He died in a car accident when I was fourteen. Mum was devastated, absolutely devastated. He had left some debts but there were enough stocks and shares and other material goods to liquidate to cover everything. We still had enough money, lots in fact, so there was no significant change in lifestyle, apart from the fact that he had gone. Mum was lonely for a couple of years afterwards and seemed lost, without a purpose and a daughter to raise. But then she met Neil Campbell.”
Kylie went quiet again, deep in thought for a few seconds before continuing.
“Neil met my mum at a garden centre one day. They got chatting about conifers or something and he asked her out. Within two months they were married and mum seemed happy again. I wasn’t though because along with Neil came his son and daughter from his first marriage. His wife had also died and left him to bring them up, spoilt and rude. The daughter was called Glo, short for Gloria and was seventeen; the son was Darren and was eighteen. They were living in a small council flat in Dorking and when he married my mum they moved in with us. They both made my life hell. I tried to tell mum about how I was being treated but Neil would always interrupt with some excuse. He would then take me to one side and threaten me if I made trouble for them. All three of them were nasty and spiteful and mum was kept in the dark or given excuses like it was my fault.
Two years after they married mum died after a short illness. I was absolutely distraught, especially so when the reaction by Neil and the other two was a complete lack of empathy. They totally blanked me. Things got worse after the funeral. We got back to the house and Neil ordered me into the lounge. He was stood there with the others stood either side. He told me that mum had made a new will shortly before she died and that everything had been left to him. The house, contents, money, everything. He then told me that I had one week to leave. I shouted, I screamed, I begged but they just looked down at me and actually laughed, calling me ‘pathetic,’ before repeating that I had to leave. They stopped laughing though when I said I was taking my paintings.”
“Paintings?” I asked, realising that this story was going to have a ‘twist.’
“A couple of years before dad died he bought me a set of four paintings for my birthday by a Venetian renaissance artist called Giovanni del Callinni. They were bought for me to be used as a future investment should I need any money. They were painted to be a set called ‘The Rising of the Fisherman’s Sun,’ and depicts a picture of fisherman heading out in their boats from the lagoon as the sun rises. Each separate framed painting makes up the entire picture. They were hung in the dining room at our house next to each other to show the whole thing. I told them that if they want me out then I would leave, but my paintings would be coming with me. I went up to my room and he stormed in, grabbed me by the throat and snarled at me that the contents of the house was his, not mine, his and I would only leave with whatever I could carry. As he said this he was squeezing my breasts, hard and groping around the rest of my body, including up my skirt. Glo heard the screaming and ran into the room shouting at him to leave me alone. She may agree with her dad on kicking me out but she wouldn’t put up with sort of abuse.
He got off me and told me to pack as I was leaving now. I packed a case with all I could carry and went to get the paintings but he and Darren blocked my way. I said they were legally mine. He said no, they’re his. I then said I had proof and would be back for them. I ran out the door with him shouting behind me, ‘Proof? You’ve got nothing.’
I stayed with a friend for a couple of days. I had finished my A levels and so started to look for a job. This came up along with the flat in Motspur Park. I’ve heard he’s remarried and the woman he’s married has bought along her grown up son and daughter to live their also. That house was mine and my mum and dad’s. Now it’s full of horrible strangers, sitting on our furniture, using our kitchen, looking at my paintings.”
It was quite a story. I looked over at Jay who looked equally shocked.
“You’re like a real-life Cinderella,” I said. “Except without the ball, the prince and the glass slipper.”
“Not quite,” she replied. “He still has the paintings, or I think he has. If he knew how much they are worth, he would definitely sell them.”
“How much are they worth?” asked Jay, sitting bolt upright, gorgeous breasts rising above the water.
“About a million or two each individually. Around ten million for the set.” She replied.
Jay and I looked opened mouth at each other. This story had taken a very strange turn.
“Do you have proof of ownership?” I asked
“Oh yes,” she replied. I have written provenance, the receipt when dad bought them and pictures that my took on my birthday of me unwrapping them. Everything to prove they’re mine. When I left I took all my most important documents; birth certificate, passport and everything to prove that the paintings belong to me”
“Have you tried to get them back by legal ways?” Jay asked leaning forward, reaching for Kylies hands, and taking them.
“I’ve asked many solicitors to help and they all turn me down telling me that I can’t afford it and Neil would be able to afford the best lawyers and we wouldn’t win and I would be penniless.” She replied. “One solicitor did offer to help for free but only for a fifty percent share of the paintings once they’re sold and if I carried out various sexual acts on him. I didn’t take him up on the offer.”
I could see she was starting to get upset and I didn’t want to end the time we had all spent together to end on a sad note. I looked over at Jay who was sat holding Kylies hand and had started to stoke her hair.
I picked up a fresh towel and held it out to Jay who stepped up and out the bath and wrapped herself around in it. I then passed another to Jay and she held it out for Kylie who followed Jays lead and also stepped out. Jay gave herself a quick all over rub of the towel then let it drop and started drying Kylie, starting on her back and the back of her legs before she turned her around and softly rubbed it over Kylies breasts and stomach and then moved down and started to rub it gently to dry her thighs before finishing at her bald cunt.
I expected Jay to start playing with her again but instead she embraced her in a big hug and held her tight against her naked body. She bought her hands to Kylies face and gave her a slow kiss before saying,
“Everything will be alright because we are going to help you.” She aid, staring into Kylies eyes.
“We are?” I said hearing this.
“Yes,” Jay replied without looking over at me. “We are going to help. Firstly, you need to find a nice boy, I think we can help you out there, Secondly, we are going to help you get your pictures back.”
She then leaned into Kylie and started kissing her again, this time with more passion and Kylie’s response told me that her mood had lifted.
Jay let her go and helped her get fully dry and dressed before wrapping the towel around herself and moving into the bedroom.
“Give me your phone number,” Jay said to Kylie as she reached for her phone. Kylie read it out to her and Jay stored it.
“I will ring you tomorrow morning,” Jay told Kylie. “When I do, try to get up here to do our room last. You won’t actually be doing the room, its fine as it is but the time you spend in here will cover that. And keep tomorrow evening free, you have a date.”
“Do I?” Kylie asked, actually looking excited.
“You certainly do. We’ll speak more about it tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Kylie said, a big smile starting to grow on her pretty face. “Thank you so much.”
Kylie hugged and kissed Jay one last time and then hugged me, ignoring the fact that I was still naked. She opened the door, checked both ways then pushed her trolley out and left.
“What the fuck are you thinking?” I asked Jay as she put the kettle on again.
“You heard her. Some fuckers got her paintings and came close to abusing her. I won’t put up with that.” She answered putting tea bags in the cups.
“But how do you know she’s telling the truth?” I asked.
“I just have a feeling she is. Why lie about something like that? Anyway, I want you to ring Paul. Tell him he’s got a date tomorrow evening and he is to meet us at seven o clock at Waterloo. We’ll be the chaperones” Jay said making the drinks.
“Okay,” I said sitting on the bed. “But first we have our own date with the Dutch swingers tonight.”
“Oh yeah,” Jay remembered smiling. “I wonder how that will go.”
Part Six cumming very soon which follows the evenings adventures with the Dutch swingers in Soho
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