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Three, Four ... Better lock your door. (Rebekka Franck #2)

Willow Rose


  By Willow Rose

  Copyright Willow Rose 2012

  Published by DMC

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work.

  Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  Cover design by Jan Sigetty Boeje

  Special thanks to my editor Jean Pacillo

  Connect with Willow Rose:


  They were having sex. Right there on the bed in front of her. Well, they didn't know that she was there, did they? They didn't know that she was watching them. They didn't know that she had been watching them all night.

  She was there when they met in the restaurant at the inn. She was watching him as he waited for her. She saw him smile and get up when the woman approached the table. She observed as they first shook hands then hugged each other awkwardly as people who have never met before often do. The woman was much older than he, she noticed. Ten, maybe fifteen years older. They were quite the pair, she thought to herself.

  He ordered shrimp as an appetizer and roasted pork with parsley sauce and potatoes while she had salmon for appetizer then the Boeuf Béarnaise that the inn was so famous for.

  In the soft light of the restaurant that hid the growing lines in her face she looked delicate with her dark hair and blue eyes. The man seemed to be struck by her beauty as well and had eyes for no one else during the dinner and subtle conversation.

  They talked about the weather, the Indian summer that the small kingdom of Denmark was experiencing this September. Usually the summer was long gone by now and the fall with its strong winds and cold had taken over. But not this year, the man said with a smile. This year the summer had been better than most years. Maybe global warming wasn't that bad after all, he said and they both laughed.

  He had been charming. A true gentleman. He poured wine in her glass at just the right time, nodded and smiled politely looking like he was truly interested in listening to her stories. They both avoided talking much about themselves and neither was even sure that they knew the other party’s real name. They had presented themselves as Troels and Anna, but both knew it wasn't uncommon in dates like these that one of the two involved - or even both of them - would give a false identity. After all they were never going to see each other again after this, so why bother with a true identity? Why risk the wife or husband discovering your secret escapades, dark desires that went unfulfilled in the sex lives of the married. After all the secrecy was for many the most thrilling part.

  But even if they never told each other much, she knew about them. She knew their dirty secrets. Yes, the woman watching them from the other table knew more about both of them than they would ever reveal to each other. She thought about it when she giggled along while listening in on their growingly embarrassing conversation that soon became strained because they were running out of subjects to discuss.

  They were holding hands across the table, letting their fingers rub against each other. The black haired woman who called herself Anna had laughed at Troels' words and thrown her head backwards in the delight of his company. It caused the woman watching to shiver with a combination of joy and utter disgust.

  At one point Anna turned her head, perhaps perceiving the fixed stare coming from the woman sitting at the table next to them, seeking the cause of that uncomfortable sensation of being watched.

  The music from the piano-player in the corner of the restaurant was perfect to set the mood, understated enough to make the two people want to get closer and leave the restaurant to go to the room they had rented just for the night. A night meant for pleasure - and pain.

  The woman followed them up the stairs as Troels teased Anna and made her laugh while they walked towards the room feeling the thrill of what was about to happen.

  The joy of expectation was always the biggest joy, the woman watching thought to herself. It was for them and it was for her.

  It made it easier for her that they hadn't locked the door, she thought as she watched them during the act in the bed. She watched them in silence as they moved their sex-act to the bathroom where Troels tied up Anna with hand-cuffs and then entered her from behind. The woman watching through the frosted glass felt a thrill of excitement go through her body as Troels pulled the black hair and Anna screamed. The woman watching was almost aroused when Troels hit Anna and whipped her with his brown belt. Anna screamed at the top of her lungs. She screamed with what had to be pleasure and desire, since she never said the safe-word that the woman watching had heard them agree on during the dinner. Anna yelled that he should stop, she begged,she pleaded and called him master. But it only made him beat her even more while he rode her from behind. They were moaning, screaming and shouting nasty things to each other.

  The woman watching had to restrain herself from getting off, from jumping in and joining them, from clapping and screaming out her own lust and desire.

  It was after all supposed to be a surprise.

  Chapter 1

  "I don't want to do gymnastics anymore," Julie said while staring out the window.

  We were driving in my car. It was a Thursday morning like so many others. Except I had never heard Julie utter those words before. She had loved gymnastics up until now. She looked forward to them all week and when Thursday finally arrived she would find it hard to wait until school was over and she could go. She was really good at gymnastics. She was by far the best in her group, her teacher told me. So why this? I asked myself. Why now?

  "What are you talking about? You love gymnastics!" I said and drove up in front of the school. I parked the car and turned off the engine. My eight-year-old Julie sighed deeply sounding horribly like a teenager. It was a little too early for that, I thought.

  "I just don't want to do it anymore, okay?"

  "Is this about your father again? I know you haven't seen him in two years but don't let his absence destroy everything you're fond of. I know it was his suggestion many years ago that you start gymnastics, but you’ve grown to love it so much. It would be a pity if you stopped doing it just because you want to punish your dad or something."

  Julie sighed again. "Not everything I do has to do with dad not being here," she growled. "Jeez, Mom, you always think I’m so mad at him for leaving me, but I really am not." She turned her head and glanced at me.

  "Then what is it? Is it me?" I asked.

  She shrugged. "I just want to do other stuff, okay?"

  "Like what?"

  "I don't know."

  "Julie. This is silly. You're so good at gymnastics. You used to love it so much." I put my hand on her arm. "Don't you think it's a little too hasty? Shouldn't we wait and see in a couple of weeks? Maybe you'll enjoy it again next week?"

  She rolled her eyes. "It's just so ..."

  "So what?"

  "So childish."

  "Well you're a child, so that should suit you fine then." I looked at my watch. "I’m running late, Sweetie. Let's talk about this later."


  I grabbed her arm just as she was about to get out of the car. "Julie. Did something happen? You know you can tell me if it did, right?"
/>   She nodded. Then she left the car and I drove off. I was still wondering about her as I ran up the stairs towards Zeeland Times' editorial room in Karrebaeksminde. When had she turned into a teenager? I thought as I opened the door.

  Sara barely noticed me enter the office. Staring at her computer-screen, she wore a headset to listen to the police-scanner. As always, she had an extra large coffee and was eating chocolate cake. She waved to me when she finally noticed my arrival.

  "Morning," I growled, threw my bag at the desk and pulled out my laptop. I went into the kitchen for coffee and stared at the remains of the chocolate cake on the table. For a few seconds I considered just plunging in, digging my fingers into it and shoveling the gooey chocolate into my mouth. But of course I didn't. I was after all trying to lose those last five pounds that had become eight since I had Julie. Admittedly, I had gained a lot of weight ever since I moved back to my hometown. If it was my father's cooking and insisting on putting butter in everything or Sara's cake marathon during working hours that had done this to me, or because I stopped smoking, I didn't know. Maybe I didn't care anymore. Little by little I was getting used to the thought that maybe I wasn't going to get rid of it again. I was never going to be as slim as I had been before I had Julie. Maybe it was about time I just made peace with my thighs.

  I sipped my coffee and decided to just have a small piece. It wasn't like I had anyone who was going to see me naked soon anyway. Swimsuit season was over for now even if we did have some late Indian summer right now, I wasn't about to go to the beach anyway. Plus fall would come any day now and then I would have another entire year to lose that piece of chocolate cake. I deserved it I thought and took a slightly bigger piece than planned.

  Sara smiled at me when she saw my plate as I sat at my desk. Her chubby cheeks looked like she was hoarding food for later. I stared at my cake and wondered if I would eventually turn into her if I kept this up? Would I wear big tent-like dresses with flowers? Would I let my hair grow wild and try to tame it with a butterfly hairpiece? Would I waddle when I walked?

  I had nothing against Sara, don't get me wrong, she was one of the nicest women I had met and I enjoyed working with her immensely even if she made a terrible mess at the office with her stacks of newspapers and magazines. I just wasn't sure I wanted to end up like her, chubby and living alone with her two dogs that were as fat as she was.

  "How's everybody doing this morning?"

  I lifted my head and smiled at Sune who had just entered the editorial room. He smiled back and came towards me. I swallowed the last bite of chocolate cake and waved at him.

  "Chocolate today, huh?" He asked with a grin. His green Mohawk swayed as he moved his head. "Is it better than the carrot cake you had yesterday?"

  "There's more in the kitchen if you want," I said with the remains of the cake still in my mouth.

  "No thanks," he said and tapped his stomach. "Watching my weight."

  "Oh come on," I exclaimed.

  Sune was skinny and tall. Plus he was almost ten years younger than me so he could still eat anything. I on the other hand was getting closer to forty and knew those days of eating everything I wanted were over.

  "Well, okay. Maybe just a small piece," he said.

  "Help yourself."

  Sune disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a much bigger piece than what I had just inhaled. The remorse was growing inside of me as I swallowed the last bite.

  "So what are we up to today?" he asked with his mouth full.

  "Budget negotiations at city hall," I said. "They came through last night. We just need some happy comments from the mayor and then some angry ones from the opposition. Piece of cake, really."

  Sune smiled. "Sounds sexy."

  "Depends on what turns you on," I said grinning.

  "Well it's not politics. Especially not local politics like this."

  I shrugged. "You'd be surprised to know how many people disagree with you."

  "I'd be surprised if you could find me one single person who is turned on by this kind of stuff."

  "What about the mayor himself?" I asked. "Don't you think Mrs. Mayor got a little extra treatment in bed last night after the negotiations?"

  I got up from my chair and grabbed my jacket from behind my chair. I brought a pen and a notepad. It was an easy assignment so I expected to be back before lunch. That would give me a couple of hours to write the story and then I would be home with my family early in the afternoon. That was one of the benefits of working on a small newspaper like this. I got to spend much more time with my family and my daughter especially loved those days when I came home early. When I had been a star reporter for a big national newspaper I never had this kind of time. I barely ever made it home for dinner and on weekends there would always be something, some story that I just had to look into. It was another life now. It was calmer and more family-friendly. I kind of enjoyed it.

  "I really wish you hadn't said that," Sune said and held the door for me. He had his camera around his neck. "Now I won't be able to look at the mayor without picturing him with his wife."

  Chapter 2

  There wasn't much Susanne Larsen hadn't tried before sexually. She'd had numerous lovers and tried all kinds of positions and everything from bondage to S/M. She loved it all. The tougher the better. She loved role playing, whips, handcuffs, restraints and even blindfolds. She loved being beaten, the feeling of pain on her skin, the hair pulling and even biting. It all turned her on and always had.

  Her husband of course knew nothing of her secret desires, nor was he ever going to. That was why Susanne always met up with strangers she found on a dating site on the Internet. A site only for people of her kind. Only for people who liked what she liked, and she liked it rough. This website made it easier for her to find a match, find someone who wanted to treat her the way she liked to be treated.

  She started by writing to them once she found someone who matched her profile. After a couple of weeks flirting and writing dirty messages they would agree to meet. She loved the anonymity of it since she preferred to not know anything about the men she had sex with. That's also why she never agreed to meet more than once. She didn't want to risk feeling anything for them if she got to know them. They were supposed to be complete strangers who only wanted her for the sex. Who wanted to use her, exploit her vulnerability and penetrate her until she could take it no more. She liked to be treated like a whore and submit herself to the mercy of some handsome stranger in the dark whom she would never see again afterwards. She let them use her and she would scream her painful pleasure out all night.

  Then she would go home to her family the very next day and be the wife and mom she was expected to be. That was the way she wanted it and that was how she lived.

  She never thought much about her family while she was with the stranger, but for some inexplicable reason she did think of them that particular day. That day with the tall, dark, very young guy in the room at the inn in Karrebaeksminde. For just a few seconds she thought about her son and daughter at home in their beds and their father sitting alone in the living room watching some sports like he always did. She thought about them and felt for the first time a slight feeling of guilt and remorse that she couldn't escape. It was like a pinch in her heart.

  Maybe it was because this one was handsomer than any of the others she had been with. Charming too. In fact he reminded her of one of the doctors at the hospital where she worked as a nurse, the one she'd had a huge crush on for months now. That had turned her on immediately once she saw him in the restaurant at the inn.

  When he had told her that his name was Troels, she hadn't believed him, but decided to just play along. She had called herself Anna. It was her mother's name, but since she had died when Susanne was fourteen she was certain that she wouldn't mind. Served her right anyway for the way she had treated Susanne, she thought. Served her right for never interfering when her father climbed into Susanne's bed at night. Served her right for never s
topping him and never listening to Susanne when she told her about it and asked her mother to make it stop.

  Troels started off by slapping her across the face once they had entered the hotel room. He then kicked her in the back and threw her on the bed. She screamed but enjoyed it very much. The slapping around, the pulling of her hair was just like her father had done.

  "Tell me I'm a little whore," she said. "Tell me what you'll do to me now."

  "You little dirty whore," he said with a harsh voice.

  Oh boy that turned her on. Those words really did it for her. Just like her father had always said when he climbed into her bed. "More, more," she begged.

  "You dirty little slut. I am going to make you pay for all you've done. When I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk for two weeks. I am going to beat all those naughty things out of you. And then I 'm going to use you. You'll be my toy, you'll be my slave."

  "Oh yes, master. Use me. Make me your slave," she groaned.

  Then he pulled her by the hair off the bed and into the bathroom where he pushed her against the shower door. That was a new one; she thought and smiled while he cuffed her hands. Then he hit her again. He entered her from behind with the scream of a wild beast before he beat her with his belt. She screamed in pain. Her secret lover told her he had more toys in his bag in the car and he was going to get them. He told her to stay put. Then he laughed as he left her in the shower. Beaten, broken, bleeding. Left to the mercy of a stranger.

  This was what she wanted, she thought to herself while waiting for his return, wondering with a shiver what kind of toys he had brought. This was what she longed for but could never get with her husband who thought she was nothing but an ordinary woman, wife, mother and nurse. She could never share this with him. She could never tell him her dirty little secret, could she?

  She didn't finish the thought before the frosted door to the shower opened and a face was revealed. Panic arose inside of her as she stared into the eyes of a woman in a long blue dress. Frantically she pulled her hands but they remained stuck in the handcuffs. The woman in the elegant blue evening dress smiled and stared at her with wild manic eyes that seemed to enjoy the fear in hers. She lifted her hand and showed a small scalpel much like the ones doctors at the hospital used.