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August, 1985


It has been a week since Camilla got arrested. Seven whole days that she’s all alone in that hell hole, at a minimum that’s one hundred and sixty-eight hours! The clock keeps ticking, louder than the crickets outside, louder than the frogs. The tick-tock-tick-tock is enough to drive me over the edge. I’m already so close, but I have to keep it together. I wonder if there’s a regular clock near Camilla’s cell or if technological Singapore is all digital? Maybe I should go digital.
Oh God, please keep her safe.
I can’t keep dodging sleep like this, but it is so much easier than the images I see when I close my eyes. Filthy paws reaching out to touch her luscious red hair, bruisers and chaffing around her wrists and ankles, those big, scared green eyes staring out of the TV screen. Knowing her the way I do, I doubt she’s sleeping either. I can picture her laying there on a thin mat, going over every step that got her there. She can’t blame this all on me; She chose!
Oh God, forgive me, why didn’t I stop her?
I get up careful not to disturb the beautiful man sleeping beside me, and feel my way to the bathroom. The night is dark as Asian hair, the floor as slanted as their eyes. Cold air seeps up through the slats of the bungalow floor. The bathroom window is open but the air does nothing to relieve the pressure around my chest. The water takes a few seconds before it comes spluttering through the tap. It is like ice on my face. The mattress squeaks. I cringe, hoping he won’t wake up. I have to do something to release this pain.
Tick-tock-tick-tock, I can hear the fucking clock from inside here. I feel for the towels but they are not on the rail. My toes find one and lift it up, it is soft, smells like baby stay soft and is super absorbent. Camilla will only get a fresh towel once a month. It will scratch her delicate skin.
Oh fuck, it’s Friday!
My knees buckle and I slide to the floor. That familiar choking sound escapes from my throat. Someone is going to die today. By now the Changi prison guards have already prepared them. Are they sitting in their cell waiting for dawn, or are they praying, crying, singing? Can Camilla hear them?
My hand grips my throat and I push down on my trachea. I can picture Camilla holding her hands over her ears, curled in a ball on that hard prison floor. Aggie says she’s too young for death row. Eli said so too, but what if the courts don’t believe that her passport is a fake? The room is closing in on me, the stars out of the window move further away. My lungs and brain scream for oxygen. I push down harder. Why should she be so close to death row when I’m the one who killed someone? My ears start to buzz. My hands are growing numb It’s Aggie I should have killed.
My hand drops to my lap, against the soft towel that Camilla can only dream about. I gag as air rushes back into my lungs. Gripping my stomach I start to rock, hitting the back of my head hard against the ceramic tiles.
Why didn’t I stop her? I should have stopped her.
Light floods the room. My eyes blink rapidly. My breathing sounds like a second hand bicycle pump. In two long strides he is beside me, bending over and lifting me into his strong arms. His neck is warm against my forehead.
Maybe he can fuck this pain away.
I tighten my arms around him as he lowers me into the bed, and pull him down with me. “I need you,” I whisper. “Please touch me!”
My one hand is over his, guiding it to my breast while I squeeze his nipple with the other. His big hand presses down on my right tit, and his warm, wet mouth seeks mine.
“Oh Rene, baby,” he whispers before our tongues meet, but I don’t want to be kissed. I push his head down to my nipple arching myself into him.
“Bite me,” I breathe, “make me feel you!”
His tongue flickers over my nipple, and his teeth nip and tease. It’s not enough!
“I’m hungry for you,” I moan, “fill me. I want to feel you.”
We haven’t been intimate since he got back and he’s been too much of a gentleman to push it. I can’t imagine what he thinks of me now, but the animal inside is wilding. My hand reaches for his penis; it’s erect as a seasoned soldier. Why wait? I swing a leg over him and slide onto his lap. Sitting on my haunches I guide him into me and come down hard so that it sinks in deep. He lets out a groan and his hands slip under my ass to support me. We have a good rhythm going; He’s puffing like a steam train.
“I’m going to come,” he moans. “Slow down.”
I’ve gone into a trance like state, I barely hear him as I pound down on him, faster, harder. He moves his hands to my hips and forces me to slow down. His member hits the g-spot and my nipples start to tingle. He’s moving me in long slow strokes. The orgasm shreds like the skins of an onion. First a thin crispy layer that sends goose flesh from the top of my neck down to my ass. I tense as the next layer rolls off, my back arches and a moan escapes from deep inside me. The final layer has my clit throbbing, my vagina pulsing. The very core of me vibrates and rumbles, squirting juice onto his throbbing cock. I cling onto him as his groan comes to an end. Hot tears run down my cheeks and roll onto his shoulder. His hands are gentle as they reach for my face.
“Oh baby,” he soothes me, kissing my eyes and tightening his arms around my back. “That’s good, let it out!”
“I’m going to kill Aggie,” I whisper.
I feel him tense but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet!


Please note that the bulk of this book is a drama, you will be disappointed if you expect too much erotica.

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