine­ty-nine per cent sure this is Helen Hunter’s bed, and I’m equal­ly cer­tain that Helen Hunter is in it with me. Who­ev­er it is lying next to me, she’s just wrapped her arm around me and she’s kiss­ing my neck.

Don’t react. Keep calm. Just keep calm and get things in per­spec­tive. Am I com­plete­ly sure it’s Helen? I’m hav­ing trou­ble remem­ber­ing last night clear­ly. I remem­ber sit­ting in the bar with the two girls, drink­ing hard. I was start­ing to get to the stage where you know you’ve had a few and your body’s try­ing to tell you to stop. Some­times the beer plays tricks on you: the alco­hol sort of waits for a while, then creeps up and rush­es you all of a sud­den. I’d been fine all night but I knew hav­ing anoth­er drink would have been a mis­take. Thing is, I know I stayed for at least two more pints after that. One of the girls went to bed and I remem­ber being left there with the oth­er. It was def­i­nite­ly Helen. The rest of our group were long gone and we were the only two left in the bar.

We were hav­ing one of those con­ver­sa­tions where you start dis­cussing things you know you shouldn’t be talk­ing about, but you can’t stop. She start­ed telling me about her rela­tion­ships and sex, then moved on to her likes and dis­likes in bed (con­cen­trat­ing more on the likes). I start­ed to get more and more uncom­fort­able and, at the same time, more and more turned on. She was flirt­ing with me (okay, I was flirt­ing with her too) and I remem­ber think­ing I was going to have to try and be a bit more dis­tant in the morn­ing because we’ve got a whole week to get through togeth­er and I didn’t want to give her the wrong impres­sion. Prob­lem was, by then I’d already done more than enough, and what hap­pened next was inevitable.

I remem­ber us fin­ish­ing our drinks and leav­ing the bar. We walked through the lob­by togeth­er and went up to our rooms. We walked down the same cor­ri­dor and I start­ed to get jumpy because I thought she was fol­low­ing me. I stopped out­side my room and took out my key and she did the same with the room next door. She made some cheap com­ment about fate and coin­ci­dence and des­tiny or some­thing and I just mum­bled because my brain had stopped func­tion­ing prop­er­ly. I remem­ber think­ing that I should just go into my room, shut the door and go to bed but I was hav­ing one of those moments where my brain was try­ing to stay in con­trol but the booze and my dick had long since tak­en over.

Helen Hunter is a cheap (but fuck­ing gor­geous) tart with a rep­u­ta­tion for being a mar­riage-break­er and sleep­ing around. I kept telling myself to turn and run but instead of walk­ing away from her I walked towards her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and whis­pered some­thing filthy in my ear, can’t remem­ber what. I remem­ber smelling her per­fume and the booze on her breath, then feel­ing myself get­ting hard. We kissed. One kiss, then anoth­er, then anoth­er and anoth­er until we were prac­ti­cal­ly eat­ing each other’s faces. My hands start­ed to wan­der. I grabbed her back­side and pulled her clos­er. One thing led to anoth­er and … and that’s why I’m in trou­ble now.

It has to be said though, what I remem­ber of last night was damn good. She lived up to her rep­u­ta­tion. She was half-undressed by the time we’d made it onto the bed and I was com­plete­ly undressed sec­onds lat­er. The lights were full on and the cur­tains were open but nei­ther of us cared. All I could think about was fuck­ing her sense­less. There was no hint of pas­sion, just sheer lust. It felt like min­utes, but I remem­ber look­ing at the clock on the bed­side table at one o’clock, then again at two and then three. At some point one of us had turned the lights off and we’d final­ly fall­en asleep.

Despite the fact what I’ve done is wrong whichev­er way you look at it, it was bloody good. Just lying here think­ing about what she did last night is mak­ing me feel horny again …

‘It’s ages yet until the course starts, Jim,’ she says from behind me, her breath tick­ling the nape of my neck. She starts drag­ging her nails over my skin, just enough to hurt. Christ, she’s bare­ly done any­thing but she’s real­ly turn­ing me on. I should try to be strong and tell her no, but what’s the point? The dam­age has already been done. Might as well lie back and enjoy it ‘cause the shit’s going to hit the fan later …

Helen rolls me over and I look up into her face. She’s fuck­ing beau­ti­ful — an absolute gem. For a sec­ond it’s easy to for­get that I’m mar­ried and that the woman I’m in bed with is my boss’ pre­cious daugh­ter, because I can’t think straight. All I can do is react to what she’s doing to me. Now she’s slid­ing down under­neath the cov­ers, bit­ing my chest and lick­ing me and she’s not stop­ping there. She’s going low­er. I put my hands behind my head and lie back as she slides her­self onto me.

#

Quar­ter past eight. It’s over. The sud­den fren­zied excite­ment and lust has gone and all I feel now is pan­ic and regret. What have I done, and why have I just done it again? Helen’s grin­ning at me like an idiot but then, com­pared to me, she’s got noth­ing to lose. Chances are I’ve already lost every­thing. How the hell am I going to be able to look Chloe in the face now? After the last time I promised her this would nev­er hap­pen again. I mean noth­ing to Helen. This has just been a bit of fun for her. I’m anoth­er one of her vic­tims, anoth­er con­quest, anoth­er notch on the bed­post, and some oth­er poor bas­tard will prob­a­bly be tak­ing my place in this bed tonight. I should have known bet­ter. I knew what she was like. She’ll walk away from this with­out a bad word being said, and I’ll take all the flack. If Bill Hunter finds out then I’ve fuck­ing had it. I’ve prob­a­bly just thrown away my mar­riage, my house and my career for one night of sex. What a fuck­ing idiot.

What do I do now? She’s out of bed and I’m left lying here on my own, look­ing up at the ceil­ing and try­ing to work out how I’m going to blag my way out of trou­ble. Eas­i­est thing would be to grab my stuff from the room next door and do a run­ner, but I know I can’t do that. I can’t believe I’ve been so stu­pid again. This is def­i­nite­ly the worst yet.

She’s in the show­er. Despite the fact that we’ve just spent the night togeth­er and I’ve already explored every avail­able inch of her naked body, I feel embar­rassed now because she’s undressed. I try not to look but I can’t help myself and she knows it. She’s flirt­ing again. She knows I’m watch­ing, and she prob­a­bly knows what I’m about to say. She’s doing every­thing she can to put me off.

‘Look,’ I say, clear­ing my throat, ‘we need to talk.’

She doesn’t answer. I don’t know if she can hear me over the noise of the show­er. Most of the course del­e­gates’ rooms are on this floor so I don’t want to shout but I don’t have any choice. This won’t wait.

‘Lis­ten, I’m going back to my room now. I had a great time last night, Helen, but what we did was wrong …’

She peers around the side of the show­er cur­tain, mak­ing sure she shows more than enough bare flesh to make me lose my train of thought.

‘I’ll see you lat­er,’ she says. ‘Play your cards right and your whole week will be as good as last night.’

I try to protest. ‘You were great last night, but I made a mis­take. I’m sor­ry. We should just pre­tend it nev­er hap­pened and …’

She’s shak­ing her head. ‘Too late for that,’ she says, grin­ning. ‘You’re going to learn more in this lit­tle room than you will on the course. I’m going to do things to you that are bare­ly legal. You’re mine for the rest of the …’

She stops talking.

The expres­sion on her face changes.

‘What’s the mat­ter?’ I ask. Bitch is just play­ing with me again.

She’s rub­bing at her neck, ‘I … I can’t …’

She mas­sages her throat with one hand and grips the show­er cur­tain with the oth­er to keep her­self steady. Christ, she’s suf­fo­cat­ing. She’s try­ing to breathe in, but it’s like she sud­den­ly can’t get any air. She’s look­ing at me with wide, fright­ened eyes and I don’t know what to do. I just stand there. I can’t move. I want to help but I don’t know what to do.

Her legs buck­le and she falls, pulling the show­er cur­tain down with her. Her head hits the faucet with a soft thud that makes me feel sick. Now she’s lying in the bath, shak­ing and chok­ing, and there’s blood pour­ing out of a deep gash on the side of her head. It’s wash­ing down the plug­hole, mix­ing with the foam and run­ning water like some­thing out of Psy­cho. I turn off the show­er. Christ, there’s blood every­where. I need to get help.

I run to the bed to get my trousers. My legs are wet from the show­er and I can’t get them on. I trip over, then crawl around the room. I grab the phone and ring Recep­tion to get them to call an ambu­lance but there’s no answer. No one’s pick­ing up.

I’m stand­ing in the bath­room door again now, half-dressed, and Helen’s not mov­ing. I can’t bring myself to touch her. I have to do some­thing, but Christ, I think she might be dead.

‘Helen?’

I must be a real spine­less bas­tard. For a split sec­ond I actu­al­ly feel relieved because I realise now I might have a chance of sal­vaging some­thing from this mess. I can tell them I was in the room next door and I heard her fall down so I came in to help and I found her like this … But hold on, isn’t that going to make things worse? My clothes are in this room. And it’s not just my clothes, there will be hairs and fin­ger­prints and God knows what else all over the bed and prob­a­bly all over and inside her too. Fuck, what if they say I did it? What if they think I pushed her over in the show­er to keep her qui­et about what we’d done together?

Got to get out of here.

I grab my things off the bed and run to the door. I try and leave the room but then I see her body again and I stop. I have to help her, but I’m too fuck­ing scared. I run out into the cor­ri­dor, then stop because there’s anoth­er body on the floor. Jesus Christ, it’s a porter. I don’t want to get any clos­er to him. I can see his face and it’s all twist­ed and con­tort­ed with pain and there’s blood on the car­pet around his mouth.

There’s anoth­er body fur­ther down, just out­side one of the rooms. It’s Steve Jenk­ins from the Southamp­ton branch. I sat oppo­site him at din­ner last night. And there’s anoth­er on the stairs … one of the course tutors I think.

I can’t han­dle this. I go back into my room and pace around the bed, try­ing to make sense of every­thing that’s happening.

I can’t hear any­one outside.

I try the phone again but no one answers. Same with my mobile. I’m real­ly fuck­ing scared now. I’ll wait for a cou­ple more min­utes, then I’ll go and find help.

#

James Harp­er hid in his hotel room like a fright­ened child for hours before final­ly pluck­ing up courage to go out and look for help. The smell of burn­ing forced him to move. The hotel kitchens were on fire and the fire was spread­ing down the building.

He searched the rest of the hotel but there was no one else left. They were all dead.

THE AUTUMN SERIES