Guard and handcuffs | Women's Prison | bdsm stories

This is madness, it just can’t be happening, Jenny thought as she stepped off the launch onto the wooden jetty. The bright sunshine forced her to shield her eyes with both hands and the woman guard assisted her to make the difficult step from the small boat. The handcuffs that Jenny wore had rubbed her wrists throughout the long journey and the female guard was either unsympathetic or she simply didn’t understand. The cut-down jeans that served as her shorts pulled tightly and uncomfortably into Jenny’s pussy, the warm weather didn’t help either. Hot and sweaty, she felt terrible; the light cotton blouse stuck to her damp body, moulding itself to the shape of her breasts and restrained by the tight bra that she wore. The only concessions that the guard had allowed her, was to post a hastily scribbled letter and to tie-back her long blonde hair into a pony tail; that at least had made her feel a little better.

The prison stood before her, looming up from the sun-baked soil. Drab, white painted walls that had peeled badly in the constant bleaching it received from the hot Mediterranean sun. Jenny’s heart dropped, some holiday this had turned out to be, she thought bitterly. Many times she had asked the woman guard to tell her where and why they were going to wherever it was that she was being taken, all to no avail; nothing but silence in return.

A rough shove from the guard behind her, urged Jenny towards the great wooden gates set into an archway at the front of the building. The prison looked fearsome and uninviting and her confidence now began to escape her. Jenny was however confident in her belief that soon, very soon, the British Consulate would come to her rescue, but in the meantime she would be locked up waiting. The fears that she harboured now were for what lay beyond those gates and how the other prisoners would receive her; Jenny shuddered involuntarily, despite the heat.

She had left Luton airport, full of hope and excitement, looking forward to a relaxing holiday in the sun, a time to just get away and to have time alone to think. Following the break-up of her relationship with Michael she certainly had needed it! Bastard that he was. She would go alone; she had decided, to Sicily, the jewel of the Mediterranean the brochure had said. Jewels, the crown jewels anyway, were securely locked away, just as she was to be. Arrested in the street, with no time or opportunity to do anything about it, even if she had known how to anything and then brought here to this God-forsaken place.

“Avanti,” the woman guard urged curtly, prodding Jenny with the long baton that she carried. The guard’s attitude had changed now, throughout the journey she had been fairly passive, guiding and helping as needed. Now, in front of the prison, her mood seemed to have changed and her manner hardened.

The beige uniform that the guard wore was stained with sweat under the armpits and a sinister looking pistol in a leather holster was strapped around her waist. A strange occupation for a woman to volunteer for, Jenny thought.

They stopped a short distance from the tall gates. A tangle of rusty barbed wire curled around the top of the gates and all along the walls, two guards with rifles stood sentry on a platform above the gates; all this added to the foreboding that she felt. Jenny waited for the female guard to complete the paperwork with an evil looking male guard that had stepped out from between the huge gates. His eyes roamed Jenny’s body hungrily, lingering on her slim tanned thighs, a sardonic grin creasing his unshaven face. Lustful and leering, he was horrible, Jenny looked away.

Jenny’s mind wandered in desperation, seeking answers and solutions. She had been arrested and she didn’t know why! Just over eighteen years old, they couldn’t keep her here - could they? Her heart sank as the female guard, bitch that she was, turned and walked past her back towards the launch. She had said little to Jenny during the journey, for she spoke only a few words of English, but being female, she had at least offered some degree of comfort to Jenny in this strange place, now even that was gone. Only the grinning ape of the guard before her remained, fear gripped Jenny as he beckoned her forward and inside the gates.

Once inside the small hut that served at the gatehouse, Jenny stood silently, her hands down in front of her, manacled as the were before her. The guard, dirty and unshaven leered at her, circling her slowly, looking her up and down, she felt so humiliated. Exactly what he wanted her to feel, the bastard was enjoying her discomfort and revelling in the small amount of authority he held. His gorilla-like hands stroked her long hair and Jenny shrugged her shoulders to show her disapproval to him, pulling away as he caressed her.

“There has been a terrible mistake,” Jenny said trying to break the silence.

He continued walking slowly around her until at last he stood in front of her, his stained teeth showing through his hideous grin. His eyes searched at the gap in her blouse just above her cleavage, Jenny shuddered.

“The British Consulate,” Jenny further attempted to state her case. “Will be contacting you shortly, I need to see the governor immediately.”

The guard stared at her for a moment then burst-out laughing, a low and mocking laugh that came from deep down in his fat belly.

“Stupid English bitch,” he said suddenly, the smile gone from his face and replaced by a serious and threatening frown that sent spears of stabbing fear into Jenny. This just wasn’t what she had expected; they couldn’t treat her like this.

She backed away from him as he reached forwards and gripped the chain of the handcuffs that secured her wrists. Brutally, he yanked the handcuffs high above her head; her arms stretched and forced her onto the tips of her toes. Tall and strong, he held her suspended uncomfortably, the handcuffs biting cruelly into her already sore wrists. His big hand circled around her to grip her buttock and to squeeze painfully. He smiled, his face close to hers as he groped her soft flesh through the shorts, pulling her on to him to press himself against her.

“What the hell do think you’re doing?” Jenny blurted fearfully.

He merely smiled in response and forced her backwards until she felt the wall at her back. His hips forced against her, she could feel his stiff cock pressing into her stomach. Harder now he pressed against her, grinding his hips to gain the feelings of her softness on his cock.

It revolted her; she wriggled and squirmed to try to free herself, kicking out at his shins, all to no avail.

Again he laughed at her, his breath reeking of stale tobacco; he forced his hips harder against her, grinding and rubbing himself on her soft body, forcing her against the wall. The delight he was experiencing showed on his face.

“Bastard! I’ll report you,” she threatened.

Silent, calm and unhurriedly, he lifted her with both hands; her feet clear of the floor now. The chain of the handcuffs slid over the coat-hook on the wall behind her, leaving her suspended. The intense pain in her arms pulled angrily at her delicate muscles, the handcuffs bit sharply into her wrists. She whimpered in her discomfort and now rising fear. Every small movement of her body was pure agony. Jenny chose to hang there; still and unmoving, creating a submissive air that would perhaps calm him a little.

In one swift move, his great, ape-like hands gripped at her flimsy blouse and ripped it open. Her bra snapping as though it were paper under his brute strength. It left her soft, firm breasts open to his hungry gaze, the rubbery nipples standing erect and inviting. Jenny blushed scarlet; this was total humiliation such as she had never before experienced. No man, not even Michael, had treated her in such a rough and crude manner.

The overweight guard looked at her soft rounded orbs of flesh, his excitement rising. He gripped his rigid cock through his trousers and squeezed, feeling himself and adding to his arousal, Jenny gave a defeated sigh as she feared the worse. His large hands now moved to cover her breasts, squeezing and feeling, hard and uncaring, delighting in both the feels of her youthful body and the humiliation he was subjecting her to. The big fingers pulling at her tender nipples, pressing them spitefully between finger and thumb.

Jenny screamed, then again louder, he simply laughed and dipped his head down to take one delicate nipple in his mouth. The slimy mouth on her began sucking and rolling the soft nipple around with his tongue, then flicking it lightly with the tip.

Jenny tried to speak, to get him to stop, no words would come and she sobbed softly as the assault continued. Spears of electric pain shot through her as his teeth clasped around her soft nipple, he bit hard, her slim body convulsed and shuddered as the new series of agonising pain racked her.

“Nice? English bitch,” he stopped only to sneer and then resumed his torture on the other nipple. One hand now moved between her legs, gripping and cupping her pussy through the thick jeans. His big hand squeezed coarsely, raw pain shot through her and she screamed, with each new grip of his great hand, she screamed anew. Sucking and biting, her breasts suffered his slimy wet mouth and tongue as he grabbed at her pussy, the more she struggled, the more he groped her.

At last he moved back a step, his face flushed and smiling, through her tears she could see the huge bulge in his trousers as his hard cock pressed against them. He was panting, excited and hungry, Jenny feared his next move. She cried out, more a wail of despair as he gripped the waistband of her shorts.

‘Like cock?’ he asked her in his broken English, he grinned and ripped the thick material open. Her small white panties were flimsy; they could offer no protection to her most secret place. All hope now of saving herself gone, Jenny sobbed loudly in desperation as her shorts fell to bunch around her ankles.

Jenny’s arms ached and her wrists burned with pain, the bastard was unmoved as she screamed her defiance venomously at him. His hand slipped down the inside of her torn panties, a thick finger pushing straight up into her pussy forcing her soft labia apart. Crude and rough were his movements inside her, the thick finger searching her soft interior.

Jenny cried out, both in pain and hopelessness, he moved the finger all around inside her, smiling at her constantly in her discomfort. Defiling and invading her private parts he delighted in the feel of her soft pussy, it showed in his huge smile.

“Please,” she pleaded. “Please, I’ll give you money, lots of it please.”

He withdrew his hand and stood sniffing at her juices that coated his finger, Jenny tried not to look, it was as though he had part of her on him and she didn’t want that at all.

“I can send it to you,” she said hopefully, glad that his hands were now away from her. “Just let me go and I’ll send you thousands of pounds,” she lied.

He was licking the finger now, sucking and savouring her pussy juice as he would a sweet melon.

Delighting in her taste, the type of flavour that makes you want more. His hands moved down to begin unbuttoning his trousers, Jenny groaned heavily with despair, resigning herself to the inevitable. So alone and helpless, she would have no alternative but to endure the coming assault.

She watched as he fumbled to ease his stiff cock from the restraints of his pants and produced a thick throbbing member. Long and gnarled, it was huge, a great bulbous head and thick shaft, the foreskin was pulled back tightly along the great cock. His sickly grin increased as he proudly displayed his pulsing cock. Slowly he began wanking himself, watching her turn her head aside so as not to see the spectacle.

He advanced on her, prick in hand, his bulky, sweating form dwarfing her slim petite frame.

Close now, the head of his great cock pressed against the bare flesh of her stomach, she could smell him, revolting and unwashed. For several moments he rubbed the head of his cock over her bare flesh, moving slowly and ever downward toward her pussy. Jenny groaned through her sobs as it almost reached the top of her pubic arch. The velvety head produced a drop of lubricant that smeared across her soft body as he rubbed. For a moment he paused there, holding his cock against her pubis just above the top of her labia.

Jenny’s eyes clamped shut; she tensed her body and fought against her natural reaction to gag. She could feel the bile in her stomach beginning to rise.

“Now, we meet governor,” he said flatly and burst out laughing again. By the time Jenny looked to face him, he had moved away and was re-buttoning his trousers. She sighed with relief, the pain in her arms and wrists forgotten in her delight, light sobs racking her body as the relief washed over her. The delight that she felt that her ordeal was over and that she had been spared the horror of him inside her was too much, she broke-down sobbing heavily.

Roughly, he lifted her down to stand on her feet, the burning pain in her wrists eased and the blood-flow returned. Jenny bent quickly to pull her torn shorts back into place around her hips, she squeezed her shoulders together and tried to cover her breasts with her arms as best she could.

Equally roughly the guard shoved her hard through the open door of the small hut to land sprawling, face down in the dust of the yard outside. Angry at his actions, but relieved that he hadn’t at least fucked her, Jenny remained silent and tried to stand.

The searing pain that bit into the outside of her thigh made her yelp, it had stunned her momentarily.

Again the baton struck her, on the buttocks this time. Hot and burning, pain as she had never known, made worse by his hideous laughter. On all fours Jenny crawled quickly to escape him, other guards gathered to watch and jeer as he swiped at her raised buttocks. Every so often he would slide the baton between her legs to prod at the lips of her labia, encouraged by the shouts of the other guards who hooted and clapped their approval.

The ape-guard steered her, by a series of painful blows and kicks with his great boot to crawl towards a doorway set in the stonework under a small archway.

He enjoyed the chase, the faster she crawled to evade the blows the faster he hit her. Puffing and panting the guard moved quickly alongside her to strike her some more. Jenny bit her lip through her tears, for to show pain would only encourage him more. It seemed to last forever, the distant doorway never seeming to come closer. Jenny scrambled faster on her hands and knees, trying to ignore the pain and just wished this to end.

At last they reached the doorway and stopped, he gripped her arm roughly and hauled her to her feet, Jenny used her manacled hands to try to hold the remnants of her torn clothing across her exposed body and to hold up her torn shorts. Her body crouched as she attempted to cover herself, the handcuffs hampering her attempts and leaving much of her body exposed.

Roughly, she was prodded and pushed along dimly lit corridors, up small dingy flights of dank, smelly stairs. Occasionally, he would grip her arse, feeling her firm buttocks and pinching her. His thick fingers moving between her legs from the back to press against her labia, he really was a bastard. She could do nothing but endure the sickening touching of the big ape. At one time his great hands slid under her arms from behind, cupping her breasts and forcing his cock to press against her buttocks. Jenny endured it all in silence.

Eventually the surroundings changed, she was shoved into a wide corridor, brightly lit and sweeter smelling. The walls were clean and well decorated, a large chandelier hung from the ornate plastered ceiling and cool marble tiles covered the floor. She was guided, more gently now towards the wide set of varnished mahogany doors at the end of the long corridor.

The ape-guard thumped heavily on the solid doors and then opened one half for Jenny to enter; he stood back to allow her to pass without entering himself. He allowed himself one final feel of her backside as she passed him and then the door closed without him entering.

Since receiving Jenny’s scribbled and confused letter, Pauline Myers had been racing around gathering bits and pieces in preparation for her trip. The usual English weather in Hertfordshire was throwing rain down on her in torrents as she left the house and headed for the travel agents to collect her ticket. The information the agent gave her that Jenny had rented a villa just outside Palermo was a start, but where she would find her from there, she didn’t know.

Her mind was busily turning over the possibilities of Jenny’s situation. ‘Come quickly, need you now on the Island of Women,’ the letter had said. Hastily written and posted in Sicily six days before, she knew her friend wouldn’t send such a letter just to wind her up. Quite what Jenny expected her to do she didn’t know, and what in hell was the Island of Women anyway? She knew Jenny was in Sicily for she had taken her to the airport, but that was about all she did know. As to Sicilian, or was it Italian? Of its way of life and systems, she knew nothing. All she did know was that she was headed there to be with and to support Jenny in whatever it was she was doing.

The flight-ticket collected and safely in her handbag, Pauline walked into the mini-cab office and gave her destination as Luton airport. Within ten minutes she was on her way, a nervous and uncertain feeling nipping at her in the pit of her stomach.

In the back seat of the mini-cab Pauline checked her short auburn hair in the small mirror that she always carried. She nervously smoothed her short black skirt and checked her bright-red painted fingernails as they sped toward the airport.

Jenny stood alone in the sumptuous room as the door closed behind her, she felt humble and ashamed as she tried again to cover herself with what remained of her clothing. The painful parts of her body where the guard had struck her throbbed to remind of the events. Bruised and aching, she stood there feeling at an all-time low; things couldn’t have seemed more miserable. The only good part was that at last she was away from the groping hands of the ape-guard and she was thankful for that at least.

Clean and airy, the room was inviting; modern cane furniture blended perfectly with the obviously expensive antiques and paintings that were dotted around in an elegant and well planned style. Fresh smelling and inviting, the room was so different to those gruesome corridors that she had passed through on her way up here. So very different from most places she had visited since arriving for her holiday.

Mostly poor or modest, the other buildings she had seen were certainly not a patch on this. It showed wealth, and lots of it, for few of the islanders could even begin to dream of such palatial surroundings.

“Miss Jenny Barton,” the loud voice said in greeting. “Please, come in and make yourself at home.”

Jenny looked around the room mistrusting; searching for the source of the voice, she craned her neck cautiously to try to see around the corner of the wall that jutted out into the room.

He appeared, from behind a small return wall. Smartly dressed in a dinner jacket and matching trousers, complete with bow tie and patent leather shoes. Short and slightly balding, but with a kindly face and warming manner, he approached and offered his hand formally. Jenny shrugged and indicated that shackled as she was she was unable to accept his offered hand. He withdrew it and smiled kindly.

“Welcome to La Isola delle Femine, the Island of women. I am the governor of this prison, Marco Raetano,” he said smiling, obviously proud of his title and position.

His English was almost perfect, just a hint of accent to portray his Latin origins. About fifty Jenny guessed he was, clean and smart, so very different to what she had imagined he would be.

Jenny sighed heavily with relief; it was nice to experience civilised behaviour once again after the greeting she had received from the ape-man at the gates.

“Thank you for your courtesy governor, it’s a pleasure to meet you, more of a pleasure that you realise.

But some welcome I received at the hands of your guard. Do you know he...”

“Later,” he interrupted holding up his hands to quieten her. “First, a shower for you and something to eat might be in order. My private bathroom is at your disposal, Miss Barton.”

“Jenny,” she corrected him smiling. “And yes, I would appreciate a shower.”

He guided her to the doorway and paused only to unlock the handcuffs with the small key he held in his hand and to open the door for her.

“I shall be waiting for you on the balcony when you have finished, then we will eat. For now, bathe away the dust of your journey and we will talk afterwards.”

The bath had been wonderful; showers just didn’t seem the same somehow. Lots of soapy suds and foam, but best of all, the warm water covering the body to cleanse and to comfort, that’s what Jenny really liked. For a long time she had first bathed, changed the water and again soaked, lounging in the deep coating of sweet smelling bubbles to soothe her tired body. The large bathroom was like something out of a Cleopatra movie, marbled walls and floor, a sunken bath with gold fittings and decorative coloured bottles of sweet smelling fragrances to add to the steaming water. Jenny had used them liberally, helping to wash away the unpleasant memories of the gatehouse. She was glad, very glad indeed that she was now in the safe keeping of the governor. Civilised and polite, Jenny felt relaxed and confident with him as she brushed her long hair for the final time before laying the brush down and pulling on the robe.

Such a nice man the governor had turned out to be, well mannered and certainly well bred. Jenny liked him, although he certainly wasn’t her type. A bit too old and short, she liked her men tall even if age wasn’t such an important factor.

She tied the thick towelling robe tightly around her waist and stepped out into the large living room before walking cautiously through and out onto the wide balcony outside. All this grandeur and wealth seemed so out of proportion to the horrible tatty standard of the prison itself, this part of the building was more like a luxury villa than a governor’s quarters. The fragrant scent from the ornate gardens below filled her nostrils instantly in the early evening light, relaxing her further. The light, warm breeze cooling in the oppressive heat and the view over the small stretch of sea was stunning. In the background, the island of Sicily, the lights of the capital, Palermo, twinkling brightly in the background. It could, in other circumstances, have been a most romantic of settings.

“Please, Jenny, join me,” the governor implored standing up from the small table where he had waited for her. Two white-coated waiters hovered close-by and held her chair formally for her to sit. The wine poured into two large glasses, Jenny gulped the strong drink greedily then bit into the bread roll that waited for her on a side plate.

“I see you are hungry,” the governor stated, sitting and sipping delicately at his wine. His eyes roamed her and lingered on the gap at the top of her towelling robe at the point where her cleavage began. His eyes never left her as she ate heartily on the bread roll. The sensual way her soft lips moved, her moist inner mouth as it opened, the prominent cheekbones that moved as she chewed. A stirring in his groin confirmed his initial thoughts. He congratulated himself at having selected her. From the moment he had seen her in that street in Palermo he had felt she was perfect. Watching her at her villa had strengthened that initial reaction. Years of practice had told him what perhaps she didn’t even know herself; he had that knack of knowing. The arrest, well, the usual policeman had once again served him well in finding where she was staying and arranging her transportation here; he made a mental note to express his thanks to the inspector in the usual way.

A large bowl of pasta with a thin steak and vegetables to follow had filled her stomach to aching; her third large glass of wine began to make Jenny feel a little tipsy.

He sat back when he had finished and lit a small cigar watching her constantly. Dark piercing eyes that darted from one part of her to another and then back again, the whole of her came under his scrutinising gaze.

“I wish to make a complaint about your guard, he assaulted me sexually - damn near raped me!” Jenny gushed when at last her mouth was empty of food, seeking revenge on the big ape-guard.

“Do you indeed,” he said calmly, smiling slightly at her manner.

“When the British Consulate gets to hear of this...”

“A mere taste Jenny,” he interrupted, tapping the ash from his cigar over the rail of the balcony. “A small taste of what life in prison is like here, so very different from that in England don’t you think.”

Jenny looked at him in confused disbelief. Her eyes searched his face for even the faintest glimmer of a change of expression to indicate that she had misheard him.

“You don’t mean to tell me that you know of and agree with what happened out there!” she said angrily, pointing in the rough direction of the gate.

He sat back casually in his chair, shrugging his shoulders and spreading his hands wide in the Latin gesture of non-committal and disinterest.

“I haven’t even been told why I am here!”

The governor shrugged and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table.

“In your country I believe it is called soliciting.”

“What! What did you say?” Jenny shouted angrily in response. “I haven’t done anything! And certainly not that!”

He sat back lazily in his chair, his expression serious.

“My task follows the court’s decision Jenny. I do not bring charges nor do I impose sentence, I simply carry out the court’s order.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Jenny said sarcastically.

“Prisons are, by their very nature, unpleasant places. Here in Sicily, we do things differently to your country.”

“Including sexually abusing the female prisoners?” Jenny snapped at him, she was fuming, struggling to restrain herself from really yelling at him again as she felt she would like to. She held her anger in-check, wanting to keep the meeting as amiable as it had started.

“I will tell the British...”

She started in surprise as he leaned forward and slammed his hand down hard on the table, it shocked her into silence and he stared at her menacingly.

“Miss. Barton - Jenny,” he said calmly, sitting back again, his composure seemingly unruffled. “Let me put it simply for you. You have been sentenced to remain for two years at this prison...”

“Two years!” Jenny yelled at him in shocked surprise, she rose to her feet quickly sending the chair crashing hard back against the tiled terrace.

“But I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done and I haven’t even had a trial!”

“Life here can be hard and difficult,” he continued as though she had never spoken. “Or it can be pleasant and rewarding, which it will be - only you can decide.”

“How do you mean?” Jenny asked slightly nervously, her mind in turmoil.

He smiled at her, his face and forehead coated in a light covering of perspiration.

“You can co-operate with me or you can be left to the mercy of the guards.”

Stunned, Jenny stared at him, hoping for a smile that would indicate that he was joking; his expression remained serious and fixed.

“Sleep with you. That’s what you mean isn’t it?” she yelled at him angrily.

He sat calmly, unruffled by her outburst. His manner confident and so self-assured.

“No Jenny,” he said in a level but certain tone. “I expect you to serve me.”

Anger and frustration boiled up in Jenny, her body trembled as she tried to control herself.

“And I do this willingly I suppose?” she asked sarcastically.

He smiled that deceptively kind smile that he had obviously worked hard at perfecting and had succeeded.

“But of course, Jenny. Anything that you do must and will be of your own free will.”

“Some choice!” she snorted in disgust.

His voice contained a hint of his rising impatience and irritation; he looked directly at her and said.

“That’s exactly what it is, a choice. Life itself is made up of choices Jenny.” He stood as if to signal the end of the interview. “The choice of life here is yours alone, you have until tomorrow evening to decide and not a moment longer.” He paused for effect. “After that, you go to the guards.”

He turned, stubbed his cigar out on the dinner plate and walked away. Jenny leapt cat-like and in one bound she was on his back pulling furiously at his remaining hair and trying to scratch his face. Spitting and screaming wildly, her eyes wide and a demented look about her.

“Bastard, you fucking shit of a bastard,” she screamed at him, saliva dribbling from her bottom lip. All her pent-up anger and frustration gushing out in one moment, the pain and discomfort that she had endured all released now and aimed at him. The waiters grabbed her instantly and pulled her free of the stunned governor. They held her fast by the arms as he straightened his hair and tie, then he approached her, his face flushed and eyes burning with anger. His composure however, he retained throughout despite the attack upon him. The icy stare showed that deep within him there lay hidden a more evil and sinister side to him.

“Stupid move Miss. Barton, a very silly move indeed,” he said breathing fast and fighting to resist the temptation to strike her.

“I will give you overnight to think about the consequences of your actions. My offer is still open, but is a one time offer, think carefully Miss. Barton.”

The warning in his voice was clear, it made Jenny shudder and wish that she hadn’t after all, acted so impetuously.

The governor signalled with his hand and Jenny was dragged backwards by the arms as the guards took her away.

***

Throughout the flight Pauline had read every magazine to try to gain some information on Sicily, there was surprising little given that it was a flight to that very island. The stewardess had given some information, tourist stuff mainly and she had shot-off like a scalded cat to attend to someone when Pauline had mentioned the Island of Women. The old man sitting next to her reeked of body odour, adding to her growing dislike for everything even remotely associated with the damned island.

Her mind a whirl, Pauline still couldn’t shift the uneasy tension that filled her, question after question as to Jenny’s demise came to her and she knew none of the answers. Nor was she any nearer to being able to even offer any solutions. Her mood darkened and she gazed out of the window down to the blue of the sea below her, she just wanted this to be over and to return to England.

The thoughts of her friend Jenny just wouldn’t shift from her mind. Pauline felt guilty, Jenny had asked her to go with her, to holiday together and do the silly things that the two friends always did together on their nights out. Pauline had declined, the holiday was tempting but she had wanted to save her money, that silly car she had her eye on just didn’t seem so important to her now. She wished that she had gone with Jenny after all, and then perhaps none of this would have happened. Pauline looked absently out of the window down onto the parched soil of the small fields close to the runway as they came into land, the hairs on the back of her neck raised in an instinctive warning of foreboding.

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