Chapter 4
The newspapers carried a lurid account of the Borstal escape. But the brief interest it aroused quickly evaporated, and the youths were not apprehended. The homosexual guard Boone had clobbered with a garden spade recovered and was left with nothing more damaging than a few scars and wounded pride. Meanwhile John Merton's car was eventually found in a ditch two hundred miles from where it was stolen.
Fletcher Boone received no assistance from his immoral and indifferent mother. She left Rexford soon after the scandal, and put up the family residence for sale. Dean's parents had also sold and moved to Westmoreland. Neither Roach nor Mason were disposed to approach their respective families. It was, perhaps, significant that soon after the four youths escaped from Borstal the former Boone home was broken into and everything of value stolen. Immediately after this incident the fugitives disappeared without trace. Weeks later the police were still searching. Eventually it was decided that the youths had somehow left the country, and there, for the time being, the matter ended.
Janet Preen, short, plump, and heavily freckled, hitched up her short frock, impatiently pulled it, and the clammy panties underneath, away from the fleshy cheeks of her large bottom. She probed stubby fingers into the deep division.
"Stop picking your asshole and come on," Daphne Ross said sarcastically. "I thought you said we'd find loads of berries along here?"
Daphne was taller than most girls of her age, a voluptuous creature with jet-black hair and a sullen, willful disposition, pretty in a coarse kind of way, and utterly spoiled by doting, irresponsible parents.
A third girl, Connie Maxwell, a slim brunette whose looks were spoiled by small, close-set eyes and protruding ears, spoke from behind a gorse bush where she squatted with her dress raised and frilly panties down past her calves, urinating in steaming squirts with legs wide apart and her behind protruding ludicrously.
"I was here last year and the bushes were laden," she said.
"Maybe some of the villagers have already been. Let's go on down to the old quarry. Nobody hardly ever goes there."
"It's dangerous," Janet cautioned. "A girl was drowned in the canal. Margie Spencer. Somebody pushed her in."
"It's too much of a drag," Daphne declared. "All for a few pigging blackberries. Besides, I've got a date."
"Who with?" Connie demanded, peering round the bush. "Not that bandy-legged Crawford kid? He smells. And he's impotent."
"How do you know, you skinny cow? For God's sake stop pissing and cover that hideous thing. I can see it even from here. You've got a bigger gash than old "Granny" Abigail."
"Look who's talking! I heard Phil Harris tell Claire Randolph he'd had his whole fist inside your cunt."
'That's all he did get in," Daphne stated belligerently. "Don't sell Andy Crawford short. Maybe you don't do anything for him, darling. But he can raise enough of a hard-on to satisfy me."
"You must be easy to please then," Connie argued.
"For Christ's sake stop squabbling," Janet admonished. "We've got plenty of time, Daph, to get down to the quarry and back before dark."
Daphne shrugged. She watched Connie pull her panties up and straighten her back.
"All right," she agreed. "Let's go to the fucking quarry. Maybe I'll go swimming."
"It's dangerous," Janet repeated.
"I can swim, stupid. It's only dangerous for silly buggers like that Spencer kid. Say! Did you hear about Jeff Prowse and Mary Sheldon? No? Well, it seems there was this scruffy character waiting outside . . ."
They strolled on, talking and laughing. Janet, a natural blonde, youngest of the teenage trio, kept easing her undergarment away from her sweaty crotch.
"I wish you'd stop doing that," Daphne complained. "You make me feel itchy all over. Are you lousy, or something?"
"I think I've picked up a dose of crabs," Janet answered bluntly.
"Well, don't give the little buggers to me."
The girls wandered idly, collecting fruit, gradually approaching broken, rugged terrain walled in by towering ironstone and lime escarpments. In places, crumbling, flaky rock bulged in great, overhanging masses. Venturing onto loose shale, the girls began the steep, precarious descent to the disused quarry. Beyond a jumble of derelict, sheet-iron buildings and rusted, obsolete machinery, water gleamed, the old tidal canal along which, at one time, barges came from Corsham foundry to the quarry wharf to load iron ore. One barge still remained, partly sunken, its hull waterlogged, aground on foul mud at low tide and barely afloat even when the canal was full.
The place seemed utterly deserted, silent as the grave.
But when the girls passed beyond a darkly wooded ridge, even before they got an unrestricted view of the canal they heard loud splashing and shouts, exuberant voices.
Startled, they approached cautiously and peered down through the drooping foliage of stunted willows. Two youths were swimming in the canal, paddling strongly toward the shallows. The one in the lead, a big, fat kid, reached the bank yards ahead of the other swimmer. Grunting, he heaved himself up onto the soggy timbers supporting the weed-slimed cut, climbed out, stark naked. His white buttocks contrasted sharply with the rest of his richly bronzed body.
Janet giggled, uttered a loud exclamation when the youth turned and she saw his dangling penis, a long, fat prick, darkly wrinkled from immersion in the chilly water but still larger than average. His scrotum was shriveled up tight, the skin corrugated.
"The poor bastard looks cold," Connie remarked. Daphne sniggered.
"I wouldn't mind warming him up," she said pointedly. They watched the other youth clamber out. He too was nude, his stocky, muscular torso covered with reddish hair matching the close cropped growth on his curiously elongated heat. Janet nudged Connie.
"He's all prick and no balls," she observed scornfully. The ginger haired youth stooped, picked up a pair of spectacles from a pile of clothing, put them on. Connie tittered.
"It's you who needs glasses," she told Janet. "What are they hanging down?"
Now, in his bent over position, the youth's testicles, previously obscured by a shaggy, pubic beard, swung hugely below the great bush of dripping hair. Water trickled from the ends and ran down his penis and the insides of his robust thighs.
"They must be keen to swim in that," Connie remarked.
"The short one is shivering."
She tensed, frowned as furtive rustling sounds among the bushes indicated the presence of a lurking intruder. Turning quickly, she cried out when two more youths emerged from the shadowy growth and stood grinning derisively.
Both were tall, big and broad-shouldered. One was particularly well-built. He wore a black leather jacket studded with brass and silver, black jeans, and jack-boots. His hair, previously cut short but beginning to sprout untidily, was ebony, black like his glittering, emotionless eyes. His sensual lips curled in a contemptuous sneer that seemed a permanent affliction.
The other youth, squatting abruptly on a rotten log, uttered a low whistle. He also had black hair, and an unkempt mustache in addition to long, bushy sideburns, and he was similarly attired, but his jacket was fringed along the sleeves and at the shoulders. He flipped a cigarette butt away, stood up as abruptly as he had sat down.
"Getting an eyeful?" he asked mockingly. "You don't need to spy on Dave and Jim—they'll be only too pleased to show you everything they've got."
Janet giggled nervously. Connie, sprawled on her stomach in long grass, squirmed erect.
"1fou startled us," Daphne complained.
"We'll do more than that, kid," the youth threatened. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
Alarm flashed across Daphne's sallow face.- Defiance followed.
"Just picking blackberries," she answered. "What's it got to do with you?"
Fletcher Boone grinned maliciously.
"Plenty," he said aggressively. "Tell her what we do to snoopers, Rocky."
His companion gestured, drawing his index finger across his throat with unmistakable meaning, smirking at the expressions on the girls' faces. Daphne recoiled. She swore, looked closely at Boone, studying his ugly visage intently.
"I know you!" she stated truculently. "You're the boy who was expelled and . . ."
She laughed boisterously, stood with one plump hip audaciously thrust out, her large breasts heaving and shaking deliciously.
"You're "Bragger" Boone," she declared. "The randy swine who raped that silly Dexter kid. I remember you. Oh, man, do I remember? You caused more excitement than a riot. Old Dexter was livid. And you, with the mustache, you're Rockwell Mason. The great "Bragger" Boone and Rocky Mason! What happened to your long hair, Fletcher? Did they cut it off in Borstal?"
Mason looked at Boone, shrugged. Scowling, Boone shouted to Dent and Roach. They came promptly, clambering over the rough ground hastily wrapping towels around their hips.
"What's this then?" Roach demanded. "Who are they?" "Kids from Beechers," Boone explained. "We caught them watching you and Jim. Sexy little whores. The point is, they know who we are. I don't recall .. ."
"Sure," Dent broke in. "I remember young Janet. I used to chat her up regular, didn't I, kid?"
"But got nowhere," Janet retorted. She licked her lips, glanced at Connie.
"You've been hiding here all the time," she accused Boone. "We read about you escaping from Borstal. Everybody thinks you've gone abroad, France maybe."
"We intend to do just that," Boone told her. "When the police stop looking for us."
Roach rubbed his genitals through the damp towel, squeezing his thick, restless penis.
"So what will we do with them?" he asked. "These three scrubbers? Get them inside the mill shed for a start," Boone replied. "They wanted to see some cock. Okay, we'll show them all they can take. Shag them ragged and then decide what to do. The tall doll is mine."
'The name is Daphne," the dark haired girl said resentfully. "And I'm not afraid of you. But there's no need to threaten us, or to get rough. We don't mind a bit of fun. Just so long as nobody gets hurt."
"You don't, eh? How old are you, baby?"
"Going on seventeen."
"I'm sixteen," Janet said defiantly.
"Me too," Connie voiced. "We know what it's all about. Ask that fat slob—he tried it on often enough with Jan."
Dent grimaced. He sucked his uneven teeth.
"Not so much of the 'fat', kid," he warned. "I've got a fat prick if that's what you're lookin' for."
"No need to tell her that," Boone said cynically. "I told you—they were spying on you and Dave."
"We were not! We just happened to come this way and saw you getting out of the water."
"Did you like what you saw?" Roach enquired. Connie smirked. She did not answer.
"You boys all have a nice tan," Daphne observed. "I thought a person got all pale and pallid in jail?"
"Reform school isn't prison," Mason corrected. "Not exactly. There was plenty of outdoor activities where we were.
He squatted on the grass near Janet. Boone hunkered down beside Daphne, deliberately lifted the hem of her dress and looked under the crumpled folds. She gnawed her lip, but did not move away.
"You've got nice legs," Boone said. "If you're not scared, prove it. Let me have a feel."
Daphne did not answer. Boone chuckled. He extended his left hand and touched Daphne's knee, then her thigh, quickly slid his palm over her quivering flesh right up to her groin. Daphne giggled, twisted away. Boone grabbed her, pulled her down, held her with his forearm across her throat. His other hand delved between her legs and entered the leg hole of her panties, thrust right in and roughly compressed a fistful of soft, warmly trembling vagina, provoking a shrill outcry.
"Leave her alone, you ugly bastard!" Connie shouted. She tugged at Boone's jacket. Roach grabbed her and spun her round, reached up her clothing. Connie gasped. The towel fell away from Roach's thickset body. His partly stiffened penis shot erect, jutted proudly, straining and pulsing. Connie mouthed a sharp scream, but when Roach seized her hand and closed her fingers round his rampant organ she clutched it fiercely. Roach placed both hands under her bottom and jerked her forward, trapping the hand holding his penis against the girl's pelvis and furiously ramming his cock into the hollow of her palm and against her lower abdomen.
She tittered, yielded to panic and tried to pull away, but Roach held her close. He relaxed his ferocious hold slightly and raised Connie's frock, exposing her white panties, tugged impatiently at them and dragged them partly down. Dent, meanwhile, moved quickly round behind Connie and passed a fleshy arm round her waist, lifting her off her feet and at the same time clawed the towel away from his middle and stood naked, fat penis jerking and rearing, prodding the pronounced cleavage of the girl's bared bottom as Roach hauled her panties way down past her hips and fully revealed the luscious cheeks.
Mason, his hair full of dried grass particles and thistledown, grappled with Janet who, laughing nervously, tremendously excited despite acute apprehension, allowed him to uncover her succulent, over-developed breasts. He flopped them out, mauled them roughly, bunched their ripe fullness into rolling folds, got Janet down on the ground and sprawled partly on top of her, pushing his face against the heaving mounds and tonguing the pouting nipples that poked like diminutive raspberries into his nostrils and mouth.
He fumbled with the zipper fastening her dress. His fly was undone, his penis hanging out, swollen and throbbing, a virile, spongy branch that trailed slimy semen across the girl's plump thighs each time the broad, pointed knob whacked and jabbed white flesh.
Connie, shrieking with vulgar laughter, her fears completely gone, entered into the lewd spirit of the carnal escapade and wriggled her bare bottom energetically against Dent's probing rod while furiously masturbating Roach's turgid shaft.
Boone had his enormous cock out and knelt astride Daphne's waist as she lay face down, alternately abusing him and pleading for consideration, then chuckling obscenely and mouthing crude expressions that brought even cruder response from Boone. When she bucked him off unexpectedly he cut his knee on a stone, but ignored the bleeding" gash and grabbed her ankles as she squirmed away.
He hauled her back. Her frock was rucked up high and her gorgeous bottom fully uncovered, the provocatively rounded ovals taut and quivering. Boone jerked her legs apart and crawled between them, resumed his kneeling posture, kneading the exquisite cheeks and forcing them wide apart to expose the girl's anus and the dark well of her moist vagina. He sniffed the damp pit, nosed into the dusky crack, finally shuffled forward until his great boom was slapping the tremulous, cringing vale and boring tentatively into the tense crotch, thrusting down among the folds between buttocks and thighs and past the prominent opening of the pouting vagina.
Daphne, emotionally unstable and sexually precocious, quickly shed what little instinctive caution and inhibitions the chance encounter had aroused. Faced with the moment of truth, she wavered, then succumbed to natural tendencies. Discovering that she knew the four youths, that they were not really strangers, more like old friends or, at least, formerly of the same student fraternity, dispelled initial doubts and lingering fears, and brought a sense of acute relief and physical well-being evidenced in a surge of wildly abandoned enthusiasm, an unrestrained, reckless exuberance shared by the other girls. To be noticed at all by the notorious "Bragger" Boone and subjected to his lust was in itself a triumph for Daphne, something she could boast about and describe in lurid detail.
She clasped him ardently, twisted partly round and groped until she found his formidable penis, grasped it avidly and ferociously punished the incredibly thick, distended stalk, uttering anguished moans and passionate vulgarities as she pulled and stroked, squeezing the massive circumference and longing to feel its savagely beating length inside her yet terrified of its appalling size.
Dent had Connie's panties completely off and was trying to insert his frantic organ into her from behind while the girl, confused and agitated but essentially willing, leaned over and protruded her buttocks invitingly without releasing her clammy hold on Roach's resolute prick. Roach promptly wound thick fingers into her glossy brown hair and pulled her head lower, attempting to put his cock in her mouth, but she resented that, and twisted her face away, increased the tempo of her whanking friction, hoping he would attain orgasm quickly and permit her to derive maximum pleasure from Dent. But Roach stubbornly persisted.
Dent, on his knees, licked and sniffed Connie's bottom, further distracting her, driving her wild. Nobody had ever done that to her before. She liked it, but was mildly shocked, and raved, laughing and squirming and gasping, until Roach, seizing momentary advantage, brought his penis close to her face and butted the hugely expanded glans at her open mouth. Frantic now, sexually tormented, tremendously aroused, Connie yielded to the fierce impulses flaying her senses, accepted the compulsive demands of her slender, trembling body, and allowed the fat penis to distend her sensual lips. Flaming desire overcame revulsion.
Dent was right inside her now and shagging deeper with every panting thrust. Roach, quick to realize the change in Connie's response, instantly plunged his bloated stalk as far into her stretching mouth as possible, crouching with knees bent and buttocks nipped together, teeth bared and tightly gritted as he stroked the rigid organ rapidly in and out, completely engulfing it each time, oblivious of Connie's hoarse, strangled protests and spluttering appeals for moderation.
Her lithe figure twisted and writhed as she worked her girlish quim onto the intruding shaft, maintaining her balance by gripping Roach's hips firmly. As Dent screwed into her squelching vagina from behind, his hairy pelvis repeatedly flattening her buttocks, so Roach rammed simultaneously into the contorted cavern of her mouth, and each time her face was squashed into his groin and framed by coarse, reddish hair, her nostrils briefly clogged.
Roach was coming, jerking hot sperm into the cloying cavity in a series of powerful, pumping strokes while holding Connie's face pressed tightly against his pelvis, her soft lips splayed round the pulsing roots of his disgorging penis.
Dent, feet apart, bare ass laboring strenuously, grasped rolls of flesh above the girl's padded hips and blurted excitable, anguished cries each time her clutching quim relinquished then recaptured his steaming roll. He spunked as she released Roach's wet prick, but delivered a few more pistoning thrusts before Connie straightened her aching back and his organ was squeezed out.
Janet, practically naked, lay under Mason, heaving and gasping, red faced, her eyes misty, fingers deeply embedded in the youth's flexed biceps. Every time he thrashed his great root into her capacious split she raised her buttocks off the ground and countered his lunge with a desperate thrust as fiercely violent.
Boone, meanwhile, had removed his jeans and held Daphne in a tempestuous embrace. He had several inches of stiff penis blocking her cruelly distended slit and she was responding with unrestrained vigor, long legs locked behind his back, her head moving jerkily from side to side, breasts flopping. She moaned and sobbed and panted, but resolutely endured the savagely screwing fury of Boone's assault, reveling in the sweet ecstasy and ignoring the tearing pain. Grit and sand rasped the soft cheeks of her broadly splayed bottom. Stones were digging into her back, gouging her shoulders. She clung dementedly to Boone, gazing adoringly into his narrowed, inflamed eyes, her mouth gaping, tongue lolling, renewed the wild thrashing movements of her head, uttering desperate cries of mingled torture and rapture whenever he lunged with especially brutal power and ruthless indifference.
Daphne, fast approaching a bursting climax, reeling on the dizzy, absolute pinnacle of carnal bliss, trembling and shaking violently, experienced clawing thrills hitherto alien to her adolescent love life. It was not her first sexual experience, far from it, but she had never known such fierce, demanding passion, so enormous a penis filling her belly. Frenzied lust dominated her primitive emotions, but twinges of fear kept intruding, and were swept aside in the flood of searing sensations tormenting her swollen vagina and jangling every nerve in her gorgeous body. Her arms were stretched out now, her hands balled into hard little fists, the knuckles gleaming white. Harshly conflicting expressions flitted across her blotchy face. Beads of sweat clung to her smudged forehead.
Mason finished amid loud groans, sprawled inertly across Janet's extended legs. She cradled his head against her flushed breasts, pressing his features into the dimpled mounds.
Connie sat on a moss covered rock, trying to fasten her torn dress and looking acutely self-conscious. She watched Dent, his jeans pulled halfway up his hairy legs, shrug into his shirt. He hauled the pants past his bony knees and over his flabby buttocks, fastened the top button.
Boone rolled off Daphne. She flopped over, lay on her stomach with her forehead resting on her forearms, muttering incoherently. Boone shook sperm drops from his only slightly deflated appendage, squeezed the broad glans.
"Well?" he demanded. "That wasn't so bad, was it, kid?"
Daphne's legs opened and closed like scissor blades. The slow movements flexed her buttocks, accentuating the dark cleft, bunching the indented checks. She reached back, tugged her frock down to cover the pink, entrancing expanse.
"You've crippled me," she mumbled. "God! I thought I knew what it was all about. But it was wonderful, really fab. You're the best, Fletch."
She twisted round, sat up, adoration expressed in her shining eyes and reflected in every line of her flushed face. Her gaze centered intently on Boone's penis. He grinned, shook the gross roll, reluctantly confined it.
Mason slouched toward Boone fastening his fly buttons.
"She's all right," he declared, smirking at Janet who, squatting, was urinating copiously over a clump of stunted field daisies.
"I've fucked worse," Boone admitted, nodding in Daphne's direction. "How did you make out, Dave?"
"Swinging, man. Connie baby will do for me. Right, Jim?"
"She'll do. What I want to know is where we—" "When you've quite finished discussing our merits," Daphne interrupted. "Perhaps somebody will tell me if there's anything to drink around here, wherever you're shacked up. Where are you living, anyway? Not in that old building?"
Janet finished pissing, pulled her panties up. "We're on the barge, kid," Boone said. "It's not too bad down below. Real comfortable." "And the drink?"
"Vodka, or whiskey. Lager if you prefer." "With lime?"
"With whatever you want, doll. We're not peasants."
Boone stretched, flexed his arms, picked up his shirt, then discarded it.
"I don't know what I'm getting dressed for," he said. "We never did take that swim, Rocky. I'm going in. Who's coming?" How about it, you kids? Fancy a swim?"
"In the raw?" Daphne demanded. "Not bloody likely. Besides, it's too cold."
"Balls! I dare you."
Daphne shook her head defiantly. She looked at Connie, sniggered. Janet laughed. Mason felt her bottom, and she pushed him playfully. Roach polished his glasses on his shirt flap, put them on.
"You're chicken," Boone accused.
"I am not," Daphne denied vehemently. "It's just... Oh, ail right. I don't see how it matters anyway, now that you've had me, you dirty bastard. What do you say, Con? I'll strip if you will."
Connie shrugged, pouted.
"Don't look at me," Janet said. "I'm game for anything. But what about your date, Daph?"
"What do you think? Andy Crawford? I couldn't tackle that creep now. So far as I'm concerned he can drop dead."
"You been going steady with Andy?" Dent asked. "That bowlegged goon? He couldn't fuck his way out of a paper bag."
"He manages," Daphne declared. She jumped up, raised her frock and tugged it over her head, stood naked except for brief, stained panties. The nipples of her luscious breasts stood out round and hard. She crossed her arms over the milky ovals, feeling suddenly awkward and embarrassed.
"J must be crazy," she said. "That breeze has a bite in it. Let's get it over."
"It'll be exhilarating, once you're in," Roach predicted.
"Listen to him," Janet mocked. "Big words. Don't forget we saw you down there. You looked frozen, blue with cold."
"Quit gabbing and peel off the pants," Boone ordered. "Last one in is a stinking shitbag."
He dropped his jeans, kicked them off and ran to the water's edge, dived off the timbered bank. Roach and Dent followed. Mason removed his pants but hesitated, waiting for the girls to make a move.
"Don't worry," Daphne assured him scornfully. "We won't run away."
She stared at his semi-flaccid penis, giggled, nudged Connie. The slim brunette began to slip out of her frock. Janet only had to remove her panties. None of the girls wore a brassiere or slip. Connie pushed her panties down, shed them, darted after Daphne as the tall girl sprinted toward the murky canal with breasts flopping and heavy buttocks bouncing seductively. Mason's penis reared again. He fingered it, lunged at Janet. She dodged, fled swiftly, squealing with hysterical delight, willow wands lashing her agile, naked form.
Mason chased after her, overtook her on the canal bank and grabbed her round the waist, fell with her and rolled down the slope, hugging her close, his genitals pressed into the cleft of her bottom, one hand clutching the globular perfection of her left breast and causing the large teat to protrude between his forefinger and thumb. Laughing and yelling, they splashed into the bleak water. The cold shock broke Mason's hold. He floundered, gasping. Janet, an excellent swimmer, quickly stroked across the wind rippled flow.
Boone and Daphne were racing, youthful vigor evident in their every movement. Dent had Connie cornered in the shallows near the barnacle encrusted, green-slimed hulk. Roach swam strongly against the current veering toward distant sluice-gates that had remained closed for more than twenty years.
The oddly assorted teenage group did not stay in the water long despite their display of bravado. The old barge, so derelict on the outside, was reasonably well preserved below deck. The former living accommodation had been partly restored, and sundry items of small furniture and a large quantity of expensive bedding—undoubtedly from the country house owned by Boone's mother—contributed to an astonishing degree of comfort.
Sipping vodka, lager beer with lime, whiskey straight, or with water added, the noisy, boisterous group talked and argued. The immediate question, posed by Roach and concerning Boone's intentions regarding the girls, raised certain problems. Sex was fun, and the girls were easily influenced, a willing source of pleasure. But once they returned to Beechers .. .
"Suppose they talk?" Roach objected. "Then we're right in the shit."
"We wouldn't," Connie protested indignantly. "We wouldn't say a word."
"Of course not," Janet seconded. "We aren't like that."
"Maybe," Boone said. "But we can't afford to take chances. Why go back to Beechers at all?"
Daphne stared blankly. Then she smirked, nodded eagerly.
"Why indeed?" she agreed. "What is there to go back for? I'm sick of college anyway, fed up with old Dexter and the snobbish Miss Garfield, and all the other stupid bastards."
"We can't stay here!" Janet protested.
"Why not? Think of all the fun we could have, one glorious love-in from now until.
"And what happens when our parents report us missing and the police start looking for us? I know you don't care about your folks, but I wouldn't want to cause my father any real anxiety."
"What's he ever done for you? A good scare will do him good. Who cares about parents? They've got their own drab lives and we've got our whole future. Besides, we—"
"We can be long gone before anybody misses you girls," Boone interrupted. "We intend crossing over to France soon. Paris. Stick with us and well show you a real good time. I like you, Daph. No kidding. We'd make a great team."
"I don't know," Daphne said, hesitating. "It's a big step, when you think about it. Oh, I would come. But only if Con and Janet agree."
"You'd best think about it, all of you. There is another alternative, but you wouldn't like it."
"Such as?"
"Such as a fucking great rock tied round your pretty neck and another plunge in the canal, baby," Boone replied viciously.
"You're joking!"
"Like hell I am. We're fugitives from Borstal. If the police get us well go to jail next time. We didn't invite you here. Now that you have found us we daren't just let you go. You see that, don't you? What happens is up to you."
"He means it!" Connie mouthed. "And he'd do it, Daph. But I don't need to think about it I know what I'm going to do.
She smirked at Dent, puckered her lips.
"You wouldn't dare harm us," Daphne declared, frowning at Boone. "You're just trying to frighten us. But you don't scare me, "Bragger" Boone. If I stay it will be because I want to, not because of threats."
"Me too," Janet stated. "If I stay."
"Don't be a bitch, Jan," Connie said persuasively. "It will be a giggle. Think of it, Paris in the spring."
She leaned close, whispered. Janet laughed. She shrugged.
"That's the best argument," she said. "I suppose 111 have to go along. But no rough stuff."
"And no strings," Daphne insisted. "We cut out any time we feel like it. Agreed?"
Boone nodded. He unfastened his fly, flopped his abnormal penis out.
"Agreed," he said. "Now shut your damn mouth and get hold of this."