At twenty-two, Suzanne was almost half his age. She worked as a receptionist at Broadcasting House and had done for the past ten months. During that time, she and Roger Carr had become lovers although it was a term Carr disliked because, to him, it implied that there was some emotion involved in the relationship. In his eyes that was certainly not the case.
She nuzzled his chest, kissing it as she allowed her hand to reach lower towards his penis. She took his organ between her fingers and began to rub gently. He stiffened slightly but then she felt his own hand close around her tiny wrist, pulling her away from him. Suzanne sat up, sweeping her thick blonde hair back and looking at her companion with bewilderment.
‘What’s wrong with you tonight?’ she wanted to know.
Carr didn’t even look at her.
‘I’ve got something on my mind,” he said.
‘That’s obvious. Is it anything / can help with?’
Carr eyed her almost contemptuously.
‘You, help me? Give it a rest.’
He returned to staring at the ceiling.
‘I only asked,’ she said, lying down beside him once more. She ran one finger through the thick hair on his chest, curling it into spirals.
‘That bastard Mathias made me look like an idiot,’ Carr said, angrily. ‘He’s a bloody con-man.’ The interviewer’s voice took on a reflective tone. ‘I’ll have him for what
happened tonight. One way or another I’ll fix that shitbag.’
Once more Suzanne allowed her hand to reach lower towards his groin. She enveloped his penis in her smooth grip and, this time she felt him respond. He stiffened in her hand and she kissed his chest, nipping the flesh of his stomach as she moved down onto his growing erection. Suzanne flicked at the bulbous head with her tongue, watching as a drop of clear liquid oozed from it. Her lips closed around his throbbing shaft and she felt him thrusting his hips upwards trying to force himself further into the velvet warmth of her mouth. Her hand continued to move expertly on his root and she sensed an even greater swelling as his penis grew to full stiffness.
Carr gripped her by the back of the neck and pulled her off, dragging her across him, kissing her hard. His hands found her breasts and she almost cried out as he kneaded the soft mounds with furious vigour, but the discomfort was tempered by an overriding pleasure and her nipples grew into hard buds as he rubbed them with his thumbs.
She felt his knee rise to push against her pubic mound as he rolled her over first onto her back and then her stomach. She felt him grip her hips and she arched her back to allow him easier access. He thrust into her violently, a deep angry grunt accompanying his almost frenzied penetration of her. Suzanne gasped, both at the pleasure and the power of his movements. She knelt, feeling his heavy testicles against her buttocks as he moved inside her.
Suzanne ground herself back to meet his every thrust and, as they formed a rhythm, she felt her own excitement growing.
Carr gripped her hips, clinging onto her soft flesh so hard that he left red welts where his fingers had been. He pulled her onto his throbbing shaft, grunting more loudly now.
She could not suppress a whimper of pain as he grabbed a large hunk of her hair and pulled, tugging her head back with a force which threatened to snap her neck. He held her like that, still spearing her unmercifully, only now her pleasure had given way to pain. Carr made a guttural sound, deep in his throat and pulled harder on her long hair. Some of it came away in his hand.
‘No,’ she managed to squeal, breathlessly.
He ignored her complaint, his own climax now drawing closer. The speed of his thrusts increased.
She could no longer bear his weight so she lowered herself until she was lying face down on the bed, her legs still splayed wide as Carr drove into her
relentlessly.
Suzanne felt a sudden, unaccountable flicker of fear as he fastened first one, then two hands around her throat.
He began to squeeze.
She let out a wheezing gasp and tried to claw at his hands to release the increasing pressure but the more she tugged at those twin vices, the harder he pressed. She felt his nails digging into her flesh as he crushed her windpipe and, all the time, he continued his violent movements which threatened to split her in two.
White light danced before her eyes and she flailed helplessly behind her, trying to scratch Carr. Anything to relieve the unbearable pressure on her throat. It’felt as if her head were going to explode.
Roger Carr grinned crookedly, his face a mask of rage and triumph as he held her beneath him.
Suzanne felt herself growing weaker. It seemed only a matter of moments now before she blacked out.
With one last vigorous thrust he felt the pleasure build to a peak then, gasping loudly, he pumped his fluid into her. Carr shuddered as the sensations gradually subsided. He withdrew from her and lay on one side.
He wondered why she wasn’t moving.
Suzanne coughed, horrified to see spots of blood mingling with the sputum which stained the pillow. Still lying on her stomach she raised one quivering hand to her throat and tentatively felt the deep indentations there. She felt Carr’s hands on her shoulders, turning her over and, despite her pain she found the strength to push him away. He looked down at her ravaged neck and raised both hands to his head. In the semi-darkness his eyes looked sunken, only the whites standing out with any clarity.
She coughed again and tried to sit up, her head spinning. Carr reached out to touch the welts on her flesh, his gaze straying to those on her hips too. She slapped his hand away and staggered to her feet.
‘You stay away from me,’ she croaked, pointing at him with a shaking finger, i mean it.’
Carr got to his feet and moved towards her.
‘Suzanne, I …’
‘Get away you …” She coughed and more blood-flecked spittle dribbled over her lips. ‘You’re mad. You could have killed me.’
He hesitated, listening as she crossed the landing to the bathroom.
Carr sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, head bowed. He was drenched in perspiration but he felt almost unbearably cold. He found his dressing gown and pulled it on. His fingers, he noticed, had some blood on them so he hurriedly wiped it off with the corner of a sheet. His initial bewilderment by now had turned to fear. Carr rubbed his face with both hands, aware that his chest was heaving from the effort of trying to slow his rapid breathing. He looked at his hands as if they were not his own, as if they had been guided by a will other than his.
Suzanne returned from the bathroom and gathered up her clothes.
‘Look, I don’t know what to say …’ he began.
She interrupted.
‘Don’t say anything,’ she told him.
‘I don’t know what came over me, I …’
‘Just leave me alone,’ she demanded, picking up the last of her clothes. He watched as she hurried from the room, listening as she made her way down to the ground floor.
Carr shuddered once more as a chill ran through him.
He found her pulling on her jeans, tears trickling down her cheeks to smudge her make-up.
‘Suzanne,’ he said, almost apologetically. ‘Honest to God, I don’t know what happened.’
‘I do,’ she snapped, fastening the button at the waist. ‘You tried to kill me.’
i didn’t know what I was doing.’
She pointed to the angry red marks on her neck.
‘How am I supposed to explain these away?’ Suzanne asked.
She pulled on her coat and turned towards the door which led through to the kitchen. ‘I’ll go out the back way, I don’t even want anyone to know I’ve been with you.’
He followed her, slapping on the light.
‘Stay away from me, Roger,’ she said, a note of concern in her voice. ‘I mean it.’