The Proto Haunted CottageChapter 3
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The Proto-Haunted CottageChapter 5 free porn video
We found a single police car still out front alongside my Nissan and Prudence’s Mazda. Outside, in the lane, we found the young PCSO. He looked lost.
“What are you still doing here?” asked Prudence. “I thought your role ended when the reinforcements arrived.”
“They said I was doing a good job keeping unwanted people away and told me to keep on doing it.”
“They’ve all left now. I’m sure they didn’t mean you had to continue guarding the place after they left.”
“I tried ringing the station at Tauncester for instructions but it’s closed for the night.”
“Well, the press haven’t got wind of this yet, and the only thing to see is a hole in the ground where a body used to be, surrounded by crime scene tape, so it’s safe to say you can go now,” said Prudence. “If anyone complains, let me talk to them.”
“Thanks,” said the PCSO.
I felt sorry for the youngster. “You did a good job guarding the place,” I said. “If you don’t have to rush off home, let me buy you a pie and a pint in the Poacher’s Arms.”
“I don’t want to be a gooseberry,” said the PCSO, indicating Prudence and myself as though we were a couple.
Prudence giggled. “I’ve known Father O’Malley less than a day,” she said. “He’s a guest here and I’m a lawyer representing the property owners. If you won’t accept a drink from the Father here, I’d be happy to buy you one as an apology for my rudeness earlier. It wasn’t aimed at you personally.”
“Okay. Thanks,” said the youngster. “I get that a lot. I want to be a real copper but the force is recruiting mostly graduates and minorities. I took the job because there’s the possibility of career progression if I do well.”
The three of us walked to the Poacher’s Arms. When Tom the barman saw me enter, he scowled and made towards me, hesitating when he saw the uniformed PCSO with me. Suddenly the whole pub burst into a spontaneous round of applause and I was surrounded by locals slapping my back and shaking my hand. Tom looked totally bewildered and the kitchen staff appeared from the pub kitchen to see what all the commotion was about.
The pub was heaving. I hadn’t known so many people lived in the village. The regulars had brought their wives with them and there were plenty of not-so-regulars too.
“I never thought I’d say this to townies,” called out Dennis, “but the whole of Coombe Ottery thanks you. You’ll always be welcome here.”
There was an enthusiastic “Hear hear!” from the crowd.
We spent a very pleasant evening in the pub. Prudence and I weren’t allowed to buy any drinks, the locals insisted on buying for us. I had my usual bottle of Guinness then switched to soft drinks. Prudence tried the owner’s blackberry-flavoured beer and liked it so much she had a second pint, but declared that her limit. The young PCSO tried a pint too, but refused to drink any more, saying he still had to drive back to Tauncester.
Prudence and I got back to Rose Cottage just before midnight. I got into bed then relaxed into my fugue state. As I expected, everything was quiet. Emily had gone.
When I retuned my senses to the corporeal world, I found a nightdress-clad Prudence in my bedroom, sitting on a chair and pensively watching me.
“She’s gone, hasn’t she?” she asked.
“Yes. I know that’s a good thing because it represents a step closer to the afterlife, but it all happened so quickly that I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s me - I get things done.”
“Don’t be. If it weren’t for you, I’d undoubtedly have been overwhelmed by everything involved in trying to get Emily’s body retrieved.”
“Now we’ve done that, I’d like our own private celebration. I want to sleep with you. Since you’re no longer a priest, your vow of celibacy doesn’t apply.”
That took me completely by surprise. Prudence was a very attractive woman, in her prime, and we got along well together, but she was way out of my league. However my inclination wasn’t to say ‘no’. “I ought to warn you that I’m sort of married,” I said.
“How can you ‘sort of’ be married? You either are or aren’t.”
“According to the state, Anne and I are divorced. The Catholic Church doesn’t believe in divorce. I could have petitioned the Pope but I don’t think he would have considered the request favourably from someone so incapable of adding to the Vatican coffers. So, according to the church, I’m still married.”
“How did you get to be a priest if you were married? I thought they required celibacy.”
“The church makes exceptions on a needs basis, for example when recruiting dissidents from the Church of England.”
“Are you still in touch with your ex?”
“Yes. It hurt when she first asked for the divorce, but we kept it civil for the sake of Rachel, our daughter. But now I think we can probably call ourselves friends again.”
Prudence arose from the chair and walked over to my bed, a predatory look on her face.
“I’m not very experienced,” I confessed.
“Don’t worry, I am,” Prudence replied, “and I’ll try to make things good for you. Don’t worry, I’m clean. I get tested regularly.”
“I’ve never been tested. And I don’t have any condoms. The church doesn’t approve of them.”
“How many women have you been with?”
“Just Anne,” I admitted.
“She would have been tested as a matter of course when pregnant, so you’re clean too. And don’t worry about contraception. This isn’t my first rodeo and I take full responsibility.”
Prudence lifted the covers and slipped into bed beside me. “And I can tell you want it too,” she said as her hand felt my tumescence through my pyjamas.
Prudence wasn’t shy about communicating her desires but she was equally enthusiastic and uninhibited about investigating mine, challenging me to new experiences and pleasures. But after she had wrung a third completion from me, I had to hold my hands up in surrender.
I slept the sleep of the dead and, when I woke up, I found myself alone. I was disappointed. Mind-blowing as the love-making had been, I missed the intimacy of waking up in the arms of a woman. I guessed I shouldn’t have been surprised because Prudence was way out of my league and my reward was probably due to the lack of available alternatives.
Just as I was peeling myself out of bed, the door burst open and a fully-dressed Prudence burst in.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” she said. “Time to get up and about. We’ve got eleven o’clock appointments at Tauncester Police Station to make our statements.”
“Thanks,” I said, realising that yet again she’d been busy while I slept.
“And you should sign this,” she added, thrusting an official-looking document in front of me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A contract appointing Madison Chambers to be your legal representatives.”
I’d heard of Madison Chambers, normally in association with scumbag millionaires avoiding retribution for their misdeeds. “I can’t afford Madison Chambers,” I protested.
“I’m taking you on as a private client so I can charge you what I like, which in your case is purely nominal. I can’t represent you in court because I’m not qualified, but we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it.”
“I wasn’t planning on going to court anyway,” I grumbled.
“But if you sign, I can represent you at the police station this morning if it gets complicated.”
I liked that idea so I signed. I raced through the process of making myself presentable and getting fed and watered. “I’ll drive,” I volunteered. “I’ve been to Tauncester Police Station before so I know how to get there.
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