SISTERS UNDER THE SKIN

by

Vanessa Davies

Copyright Vanessa Davies 2011

Cover image courtesy of 123RFStockPhotos

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

Louise Andrews was lying alone in the wide bed, her eyes closed but her ears fearfully alert. She was waiting for the tell-tale sound of a key turning in a lock, the sound she had come to dread over the past few months.

'How often have you lain here like this?' a voice in her head enquired.

'Far too often,' came the sardonic reply.

Louise sighed and switched on the bedside lamp. The clock said almost midnight so the pubs would be closed. That meant Martin would be home soon. She shuddered at the thought of him lumbering into the bedroom, reeking sourly of whisky. If he tried to kiss or paw her about she would slap his face, by God she would!

As if she didn't have enough to worry about already. The letter from the building society had come that morning, threatening repossession of their terraced house. Anger rose in her as she remembered how hard she had worked to pay the mortgage. But she couldn't do it alone. And now her husband was both unwilling and unable to spend his remaining money on anything but drink.

Suddenly Louise heard the sound that chilled her heart. Putting out the light she huddled down under the duvet, hoping to convince Martin that she was asleep. She heard the familiar bang of the front door and the soft swish of his jacket as he let it drop to the floor, followed by the dull thud of his footsteps as they came straight towards the bedroom. He coughed and cursed, then flung open the door and flicked on the light switch.

'Don't pretend you're asleep, bitch!' he snarled, pulling the cover right off her so that she lay naked and exposed to the glare.

Louise shielded her eyes with her hand and pulled the duvet back to her waist.' Leave me alone, I'm tired!' she murmured, trying not to antagonise him.

His dark, drink-sodden face loomed over her, eyes red and cloudy, mouth contorted into a snarl and sending down a draught of whisky breath. 'I'm tired too. Tired of being given the brush-off. You're my wife, Louise Andrews, and I've a right to my conj . . . to my conub . . . to screw you whenever I feel like it. So spread 'em, babe!'

'You're drunk,' she accused him. 'And I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep in the spare room.'

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose unsteadily, but he grabbed her wrist and forced her back down onto the mattress. 'Sleep in there if you like, but first we're going to make love, sweetie pie!'

He was slurring his speech, and somehow that got on her nerves even more than his clumsy movements or foul breath. Louise just wanted to get away from him, but she knew he could turn nasty when he was in that state. As far as her befuddled mind could make out she had three choices: to make an escape bid and barricade herself in the spare room, to face up to him and risk a violent confrontation, or to give in for the sake of peace and quiet.

Wearily Louise settled for the last option. At least it would be over soon and then, perhaps, she could slip off to the other bed and get some sleep away from his loud snores.

'That's better!' he grinned, seeing her lie back and look up at him in submission. He took off his shoes, undid his belt and pulled off his jeans. She could see his prick rearing aggressively in his pants. Wherever did the idea that alcohol made men impotent come from? With Martin it had the reverse effect, making him more digustingly randy than ever.

The bedsprings groaned, protesting on her behalf, as he knelt over her and thrust his forefinger into the warm gully between her thighs. 'Just testing the water,' she heard him say in his usual vulgar way, although he hadn't uttered a word.

Despite her silent anger Louise felt herself opening up to him, yielding to his intruding finger out of sheer habit. His mouth was slobbering over her breasts now, making her nipples stiff and tingly. She looked down and saw his stubby penis rearing with impatience, then felt it knocking against the hard nub of her clitoris as he made several attempts to guide it into her. To think that I once enjoyed this, she thought.

While he thrust back and forth she tried to relax, and even to feign pleasure, but all the time she was wishing it was over. A part of her was deeply sad that she was no longer in love with her husband, that she had lost all hope of ever recovering those rapturous feelings she'd once had for him. Her body still remembered, though. The reflexes that signalled her arousal were all there: her breasts taut and hard-nippled, her clitoris engorged and throbbing, her vagina awash with secretions. It was a weird feeling, being betrayed by your own flesh.

At last he spurted inside her with a loud groan and a fart, then rolled off her and went straight into oblivion. Louise lay there inert for several minutes, afraid of rousing him. She felt the juices dribble out of her and slowly her body returned to normal, the swollen tissues ceasing to throb. Beneath her fatigue was a dull anger, twinned with a hopeless despair. What on earth was she going to do? Clearly she couldn't stay with him. Not when their marriage was such a travesty. But where on earth could she go?

Into the spare room, right now. Already Martin was working up to one of his snoring marathons and there would be no peace for her that night if she stayed beside him. Slowly Louise slipped off the bed and padded out of the room, closing the door behind her.

But once she was in the tiny box room that served as a guest bedroom sleep evaded her. It wouldn't be long before they lost the house, and the prospect of living in some cheap bed-and-breakfast place with Martin was utterly depressing. Although he still had his job, Louise was unsure what her own future was since the company she worked for had recently been taken over and there were rumours of redundancies. Just how much more could she take?

If only some escape route could be found, some way of chucking everything in and starting all over again. Louise knew that was wishful thinking. Even if they gave up the house she would still have her share of the debt to pay off. Eventually, her financial worries would be over but that left the far more important matter of her marriage. It was over in all but name, she knew that. But did she have the guts to face a divorce, on top of everything else?

Then she thought of Gina, and the germ of a plan began to grow in her mind. Gina was her half-sister, the daughter of their mother's first husband, and they had shared a stormy ten years of childhood which had culminated in the older girl running away from home at sixteen. After that Louise had only heard from her sister sporadically, but six months ago she had seen a photograph of her in the evening paper.

Straining to recall the details, Louise summoned up a mental picture of Gina on the arm of some wealthy-looking Arab, which hadn't surprised her in the least. Now she remembered that the pair of them had opened some kind of club in the West End that had sounded a bit sleazy. While many of the details remained vague, making Louise wish that she had kept the article, she thought she remembered the name of the night-club: Seventh Veil, that was it.

Out of curiosity Louise crept down to the living room and found the yellow pages. There was a box advertisement under the heading 'Night-clubs' which announced that the Seventh Veil was a fully-licensed venue providing 'intimate entertainment' for a 'select clientele'. Louise was intrigued. What if she picked up the phone, dialled that number and asked for Gina? Before she knew it she was doing that very thing.

A suave, but suspicious-sounding, male voice answered. When she asked for Gina he wanted to know who was calling.

'Her sister.'

'Her what?' the man gasped. Louise felt affronted. Okay, so they hadn't had much to do with each other over the last few years, but it was painful to realise that Gina never mentioned her. 'Excuse me, I didn't know she had one,' he added, semi-apologetically. Even so there was an unpleasant undertone to the man's voice that disturbed her. He was as good as accusing her of lying.

'Please tell her that Louise is on the line,' she said, coldly. 'If she's not busy, that is.'

'Gina's always busy. But if you really are her sister I'm sure she can spare you a few minutes. Hold the line, please.'

It was a long wait, but eventually Gina's throaty voice could be heard saying, 'Louise, is it really you! Fancy hearing from my kid sister after all this time. And after midnight, too!'

'I'm sorry if I'm ringing late . . .'

Peals of laughter came. 'Late? My goodness, darling, we never close before three a.m! But I suppose this is well past your bedtime, isn't it. Still working for that dreary company and married to that dreadful man?'

Louise felt her hackles rise, but she controlled herself and took a deep breath. 'Yes, by the skin of my teeth. Look I know this is an awful cheek, Gina, but I've simply no-one else to turn to. I need somewhere to stay. Just for a week or two, while I sort myself out.' She hesitated before adding, 'You're right about Martin, he's a real loser. And our house is about to be re-possessed.'

'You poor thing!' Much to Louise's surprise her sister sounded genuinely sympathetic. 'Of course you can stay at the flat. We've a spare room. Look, why don't you go there now? I'll be back in a couple of hours.'

The idea of a moonlight flit was suddenly extremely attractive. Louise was fully alert, her senses awakening at the prospect of an adventure. 'Could I really? But how would I get in?'

'No problem. You'll find the spare key in the garden, hidden in a statue of Venus by the pool. You know my address, don't you?'

'Are you still in Holland Park, where I sent the Christmas card?'

'That's right. You pop along there right now, and I'll see you as soon as I get back. Help yourself to coffee, booze or whatever you fancy. Oh, there's Ahmed looking daggers at me. Sorry, I have to go. I'm supposed to be with a client. See you soon, though.'

Louise crept into the bedroom where Martin was still snoring loudly, dead to the world. She retrieved a bundle of underwear from a drawer, swept an armful of her clothes and some pairs of shoes out of the wardrobe, then went into the bathroom where she hastily freshened up. She dressed herself in a shirt and jeans then retrieved her travel bag from on top of the hall cupboard and packed her things.

Her conscience pricked her as she was about to leave and she left a brief note for Martin, telling him she would be in touch. Then, after checking that she had enough cash, she phoned for a taxi and sat hugging her bag just inside the front door, waiting for it to arrive.

The journey across London was swiftly accomplished at that time of night. Gina lived in a large old house near the park that had been converted into flats. Louise entered through wrought iron gates and found herself in a gravelled area containing a central pond, tubs filled with plants and a few rather pretentious-looking statues. She peered at them in the faint light from a towering street-lamp. There was a laughing faun, a rearing unicorn and . . . yes, a small statue that must be Venus, standing in mock-modesty on a shell.

Louise approached and looked beneath it, but there was no sign of a doorkey. She reached out and touched the cold stone, convinced that Gina must have meant some other statue. But there were no others remotely resembling the Goddess of Love. Letting her fingers rove over the fluted interior of the shell, Louise grew impatient. Was this some trick?

Then she recalled her sister's exact words: Gina had said 'hidden in a statue'. Smiling to herself, Louise let her fingers trail down between the tiny buttocks and then felt between the hard, smooth thighs. A tickling thread brushed her knuckles. She took it between her thumb and forefinger and gave a tug. Out came the key, tinkling against the stone. It had been hidden right inside the anatomically correct figurine.

Giggling softly, Louise crossed the forecourt and used the key in the slot marked Flat Four to let herself in. She found herself in an elegant hallway, with a marble topped gilt table and lush pink carpeting that stretched on up the wide stairs. Gina lived on the second floor.

When she entered the apartment and switched on the light Louise was impressed. The main sitting-room was vast and high-ceilinged, looking as if it had been furnished by an interior designer, with everything just so. Louise wandered round examining the tastefully selected antiques that blended with the more modern furniture, admiring the quality of the furnishings and the subtle understatement of the colour scheme.