The Virgin Whore (An Erotic Novel)

Chapter 2 - Noose

Don't forget to Comment, Vote & Add to your reading lists! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)
xoxo
Gennie.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

CHAPTER 2

My eyes were red and swollen like a baboon's arse when I finally stepped off the train into what I could hopefully now call my new home. Not the train station, obviously. I did have some dignity left.

I caught a ride in the back of someone's horse and cart, who happened to also be heading to the inner city, or so he said. The guy was so stuck up, he wouldn't even let me sit at the front with him, in the seat. So I had to share the back of the cart with a smelly little Jack Russell that tried to bite me when I reached out to stroke it on the head.

We finally arrived... somewhere. I had no idea if I was in the city of Edinburgh, but there was a fish market where we stopped, and I could see the sea behind the different stalls.

"Here you go, get off," he ordered. "And take your garbage with you."

I glared at him as I dragged my small bag off his scruffy cart, and walked away without saying a word, muttering all sorts of insults under my breath.

"What did you say?" he demanded, walking beside me aggressively.

"I said I'd love to get a long, thick pole and shove it up your shitty bum hole so you actually have a reason to act so stuck up."

He stopped in his tracks with his mouth hanging open wider than a flasher's jacket.

I didn't have a clue where I was , but I liked it. I had money in my bag and the world at my fingertips.

However, the weather was freezing and the sky was getting greyer and darker by the second, so I decided that I'd better find somewhere to stay. I may not have been in London anymore, but the streets wouldn't be safe for a woman, especially come nightfall.

The first place I found reminded me too much of the brothel, so I left immediately. The next place was an inn that was full of shady looking men who stared as I entered, so I turned back around and carried on. Finally, third time lucky, I found what seemed to be a nice place. It looked tidy, smelled of delicious cooked food and was cheap to stay, costing less than a shilling per night.

I paid the lady at the bar and she led me to my room. It had everything I needed. Bed, wardrobe, lamps and a small table. It was perfect and so cosy that I just wanted to curl up in the bed straight away and go to sleep. I decided to quickly unpack what little I had and then go for an early night.

I stripped off into my undergarments and carefully hung up my best dress in the wardrobe. The dress was gaudy and looked unsophisticated. I decided that tomorrow would be shopping day.

As I unpacked the rest of my things from my bag, I noticed a tatty piece of paper right at the bottom underneath everything, folded in half and edges curling.

It was him.

It was his likeness from the "wanted" poster back in London.

The drawing didn't do his face justice at all. In this, he looked a good 10 years older, and not as hypnotic. Still, you could tell by the crappy drawing that this man in real life had the potential to be strikingly beautiful.

I lay back on the bed, facing the ceiling, recalling our encounter in all its sensual glory.

I want him.

He's probably been hung already.

Necrophilia.

Shut up!