Simon Jillson

Real estate saleswoman

CHAPTER ONE

Judy Penncroft lay on her back, savoring the soft, silent morning. The weight of Mark, her husband, pressed the double bed mattress down beside her, rolling her slightly towards him. She thought of that pressure and warmth being missing, of the bed being empty, and winced at the gut-twisting stab of pain this thought brought.

Resolutely, she forced her mind away from the dread possibility that was rapidly becoming a certainty. Instead she told herself to be glad that Mark was sleeping quietly for a change. Sometimes, more and more rarely, there was the perfect combination of circumstances needed to give him total peace. Either physical or mental agony almost always kept him twisting and turning restlessly in a sweaty tangle of sheets. Or, what was even worse, he would lie there rigid, his muscles knotted and straining as he wrestled silently with his torment.

As Judy slipped silently out of bed, twinges of pain reminded her of one of the reasons for Mark's tranquil sleep. The bruised ache in her shoulders was mute evidence of the power of his grasp on her the night before. In her crotch, on the insides of her thighs and her pubic hair, was a dry, tugging, crusty feeling.

In the shower, Judy felt the mild bruises, the stiffness, the dried semen all dissolving away. It was a sad feeling. Flinching away from that train of thought, she recalled how it had all begun.

***

As she passed Mark's chair with the last coffee cup, his arm snaked out, grasped her around the waist and hauled her down on his lap, squealing and giggling. The cup and saucer went flying and bouncing across the floor in a clattering testimony to their durability.

"Mark!" Judy protested.

With a growl of mock ferocity, Mark gripped the sides of her pretty face, twisting her head, his fingers tugging through her short black hair. His lips met hers in a savage, primitive kiss. His tongue drove between her lips, wedging her teeth open.