Daddy's Here(24)

Abbey followed her out to the bar, her arms folded across the damp  section of her dress, shielding it from view. By the end of her first  drink, she had lowered her guard and by the sixth, she didn't care who  noticed the stain. "I might just go roll round in some mud," she slurred  over the music. "Become earth child early"

"Have another glass first," Kate replied. "God, I feel like dancing."

Abbey watched Kate go, draining her drink before heading after her. She  spent the next hour sweating on the dancefloor, grinding against one  handsome guy after another, using her body to tease each of them before  moving onto the next, laughing at the frustration at those she left  behind her. She knew they wanted her to take them home. With her looks,  she could choose anyone she liked.         

     



 

Turning, she spotted a face she thought she recognised. It took her a  moment and then she realised it was the idiot who'd spilled his drink on  her. Time for revenge, she thought, squeezing her way towards the bar.  Then a thought occurred to her. There was a much better way of getting  revenge than just pouring a drink on him. A grin spread across her face  as she moved towards him, taking her time, swapping the grin for a  seductive pout when she reached him.

"Care to dance?" she asked, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from  his friends. They all yelled encouragement as she pressed herself up  against him, using the slit in the side of her dress to her advantage,  sliding her leg around his, pushing herself against him, easing her way  downwards and then back up, watching the growing discomfort on his face  with glee.

She had to resist laughing. Men were so easily manipulated. They were  such simple creatures. No more than children really, so damned easy to  tease. She rubbed herself against wine guy's hips, turning away from him  and grinding her buttocks against him, feeling the stiffness of his  erection pressing against her as he stood immobile on the spot.

She turned back to him, running her hand down his chest, her fingers  stopping at the belt of his trousers. "Want to dance somewhere a little  more privately?" she asked, hooking her thumb into his belt and leading  him across the dancefloor. She pushed open the door to the back room. A  long corridor linked the two areas of the club, couples lining the walls  of the linkway. The corridor was well known as the place to go when you  wanted to get more intimate with your new found friends. Abbey found an  empty corner and pushed the man up against the wall behind him.

"Get it out then," she whispered in his ear, running her hand over his crotch, feeling the stiffness twitch at her touch.

"I don't think so," the man replied. "I'm old enough to be your father.

"Come on, I want it. I need it."

He reached down and moved her hand away, his face a mix of surprise and  lust. "I said no. If you were my daughter, I'd be appalled by your  behaviour."

"You didn't get hard when I danced with you then, didn't think about fucking me?"

"You should wash your mouth out!" the man said, his hand grabbing her  shoulder. "You don't get to behave like a whore without consequences."  He grabbed her, reaching down to smack her bottom.

"What are you doing? Get your hand off me or I'll scream."

"I'm guessing no one's ever down this before." He began pushing her  downwards and Abbey was surprised by his strength. This wasn't what she  had planned. He hand slammed onto her rear, making her buttock sting  with pain as she yelped loudly. Looking down, she realised there was  only one thing she could do. Lifting her leg, she shoved her knee  upwards, connecting with the most sensitive part of his body. She  watched as the man winced in surprised shock and then collapsed to the  floor, his mouth open in a silent scream.

Abbey was just turning when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "You know  the rules," a bouncer shouted in her ear, "no fighting in here."

"Get your hands off me," she snapped back. "You animal, who do you think you are, manhandling a Moncrieff?"

"Unluckily for you, I am in charge of client safety and I saw what you just did to him. Now out."

"But he was about to assault me," Abbey replied, looking down at the  prone figure on the floor. "Does he just get away with trying to force  himself on me? That man needs arresting!"

"Course he does," the bouncer smiled as if to say he'd heard it all before. "Come on, off we go."

He began leading her through the club, Abbey clawing at his hand the  entire time. "Don't you know who I am?" she screamed as she was shoved  out onto the street. "I'll have your job for this, you fucking pleb."

"No doubt you will," he replied. "Now go home and sober up."

"I will get you!" Abbey said, stamping her foot and pointing directly at him. "Mark my words, you're done here."

"Go on, piss off before I call the police."

Abbey spun on her heels, stomping towards the garage, unable to believe  what had just happened. Thrown out of her favourite club by some working  class gorilla with no clue how powerful she was, how important she was.  He'd pay though. When her father heard about what happened, he'd be on  the dole queue by the end of the week. That'd teach him what happened to  people who manhandled Abigail Moncrieff.





Chapter Three         

     



 





The fresh air smelt good. She had to admit that. The journey from the  city had taken an age, her father driving so slowly she might as well  have walked, as she informed him several times an hour.

"Why couldn't I bring my car?" she asked as they caught up with yet another tractor.

"Because you crashed your car, sweetie," he replied patiently, not even  trying to overtake. "I don't know how long until it's driveable again."

"If you'd bought me one with better brakes, I wouldn't have done," she  replied, thinking how easy it would have been for her car to race past  the tractor. She'd have been there hours ago.

"You drove to the club whilst drunk. You left it more drunk. You crashed  your car. Or did you forget? You were asleep when the police found you,  your phone in the middle of sending a message. You've no idea how much  it cost to get them to drop the charges, I'll be funding their Christmas  party for a decade."

"I want to drive my own car."

"Well, I'm afraid you can't until it's fixed."

"That's just like you. You never let me do anything I want to."

"Sweetie, please, I promise I'll make it up to you."

"You better."

It had just gone noon by the time they arrived at the new house. It  seemed smaller than the last time she viewed it. "Is this it?" she asked  as she climbed out of the car. "This isn't it, is it?" She stretched  her back before turning to her father. "Tell me this isn't it."

"Don't you like it, sweetie?" her father asked, unlocking the gate so he could drive the car in.

"I'm going for a walk," she replied, heading down the path into the  village. So they were going to live here? The place was so small that in  ten minutes she'd reached the last of the houses and the end of the  footpath, there was nothing else but road and fields. Turning round, she  headed slowly back, catching her heel in a muddy puddle at the edge of  the path.

Swearing loudly, she looked around for something to wipe away the mud.  In the garden next to her, a row of clothes was wafting back and forth  on a clothes line. That'll do, she thought, pushing open the gate and  grabbing the nearest thing from the line. It was a white blouse, just  the right size to scrape the mud from her shoe. She tossed the blouse  back into the garden once she was done, not noticing the villager  watching her through the cottage window at the far end of the garden.

There was a small lane to her right a few houses later and she walked  down it, spotting an orchard filled with apple and pear trees. Without  stopping, she walked through the open gate into the orchard, reaching up  and tugging at an apple, biting into it as she returned to the lane.  Not bad, she thought as she chewed slowly. Organic at least. At the far  end of the orchard, another villager watched her with his arms folded.

She tossed the remains of the apple onto the road before crossing to the  far side of the village, peering through windows and then moving onto  the next house. Seeing a bicycle leaning against a garage wall, she  decided to try it out.

Having not ridden in years, she wobbled at first, almost falling before  gradually getting the hang of it, freewheeling down the slope back  towards her new house. Behind her the owner of the bicycle stood by the  garage, watching her go. She reached her new house a minute later,  letting the bike fall to the floor as she walked up the gravel drive to  the house.

The place had a thatched roof on one wing, the other topped with red  tiles. There were four floors of mullioned windows, flowerbeds lining  the drive, potted plants nearer to the house. It did look pretty, it  just seemed smaller than last time. When she'd come to the last viewing  with her father, it had seemed enormous. Would it be big enough for her  to live in? Would there be space for her to start a business? To keep  all her shoes? There better be, she thought, pushing open the front door  and walking inside.