Target (An erotic romantic novella)

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Rosie L   01/02/2013

Cover art by Rosie L

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book
may be reproduced in any form, by photocopying or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without permission from both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

All places and names within this book are fictitious and any resemblance to any persons or places living or deceased is purely coincidental.

Over 18 only contains strong language, violence and scenes of explicit sex

“Don’t do it,” he said, in panic as he watched her. Wrapped in a bright red grubby coat, her tangled, long, dark hair tied back in a pony, she stood teetering on the edge. Startled by the voice, she glanced towards him.

“Why, tell me a good reason?”
she asked the stranger, as she looked back down at the dark water below.  She had had enough.  Her life was - she sighed - terrible.  She was twenty-four and alone, for some god-forsaken reason everyone in her life was gone.  Her sister being the last, killed in a fucking plane crash!  She wiped a tear from her eye.  She had no job, no home…. she had nothing.  No one would miss her no one would even care.

“I do
,” he said.  She looked over her shoulder and her eyes took him in.  He was tall, six two, jet black hair perfectly styled, a firm cleanly shaven face.  He looked fit, probably worked out, and in all he was quite attractive.

“You do what?” she
asked.

“Care,” he replied, he licked his lips nervously.  Despite her dirty face, she was so very beautiful
.  She was well spoken, her voice smooth and sexy; and as her piercing emerald eyes stared at him he trembled inside.  She frowned, how did he know what she was thinking?  “Sarah isn’t it?”

“Sorry do I know you?”
she asked.  He smiled at her, and despite everything, she found herself smiling back at him.

“You probably wouldn’t r
emember, we met at the shelter on West Street,” he replied, as he took a step towards her.  He remembered her smile, those emerald eyes that had looked at him so sadly, as he had ladled her soup.

“You were staying there?” she asked.

He laughed, and his eyes sparkled.  She smiled again there was something about him that lifted her gloom.

“No, I volunteer there, when I can,” he said, stepping even closer
.  She panicked and moved closer to the edge.

“Don’t Sarah I
am not going to touch you, I promise.”  His heart jumped to his throat.

“What are you doing here anyway?” she asked.

“I passed you in the high street.  I recognised you, and I have worked long enough with the homeless to see someone in desperate need.  I followed you Sarah.  Please come down,” he begged.  “I just want to talk, to give you another alternative to this.”  He nodded down to the river.  He would not tell her that he had been searching for her for weeks, every shelter in every town; she would think he was a stalker.  He swallowed as he gazed at her.

“What other alternative
, living the rest of my life in some alley, and being forced into doing something I don’t want to do to survive?”

“No not at all.” 
She glanced at him and as her eyes met his, he held them for a while.

“You a
re an artist, right?” he questioned, his voice, deep and affluent.  She wiped a tear with the back of her hand.

“Yes,” she replied in a whisper.

“I am helping to run a summer camp for underprivileged kids, the coach leaves on Saturday for Devon.  Would you like to come and help, teach the kids some art, gluing, and sticking, that sort of stuff?”  She looked back into the water and gave a heavy sigh.

“It pays to
o,” he added quickly.  She glanced back at him.

“How much
?” she asked, curiously.

“Twelve hundred pounds, it is for six weeks, bed, and food included.  How about it Sarah, will you come?”

Sarah frowned as she thought.  Twelve hundred pounds would be enough to secure a bedsit; it would get her off the streets, give her a permanent address, and a chance to get a job.

He smiled
, and held out his hand, he was not going to let her jump.  Her hand wavered, and then as she touched him, she felt an electrical tingle go right through her body, and her heart pounded as he held her hand firmly and helped her down of the wall of the bridge.

“Do you have anywhere to stay until Saturday?” he asked
tenderly.  Sarah shook her head.  It was Thursday, she had not thought beyond this day, yet alone the weekend.

“You can come back with me, if you like?” he offered.  “I have already checked in at the manor, I came back to sort out the coaches,” he lied.

“Thank you, if you are sure,” she replied.

“Of course I am.”

“I don’t know your name?” she said, needing to know if he was the one the man had told her about, or if he was just a kind stranger wanting to help.

“Rick
,” he introduced.  Still holding her hand, he shook it gently in greeting and she reciprocated, before letting go.

“Thank you Rick,” she said gratefully
, her eyebrow lifting at his name.

“Is that yours?” he asked, pointing to a
small holdall.  She nodded; it was all she had left in the world.  He picked it up.

“Are you hungry Sarah, do you want to get something to ea
t before we travel?” he asked.

Sarah’s eyes wandered all over him, and she wondered for a moment why he had just done what he did
, and how did the other man know that he would come?  If he was who the man had said he was, why bother to follow her from town, why bother to save her?  All her life she had faced abuse and violence, memories of her childhood blocked from her mind.  She had run away with her sister, Skye, and together they rented a small flat in town.  She had a job, a home, a sister she loved and then in an instant, it was all gone.  Her sister had died on holiday, the small light aircraft she and her friend had been flying in, crashed into the sea, her body washed away.  Torn apart in grief Sarah lost her job, her home, and she wandered from town to town, one shelter to another.

Last night, hungry and with all hope gone, she was t
empted to sleep with a man for money.  His vile drunken breath made her want to vomit, she had shook as his hands slipped inside her top, caressing her breast harshly, and as his other hand groped inside her pants, she panicked and shoving him off her, she made a run for it.  Afterwards she had been in such a depression that she had thought to kill herself, she had nothing left to live for. It was then that the stranger approached her and he told her all about Rick; he had made her an offer she was not sure she could refuse.  She had been thinking about it all night, worrying whether or not she could do it, then she decided if he came, she would go through with it, if he did not, she would jump.

“Sarah, are you hungry?” Rick asked again.  She had a faraway look in her eyes, as if recalling a m
emory.

“Sorry, yes I would.  Rick I have no money,” she said
, a little embarrassed.

“
Don’t worry, my treat,” he offered, giving her an understanding smile.

“Thank you,”
she replied, gratefully. She inhaled him as he walked passed, he smelt so nice.  As she followed him, she could not figure out why he had come, why bother saving her if he had done what the man had said, it did not make sense.

They entered
a small café, and Rick walked her to a table.  Dropping her holdall, he shoved it underneath the table and sat down.  Sarah looked at her hands, they were filthy; she had not washed properly for a week and suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed, she must have stunk.

“Rick I am just going to the loo,” she said.

“Okay, do you want a cuppa?” he asked.  She nodded.

“Yes please.”

“No problem, we will order when you get back,” he said, as he picked up the menu.  She nodded silently and made her way to the toilets.  She could not help but think everyone was staring at her.  They must have looked odd.  Rick, although in jeans and a t-shirt, looked smart and well groomed, and she - she looked like a tramp.  She sighed heavily as she opened the toilet door.  Who was she kidding she was a tramp.

She walked
over to the mirror, and stared at herself.  God she was appalling.  She would have hurried passed herself if she had seen her walking down the street towards her, she was that disgusting.

Filling the sink with water, she lathered her hands and washed th
em, the water turned black.  She drained the sink and refilled it.  Cupping her hands she washed her face, two drained sinks later she looked reasonably clean.  She sighed again as she pulled the scrunchie out of her hair and her long, dark matted hair dropped to her waist. 

A young girl came out of the
cubicle and she stared at her as she washed her hands.  Sarah gave her a slightly embarrassed smile back as she threw some water into her hair to try to tame it down.  The girl rummaged in her bag, and pulling out a lipstick, she applied it to her lips.  She glanced at Sarah.

“Here,” she said, holding out a
hairbrush towards her.  Sarah looked at the brush.  “Well go on take it, I saw you out there with that bloke, he’s hot, and well - you don’t look so great.  I have another.”  She put the brush down on the side of the sink, and then walked out.  Sarah stared at it for a moment.  Sometimes people astounded her.  Many would just walk by, ignoring her begging, then others like Rick, and that girl….  She picked up the brush pulled it through her matted hair, adding water now and then to try to freshen it.

She stared at
herself; she looked better, not brilliant, but better.

Rick looked up as she approached
and his heart beat faster.  She had washed her face, and underneath the grime, her skin was clear, and pale.  She had brushed her matted hair and plaited it; a few short wisps now framed her beautiful face.

He said nothing as she sat down.  Sarah put the hairbrush into her holdall and picked up the menu.

“Okay?” he finally asked.  She nodded and then looked up as the waitress brought their mugs of tea.

“Thank you,” she said,
as she gathered the warm mug into her hands.

“So, what will you have?” he asked, unable to take his eyes of her.

“I don’t mind,” she replied, looking up at him.  She swallowed as his dark eyes lingered on her, her body trembling at their intensity.

“How about the
full English?” he suggested.