Shake That Tree Read online

  The man grabbed her hoodie and roughly pulled her out from where she had fallen. The pain in her thigh was unbearable as he dragged her over the rough garage floor. Her vision faded in and out as she skidded on her stomach, using one hand to try to avoid objects and another to protect her head. Without stopping, she was jerked straight over the brick step and into the kitchen. The door slammed behind her as she cowered, her head jammed between the floor and the wall. Sobbing, she tucked her legs up against her stomach and shielded her head. The very act of moving her legs caused a searing pain to shoot from her thigh through her back and she felt sure that the second blow had broken a bone.

  “You little punk! You fucking layabouts are all the bloody same, skipping school, stealing, doing nothing all bleeding day!” She sobbed loudly as she faced away from him, terrified of the next blow. “I’m going to call the Police. Right now! Little bastard!”

  “No!” she pleaded, in the loudest voice she could manage, breathing in hard to try to reduce the nausea. She heard steps approaching and she curled up tighter. The man ripped her hood off and gasped.

  “Jesus bleeding christ you’re a bleeding girl!” He dropped the bat next to her and she screamed in anticipation of the next blow. She heard him breathing quickly, taking huge gasps as he paced behind her. “A girl! Breaking in to my goddamn garage!”

  “No, please,” she gasped, rolling onto her back. She reached out to grab his foot but it was very difficult to focus on anything in the room. “So hungry!” she said as he seemed to float around in front of her. She watched him drift down almost level with her but still a safe three feet away.

  “Hungry? What do you mean fucking hungry?” The girl looked pale and filthy. Her hair was matted with dirt and her clothes were in an even worse state. He wanted her out of his house, gone, a problem for someone else to deal with and her most likely destination being the drug clinic.

  She shook her head, unable to concentrate on an answer. The ceiling swayed and the fluorescent strip behind the man dazzled her. He grabbed hold of her shoulders to lean her up against the wall but she simply screamed with pain and grabbed his wrists which only served to increase the agony in her arm. Taking stock of her health she felt convinced that in a short while she would vomit and need the toilet but had no strength to deal with either. She looked aimlessly around the standard kitchen, sink, cooker, cupboards, fridge and family pictures, everything still moving slowly as though she was viewing the room from a boat. She exhaled loudly as she saw a framed picture of a young girl, presumably his daughter. She coughed suddenly but thought that Plan A might still have a chance.

  “You smell pretty bad, you look filthy.”

  She looked up at him. “Been walking. Left home.”

  “And living outdoors? That’s pretty dumb in this weather. It’s bloody freezing at night!”

  She nodded as a tear left a trail down her cheek. She sobbed as her misery caught up with her. “It was OK when I left, but it rained, hail sometimes.” She heaved as though about to vomit but forced it back under control with several deep breaths. Her head sank back onto the floor, her face on the cold linoleum resting just below his feet.

  “Well, I was just about to go to sleep when you broke in!” he said, sitting at the breakfast bar. He looked at her with irritation and coldness. It was difficult to tell what sort of figure she had but he slipped his hand inside his pyjamas and adjusted his cock, peeling it away from his thigh where it had stuck and swelled slightly.

  “Can I just stay and get warm?” she whispered, not looking at him. “Maybe another ten minutes, then I’ll go.”

  “Go?” Go where?”

  “Back out. I can camp out behind your house, that’s where I was earlier,” she said, looking up at him. Her back was painful from the bent position she was in and her arm hurt, far more now than her thigh.

  “Look, I’m sorry that I hit you. I thought you were one of those little punks from up the road.”

  She shook her head as though accepting his apology but winced as she struggled to sit up against the wall. “Just hungry and so cold,” she mumbled. She was very concerned about the pain in her arm which was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Breathing in slowly and deeply she fought the dizziness and stared back down at the kitchen floor which seemed the most stationary thing in the kitchen.

  “Do you think you need to go to the hospital?”

  She thought it was a fair question but that would mess everything up, so she quickly took stock of her health and decided that she would take the chance, suffer the pain and accept the consequences. She could always get him to take her the next day. She looked up and discovered that he was no longer sitting at the counter and then saw a cupboard open and close to her left. A minute later he returned and squatted down in front of her. “What’s your name?”

  She looked up and him and smiled a little. “Holly,” she whispered.

  “Holly? Well, that’s my daughter’s name too!”

  She breathed out slowly, underscoring her hunger and primary needs even though a perverse thrill had just shot through her.

  He shook his head as he stared at her then exhaled. “Fuck it, I’ll make you some hot milk.”

  She nodded and breathed out heavily. Waves of nausea passed through as her heart continued to beat rapidly. She mouthed some words of thanks and managed a feeble smile. If she passed out now he would have no choice but to take her to the hospital. She really needed to stay conscious but the thought of food seemed to have a positive effect on her dizziness. Her buttocks clenched and she felt something pass into her jeans. Glowing now from the relative warmth of the house she breathed in deeply, holding it as though she needed all the oxygen she could find at this time. She rocked from one side of her buttocks to the other, judging that she had farted and not soiled herself as she had the previous night. The man returned and sat beside her, offering a mug of warm milk. She reached out to take it and cried out in pain as her arm reminded her of his punishment.

  “I’m so sorry, um, Holly,” he said, tilting the mug to her lips as he knelt in front of her. She drank and marveled at the thick, wholesome taste of milk and sugar.

  “OK?”

  “Mmm,” she nodded with a slight smile on her lips.

  “I think we should take a look at those injuries, don’t you?”

  “Food first?” she said, looking again at the mug for another sip. He nodded and she noted the genuine look of concern on his face. A look of fatherly worry, but not guilt. She stretched her legs out and suppressed a groan while adjusting her position against the kitchen wall. Her back was starting to ache as well. She thought about her phone, probably down to five percent now. She was at the house and the key objective now was to stay right there. Ironically her beating might have increased the odds of that happening. She looked around the kitchen again, relieved to note that her brain seemed to be back in gear once again.

  “All gone?” he said, taking the mug. She smiled and nodded, realising for the first time that he was in a dark blue dressing gown. “Do you think you can stand, get up on a bar seat for some soup?”

  “I can try. Careful!” Harry helped her to stand and almost carried her across to the bar seat where she sat and quickly laid her head on her arms to rest.

  “Soup in a couple of minutes,” he said, taking a bowl from the cupboard next to the cooker. He cut some bread and put it on a plate next to her. She reached out, tore a piece in half with one hand and ate. He frowned as she chewed and swallowed voraciously like some rescued captive, breathing heavily as she fought to keep the food down. “When did you last eat something?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Yesterday. Had a roll and some meat.” The questions were beginning to annoy her as she was sure they were delaying the soup. She looked up at the gas stove and instantly felt a huge surge in her guts. “Oh, I really need the toilet!” she gasped, embarrassed by her sudden request that would surely interrupt the cooking which he was doing especially for her.

>   He came to her side and helped her slide off the seat. She put her good arm over his shoulder and they hobbled to the small toilet by the front door, turning awkwardly once inside to position her. She was petite, light and felt almost frail.

  “Please!’ she said, struggling with her jeans as he turned to leave. He paused and stared at her. “I’m so sorry!”

  “What? You need to me to help?” he asked, remaining where he was.

  She nodded. “Too tight, just one hand, you know. Quick!” He reached out cautiously, flicked the button and tugged at the waistline around her hips. She covered herself with one hand while reaching out to grip his shoulder with the other and then lowered herself before her jeans were not even half-way down her thighs. The room filled with the staccato sound of excrement hitting the water as Harry turned in the cramped space. It seemed to echo around the little room and then bounce back, amplified, as he quickly closed the door. She groaned with embarrassment as she finally sat down on the seat and supported her head with her right hand, nauseated by the smell that had filled the little room so quickly. She was fairly sure that some of that first load had hit the floor and maybe even the miniature vase of the Virgin Mary and its plastic flower arrangement.

  Harry returned to the thick, lumpy brown soup that was bubbling gently in the saucepan. He stirred it carefully, scraping the bottom with the wooden spatula as he wondered why the girl hadn’t been wearing any knickers and just how she had got to be in such a filthy state. She seemed to be a similar build to his daughter and he smiled that it had turned out that they had the same name. His right hand drifted down again into his dressing gown and he stroked himself gently as he stared at the door of the downstairs cloakroom. He was pleased with the quick response of his cock and the growing stiffness, something that she would have to put up with when she returned as he wasn’t going to re-arrange himself especially for this dirty, unwanted visitor. It was his house, she was a burglar, wounded and at his mercy. He wondered with a smile if she might become a substitute for a dirty video sometime. After all, he would never see her again and it would be exciting to experiment outside his usual family-imposed boundaries. But he knew immediately that he could never simply expose himself to her although he would take certain liberties, maybe skip the formal introductory stages and act as though they had known each other much longer. Maybe he would simply say that he always walked around naked in the house or that he had lost the belt to his dressing gown and hope she didn’t mind.

  He thought of Lydia and Holly, 150 miles north of the house and away for four days. He expected them back on Tuesday evening in time for dinner and it was Friday night, so there was plenty of time to enjoy whatever life might offer. He looked up towards the bathroom door as the sound of another loud stream of shit hit the water then down again as his cock poked against the knob for the front gas burner. It was certainly turning into a strange night.

  Chapter 6 – Goodnight Kiss

  Harry looked up as the bathroom door opened and a bedraggled young girl ambled slowly into the kitchen. She glanced at Harry with an apologetic nod and then took her seat again at the kitchen counter.

  “Feeling better?” he asked. She looked wrecked, breathing deeply while shifting on her stool as though unable to sit comfortably.

  “A bit, thanks. I think I’m just tired and cold. And hungry. I couldn’t do my jeans up, sorry.”

  “Soup’s almost ready. Don’t worry, um Holly, about that.”

  “Thanks again, I’m feeling a lot warmer now.”

  “Supposed to be in the mid-thirties out there tonight you know.”

  He regarded her as she stared at the kitchen counter, noting her dirty but pleasant face surrounded by filthy hair. There was definitely an odor emanating from her which he assumed to be a result of her failing to wipe herself fully, but it wasn’t as distasteful as he might have thought as it had an earthy quality to it. She seemed to have a petite figure, similar in a way to his daughter. He pressed up against the drawers below the counter, rubbing his very slightly excited cock against the drawer handle.

  “I tell you what, it’s way too cold to go back outside tonight. When you’ve eaten you can get cleaned up and use my daughter’s room for the night.” With every word that left his mouth his cock hardened with the thought of having her in the house and seeing her next morning. He turned, pulling his dressing gown tighter about his body, took the saucepan off the gas and poured the soup into a bowl. Covering his semi-hardness from her eyes with the soup bowl he grabbed a spoon and placed both in front of Holly.

  “Your daughter is Holly as well?”

  “Yes, she’s up at her Grandparents with her mum, back on Monday.”

  “How old is she?”

  “She turned eighteen a couple of months ago.”

  “Oh, so I’m about a year older than her.”

  “Ok” said Harry, please with the word ‘older’.

  “So, since I’m Holly too, should I call you ‘Daddy’ as well?” she asked with a little giggle. Her white teeth lit up her face and Harry’s heart leapt with a surge of benevolence and truly honourable male intent.

  “Well, um, Holly,” he stumbled, cursing his cock for listening in to the conversation. “Just finish your soup, and here’s a roll as well as I bet you’re hungry still, right?”

  “Thanks very much,” she answered, dipping the roll into the soup. He moved over to the pantry and pulled out a packet of biscuits.

  “You said you liked chocolate biscuits, right?” he said, fumbling with the packet and his belt.

  “Er, no, but I do.”

  “You do?” he asked, frowning at her.

  “I do like chocolate biscuits.”

  “Oh, right. We’ll here’s a packet. Or shall I put them on a plate for you? To take to bed, I mean, in case you feel you need something in the night.”

  “I’ll just have a couple down here after my soup.”

  “OK, right then,” he nodded, fumbling with the packet, cursing the mention of ‘bed’.

  “Thanks Daddy,” she said in a little girl voice.

  He turned to the window and the darkness of the night had suddenly become very interesting. Holly smiled at his rear view, knowing full well that he was willing his cock to shrink and from the way he was shifting around and studiously ignoring her it probably wasn’t working too well. He was reasonably tall and had some shape in his shoulders which tapered to his waist and then swung out gently to show the swell of what she thought were tight buttocks. He should have been wearing something on his feet as she knew the floor was cold.

  “OK, bed time then,” he said, leading the way upstairs and turning the lights off as he went. “Mind the second stair, the stupid carpet is loose.”

  “Was that your study?”

  “Down there? Yes, which reminds me I need to turn my screen off,” he said as they reached the top of the stairs. “Your room, Holly’s room, is here.” He opened the door and flicked the light switch.

  “Oh, it’s so pretty!” she said with genuine approval. To the right was her desk in front of the window which looked out onto the street. Straight in front was a queen-sized bed and then to the left was a chest of drawers with some shelves. Holly dropped her meager sack of belongings on the floor and smiled to herself as she saw a group of pictures pinned to the wall beside the bed.

  “I expect you’ll want to clean up, right? You can use this nightie-thing of Holly’s for tonight. The bathroom is this way.”

  They crossed the hall and he showed her the shower controls, then left to get a towel. He returned to see her facing away from him and still wearing her bra as she attempted to shake her jeans off her feet. But his breath was taken away not by her fabulous figure, her trim legs and tight buttocks, but by the huge, purple bruises on her arm and thigh.

  “Oh Holly, those bruises!”

  “I know Daddy, I’ve just seen them in the mirror. I think the shower will ease the pain,” she said, still trying to divest herself of her jeans
.

  “Here, let me help,” he said, kneeling at her feet. He pulled the ends of the jeans alternately and got them off her feet. The smell was overpowering both from the jeans and from her body, as though she had been living in a ditch for a week. “Hol, you might need to see a doctor about those bruises” he said, staring at her feet. “I’m so very sorry”

  “Maybe Daddy, let’s see tomorrow, OK?”

  “Well OK, you get clean now, shout if you need anything, I’ll be downstairs in my study. I’ll be back up when you’ve finished.”

  “Can I wash these clothes, do you think?”

  “That’s a good idea, I have some laundry to do as well and it can all go in together,” he said, gently closing the door behind him. He got to the top of the stairs and grabbed his cock, delighted to be able to stroke it and take pleasure in a brand new, free of charge, living source of teenage arousal.

  At the bottom of the stairs he stopped and listened, not too concerned about whether she was washing but more to be sure that she was still in the bathroom. Satisfied, he went into his study, leaving the door wide open to give a view of the stairs. He slumped in his seat and grinned stupidly to himself, recalling the sight as he had gone back into the bathroom with the towel. There, no more than three feet away, had been a half-dressed angel with the tightest body he could imagine. Not an ounce of wasted flesh on her and even though he had only seen her from the back and she was filthy dirty and smelly, she was just so very enticing and most importantly, she was in his house for the night. He congratulated himself too for not looking up at her pussy as he groveled at her feet with the jeans. It would have been so very simple to gaze two feet higher and see the delicate little groove partially covered by the twisted knickers that he had somehow missed when she used the toilet downstairs. He smiled again. Holly. And Daddy. His laughter mixed with the sound of the toilet flushing from above. He would listen carefully and then go back up when he heard her leave the bathroom. His cock was rigid, a flagpole protruding from his robe and the thought occurred to him that if she came out at that moment he couldn’t go back upstairs as he had no way to hide his erection. He jogged to the laundry room, opened the washing machine and rummaged around. There were no underpants of his in there and the only underwear at all was a pair of shorts which his wife used at the gym. He sniffed them, shrugged then slipped them on. He pulled them hard to one side to tighten them up and then pulled his robe together again.