> 2




Everything had been going just right.

The last of the mind control drug seemed to have finally been flushed from your system, you were beginning to fill out a little from the skeletal look you'd assumed after your time at the Rapture and were looking a more like your old self again, you were having the best sex of your life… and then you got the letter in the post. It said, quite simply: "I know about Munroe Tarrow. I know about Bert Mannion. I know about Morgan Tarrow. I know about Lisa Tarrow. And I'm going to tell."

You've never been the fainting sort, but when you read the letter you felt light-headed and if you hadn't been sitting down at the time, you'd probably have fallen.

"Oh, shit," you muttered.

[MORE]

"I don't recognise the handwriting," Susan said when you showed her the letter, "and there are too few details here to know how much the writer knows."

"They know I killed those people," you point out.

"No one can prove that," said Susan. "Trust me on that."

You nodded but, deep down inside, you just weren't so sure. You've killed people. A lot of people for someone just turned twenty-one. All of them were bad people with the possible exception of Lisa Tarrow and you've never really spent time agonising over what you did. In most of the situations, it was kill or be killed. So you killed. You just never imagined anyone would find out about it.

[MORE]







- - - - - CONSEQUENCES - - - - -





[1] Start the game

[2] Background

[3] Synopsis of Choices, Decisions and Options

[4] Playing the game

[5] Game information

> 1






You roll out of the bed you share with Susan and pad naked through the house to the living room. There you switch on a lamp and pick up the letter again. Really, you should have burnt it the moment you received it, but instead you keep reading it again and again, as if you'll find some hidden meaning to it or the words won't seem as frightening with repetition. But each time you read it, you feel worse and worse. Someone knows you're a killer. That the people you killed deserved to die is indisputable, but are you really going to be able to convince a court of law of that? Aside from anything else, you've got a good life now and being forced to have everything you've gone through bandied about in court just fills you with dismay. It would ruin you, even if you weren't convicted, and you aren't convinced a prison sentence isn't awaiting you if matters proceed that far.

You sit there in the early hours of the morning, the moonlight shining through the window before you, and ponder what you're going to do.

[MORE]

But first, before any of that, you need to decide something: how badly have your experiences affected you?

(1) You're the same Melissa Jayne Shelton that you've always been, as unchanged by what you've gone through as it's possible to be.

(2) You're essentially the same girl you always were, but your experiences have toughened you up somewhat. You're still a nice person, just not quite as forgiving and happy as you once were.

(3) You're a different girl entirely from the one who lusted after Susan Harris from the day she arrived at your high school. You still answer to the name "Melissa" but everyone you meet knows you've changed. They just don't know how far…

> 1
You read the letter again: "I know about Morgan Tarrow. I know about Bert Mannion. I know about Munroe Tarrow. I know about Lisa Tarrow. And I'm going to tell." You've read it so many times since you first received it in the post three days ago that you know the words off by heart. But no matter how familiar you become with the words, you don't recognise the handwriting or have a clue who has sent it to you. You've been over a lengthy list of possibilities in your mind and crossed them all off. Everyone who knows what you've done is either a lover (Susan), a close friend (Michelle) or related to a close friend (Mike). No one else knows. You haven't told anyone yourself and you can't imagine Susan, Michelle or Mike telling anyone.

But as you sit there, turning over things in your mind, you start to wonder. You've thought so many times in the past that you knew Susan and every time you've been wrong. Heck, her real name isn't even Susan. Much as you hate to entertain the idea, you're still aware that it's altogether possible she's still not told you the entire truth.

(1) Question her.

(2) Push your suspicions to one side and leave things be for the time being.

> 2
Yes, she's lied to you in the past. Many times. But you're sure she's telling the truth this time. You don't know why you're so sure but you are.

[MORE]



Quite a lot has changed over the past year or so since the events at the Rapture. You moved out of your old apartment and into a house in the suburbs with Susan. To the neighbours - possibly the nosiest people you have ever met - you're Susan's niece, recently recovered from a bad experience following a break up with your boyfriend, who is staying with her for a while. The idea is that if the neighbours notice your kind of strange appearance, they'll assume your ex beat you black and blue. Unpleasant as the idea of inventing a fictitious boyfriend who regularly gave you a sound beating is, it's better than letting people know what really happened.

Susan recovered faster than you, but then her injuries were entirely physical. Yours were physical and mental. There are times even now, just over a year since you escaped from the Rapture, when you see strange things. A couple of times you've answered the phone and someone you killed has spoken to you. Other times you've been sure someone was watching you, only to turn around and find yourself alone.

[MORE]

"It takes a long time to get it out of your system," Susan said when you asked her how long you were going to be like this.

"How long is a long time? Months? Years?"

She tried to smile but failed. "I don't know. It affects everyone differently. You seem to have been hit worse by it than anyone I've ever seen." She hugged you then. "But you'll get through it. I'm here for you."

Your old job was long gone but you managed to get another, with a little help. After a while anyway. For a few months after the Rapture incident, while your face was still recovering, you pretty much lived at home and were supported by Michelle and Mike. And had plenty of great sex with Susan. At least your experiences haven't soured that part of the relationship.

Your job now is working as Mike's secretary.

[MORE]

It's not the easy job you'd assumed it would be. You even remember saying to him on the first day that you didn't expect any preferential treatment because of what had happened in the past. He said you wouldn't receive it. And boy, you sure didn't. The first week you ran around after him so much that you arrived home at night so exhausted you could barely eat your tea. The second week was worse. When you told Susan about it, she just smiled and said, "well, you didn't want preferential treatment, did you?" and the look on her face was just so damn smug that you stuck it out just to prove to her that you could.

You knew Mike was rich when he married Michelle, but you were never really sure just how far his wealth went. It seems he owns a chain of supermarkets on the west coast, a holiday resort on the south coast, several building contractors and a good number of casinos. The guy's not quite a multimillionaire but you doubt he's far off. His offices comprise the entire top floor of a skyscraper in the city; the view from your office window is to die for.

[MORE]

But it's a kind of strange company. Despite occupying an entire floor, and that means somewhere in the region of thirty offices, there are very few people working here. There's Mike - who's out more often than not on site visits - his personal assistant, Angela (very pretty), a couple of computer guys called Steve and Dave (who are so gay they might as well just carry a sign around confirming it) and the security guy on the door whose name you've never learnt. And that's it. You know Mike has a few other offices around the country but if they're all as deserted as his main one, it's a wonder he makes any money at all.

Most of your days are spent either running a hundred and one errands for him, or, when he's out, sitting at your desk and wondering why there's so little work to be done. It's certainly a strange way to run a company.

Today is one of the slow days. Mike is out on a site visit, Angela has gone with him, Steve and Dave are writing 'computational programmes' and the security guy is just standing at the far end of the corridor like he's fallen asleep on his feet. Everything is quiet. No phones ringing, no chatter. Just you and your office and a view to die for.

And your suspicious nature…

[MORE]

Mike knows about the Rapture. He knows that you killed Munroe and Lisa Tarrow. You don't know how much else he knows. Has Michelle told him about the others? Has he told someone else, perhaps not even realising what he was doing? It occurs to you that now, with him out of the office and no one else likely to be paying you the slightest bit of attention, would be a good opportunity to have a good nose round. Of course, it'd also be incredibly dishonest. Mike's a good guy, a nice guy… even if he is a bastard to work for. He's given you a job and he's paying you a lot more than you would get for any other secretarial job in the city, and when he's out, like he is most days, you're pretty much being paid to sit here and do nothing. You'd hate to betray his trust.

Then again, you'd hate to go to prison for murder.

It's a tough call to make.

(1) Nose around.

(2) Confront Mike about your suspicions when he arrives back in the office.

(3) Keep your suspicions to yourself.

> 3
You tell yourself it's the safest course of action. If you find evidence that Mike is working against you for some reason, you'll deal with him then. But for now, you're going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he's innocent. Aside from anything else, he's your boss. Being out of work right now wouldn't be a good idea.

[MORE]



Tonight, being Wednesday night, is Fantasy Night.

This is something Susan came up with about six months ago: a night where one of you, it changes every week, dresses up in the sexual fantasy gear specified by the other. This time it's your turn to choose and Susan's to dress up.

The rules of Fantasy Night are simple: you can suggest anything you like, but the one who has to dress up has the option of saying no. But only once. The second choice they have to go with.

After supper, Susan turns to you, sitting at the side of her on the sofa, and says, "so what's it going to be tonight then?"

(1) A nurse.

(2) A prostitute.

> 2
"Prostitute, eh?" Susan winks. "Kinky. Let me see what I can do."

She sends you to the bedroom and you lie on the bed, and wait.

And wait.

And wait…

And just when it seems you're going to be waiting for the rest of the night, the door opens and in walks Susan. Dressed as a prostitute.

Actually, 'dressed' is probably the wrong word to use for what she's wearing: it consists of a pair of red tights, no knickers, an uplift bra (not that she needs one), a leather punk jacket and some truly garish makeup.

"Think I look the part?" she asks.

You look her up and down. "You look like a filthy whore," you say. "And then some."

Susan smirks. "Hey, steady now. I kind of like the look. I'm thinking of wearing it to work tomorrow."

You look her up and down again, focusing on… "Don't they have a policy of no cunts at your workplace?"

"Well, my boss comes in every day…"

Enough talk, you think, and pull Susan down on top of you. With her being half naked already, it doesn't take much to rid her of her last few items of clothing.

[MORE]

When her breasts tumble free of the bra, you take them in your hands, squeeze them together and lick them. You bite her nipples, teasing the soft flesh between your teeth. Susan gasps in delight. Her hands tug down your skirt and her fingers ease into your vagina.

"Let's make tonight a special night," she says.

"Definitely," you reply, then there's no more time left for talking.

[MORE]

Afterwards, you're lying in bed together, your head on her right breast, licking softly at her nipple. From time to time you take it into your mouth and suck on it like a baby taking milk. Susan rubs a hand on the back of your head. In the darkness of the room, you can't see anything more than her vague outline but you don't need to see. You just need to do.

But as you lie there, the letter intrudes in your mind again. You try to steer your thoughts to someone else. You focus on Susan's breast, concentrate on what you're doing, dig your teeth in-

"Ow," she says suddenly, stiffening beneath you. "Steady there, tiger. That's kinda sensitive, you know."

"Sorry," you say.

The letter gains precedence again and you realise that until you figure out what it means, and who sent it, and what they want, you're never going to be able to set your mind at ease. One way or another, you need to get to the bottom of it.

Yet is now the right time?

(1) Talk to Susan about it.

(2) Decide this isn't the time and resolve to discuss it with her at some unspecified time in the future.

> 2
Tomorrow, you decide, you'll raise the subject then. Hopefully when you've had a chance to sleep, you'll be able to put an end to all the speculation concerning the letter.

"Fancy another go?" asks Susan in the dark, her hands moving to your breasts and her fingers beginning to tug on your nipples.

Looks like you won't be getting much sleep tonight.

[MORE]



The next day is an unusual one in that Mike has a meeting. Not that's there anything unusual in him having a meeting but this one he has in the office. He uses the conference room for the meeting and you spend the morning running in and out with cups of tea for the people at the meeting, few of whom you recognise. There's Brad, who oversees Mike's office on the coast, and Steve, a manager from the branch in London, and then lots of faceless individuals. The meeting is also kind of strange in that every time you enter the room with refreshments, the conversation stops and people politely sit and wait till you have gone. The moment you close the door, you hear the voices start up again.

You're a bit annoyed by this. After all, you work for Mike and it's not fair that he's keeping you in the dark about this. At the same time, you're not really bothered what they're discussing but it still rubs you up the wrong way that you're being kept out of the loop like this.

(1) Try and overhear the meeting.

(2) Decide it's none of your business and keep your nose out of it.

> 2
Really, it is none of your business. You might be Mike's secretary but that doesn't mean you need to know every little aspect of the day to day running of his many companies. So you sit at your desk and daydream for the rest of the day and, very occasionally, do a bit of work.

[MORE]



Susan seems a little distant for the next few days and you wonder if maybe she is a little under the weather. But then she comes home from work one day to announce she has to go away for a few weeks.

"A business trip," she says. "My boss insisted on it."

You've met her boss a couple of times. He's mid-fifties, four times divorced, so ugly it's a miracle he managed to find even one woman to marry him let alone four… and makes a point of mentally undressing every woman he meets. Susan has never really said as much, but you can tell she doesn't like him.

"It'll be for two weeks, or maybe three if things take longer than we anticipate," Susan goes on. "There are six of us going: myself, my boss, Johnson, Raines, Anderson and Kim."

You frown at the way she said the first name of the one other woman in the group but the surnames of all the men. Is there something going on there? No, surely not. She's probably just on first name terms with Kim and not the others.

"Sounds like a drag," you say, wondering at the idea of two or three weeks without her.

"That's my career." She pushes her meal to one side. "It seems more trouble than it's worth sometimes but I've got to work and market research is at least something I'm good at."

[MORE]

"You could always go back to teaching," you suggest.

"I thought about it a few times, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. I never told you, but a couple of kids at your school recognised me."

You don't need to ask where from.

"They'd been on the internet one night and saw me. They thought it was hilarious. Fortunately, they never actually did anything with what they'd learnt but they could have. I don't want to find myself in that kind of situation again. Besides, marketing certainly pays more." She leans over and kisses you. "Call you every day, okay? And if I can find myself a nice private fax machine while I'm there, I'll even fax you a shot of my tits. Deal?"

(1) Wish her all the best.

(2) Offer to go with her.

> 2
Susan frowns. "Melissa, it's not a holiday. It's a working business trip. I'll be spending every day clustered in some horrible conference room while my boss casts furtive looks down my front." She forces a smile. "Believe me, it's not anything I'm looking forward to."

"But you'll still finish work at the same time, right?"

"Hopefully. The rules get kind of relaxed on business trips: sometimes we finish early, sometimes late. I might even have to work the weekends if it's either that or the company puts us up in the hotel for another week. Aside from anything else, you've got a job of your own. You can hardly just take two or three weeks off."

"Mike would let me. And I've got some vacation time stored up."

"I thought we were saving that for when we go to Paris."

"Then I'll do some overtime or something. It's no big deal. C'mon, Susan, it'll be fun."

She bites her lip. "I don't know…"

Are you just imagining things or is she just a little too reluctant to let you go with her? Is she really going on a business trip? Or is it something else?

(1) Insist you're going with her.

(2) Decide you're making a mountain out of a molehill. Let her go on her business trip. You can manage by yourself a few weeks.

> 1
Susan protests some more, but you're adamant you're going with her and in the end she just gives in. You're a little puzzled by how obstinate she was about the whole thing. Has she got some kind of ulterior motive for going on this trip without you being there? Is she having an affair and the business trip is just a cover for a week or two away with her new boyfriend or girlfriend? Or is it, simply, that she finds you a little clinging? Since your ordeal at the Rapture and the hassles with the mind control drug, you realise you've been more needy than ever before. You tend to find yourself missing her whenever she's out of your sight and you spend more time at work thinking of her that you do working. Maybe she just wants some breathing space.

Mike isn't happy about managing without a secretary for three weeks but you give him some sob story about how you haven't been feeling well lately and, being the nice guy that he is, he gives you the time off.

[MORE]

The following Monday, you and Susan drive down to the south coast. As this is a business trip, you're staying in separate rooms at the hotel (the company, obviously, isn't going to pay for Susan's lesbian friend to come on a trip with her). Susan's going to drop you off a few blocks away from the hotel and you're to walk there, book in and then meet outside that evening.

"It's all very cloak and daggery," you say. "I sometimes wish we could just come out and announce to the whole world we're gay."

"Sometimes I wish the same thing," says Susan. "And then I realise what a hassle that would be. I get enough stick at work as it is because I'm in my late twenties and don't have a husband or even a steady boyfriend. I think half of the office have already labelled me a dyke anyway. But," she adds before you have the chance to say anything, "that doesn't mean I want them knowing for certain I'm a dyke. That's why I didn't want you coming along, Melissa. It makes things… awkward."

She pat her leg. "We'll be careful."

"I know we will. It'd be better if you were staying in a different hotel-"

[MORE]

"If I was staying in a different hotel, I might as well not even be coming down with you," you say. "I can hardly sneak into the hotel every night and then out again the next morning."

"Which is precisely why I didn't want you here."

You don't have anything to say to that and Susan seems to be finished speaking as well. The rest of the ride is in silence.

Susan drops you a couple of blocks from the hotel and you have a drink in a nearby pub while you wait for her to get booked in. You'll head there later and book yourself a room, once you're sure she and all her workmates aren't going to be wandering through the reception area and catch sight of you. You've been to the office a few times and most of them will recognise you on sight. Having you show up here would be a bit suspicious. After all, there's no reason for Susan's niece to have followed her on this business trip, is there?

[MORE]

You book in no problems, head up to your room, unpack, and have a good long sleep. It doesn't leave you feeling refreshed but, if anything, even more tired than before. You glance at the clock. 12.00 noon on the dot. Five more hours till Susan finishes work and another three till you're due to meet Susan outside. Eight hours! What are you going to do with all that time?

You're beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that it was a bad idea to come down here with Susan. She's going to be working all day and you're going to have nothing to do aside from lounge around your hotel room. And what if she workmates insist on her coming for an after work drink with them? You might well spend the entire day without seeing her.

Then again, it's her dinner break in half an hour. An idea occurs to you…

(1) Head to her room now and see if she's in.

(2) Stick to the plan and meet her outside this evening.

> 2
Susan is waiting for you outside the hotel that evening. She takes your hand and the two of you walk down the street.

"We're not going into the hotel?" you ask, brushing up against her. "Bit more privacy there. If you know what I mean…"

She shrugs you off. "Not now, Melissa. I've had a long day. Exhausting." She suppresses a yawn. "Let's just have a nice quiet drink somewhere, okay?"

It wasn't what you were hoping for - full blown sex is what you were hoping for actually - but you nod and follow her to a small pub around the corner. It's cosy, if a little on the smoky side. The two of you get a seat in the corner and Susan orders a round of drinks.

[MORE]

When she gets back from the bar, she looks pensive.

"Something on your mind?" you ask.

She nods. "Long day, and longer days to come. I think it was a bad idea you coming down here. If I feel like this every day, I'm not going to be a whole lot of fun at nights. Sorry."

You're disappointed yourself but you force a happy smile all the same. "No big deal. I'm sure you'll have the energy for whatever we get up to here. Speaking of which…" You nudge her leg under the table. "If you're tired, we could always head back to the hotel and fuck like a pair of rabid beavers in heat."

It's meant as a joke, but Susan doesn't seem to see it as one. "Aren't you listening to a word I've said, Melissa? Jesus, it's like talking to a brick wall sometimes."

"Susan-"

"Sorry." She lets out a deep breath. "But this whole business trip is turning out to be a lot more stressful than I thought. They've decided on two weeks down here, but they're going to make us do the work of three weeks. So that means I'm working the weekend, and I'm expected to work a few evenings as well. Not to mention through the night if my boss insists."

"Sounds like a drag."

"It is. So, like I said, it's not going to be a whole lot of fun for you here."

[MORE]

Again, you get the feeling she's trying a little too hard to keep you away from her on this business trip. Back home, you were suspicious of her, now you're getting even more suspicious. Is she in some kind of trouble again? Or is there something else going on that she doesn't want you to know about?

(1) Ask her what the problem is.

(2) Say you'll head back in the morning and wait for her.

(3) Pretend to agree with what she's saying but follow her when she leaves and see if you can find out what's going on.

> 3
Susan finishes her drink, complains of a bad head, and leaves. You say you'll stay here for a while and head back to the hotel later. You might even see if you can find a strip club…

Usually when you say something like that, Susan reacts in a jealous way, as if she doesn't think you can handle yourself properly in a strip club without her there as some kind of chaperone. But this time she just nods and says, "have a good time". Her headache must be really bad.

You wait till she's out of the door then finish your drink in one go and follow her.

She walks straight back to the hotel. Hmmm… you'd half expected her to head somewhere else instead and the headache was just a ruse to make you think she wasn't very well. Maybe she genuinely doesn't feel very well.

(1) Go up to your room.

(2) Go and check out a strip club.

> 2
As luck would have it, you find a strip club on the same street as the bar Susan took you to. It looks a little seedy from the outside, but then it is a club where women take their clothes off in front of a group of drunken men so you guess the seedy side of things is pretty much a foregone conclusion.

Inside, you buy a drink at the bar and then find a seat and watch the show. Several teenagers at a nearby table look over at you and laugh. You overhear the word "dyke" mentioned several times. You sip your drink and ignore them.

The first stripper is a pretty girl with implants who moves around the stage with all the enthusiasm of someone who's actually comatose and sleepwalking through her act. She's the lousiest stripper you've ever seen. Pretty, but her act stinks.

The second is a bit of an improvement in that she actually seems to be trying. Pity she's got a face like an arse. (Her arse, incidentally, is even worse.)

By the time you've seen the fifth stripper - old enough to be mother and in good need of an underarm shave - you've got about as much enthusiasm for the acts as the first stripper.

(1) Stay. Maybe the next stripper will be an improvement.

(2) Find another strip club.

(3) Head back to the hotel.

> 2
You leave the lousiest strip on Earth and walk around the block, looking for another. You pass two - both looking every bit as seedy as the first - before chancing across one that looks half decent. You doubt any of the women pictured on the board over the doorway are actually stripping here tonight (isn't Marilyn Monroe dead?) but the place at least looks clean.

Your hopes soar a bit as you get inside and see the stripper currently on stage. Hot! She's a few years younger than you - eighteen or so - and seriously stacked. You buy a drink and then spend some time studying the stripper's boobs: they seem to move a little too naturally to be implants but they're one heck of a size for a girl of her age and build. Heh. Maybe you'll ask for a closer 'inspection' just to make sure.

[MORE]

The stripper's act is every bit as hot as she is. She strides around the stage, teasing the audience, baring her flesh only to cover it up again a moment later. She takes a drink from a man in the audience old enough to be her granddad, positions it between her breasts, and then has him drink it through a straw. When he's finished, she walks around the stage some more with the glass still between her breasts. Someone in the audience calls out to her for a memento to remember her by. She smiles saucily at him, then walks over to him, lifts one leg, tugs her knickers to one side, and thrusts her pussy into his face.

"Think you'll remember that, honey?" she asks.

From the look on the man's face, you doubt he'll ever forget it.

The stripper strides around her stage again, tweaking her nipples with her fingers. "Anyone got any suggestions?" she calls out.

There are several. Someone shouts out: "suck your tits!"

You're a little horrified to discover that that someone was you.

"Well, well," says the stripper, "looks like I'm not the only girlie in here tonight. You're pretty, honey. What's your name?"

And, suddenly, every eye in the club is on you.

(1) Tell her your real name.

(2) Make something up.

> 1
"Nice to meet you, Melissa," says the stripper. She looks you up and down. "You come here often?"

"First time," you say, feeling a little self conscious. Every set of eyes in the club is now turned your way, and the 'lesbo', 'dyke' and 'queer ass' comments are getting thicker and thicker.

"Ignore 'em," says the stripper, casting a disparaging look at the people muttering. She sidles over to your side. "Wanna give 'em something to mutter about, honey?"

"Er-" you say. Which is about all you have time for before the stripper sits on your lap, wraps her arms around you, and kisses you full on the lips.

You freeze.

It's not that you've never been kissed by a woman before, of course. You have. Lots of times. A lot more times than you've been kissed by a man. But it's seldom in a public place like this, and never with an entire strip club full of horny men watching on. It's kind of… awkward.

[MORE]

But as the stripper presses against you, her breasts rubbing against your chin, her left hand slipping down between your legs, and her right hand holding the back of your head, you find yourself melting into her. You kiss her back, you caress her breasts, you…

She pulls away from you, licking her lips. "Come see me afterwards," she whispers in your ear. "Tell the girl behind the bar. My name's Keeley."

Then she pecks you on the lips before heading off to another table.

"Fucking dyke," an elderly man at another table mutters as you reach, shakily, for your drink.

"Man," you say, "I'd rather be a fucking dyke than an old bald bastard sitting by himself in a strip club." You smile at him. "It was my lap she was sitting on, pal."

He looks like he might throw his drink at you but instead just settles for muttering and leaves you alone.

[MORE]

Just as well. You need time to think. You just kissed another woman. You've got mixed feelings about that. Ok, the kissing was amazing, and the way her breasts pressed against you was even better, but you're experiencing severe regret that you've just kissed another woman. You're with Susan now. You shouldn't be kissing other women. To be honest, you shouldn't even be looking at other women. And the stripper, Keeley, wants you to go and see her after the show. You don't need to be a brain surgeon or a rocket scientist to figure what she's after. The only question is: are you going to risk what you've got with Susan for one night with a beautiful stripper?

(1) Do it. What she doesn't know won't hurt her.

(2) Stay faithful. Head back to the hotel.

> 1
At the bar, you ask the girl about Keeley. She gives you a look that says she doesn't approve of your kind and probably thinks you'll die screaming in Hell for all eternity, but nods to a door in the corner.

"That way," she mutters. "Better not let the boss catch you, though. He hates lesbians."

You wince at that but nod your thanks and head through the door. There is a corridor beyond with several doors on either side. You're not sure which is Keeley's room and you're just in the process of knocking on one at random when the door furthest down the corridor opens. Keeley is there. She's wearing a g-string and nothing else.

"Melissa," she says. "Come on in."

You hesitate for a second - not sure you really want to be going behind Susan's back like this.

(1) Back out.

(2) Go for it.

> 2
Pushing your misgivings to one side, you head into Keeley's room.

"You know what I called you back here for, right?" she says, leaning on the door as she closes it.

You nod, mouth dry. You wish you weren't so nervous. It's not like you're a virgin or anything, it's just that you feel… well, every time you're around a beautiful woman you act like a nervous schoolgirl out on her first date. There are times when you really wish you could be more in control.

"I've got a couple of ideas," you say. "Look, I should probably let you know that I'm seeing someone."

The moment you say the words, you regret them. Why did you say them? Why oh why oh why?

"No problem," says Keeley. She walks over and sits on your lap, just the same as she did back on the floor of the strip club. "She ever going to find out about this, honey?"

You shake your head.

"Good." She kisses you, long and lingering. "What first?"

You blink. "Huh?"

"Are you a foreplay kind of girl?" she asks, smiling. "Or do you just prefer to get straight down to the fucking?"

(1) Foreplay.

(2) Fucking.

> 1
"Me, too. Probably comes from being the kind of girl who takes her clothes off in some seedy strip club," she add. "But foreplay? Mmmm. Can't beat it."

Keeley kisses you again then sits back and caresses her breasts. You watch, mouth still dry, as she squeezes them together, until the nipples are touching, then bends her head down and flicks her tongue at each nipple, wetting them slightly.

"Like that?" she asks.

You nod.

"You'll like this even more."

She lifts her breasts by the nipples. She twists them around then lets go. Her breasts bounce around. Then she places both hands on her left breast and lifts it.

"This is the best bit," she says.

It certainly is.

She takes the nipple in her mouth and bites it. You watch her teeth dig into the soft flesh and you feel a tingling sensation between your legs. You long to reach out and bite her nipples yourself but you hold off, knowing that the longer you hold off, the better it will be in the end.

[MORE]

Still biting her left nipple, Keeley lifts up her other breast. She pinches the nipple to make it erect then pushes both nipples together. Then she bites them both. You can't hold off any longer and you lean forward and lick her breasts. Your tongue circles around her left nipple, still pinioned between her teeth, and then you're biting the nipple as well. At the same time, you slip your hand into her g-string and push a finger into her vagina. Keeley gasps.

"Oh, god, yes!" she says. "Comeon, Melissa! Let's do it!"

She pushes you back and you fall onto her bed. She climbs atop you, kissing your face and tugging at your shirt. She unbuttons it, pulls it open, and sucks each of your breasts. You lie there, drinking in the sensation. Keeley pulls down your knickers then her mouth is between your legs. You cry out and orgasm.

"That was a bit quick for my liking," says Keeley with a grin spreading across her flushed face. She squeezes one of your breasts then lifts it up by the nipple, making it stand on end. "But I'm sure the next one will be longer."

It is. It lasts all night.

[MORE]

It's the best sex you've ever had. You feel kind of bad for saying that, particularly considering all the great sex you've had with Susan over the years, but, undoubtedly, when it comes to lesbian love, Keeley has got it down to a tee. You lie in bed with her afterwards, one arm around her shoulders as she lazily licks one of your nipples. You realise a boundary has been crossed here and things between you and Susan are never going to be the same again. Strangely, you find yourself not caring. Maybe it's just the euphoria of a truly amazing night spent fucking that you're feeling and in a few hours you'll realise you've cheated on Susan and feel incredibly bad about it. But, right now, you feel great.

[MORE]

"Tell me about the woman you're seeing," Keeley says. She's got her eyes closed and her head is resting on your chest. "Is she nice?"

You wince. "Very nice. I can't tell her about this."

"Probably just as well." She opens her eyes and looks at you. "Last night was… amazing. And I mean that. Definitely the best sex I've ever had."

You kiss her brow. "Me, too."

"We need to do this again some time."

"That might be a problem…" You explain the situation, how you're just down here with a friend who's on a business trip and you'll be head back home in a few weeks.

"And home is far away?"

"Couple of hundred miles. And…" You bite your lip, not sure how much you should tell her. "And my life is kind of complicated right now. I can't just drop everything and move down here."

Keeley is quiet for a minute or two. You close your eyes and just remember last night. Then you hear: "well, if you ever feel like a change, come look me up. Here, I'll give you my mobile."

[MORE]

She writes down her mobile number for you and you slip it into your purse. You aren't sure you're ever going to call her. Part of you wants to, desperately, but the practical part of you realises that it's never likely to happen. You live too far away, you're in a relationship and your life is complicated. Running away to the seaside to have bouts of lesbian sex with a beautiful stripper is an idea for a fairy tale (albeit an adult one) and not really the sort of thing you can ever imagine happening in real life. But you take the number all the same, promise to call her, kiss her longingly, and then leave the strip club.

You get a bit of a surprise when you arrive back at the hotel and find Susan waiting for you outside your room. She takes one look at you and says, "we need to talk."

Oh, shit, you think.

[MORE]

You let Susan in with your stomach sinking.

She knows, you think. Somehow she knows.

You check yourself in a mirror hanging over the bed. You look radiant. Glowing. As if you just spent the night fucking someone. You wonder how obvious it is to anyone else.

"I…" Susan swallows nervously. She reminds you of the way you used to be, all nerves and never able to finish a sentence because you were so worried that you might come across as an idiot. "I've met someone else."

You blink. Did you hear that right…? "You… When?" you whisper.

"We've been seeing each other for a while now. It wasn't anything serious at first, just messing around. We were friends more than anything. We just talked. But-"

"How long?" you ask.

Susan avoids looking at you. "Eight months."

Eight months! You had expected a matter of days, a week even. Maybe a fortnight at the moment. But eight months?

(1) Tell her about yourself and Keeley.

(2) Act horrified that she could cheat on you.

> 1
"I've met someone else actually," you say. "A stripper. Massive tits. Her name's Keeley."

Susan nods slowly. "I'm… happy for you. Is she nice?"

You shrug. You're not sure you really want to be having this conversation with her. It feels kind of weird the two of you splitting up like this and then sitting around amicably discussing things. You feel there should be shouting and accusations and maybe even one of you slapping the other across the face. It doesn't feel right that it's all so damn… civil.

"I'm seeing someone called Kim," Susan says. "I work with her. She's nice. She…" She seems to run out of things to say. "I'll be with her down here for the next week or two then I'll come back home and we'll sort things out."

You have a childish desire to tell her not to bother but you don't say it. You just nod.

"Goodbye then, Melissa," Susan says. She leans forward as if to kiss you but then seems to think better of it and just pats you on the shoulder instead.

Then she leaves.

You never see her again.

[MORE]

You arrive back home to an empty house. Your thoughts are in turmoil over the events of the last day. You've cheated on Susan and then found out that she's been cheating on you in turn. You don't know what you feel worse about: cheating on someone you love, or having her cheat on you all this time. More than anything, you're amazed you didn't know. Have there been signs that Susan has displayed that indicated she was seeing someone else? Signs that you've just either ignored or simply been too blind to see? You wish you could go back in time and see the point at which Susan decided she was going to see someone else behind your back. Maybe there was something you could have done to prevent it happening…

Or maybe it was just one of those things that was bound to happen sooner or later. You need to move on.

You consider calling Keeley but in the end you don't. Instead, you just lie in bed and masturbate while recalling the mind-blowing sex you had with her. It's only spoilt at the moment you climax when you find yourself shouting "Susan!" instead.

[MORE]

You're at your desk when the call comes through. The official tones should probably have warned you that this wasn't a simple social call, but you weren't really paying attention at the time. You were surfing the net on your works computer, paging through a few hardcore lesbian websites and amusing yourself that Mike didn't even realise what you were doing and that, in effect, you were being paid to ogle the girls on hotlesbodykes.com. So when the phone rings, you just pick it up, not even taking your eyes off the screen - where, presently, a beautiful blonde woman with overly huge breasts is sliding a banana in and out of her vagina - and say, "good afternoon, Morris Associates. Can I help?"

The call is for you. Even that doesn't tip you off.

"Speaking."

"I regret I have some bad news for you, Miss Shelton," says the voice, with the measured tone of someone who is used to telephoning people and relaying bad news to them. "I am deeply sorry to inform you that the body of Susan Harris was found at her house just a few hours ago by police officers following reports of a disturbance-"

[MORE]









There are police cars parked outside the house when you arrive home. Mike drives you. He's called Michelle on the way and told her what has happened.

"This is fucking unbelievable," he says time and again as you fight your way through midday traffic. "This is fucking-"

Unbelievable.

The first thing you notice are the way the curtains are drawn. You left them undrawn when you went to work this morning. An officer leads you inside. The smell of blood hangs heavy in the air. You feel your knees go weak and you stumble, almost falling. Mike catches you and you lean on his shoulder. Then you round the corner and enter the dining room. There is more blood here. And a body lying under a white sheet which is rapidly darkening to a deeper, reddish colour.

[MORE]

The officer who led you inside - you recognise his voice from the phone - grabs your arm as you move towards the white sheet.

"I wouldn't advise you to do that, Miss Shelton," he says. "It's-"

You push past him and throw the sheet off.

It's no mistake, you realise. It's no sick joke gone wrong. It's not a clerical error. It's not someone else lying there.

It's Susan Harris.

Her face is bloodied; her lips are swollen; her eyes are closed shuts with bruises. Her breasts have been gouged with what looks like meat hooks. Her stomach is a mass of scar tissue. Her heart has been cut out and lies in a gory pile at her side. There is a knife protruding from her ribcage.

She is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

You aren't even aware you've started screaming till Michelle is holding you and a woman in a nurse's outfit is approaching you with a syringe…

[MORE]

When the sedative wears off, you feel dopey as anything. Worse than you've ever felt. Your head feels like it might explode. You dry heave but bring nothing up.

"Easy, Melissa," says a voice. It takes you a while to realise it's Michelle's. "Just rest for a while."

You look around. You're in your and Susan's bed. No, you think. Not Susan's bed any longer.

"Is she really dead?" you ask.

Michelle nods. Her eyes are red. "Yes. She is. The police said… well, they said a lot of things. I didn't want to hear all of it. I had Mike deal with them."

(1) "Do they know what happened?"

> 1
"They're saying she surprised a burglar. But I'm not sure I believe that. I-" Michelle suddenly gives a gasp and fumbles for a tissue. "Shit! This is just so fucking…" She dabs at her eyes. "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay."

You sit up in bed. A sudden pain shoots through your back and you rub at it. Looks like you've been lying funny for the past few hours.

(1) "Why don't you think it was a burglar?"

> 1
Michelle lets out a deep breath. "I just don't. Maybe I'm paranoid. Maybe I'm just so fucking angry at what's happened that I want there to be something more to it than some stupid burglary gone wrong. Can you imagine that? After everything poor Susan has gone through in her life, she finally manages to get things back on course… and then some idiot burglar goes and kills her. No. I don't believe it at all." She puts the tissue away and sniffs. "That letter you were sent. Where is it?"

You nod to your purse, on the bedside table.

Michelle fishes the letter out and reads it.

"Does it mean anything to you?"

"No more than it did the last time I read it. And it didn't mean anything to Susan either. She thought it was just someone's idea of a sick joke. She never thought it would lead to…" She swallows. "Anything serious. I don't recognise the handwriting."

[MORE]

"Are the police still here?" you ask.

"Most of them left an hour ago. Some scene of crime people are still dusting for prints but I don't think they're very hopeful. Susan's… her body's been taken away." Michelle puts the letter to one side and shakes her head. "I don't think the shock's hit me yet. I'm more angry than anything. I want to… I don't know. Find the bastard who did this and kill him. Or them. All of them. Whoever they are."

"They won't get away with it," you say.

"No, they won't. Whoever the bastards are, they're going to pay for this. How are you?"

[MORE]

You swallow. "I feel like shit, but then I suppose that's to be expected." Actually you feel kind of embarrassed that you had to be sedated. It's a terrible thing that has happened, but Michelle is Susan's sister and has handled it so much better than you.

"Are you okay here on your own?" Michelle asks. "You can come and stay with myself and Mike for a while if you like. Just till… the place gets tidied up." She wipes a hand across her face, smearing her makeup. "To be honest, I'd like you there as much for myself as anything. We can talk about what's happened." A strange light comes to Michelle's eyes. "And plan what we're going to do next."

(1) Go and stay with Michelle and Mike.

(2) Say you're okay here for the time being.

> 1
You're interviewed at the police station the next day by an elderly fellow with thinning hair and a lisp. You answer his questions as well as you're able to. No, Susan Harris didn't have any enemies that you're aware of (not that you haven't already killed anyway). Yes, you were her lover (not that it's any of their damn business). No, you weren't experiencing money worries and hadn't gotten involved with organised crime. And no, you definitely weren't aware of anyone who would do such a thing to Susan Harris.

The officer seems to accept what you say and doesn't press matters. If he's aware of the letter you're concealing, he doesn't give any indication of it.

The letter feels heavy in your pocket as you leave the police station and make your way to the car park where Michelle is waiting for you.

"You didn't tell them about the letter," she says.

You shake your head.

"Good."

[MORE]

Mike is at work. You and Michelle are in their dining room. You've been here before, quite a few times, and are always amazed at the sheer size of it. It's the kind of room that could house an entire banquet, with room left over. But today, the magnificence of it is lost on you.

"Does Mike know what we're planning?" you ask.

"I haven't told him yet," says Michelle. She's reading the letter again, although the words are probably firmly imprinted in her mind by now. "Tell me what you told the police."

You tell her.

"Is all of that true?"

(1) "Yes."

> 1
Michelle says nothing for a moment then lets out a deep breath. "Did you know that Susan was planning to leave you?"

The words hang between you for a few seconds.

Finally you nod. "She told me." You swallow. "How long have you known?"

"I got a call from Susan a couple of days ago. She told me then. Melissa…" She seems to be hesitating over her words, unsure of what to say. "It was the last time I spoke to her. We had an argument over it. I felt she shouldn't have started seeing someone else like that, she should have told you first. But… well…" She shrugs. "Now it seems a little irrelevant."

"Thanks for speaking up for me like that," you say, wondering if you ought to mention that you slept with someone else the night you found out Susan was cheating on you. But you keep quiet. It's irrelevant now anyway.

Michelle shrugs again. "It was nothing. Now…" She puts the letter down. "Despite everything that happened between the two of you, I imagine you're as eager to find the bastard who killed her as I am."

You nod. "Definitely."

[MORE]

"So let's discuss who it could possibly be. Say some names. Anyone you or Susan have had run ins with in the past. When you've finished, I'll say some names. We'll see what comes of it."

(1) Mortimer, the grizzled cop.

(2) The bright-eyed cop (whose name you don't know).

(3) Shannon.

(4) Marcus Taverner.

> 1
"I wondered about him myself," says Michelle. "What do you know about him?"

"Not much," you say. You rack your mind for memories of him. "I only met him the one time, when he arrested me in the middle of the night and dragged me down to the police station and said a lot of really unprofessional things to me. But he let me go in the end. Susan said he had been working with Munroe Tarrow but when Munroe and Lisa died, there was no sign of Mortimer there. But… I always got the impression Susan knew more about him than she was letting on."

"She never talked to me about him beyond she'd heard his name before," says Michelle. "I didn't press her. Damnit. I thought once Munroe was out of the picture that things would be okay. She certainly didn't seem intimidated by this Mortimer fellow. But he's a start. I'll see what I can do about tracking him down."

(1) "I think I might have some other names."

(2) "Your turn."

> 2
"My list of suspects is pretty slim," says Michelle. "And to be honest, I'm not even sure I'd suspect any of them of anything criminal. But…"

She reels them off:

Tamsin: a fellow porn star that Susan once had a huge bust up with (Michelle isn't sure of the details), and who threatened, one day, she'd make Susan pay.

Chris Hedges: a teacher she worked with at the high school where you went. He made several advances on her but she rebuffed him each time. When his wife found out about it, she left him. The last time Susan heard from Chris, he was mightily pissed and seemed to hold her responsible.

Sharon:…

"Who I don't know a damn thing about aside from her first name," Michelle says. "But I was drinking with Susan one night, a few years back, and she mentioned she'd once had a massive fight with a woman called Sharon. She went on at length about it. I didn't really listen as I was drunk, but the next day, when I was thinking straight again, I asked her about it. She said it didn't matter who Sharon was and it was none of my business. She was quite abrupt with me but wouldn't go into any detail. Did she ever mention anyone called Sharon to you?"

You shake your head.

[MORE]

"Well, it's probably a dead end anyway. We might as well concentrate on the others. There's no point looking for a woman when the only thing we know about her is her first name."

"Which one do we concentrate on first?" you ask. "Seven suspects… well, six if we don't count Sharon. That's a lot of people. I only know where Chris Hedges is. The others will take some finding."

"Mike will help," says Michelle. "Or, more precisely, his money will." She gestures around at the overly extravagant dining room. "That's one advantage to being rich. You can buy yourself the kind of professional help you wouldn't otherwise have a hope of getting hold of."

"You mean private detectives?"

Michelle nods. "And the sort of people willing to do anything. For the right price."

You experience a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach at her words. She's talking about hiring people to find out who killed Susan, and killing them in turn. You know that's what they deserve but, at the same time, you feel uncomfortable about it.

[MORE]

"Before we go sending the detectives in, we should consider other possibilities," you say.

"Such as?"

"That none of the seven know a thing about this letter. I had Chris Hedges for several years as an English teacher and the handwriting definitely isn't his. It might not belong to any of them. It might be someone else altogether."

"An unknown factor. Hmmm… well, we can only go with what we know. There's no use in speculating about things out of our control. Was there anyone specific you had in mind?"

"No. But Munroe wasn't working alone. When I was at Susan's apartment the day she went into hiding with you, there was Munroe there and several others."

"Hired help," says Michelle.

"Could be. Or partners in whatever sick venture he was involved in."

"You see any of them? Get a good look at them? Overhear a name?"

"No," you say. "To all three."

"Then we stick to what we know. We go through the list of suspects that we've got and if we reach the end of it without finding the guilty party, then we widen the search and include anyone else we can think of."

[MORE]

You nod your assent. "So… who do we start with first?"

(1) Mortimer, the grizzled cop.

(2) The bright-eyed cop (whose name you don't know).

(3) Shannon.

(4) Marcus Taverner.

(5) Tamsin.

(6) Chris Hedges.

> 6
The following days sees you strolling down the street you used to walk along every day on your way to school. You're depressed to find out that nothing seems to have changed about it: even the graffiti you remember scrawling on the post box one day what seems like an age ago (of a woman with overly large breasts running along) is still there. The school, looming ahead of you, is just like you remember as well.

Only smaller.

It's obviously down to the fact that you haven't been here for several years and not just some bizarre freak of nature that has shrunken it, but it's weird how small the place seems. The divide between the two main buildings of the school looks about a fifth of the size you remembered it being, and was the playground really that tiny?

You haven't really got a plan formulated for how you're going to handle this.

(1) Talk to some of the kids in the school playground and ask them if about Mr Hedges still works here.

(2) Wander into the school and see if you can find his office.

> 2
It takes a bit of wandering to re-familiarise yourself with the layout of the school but you quickly manage to locate Chris Hedges' office. Unfortunately he's not in.

Stopping a girl rushing past, you ask if she knows where you might find him.

"Off fucking a whore probably," she says. "Or buggering his mamma up the ass."

You raise your eyebrows.

"Fuck!" she says, suddenly looking mortified. "You're not a new teacher, are you?"

You don't say one way or the other. "Where can I find him?"

"Uh… uh… uh… he's in… uh, the science block."

You turn away from her and start towards the science block.

"Miss!" cries the girl. "Please! Don't tell him what I said!"

You manage to keep from giggling till you're around the corner then you have to cover your mouth to keep the laughs inside.

[MORE]

You head into the science block, faintly surprised at how easy it is to wander around the school without anyone stopping and asking what you're doing there. For all anyone knows, you could be a child molester with devious intentions, not just someone wanting a quiet word with Chris Hedges. Was it always this easy to get into the school or has security just lapsed in recent years?

You find Chris Hedges sitting in a classroom, the blinds pulled down, smoking. By his head is a sign saying "no smoking" in letters so prominent you imagine blind people could make them out.

"Mr Hedges," you say.

His first reaction is one of panic - probably suspecting that one of his fellow teachers has caught him either smoking on school property or he's skiving off while he should be teaching - followed quickly by one of confusion. "Do I know you?" he says. "And…" He blinks. "Melissa. Melissa Shelton. Well, well, I never thought to see you back here."

Damn. You were kind of hoping he wouldn't recognise you at first.

(1) "Why are you surprised to see me back?"

> 1
He laughs and gestures for you to come in. You do. And close the door.

"There was quite a bit of controversy when we found out about you," he says, lighting his cigarette up again.

"I'm not sure I follow you," you say, although you have a sinking feeling that you do.

"You and Susan. Susan Harris. An item." He laughs. "Oh, the look on your face then, Melissa. Priceless!"

You find yourself blushing. You had hoped to surprise him with the revelation of his coming on to Susan when she worked here, but he seems to have gained the upper hand surprisingly quickly.

"How is your… friend?" he asks.

(1) Tell him Susan is dead.

(2) Keep that information back. Accuse him of trying to seduce Susan when she worked here and see what he says.

> 1
"She's dead."

You say the words deliberately harsh, to see what kind of reaction you can provoke in him. First you get disbelief: "dead? You're joking." Then anger: "dead! Fucking hell! Who killed her? Who was it? You tell me the name of the bastard and so help me God I'll-" Then resignation: "oh… shit."

[MORE]

"She was killed in her house three days ago," you say. "The police are putting it down as a burglary gone wrong, but we… I think differently." You're eager to keep Michelle's name out of it for reasons that you can't quite put your finger on.

"Three days ago? That was Friday." Chris fumbles in a drawer and then pulls out his diary. He thumbs through the pages. "Friday I was at a teacher's conference. Here." He points to the entry. "Got fifty people who saw me there. Maybe a hundred. Check it out if you like."

He sounds convincing. Very. All the same, you make a note of the place the conference took place at and decide you'll check it out. Just to be on the safe side.

[MORE]

"Do they have any idea who killed her?" Chris asks.

You shake your head. "No. They think it was a burglary."

"But you don't."

"Maybe I'm just paranoid. It might be-"

"I want to help."

Please don't tell me I heard that right, you think. But-

"Let me help, Melissa," he says, almost pleading. "Anything I can do, I'll do. If someone's killed her, I want to find the bastard." A strange look flashes across his face. "And make him pay."

You're not entirely sure you want to have him helping you, but he could certainly help with the legwork you and Michelle are doing.

(1) Agree to let him help.

(2) Turn him down.

> 1
You're probably making a mistake but you decide to let Chris Hedges help. You give him your list of suspects and tell him what you know about each of them - at the same time as telling him the absolute bare minimum you can about Susan's dealings with them. As far as you're aware, Chris doesn't know about her porn star past and while that is probably going to come up during the course of finding out who killed her, there's no need to tell him any more he really needs to know.

"I'll question these," he says, staring at the list. "And they'll talk to me, you can be damn sure on that."

"Don't hurt them," you caution him. "They might not know anything-"

"Sure, sure. I'll be as gentle as gentle can be."

You experience a momentary worry over just what you've set in motion here, but there's little that can be done about it now. So you wish Chris good luck, give him your mobile number in case he finds out anything, and take your leave of him.

[MORE]

Michelle has set you up a bed in one of the spare rooms. "You're just down the corridor from Elizabeth," she says. "Hope she won't wake up."

"I'll be fine," you tell her. "Shall we talk about today now?"

She nods. "Yes. Mike's out. Business as usual. Let's go the lounge. I'll crack open a bottle of wine and we can go over what we learnt."

[MORE]

You fill her in on your meeting with Chris Hedges.

Michelle frowns. "You actually let him help us? Melissa-"

"He didn't kill her. I'm sure of that. And, right now, we can use all the help we can get."

"I know that. But Chris Hedges…? Susan never tell you about him but the guy was a major pain to her. Wrote her letters, sent her gifts, turned up at her house, talked to her like she was whore because he thought that was how she wanted to talk to her…"

"And he did all those things because he was in love with her," you point out.

Michelle sighs. "Whatever. I still think it was a bad idea bringing him in but as he's in, we might as well make the best of it."

[MORE]

"My day…" Michelle shakes her head. "Not a very active one, I'm afraid. Elizabeth kicked up a huge fuss when I tried to get things, and the day just seemed to pass by without me even knowing. I need a nanny. An ex-porn star trying to raise a kid while her husband's working way too many hours just isn't ideal."

[MORE]



You finish the bottle of wine with Michelle and then reminisce for a while about Susan. Michelle tells you about them both as kids and you hear about the time Susan broke her wrist falling from a tree she was climbing in the back garden. You hear about how she was a terror as a kid, never listening to their parents, doing what she wanted.

"And now she's dead," says Michelle with tears in her eyes. "She's dead and the bastard who killed her is soon going to be just as dead as my sister."

You aren't sure what to say to that so you just give her a friendly peck on the lips then bid her goodnight. But as you turn away from her, Michelle grabs your shoulder and pulls you back.

"Sleep in my bed tonight," she says. From the way she's slurring her words, you gather she's had more than enough to drink. "Please, Melissa. I don't want to be alone."

(1) Sleep with her.

(2) Decide this isn't a good idea and go to your own bed.

> 1
"Okay," you say.

Michelle kisses you, hard, on the lips. You experience a moment's regret at what you're doing - cheating on Mike, and only a few days after Susan's death - but then you find yourself kissing Michelle back and all thoughts of resistance are just gone.

You don't even make it as far as the bedroom. One moment you're just kissing, the next you're on the floor, tearing at each other's clothes, Michelle's mouth hot and hungry on your breasts, yours on her breasts, her breasts faced against your face, your fingers digging into her vagina, and then her anus, and then both at the same time. Michelle gasps and shudders. She cries out. You kiss her on the mouth to keep her quiet, fearful of waking her daughter and putting an untimely end to your little tryst. She kisses you back, harder than before, almost hard enough to bruise, and at the back of your mind is the traitorous thought that Michelle is as horny as a woman who hasn't had sex in a long, long time. Don't her and Mike-

But then her tongue is forcing its way into your vagina, and her fingers are penetrating your anus, and you're climaxing, one after another, and all thoughts regarding Michelle and Mike's sex life just seem irrelevant.

[MORE]

The first bout of love making was fast and frenzied; the second is slower. You spend most of it with your head buried between Michelle's legs, alternatively licking her vagina and anus as she does the same to you. You don't know how many times you orgasm while this going on, but each one seems better than the last and each leaves you clutching Michelle, shuddering as the sensations tear through your body.

As you're lying there, exhausted, your whole body aching but willing and able to do it again if possible, you wonder what you're doing having sex with Michelle like this. She's married. And you're in her house. What if Mike comes home?

"Michelle-" you say.

"Shhh," she replies, putting a finger to your lips. It's damp with your juices. "Not now."

You're not sure if she knows what you were going to say to her, or if she just doesn't want to talk right now, but when her mouth closes on yours and you feel her breasts pressing against yours, your will to ask her anything just crumbles and you wrap your arms around her and just drink in the sensations.

[MORE]

"Mike hears nothing about this," you hear Michelle say before your eyes are even open.

You open them. You're lying on the floor of the dining room, naked. You feel… good. Damn good. Last night's sex was certainly one of the best sessions you've ever had, as well as being the longest. How many times did you climax? You're not sure but it was a lot.

"For all his faults, I still love him," says Michelle.

She's lying on her side, head propped up on one elbow. She's got a skirt wrapped around her waist but she's naked apart from that. Her breasts hang heavily. They seem bigger than you remember from the last time you saw them (on the day she married Mike, actually, when you had sex with her right before the ceremony). You guess motherhood has helped filled her out. Not, you decide, that she ever needed help. She's got the kind of knockers you would have killed for growing up. And, to be honest, that you'd still kill for now.

"So you don't tell Mike."

[MORE]

You smile at Michelle. "Tell him about what?" You run your hand lazily over one of her breasts. The nipple bears your teeth marks from the previous night. Susan used to tell you off for biting too hard, but Michelle doesn't seem to mind.

She pushes your hand away and holds it. "Promise you won't tell him."

You nod. "I promise. And you can spank me if I go back on my promise."

Michelle smiles. "I'll hold you to that. Now… we've got a few hours before we need to be up and as Mike's not come home, what say we do a few other things that we didn't get round to last night?"

Your body groans at the idea of more sex, but your mind is more than willing.

[MORE]



You're lying in bed, just having been woken by the alarm, when you hear your mobile vibrating. You pick it up, frowning, wondering who's calling you at this hour.

"Hi, honey," says a voice.

Keeley.

You'd just about forgotten about her what with everything else that's been going on but she clearly hasn't forgotten about you.

"I was surprised I didn't hear from you," she says. "Don't say I was just a one night stand for you?"

You start to say that she wasn't, but then you stop and wonder if perhaps she was. Since you slept with her, your entire world has been turned upside down. Susan is dead. Even though she was planning on leaving you, it still hurts more than words can express just how badly you miss her. Have you got time in your life for more complications right now?

(1) Tell her it was just a one night stand.

(2) Apologise for not calling her and just say you've been busy.

> 2
"Too busy for the girl who gave you the best damn orgasm of your life not too long ago?" Keeley says with a laugh. "Melissa, I'm still wet down there just from thinking about it. Ha. Are you still wet?"

Part of you wants to laugh along with her and indulge in a little harmless phone sex - the kind of thing you used to get up to with Susan several years ago - but another part of you just keeps seeing Susan's dead body, and you realise you haven't got what it takes right now to laugh about anything.

(1) Tell Keeley the truth.

(2) Break up with her.

> 1
You can't see Keeley's face of course, but you can hear the dismay in her voice when you tell her what happened to Susan.

"Oh, Melissa, that's terrible," she says. "Have the police caught anyone yet?"

"Not yet," you say, "and I'm not even sure how hard they're looking. They think it was a burglary gone wrong but…" You can't tell her anything else right now. It just wouldn't be right to burden her with it. "Look, my life's pretty complicated right now, Keeley, but if you give me a bit of time-"

"Sure, sure," she says immediately. "Take all the time you want, honey. Just promise to call me when things get sorted out, okay?"

You promise.

[MORE]



The next day...

When you've dressed and headed down to the dining room, you find Michelle there but no sign of Mike.

"He never came home last night," she says. "Working again."

Something in her tone tells you she suspects he was doing something else other than working last night but you say nothing.

Just as you're settling down to go through the list, Elizabeth wakes up and starts bawling and Michelle goes off to fetch her. As she does, you happen to notice that a piece of paper has fallen out of her pocket. You see your own name scrawled on the top of it.

(1) Read it.

(2) Wait for Michelle getting back.

> 2
Michelle returns a minute later. "She's a little devil sometimes," she says. "Okay, the list." She sits at the table next to you. "I'm going to check out this one," she says. "I want you to-"

And that's as far as she gets before the door bursts open and in rushes Mike.

"I thought you were at work-" Michelle starts, but Mike doesn't give her chance to say anything else.

"I need to speak to you," he says. "Melissa, wait outside."

"Mike-"

"Out, Melissa!" he snaps without looking at you. "Now!"

Michelle looks just about as pissed off with things as you, but she nods at you to wait outside.

(1) Wait outside.

(2) Demand Mike tells you what's going on.

> 2
"I'm going nowhere," you say. "Not till you tell me what the fuck's going on, Mike."

He glares at you and for a second, you worry that he's going to take a swing for you-

Then Michelle grabs his arm and says urgently, "you owe her an explanation, Mike."

"I don't owe her shit-"

"Mike!" hisses Michelle. "Either tell her what the hell is going on or you can get out."

Mike glares at Michelle now, then tugs his arm free. He takes a step away from her then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife.

"The police are on their way, Melissa," he says, voice surprisingly steady. "They know you killed Susan. I suggest you get out while you still can."

"They… what…" You look at Mike and see that he's deadly serious. "Mike, what the fuck-"

"Is this true, Melissa?" asks Michelle.

"No it fucking isn't!" you yell, aware you're yelling but unable to stop yourself. "I didn't kill her, Michelle. How can you even-"

You hear a car outside the house.

[MORE]

"That's the police," says Mike, moving to stand between you and Michelle. "Get out of my house. Now."

You start towards Michelle, hoping to convince her this is all some terrible mistake, but Mike jabs at you with the knife. It missed. Barely.

"I'll kill you if you come any closer, Melissa," he says. His voice is cold and hard. He's serious. "Now go."

(1) Attack Mike.

(2) Try and reason with him.

(3) Reason with Michelle.

(4) Run.

> 4
You don't know what is going on but you know that your best bet is to get the hell out of here. Now.

Not even stopping to pick up your jacket, you run for the kitchen, fling open the back door and rush out into the yard. You half expect to see cops waiting for you here but you're in luck. They're all around the front of the house.

You head down to the bottom of the garden and let yourself through a gate there. A minute later you're flagging down a taxi a block away and having it take you…

Where? Your belongings are back home, aside from the few things you brought with you to Michelle and Mike's house, but you're not sure it's safe to go there after what's just happened.

(1) Your house.

(2) An anonymous hotel.

> 2
You order the taxi driver to take you to the west side of town. You've seldom been here as this is considered the 'rough' district: gangs hang out on many street corners, police patrols are few and it often reminds you of a leftover from an American film about corruption in the big city. You don't quite see gangsters walking down the street toting firearms but that kind of thing probably isn't far off.

You find a small hotel in a small grimy street. The rent for a week is reasonable, and just about all you can afford with the money you have on you (your credit cards are in your handbag back at Michelle's house), but when you catch sight of the room and smell it, you wonder just how much worse you'd have been sleeping rough on the streets.

"Oh fuck," you mutter, earning you a disapproving glare from the landlady, although with her cigar, food-stained clothes and general reek of someone who hasn't had a wash in a month or two, you imagine bad language isn't so bad.

[MORE]

You try to catch some sleep but fail miserably. Your mind is in turmoil over the events of the day. The cops showing up like that, looking for you, implies one thing and one thing alone: they think you killed Susan. You're not sure how they've reached that conclusion, but you remember talking over things with Susan a while back. "Your mistakes come back to haunt you," she had said, referring to her own past, firstly in killing Alice Tarrow and then in becoming a porn star. Her mistakes had indeed returned to haunt her: Morgan tortured her for fun after finding her, knowing that she couldn't go to the cops because of what she'd done to his sister. Later, his brother, Munroe, and niece, Lisa, came for her again. And again she couldn't go to the police because of what she'd done.

Is your past now coming back to haunt you? Have the police dug into your background and discovered the deaths of Morgan, Bert Mannion and his cronies, Munroe and Lisa? You might not have any direct connection to them, but they each had direct connections to Susan and it wouldn't take too much digging to link you to all of them.

[MORE]

You consider calling Michelle but realise that the police are likely to have tapped her phone line in case you do such a thing. If you decide to get in contact with her, you need to be a lot more careful. Right now, lying in a shitty bed in a shitty hotel room in the shittiest part of town known to mankind, you're out of clever ideas.

But there's one person you could contact.

(1) Call Keeley.

(2) Decide to keep her out of this mess.

> 1
It takes several calls before you manage to get through to Keeley. She sounds out of breath and you entertain a horrible thought for a moment that she's found someone else and you've just interrupted her in the middle of sex or something, but then she says, "sorry, honey, just working out," and you breathe a sigh of relief.

"Things have been pretty bad," you say when she asks why you've called.

"Susan," she says.

You nod. It seems silly nodding to someone on the other end of a phone line, but Keeley goes on as if she'd seen you, "tell me about it, Melissa."

You open your mouth and-

(1) Tell her everything.

(2) Tell her the basics.

> 1
-tell her everything.

Keeley listens as you pour your heart out to her for perhaps half an hour. You tell her every little detail you can think of, finishing with the events of the day and what has happened to you.

"Oh, that sucks, honey," she says. "You need a shoulder to cry on?"

You need one more than ever, but force yourself to say, "I'm fine, really. Just needed to talk to someone-"

"I can come up if you like."

Suddenly you want that more than anything. The thought of seeing Keeley again, even if you don't do anything is enough to make you physically ache for her. But is bringing her into this a good idea? You might be arrested at any moment for Susan's murder, or you might well find yourself the next victim. You've already lost one person you cared for - do you want to put another at risk?

(1) Tell her to come and see you.

(2) Tell her to keep her distance until everything has calmed down.

> 1
"Yes, come and see me," you say, trying to keep the needy desperation out of your voice but failing miserably. You reel off the address. "Don't be expecting a palace or anything, but-"

"So long as you're there, it'll be a palace," she says.

It's a corny line but it sure makes you feel better.

She says she'll get the next train and ought to be there for late afternoon. You tell her you'll be waiting.

[MORE]

No sooner have you put the phone down than you hear a knock on the door. A heavy knock. Very impatient. The police? No. If they had shown up here, they wouldn't knock on the door. They'd just break it down and grab you. Michelle? No, she doesn't know where you are.

The knocking comes again, harder this time and a man's voice shouts out, "open the fucking door, Jane! I know you're in there!"

Jane? Sounds like whoever's out there has got the wrong room.

(1) Open the door and tell the guy he's made a mistake.

(2) Just ignore him and wait for him going away.

> 1
You open the door. There's a man - mid-twenties - standing there who has the kind of amazing good looks that, if you were straight, would probably have you swooning at right now. Even being gay, you find yourself staring at the muscled chest and brawny arms and feeling yourself shiver. A little.

"Where's Jane, cunt?" he asks. Clearly his looks far outweigh his personality.

"Jane?" you say.

He pushes past you into the room before you can even think to stop him. Not that you could have stopped him. The guy's over six feet and got the kind of figure professional weight-lifters would kill for. He could probably break you in two with his little finger.

"Look, fellow," you say. "I don't know who Jane is and I don't care. But she's not here. So-" You gesture to the open door. "If you don't mind."

He snorts. "Jane's a hooker. Fucking good one as well. This was her room last week."

Oh great, you think. You're not only staying in the sleaziest room in the sleaziest hotel in the sleaziest part of the city, but you're also in what used to be a hooker's room. Can things get any worse?

[MORE]

Apparently they can.

The man looks you up and down. His eyes linger for a while on your breasts. "You a hooker?" he asks.

"No."

He reaches out a hand for your breasts but you push it away.

He laughs. "Nice tits. Bet you got a nice tight ass as well, don't you? Seen much action there? Or are you one of them lesbians? Cunt-muncher, right?"

You feel your face reddening and point to the door again. "Leave," you say, trying to inject as much authority into your tone as you can. "Or I'm calling the police."

He chuckles. If he's at all bothered at the idea of you calling the police, he sure does a damn good job of concealing it.

"I'm horny as fuck," says the man. "And when I'm horny as fuck, I'm willing to pay for it." He pulls a wad of notes out of his pocket. "If you're real good, you might get to keep all of it."

You swallow. There must be £600 or £700 there. In your current situation, that money would do you wonders. But do you really want to turn into a prostitute like this?

(1) Agree to have sex with the man.

(2) Tell him to get out.

> 1
"Good for you you said yes," the man says. He pinches your left breast. "'Cos if you'd said no, I'd have fucked you anyway."

"That's rape," you tell him coldly. The feel of his hand on your breast is unpleasant but it seems a little silly to push it away after you've just agreed to have sex with him.

"Yep," he says. He pinches your breast sharply, making you gasp. "Sure is. Now, how hard you willing to go?"

"How… hard?"

"Sure." He rubs his hips against yours. And something else. If that's really what you think it is pushing against your stomach, this guy's hung like an elephant. "£100 for a straight fuck, £300 for a hard fuck…" He licks the side of your face. "And £600 for the hardest fuck there ever was. You'll limp like a bitch for the next week but, heck, you'll be rich. What do you say, bitch?"

(1) £100.

(2) £300.

(3) £600.

> 3
"Thought you might say that, bitch," the man says. He kisses you on the lips. Hard. So hard you can hardly breathe. Then he throws you onto the bed with enough force that you almost bounce off the far side. He's tugging at his trousers even as he approaches the bed and says, "up the ass first, I think. We'll move onto the rest of you afterwards."

He tugs down his trousers and out pops… the biggest penis you have ever seen. Admittedly, your experience with penises has been somewhat lacking considering your liking for women over men, but you've had some encounters with men over the years. Just never one this… well-endowed.

Well-endowed? Jeez, if this guy was a horse, he'd be the prize stallion of prize stallions.

"Right up the ass," the man says, pulling down your skirt.

"No," you say, trying to push him off. "No, damnit! It's too big-"

"That's what they all say, bitch."

The man holds you down with one hand and pokes a finger into your anus. You grimace at his touch. You try to push him away. He just laughs and forces his finger deeper inside you.

[MORE]

"I'll try not to rupture you too much," the man says with a chuckle. "Here." He thrusts a pillow into your face. "You might want something to bite on."

You start to tell him that you'll scream for the police if he goes ahead with this, but before you can you feel the tip of his penis touch your anus, and then he's thrusting himself aside and it's all you can do after that to just bite down on the pillow and hang on for dear life.

His thrusts start off slow as he rams perhaps six or seven inches of himself into you. Then he speeds up, emitting animal-like grunts. He straddles you. His hands grasp your buttocks and he forces them apart as he continues to thrust into you. At ten inches you let out a scream, partially muffled by the pillow. At eleven inches, you're just burying your head in the pillow and wishing to god you'd never even got out of bed this morning.

[MORE]

If the man is aware how unpleasant this is for you, he sure makes no effort to moderate his sodomy of you. In and out he goes, in and out, in and out, for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes. At half an hour he gives a roar and jerks himself out of you with such force that you roar as well, then he's flipping you over and a hot jet of warm semen is shooting into your face.

"Swallow it, bitch!" he says. "Every little drop!"

You take his penis - it looks as long as your arm but surely it can't be that big, can it? - into your mouth and suck the semen from it. There's so much that you find yourself choking on it, but still more comes out. And more. And more. You feel your stomach clench and have to make a definite effort not to spew everywhere.

The man thrusts himself into your mouth hard enough to bruise your lips. He holds your head in place as he makes you give him the lengthiest blowjob of your life. Your lips are aching by the time he finally lets you release him, and the taste of semen is so bad you wonder if you'll ever be rid of it.

Then he directs you to clean the semen off yourself. At first you think he means to have a shower (or a bath, seeing as this apartment doesn't come with anything as modern as a shower), but he shakes his head.

"With your tongue," he says.

[MORE]

So you lick his drying semen from your breasts. You pick bits of it out of your hair and, almost choking in disgust, swallow them down. He even makes you dip a finger into your anus in search of any semen he shot into you. Licking your finger clean brings you closer to vomiting than ever before.

"Are we done now?" you say.

"Done?" He snorts and sticks a finger deep inside your vagina and tickles your clitoris. "That answer your question?"

The rest of the fuck - it's not making love, not by any stretch of the imagination - lasts for three solid hours. The man has an inexhaustible supply of both energy and semen. He fucks you anally again, then in your vagina, makes you give him a blowjob so long that your mouth is numb by the end of it. He makes you suck your own breasts as he jerks off over them, then forces you to lick the semen off your nipples. He makes you penetrate yourself so deeply you worry at one point that you might never get your hand back out. He makes you… do a lot of things that disgust you so badly you really wish you had just had the common sense to turn him down when he wanted sex with you.

[MORE]

Finally - finally! - it's over. You lie there on the bed, your entire body groaning with the rigours of what you've just been through. Your backside hurts so badly you're probably going to cry the next time you sit down. Your vagina…

"That was one mighty good fuck, bitch," says the man as he dresses himself. He's still got an erection. "I'll be sure to call on you again."

"Don't bother," you gasp. "My… money?"

He laughs. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out some cash. He tosses it onto your breasts. "Take it, bitch. You were worth it. Same time next week, okay?"

You nod. By this time next week, you intend to be well away from this sex-mad bastard and his abnormally huge cock.

He's still chuckling as he shuts the door behind him. You're still groaning.

[MORE]



You must have nodded off because you're woken by the sound of someone knocking on the door. Oh no, not the guy with the huge cock again? Jeez, you're still sore from before-

"Melissa," calls a voice. "Open up, it's me."

Keeley!

You're suddenly wide awake. You glance at yourself in a small mirror hanging over the bed - and grimace. You look like hell. You're also aware of a certain smell about the room. The smell of sex. The guy came so much your bed sheets are probably stiff with it.

"Melissa!" calls Keeley. "Are you in there?"

If you let her in, she'll know you've had sex with someone else. But if you don't let her in, and she's come all this way to see you, you know she's going to dump you. Maybe there's some way out of this messy situation…

(1) Let her in. Be honest. Tell the truth. (And hope for the best.)

(2) Pretend you're not in.

(3) Let her in. But lie. Claim you were raped.

> 1
You open the door and smile at Keeley. Or try to. Only your mouth is so sore from the multiple blowjobs you gave the man that you just grimace at her a little.

"Melissa…" says Keeley. She stops in the doorway and sniffs. "What have you been doing in here?"

"I had sex," you say. "Some guy showed up and-"

"Some guy?" Keeley steps into the room and looks around. "What's going on, Melissa? You call me in a complete state, I hurry over half expecting to find you're on the verge of slitting your wrists or something like that, and instead you've been… fucking."

(1) Explain that things have been complicated.

(2) Admit what you did and ask her to forgive you.

(3) Claim the man would have raped you if you hadn't had sex with him.

> 2
"I made a mistake and I was an idiot and I'm sorry," you say.

"Sorry? And that makes it okay, does it?"

(1) "Give me a break, Keeley. My life's a mess right now and I'm having trouble keeping all my shit together."

(2) "Of course it doesn't make it okay, but it's what happened."

> 2
Keeley looks halfway between taking a swing at you and embracing you.

Fortunately she goes for the latter.

"I know you're going through hell right now, Melissa," she says, hugging you to her. "So I'll let it pass. This time. But not again, okay?"

"Okay," you say. The feel of her breasts pressing against yours is arousing and you feel a tingling sensation between your legs. You wonder…

But no. Not now. You're still aching from having sex with the man earlier and need a good lie down before you do anything else.

"Let's put this behind us," says Keeley.

You hold her, and let your hands dip down till they're resting on her behind.

"Let's," you agree.

[MORE]



Your mobile rings.

You ignore it. Almost. Keeley's sucking your breasts and the sensation of her lips and teeth as they dig into your nipples is so amazing you just really don't want to answer the phone.

But you do.

"It's me," says a voice. It takes you a moment to place it. Chris Hedges. "Hi, Chris."

Keeley looks up at you, her tongue touching your left nipple, poised to start licking again. You look at her and nod. She resumes her licking.

"I might have found something out," says Chris. "About you-know-who."

You-know-who? Has he been watching too many spy movies? "Susan?"

Keeley's tongue licks around your nipple, pushing it first to one side then the other, then her teeth lightly dig in, teasing the flesh erect.

"I did some digging," Chris says, oblivious to the fact that, due to what's happening just below the mobile, your attention is a little distracted. "Uncovered some names. We need to meet."

[MORE]

"Why not just-" You shudder as you feel an orgasm mounting. Keeley's teeth are digging into your nipple in a truly delightful (and distracting) way. You're not sure how much longer you can keep listening. "-tell me over the - ooh! - phone?"

"No. This is too big for that. Someone might be listening in."

You were right. He has been watching too many spy movies.

"Where?" you say.

Keeley pushes a finger into your vagina and whispers, "here," with a mischievous grin. She starts to wriggle her finger around inside you.

"You know the park on Barring Avenue?" asks Chris. "I can be there for 8.00 pm. By the bandstand?"

"Sure, I'll-" You shudder again. You're so close to coming that if Chris Hedges doesn't get off the phone right now, your next words to him are going to be "oh, FUCK!" "be… there…"

Chris hangs up.

"Oh, FUCK!" you cry.

[MORE]

Keeley laughs then holds you as you orgasm. She kisses you longingly on the lips. "That was Chris Hedges?" she says. "The guy with the crush on Susan who said he wanted to help?"

"Yes. He was really broken up when he found out she died and wanted to help. He says he's discovered something and wanted me to meet him."

"What has he-" Keeley starts to lick your nipples again "-discovered?"

"He wouldn't, ah, say. He wants to… meet…" You can feel the tingling sensation in your nipple acutely now and even though you've only just orgasmed, you think another one might be building.

"That's dubious." Keeley pauses and looks at your breasts. Her tongue lazily licks them as she says, "he wants you to meet when he could just tell you over the phone. And he's awful quick off the mark."

"In what way?"

"You only just told him about Susan, and already he's discovered something about her that could lead to her killer?" Keeley looks at you, momentarily halting her licking. "Either he's really Sherlock Holmes in disguise or there's something suspicious going on."

[MORE]

She certainly has a point (and you're kind of annoyed that you didn't get it yourself). Then again, with a beautiful brunette stripper sucking your nipples and pushing a finger into your vagina, it's sort of hard to concentrate.

"You think I shouldn't meet him?" you say.

Keeley shrugs. "Your decision, honey."

(1) Meet with Chris.

(2) Decide against it.

> 1
"Good. I'm glad you said that," says Keeley. She takes your breasts in her hands and squeezes them together. "Now, we've got a while before you have to meet Chris, so let's put it to good use."

At 7.50 pm, you stroll into the park. You can't see where Keeley is hidden but you know the general area (just off to one side of the bandstand, in a clump of bushes). You just have to hope that Chris Hedges, assuming he's not on the level, is likewise unaware that Keeley is there. You don't really expect Keeley to jump out and tackle Chris if things get violent, but it's reassuring having her here.

Chris is waiting for you at the bandstand. And, you're a little worried to see, he's not alone.

"I take it you're Melissa Shelton," says the coloured man with Chris, and when you look at him (or, rather, when you look up at him), you realise Keeley isn't going to be much use if this guy starts causing trouble. He's huge. HUGE. You're guessing six foot eight or thereabouts. The kind of guy who makes the perfect bodyguard because he's so fucking massive no one in their right mind would dare tackle him. "Nice of you to show up, Miss Shelton."

[MORE]

"Who are you?" you ask.

"He's-" Chris starts to say but the man shoves him down to his knees.

"Sit there and be quiet, Hedges," says the mountain in man form, "or I'll make you be quiet." He looks at you. Down at you. "Step closer, Miss Shelton."

You stay where you are.

"Don't be a silly bitch," he says. "If I wanted to hurt you, you think you can stop me?"

(1) Approach him.

(2) Remain where you are.

> 1
Warily, you approach the bandstand. The man looks even bigger up close than he did before. If he hits you, you'd sure hate to see the size of the bruise you're going to have. Bruise? Heck. One punch from him and you'll be picking bits of your skull off the ground.

"What's this all about, Chris?" you ask the fallen man.

"Nothing to do with me," he says. You notice he's got a nasty bruise on the side of his face. "He came to my house and-"

"And we had a talk," says the mountain. "Mr Hedges kindly agreed to help me out in a little job I've been asked to perform."

"What job?" you ask.

"Finding you." He looks at you. "You've got a number of enemies, Miss Shelton. Some of them are very eager to lay hands on you. And, knowing some of the people in question, hands won't be the only thing they lay on you."

(1) Ask him who he is.

(2) Ask him what this is all about.

> 1
The man reaches into his pocket. You take a step back, thinking he's going for a gun (your brain informing you that a guy this big doesn't need a gun to deal with someone like you), but instead he pulls out… a badge.

"You're a cop?" you say.

"No." The mountain puts the badge away. "But I have certain… affiliations with the law. Who are very interested in you right now, Miss Shelton."

You knew it was a mistake coming here. You just knew it. You look around, half expecting to see police officers come bursting into the park ready to arrest you.

"I didn't kill Susan Harris," you say. "You have to believe me on that. I was at work when I got the call and-"

"I believe you, Miss Shelton. But I'm not the one you have to convince." The mountain frowns. "I work with the police from time to time but have no real authority with them, so what I know doesn't help you one bit. Besides which, even if you could prove your innocence, and you can't right now, going to the police would be a very bad idea."

"Why?"

"Because the person behind all this is a cop."

(1) "Who is it?"

> 1
"That doesn't matter right now-"

"To me it does."

The mountain sighs. "Well, sorry to rain on your need-to-know parade, Miss Shelton but, right now, you aren't in any kind of position to be dictating terms. You're still alive, which is about the best you could hope for in your present circumstances, but push me too much…"

You swallow nervously. This man makes you nervous. You've never met anyone as large as him before and the sheer size of him is intimidating to say the least.

(1) Ask him what this is all about.

> 1
"That's… complicated," says the man. "Too complicated to get into right now. And you've survived this far without knowing the whole truth of the matter, so you ought to manage just fine not knowing the truth now. The ever-obliging Mr Hedges here has my card in his pocket. When I'm gone, he's going to give you that. There are three phone numbers on the card, Miss Shelton, each of them for a different phone I have. Use them once each. Only once. No more, no less."

"Use them for what?"

"To contact me, of course, when you find yourself desperately needing answers."

"But I need them now!"

"No. You only think you need them now. You don't really. When the time to know is needed, you'll know. And you'll call me. Good day, Miss Shelton."

The mountainous man moves surprisingly swiftly for someone of his bulk. As he bypasses you, you experience a sudden urge to grab his arm and demand he give you some proper answers, but you know how pointless that would be. He's a foot and a half taller than you, weighs at least twice what you weigh, and could probably break you in two without even trying.

You let him go.

[MORE]

"Holy Christ," says Keeley as she clambers out of the bushes. "Did you see the size of that guy? I tell you this, honey, I'm counting my lucky stars he was friendly 'n' all. Was he really a cop?"

"He was no fucking cop," says Chris. He staggers to his feet. The side of his head is bruised and swollen. He takes a few steps towards the two of you and you notice how his eyes stray to Keeley, and linger… "You see what he did to me? Burst into my fucking house earlier today, punched me one right in the face and then dragged me here. Said he needed me to call you," he adds, giving you an angry stare, "or he'd kill me. What kind of goddamn cop is that?"

(1) "He wasn't a cop at all. I don't know what he was but he certainly wasn't a cop."

> 1
"That's what I figured. Son of a bitch." Chris looks at Keeley. "You her girlfriend?"

Keeley hesitates for a second, not sure of Chris' tone (which is accusatory), then grabs hold of you, pulls you close and kisses you on the mouth. This all happens so quickly that you wouldn't have time to resist if you tried, although as you've never had a problem with beautiful women kissing you, you weren't very likely to resist anyway.

"Yes," she says. "I'm her girlfriend. We've been fucking other, Mr Hedges, and it's been mighty fine. So stop giving me that look because you are not, and I repeat not getting your hands anywhere near me. Understand?"

Chris takes a step back. "Jeez, lady, no need for-" He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a card. "Here, Melissa. Take it. That's what the big guy left with me. You want it, you have it. I don't want anything to do with this any more."

Chris thrusts the card into your hand before storming off out of the park.

"What a creep," says Keeley with feeling. "Christ, I'm not surprised Susan ran a mile when he started coming onto her."

"He's harmless," you say. "Just a…"

"Complete bastard?"

You laugh. "Yes. Definitely."

You study the card. Three numbers on one side, a picture of a fist on the other.

"At least we got something from him," Keeley says.

[MORE]









Your hotel room looks sad and desperate when you arrive back there.

"It's not nice," says Keeley, "but it's something."

You nod, not much cheered.

"Oh, c'mon," she says, nudging you. "You oughta see the place I live in. It's got rats."

"Really?"

"Yes. They walk round on two legs and make rude comments to me but they're still rats."

You smile. She might be a better stripper than she is a comedian, but she's certainly amusing when she tries.

"We need to decide what we're going to do now," you say. "Put the pieces together. And-" And I don't mind admitting that I don't have a clue where to start. You wonder just when your life got so complicated. It used to be easy: you'd eye up the sexy girls in class, you'd masturbate while thinking about them at night, you'd buy porn mags on the sly and get yourself all hot and bothered over them. Now you're a wanted criminal for a crime you didn't commit, the woman you were in love with is dead and it's likely you might well be next.

You don't know whether to laugh or cry.

"I've got an idea," says Keeley. "I think we need to-"

There's a knock on the door.

[MORE]

Michelle.

You stare at her open-mouthed for a second, wondering if you're either seeing things or losing your mind. How is Michelle here? How did she find you? How-

"We need to talk and we don't have much time," she says, as she shuts the door behind her. She glances at Keeley. "A new friend of yours?"

You don't like her tone much. Not much at all.

"She's my girlfriend," you say. "Got a problem with that?"

Michelle looks like she might but she shakes her head. "Later. Now, we need to talk."

Keeley says, "I take it you know her, Melissa."

"Her name's Michelle," you say. "Susan's sister. But-

(1) -how did you find me, Michelle?"

> 1
"It took me all of yesterday and today, Melissa. I've been over every hotel in this part of the city, and believe me there are a lot. I've showed your photo to fifty or so different landlords and every one of them has either said 'oh, yeah, I've seen her' then sent me off in completely the wrong direction, or just plain ignored me. A couple even asked me out on dates. My feet, I don't mind admitting, are fucking killing me."

"You found her just by showing her photo around?" says Keeley, looking more than a little suspicious.

Michelle nods. "That easily. Which kind of makes me wonder just why the police still haven't found you-"

"I spoke to someone earlier today," you say, remembering the mountainous fellow. "He said the person behind all this was a cop."

"Mortimer?"

You shake your head. "No. Not him. Someone else we haven't met yet."

"This doesn't make any sense," says Michelle. "Susan didn't have any run ins with the cops so I don't see how they could be involved in this. Or, maybe, the person behind this mess isn't actually a cop but someone pretending to be a cop."

(1) "Why did you come looking for me?"

> 1
"Because…" Michelle hesitates, as if not sure what to say, or how much to tell you. "Because I don't think you killed Susan. I did at first, though not for long," she adds hastily. "And there are a lot of things about this that don't add up. The cops for a start. If I could find you just by wandering around hotels and waving your photos, so could they. And then there's Mike…"

(1) "What about Mike?"

(2) Ask if staying here is safe.

> 1
"He's been acting… suspicious. Very suspicious. No one else would notice it, but when you've been married to someone for a while you pick up on these things. He says he's fine, and there's nothing to worry about, and that if he seems kind of depressed it's because of what happened to Susan, but I'm not so sure. I think he might be involved somehow."

(1) "You think he killed Susan?"

> 1
Michelle shakes her head and says, "of course not. He's my husband," but you notice the way she says it. She's trying to make herself believe that. "But he's certainly been acting suspicious. We all know you were at the office when Susan was killed, but when the police questioned me and Mike, he just acted vague. It was only when I said that's where you were that Mike chimed in and agreed, in a real half-hearted way. It was like he was hoping to keep quiet about that. Even then, he kind of implied that the drive across town from the office to where Susan was killed was only twenty minutes or so and you weren't in his sight the whole time and it was possible-"

"The bastard," you say. "The complete bas- Sorry, Michelle, I know he's your husband but-"

"Innocent until proven guilty, okay?" Michelle says. "So far I don't know anything concrete. Do I think Mike killed Susan? No. He was at the office with you and several other witnesses. Do I think he might know more than he's letting on?" Michelle grimaces. "Fuck me, I think he might."

(1) "We need to make him talk."

(2) "Have you any idea what to do about this?"

> 1
Michelle grimaces again. "I'm not sure I like that 'make' him talk bit. What exactly have you got in mind for my husband and the father of my child, Melissa?"

You aren't sure what to say to that. You weren't even sure what you meant when you said you needed to make Mike talk.

But Keeley seems a little more decided: "if he killed your sister, Michelle, you need to get the truth out of him no matter what."

Michelle looks at her coldly. "And who the fuck might you be?"

"My name's Keeley. I'm a… a friend of Melissa's." You were sure she was going to say she was a stripper then but changed her mind about it at the last moment. "I'm helping her out."

"Well." Michelle looks from Keeley to you. She doesn't seem very happy. "Two days ago my sister is killed, yesterday you become the prime suspect in her murder investigation, and today you've got a new girlfriend. Congratulations, Melissa. You sure don't waste time. And she's pretty, too. You fucked her yet?"

Keeley's hand clench into fists.

(1) Tell her to stop.

(2) Let her hit Michelle.

> 1
"Keeley, no, this isn't helping," you say and grab her arm.

Keeley resists for a second, then takes a deep breath and calms down. "Michelle," she says, "I know you've been through a lot lately-"

"You don't know the half of it."

"-but I'm not your enemy. Really, I'm not."

"Did you come here for something, Michelle?" you ask. "Or just to start a fight?"

Michelle locks eyes with Keeley for a second or two more than looks at you. "I might have a lead, but I want you there to help me, Melissa. But only you. Not her."

"Keeley's my friend," you say.

"I don't give a fuck who she is. I don't want her there. You. Not her. You decide."

You can sense the situation slipping out of your control. Any moment now, Michelle is going to say something, and Keeley's going to hit her, and then all hell is likely to break loose. If Michelle decides to tip the cops off to where you are…

(1) "Fine. I'll come along without Keeley."

(2) "Forget it. Keeley's my friend and I'm not leaving her behind."

> 1
"Melissa!" says Keeley, looking like you've just told her you're leaving her for another woman. "Don't-"

"This is bigger than you," says Michelle, a moment before you could say the same thing. But then she goes and adds, "and you're probably more of a fucking liability than anything else anyway."

You have to really grab Keeley's arm to stop her flinging herself at Michelle this time. She struggles against you. You push her back.

"Let it go, Keeley," you say. "Just let it go."

She glares angrily at you then storms over to the chair and slumps down into it. "Fine. I'll wait here. I take it you're coming back?"

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

Michelle stands up. "Let's go, Melissa. The sooner we go, the sooner you get to come back to… your girlfriend."

You hurry her out of there.

[MORE]

"There was no need for that," you say to Michelle on the way down the stairs. "Keeley's my friend and I'm entitled to friends." You're aware you sound like a whiny kid but can't help yourself. "You had no right to talk to her like that."

Michelle doesn't say anything until you reach the bottom of the stairs and then step out into the street. She looks both ways as if checking for something.

"Michelle-"

"I heard you," she says. "And you're probably right. But this isn't the time or the place for discussing who you're fucking now, Melissa. I need to find who killed my sister. I need you focused."

You start to tell her you are focused but you sense that she's not really listening. You're not even sure why she came for you now.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

"A little place on the other side of town," Michelle says. She raises a hand and flags down a taxi. "A place called the Rapture."

[MORE]



The Rapture appears the same as it did the last time you were here: still the same, rundown, seemingly abandoned place you escaped from a year ago. Still the same stone gargoyles leering at you from atop the walls, still the same high-tech security equipment. Still the same sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"I never wanted to come here again," you say to Michelle as she leads you through the front gates.

"Me neither," she says. She looks a little pale. "But it's necessary, Melissa. Trust me on that."

"Your friends are inside?"

"Yes."

The two of you walk towards the front door of the Rapture. There are lights on in one of the rooms on the second floor, and you see someone at the window for a second before they withdraw.

You pause at the front door. "I'd appreciate you telling me what this is all about before I go into that place," you say.

"I'll tell you inside."

Something's wrong, you realise. Something's very wrong. Is this a trap?

(1) Head into the Rapture.

(2) Refuse to enter until Michelle tells you what's really going on.

> 1
"Okay," you say, "I'll go inside. I just hope I'm not making a mistake here."

"You're not," Michelle assures you. "Come inside. Everything will be fine."

She leads you inside, up a flight of dusty stairs (is this place really a nightclub? You just don't see it no matter how hard you look) and into a dimly-lit room. In the centre of which is a table complete with restraints.

You stop. "I don't like the look of this at all," you say. "What the hell's going on, Michelle?"

"What's necessary." You notice Michelle has taken several steps away from you. "I trust you, Melissa. I really do. But I can't allow for the fact that I might be wrong about you, not with something as serious as this. As Susan's death. If there's a chance-"

"A chance that I killed her? How dare you!"

"If there's a chance," she goes on, colour coming to her cheeks, "that you had any kind of connection to it at all, I'm going to get to the bottom of it one way or another."

[MORE]

You look uneasily at the table. And the restraints. Then back at Michelle.

"Is this some kind of torture chamber?" you ask, wishing you'd never agreed to come here in the first place. "You're planning to tie me to that table and torture me until you hear what you want to hear? Is that it?"

"I'm not going to torture you. I'm going to… get the truth from you. But not in a painful way, Melissa. I wouldn't do that to you. We're friends."

"Friends don't tie people to tables, Michelle."

The two of you glare at each other. You size her up. She's a little taller and heavier than you but you're six years younger. You're pretty sure you could take her in a straight on fight.

Then Michelle steps to one side and a hulking fellow steps into the room. Shit! you think. You might have been able to get the better of Michelle, but there's no way you're going to take this ape down unless you can find a shotgun or something.

[MORE]

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be," says Michelle. "Just lie on the table, Melissa. Don't make me have Callaghan hurt you."

"I'd like to see him fucking try," you say, the words coming out a little higher-pitched than you would have liked.

The hulk cracks his knuckles. "Oh, you will, girlie. You will."

"Melissa, please," says Michelle. "I promise you if you just lie down there, you won't be hurt. I just want the truth."

Callaghan takes a step towards you. From the look in his eyes, while Michelle might not want you hurt, he himself has no such qualms. Something tells you lying down might well be the best way out of this in one piece.

(1) Do as Michelle says.

(2) Attack Callaghan.

(3) Attack Michelle.

(4) Run for it.

> 1
"Okay, okay," you say. "Call off the Neanderthal."

Callaghan doesn't look very happy about this but Michelle nods to him and he backs off.

You walk over to the table and lie down on it. It feels cold against your body. Michelle walks over a moment later and ties the straps in place. You watch her do it, resisting the urge to try and drag your nails down her face as she does so.

"What the hell is going on, Michelle?" you say, trying to come across more angry than scared. You think you do a fair job of pulling it off.

Of Callaghan there is no sign. He must have left when you meekly surrendered and the opportunity to batter you around was taken from him.

"What's necessary," says Michelle, not meeting your eyes. "I believe you didn't kill my sister, Melissa. I'd bet money on it. But I have to be sure."

You swallow nervously. You test the straps. Secure. There's no way you're going to be able to break them or wriggle free.

[MORE]

"So you're going to torture me to see if I'm telling the truth then," you say. "Michelle, this is crazy. I didn't kill Susan. Mike is my alibi-"

"I don't trust Mike either." Michelle walks over to the table you're strapped to and puts a hand on your shoulder. "I'm not sure who to trust to be honest. Me and Mike have been having lots of problems recently - that's why I slept with you - and I suspect he's been sleeping around behind my back. He's been lying to me about that. I just don't know what else he's been lying to me about."

(1) "So you think me and Mike conspired to kill Susan? That's nuts."

(2) "Torturing me won't do any good, Michelle. I don't know anything."

> 1
"No, I don't," says Michelle. "My gut instinct is that you didn't have any involvement in this mess at all. That you're innocent. That…" She shakes her head. "But I've been wrong about you before. Now my sister is dead and I'm not taking any chance. If I have to hurt you to get to the truth, I will. I'll hurt you as badly as is needed."

"Torture someone enough and they'll tell you anything."

"I know. That's why you're here."

Someone enters the room, a woman about thirty years old. Brunette. Pretty.

"This is Roxanne," says Michelle. "She's going to give you an injection and Roger, another friend who works here, is going to get the truth from you."

"An injection?"

Roxanne holds up a syringe. The needle on the end of it is fully four inches long. "Just a small one, darling. Nothing to worry yourself over."

"It'll hurt," says Michelle. "But only for a bit. And not as bad as torturing you would hurt. But this way is a lot better for getting to the truth of the matter. It makes you susceptible to questions, particularly from someone like Roger."

[MORE]

You feel your throat go dry. "What's in the syringe?" you ask, having a sinking feeling you already know.

Michelle hesitates, as if unsure whether to tell you or not.

"You might as well," says Roxanne. "I think she knows anyway."

Michelle looks at you. "The mind control drug," she says. "The one you were injected with before."

"Michelle, no," you say. You're horrified that she'd do something like this to you. You're even more horrified than if she said she was going to torture you. "You know what I went through before because of that shit. You can't-"

"I can and I have to. You build a tolerance for the drug after the first time you use it, Melissa, but it still makes you susceptible to questioning. Anything we ask you after this, you'll answer truthfully because you won't have any choice in the matter." She nods to Roxanne. "Get it over with."

Roxanne bares your breasts and positions the needle against your left nipple.

"Shit," you say. "You don't have to do this-"

(1) Struggle. Maybe you can break the needle and buy yourself some time.

(2) Just get it over with.

> 2
"Is this going to hurt?" you ask as Roxanne starts to squeeze on the syringe.

"What do you think?" she replies, though not unkindly.

You grimace as the tip of the needle pierces your nipple then digs down deep, perhaps an inch deep, into your breast. The dark liquid inside starts to enter your breast.

"It'll be over in a minute, Melissa," says Michelle.

"Oh, fuck you!" you spit.

The pain in your breast reaches a peak and you grit your teeth against it, and then Roxanne is pulling the needle out. A trickle of blood oozes out and slides down the side of your breast but she wipes this away with a tissue.

You start to say something else but then everything goes black.

[MORE]

For a second or two anyway. Then you can see again. You're in the same room you were before, still tied to the table. Your left breast still bleeds. Your right, complete with a pinprick wound right near the nipple, just aches. Of Michelle and Roxanne there is no sign.

Did it work? you wonder. Is this now some kind of drug-induced dream you're in or are you still in the real world and the two of them have just left the room for the time being?

(1) Try and escape.

(2) Wait and see what happens.

> 2
You relax. Or try to.

Only your attention keeps being drawn to your breast. The cut has stopped oozing blood now but it still hurts appallingly. In fact, the more you look at it, the worse it hurts. Part of you suspects if you could find something to distract your attention, you might well succeed in pushing the pain out of mind altogether.

(1) Try and escape.

(2) Call for Michelle.

(3) Just wait.

> 3
You wait. And wait. And wait…

And notice just how thirsty you're getting. Is it just your imagining that you're thirsty or are you really thirsty?

You struggle against the straps, intending to either break them or tug an arm or leg free. If you can just free one hand then-

The door opens. In walks Michelle. She looks at you and winces. "I'm sorry we had to do that, Melissa, but we had to be sure. Come in, Roger."

A small, bespectacled fellow follows behind her. He takes one look at your bare breasts and his eyes widen.

"Oh my," he says. "Michelle, you said we wouldn't hurt the poor-"

"No more than necessary, Roger." Michelle's face is cold. "Do your thing, Roger."

Roger walks unsteadily towards you. His eyes keep darting to your breasts then he looks away hurriedly as if embarrassed to be caught staring at you like this. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out… a small medallion. Of all the things you expected - some kind of torture implement being top of the list - this wasn't it.

"I'm going to hold this before you and swing it back and forth, Melissa," says Roger. "Then I'm going-"

"Hypnotism," you say. You look at Michelle. "Is that what this is all about?"

[MORE]

Michelle nods. "The mind control drug makes you susceptible to questioning, but you might still have been able to resist. But hypnotism on top of that, and any question you're asked will have an honest an