Oops!

Okay, I've put this story in the wrong place, but I'm too thick/lazy to change it.

As for me, I'm a fat old trout who writes for her living. (Short stories for women's mags and erotic novels. The short stuff under 'Catherine Ferguson' and the erotica under 'Kate Benedict'.)

I don't normally put stuff online in case it messes up selling First Rights, but below is an example, published a few years ago when 'Chat' still did an all-fiction magazine.

Good luck.
arrowqueen.

Justice.

'Another whisky,' ordered Jack. He fixed the barman with a flat stare. 'And make it the good stuff. Not that cheap rubbish you palmed me off with last time.'
The barman opened his mouth to argue, looked into the cold blue eyes and closed it again rapidly. 'Yes, sir,' he said, reaching for the Chivas Regal. He
poured a generous measure, placed it in front of Jack and retreated to the other end of the bar as soon as the money was safely in the till.
Jack grinned as he sipped his whisky. Nobody messed with Jack Harding - and that was exactly the way he liked it. He glanced round the bar and sneered. Just look at them all, with their nine-to-five jobs and their mortgages and their suits out of 'Man at C&A'. Sweating their lives away for pennies. What a bunch of losers!
He checked out his own appearance in the mirror behind the bar and gave his reflection a self-satisfied smile. Armani suit. Dark hair, styled by the same bloke
who used to do Princess Di. Not bad at all. In fact he was looking pretty good, though he said so himself. He smirked. He damned well should do. His haircut alone probably cost more than any of this lot made in a week.
A flicker of red in the mirror caught his eye and he turned to see who had come in. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the blonde in the scarlet dress, standing uncertainly in the doorway. She scanned the room as if she was looking for someone, then made up her mind, walked across the bar and climbed onto a the barstool a couple of seats away from him.
He licked his lips unconsciously. Tasty. Very tasty. Her dress was cut low enough to reveal the full swell of her breasts, without being tarty, and her skirt had ridden up slightly, showing long legs in black stockings. She tugged it down,
modestly, but he'd seen enough already. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She'd be what? Thirty-three? Thirty-four? Just right. He snorted. You could
keep your teeny-boppers! Give him a woman with a bit of experience every
time. They knew what they were doing between the sheets.
Shooting his cuffs to give a tantalising flash of his gold Rolex, he gave it ten minutes, then moved in for the kill.
'He must be mad,' he said, coming up beside her.
'I beg your pardon?' she said, putting down her drink and glancing at him disdainfully.
He gave her the full benefit of his most charming smile. 'I said "He must be mad"', he repeated. 'The bloke who stood you up.' He allowed his gaze to drift admiringly down her body, then back up again to meet her eyes. 'If I was lucky enough to have a woman like you, there's no way I'd risk losing her.'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' she snapped. 'I'm simply out for the evening to have a quiet drink.' She paused. 'By myself.' She turned away and
pointedly ignored him.
He admired the smooth back she'd turned to him, resisting the impulse to run his finger down her spine. Hmm. Classy as well as good-looking. Not one of those cheap birds who jumped into bed with the first bloke that offered them a drink. Well, there was nothing he liked better than a challenge. It made the
victory that much sweeter.
'I'm terribly sorry,' he said politely. 'I didn't mean to sound crass. I wasn't trying to pick you up. I simply thought that, as we were two people on our own,
we might be company for one another. I do apologise for intruding on your
privacy.'
She turned and he smiled at her again. His best lonely-little-boy-lost, kicked-puppy look. Her eyes softened and she smiled back. He suppressed a grin of triumph. It worked every time!
'I'm sorry too,' she said. 'I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. It was rude of me.'
'No. I deserved it,' he said. 'But please, allow me to buy you a drink to make up for it.' He held his breath as she thought about it, then grinned with relief when she nodded her head in agreement. He clicked his fingers at the
barman, who leapt to attend him. 'Another Chivas,' he ordered 'and whatever the
lady would like.'
'A gin and tonic, please,' she smiled. 'But you'll have to excuse me while I go and freshen up.' She slid off the stool, with another tantalising flash of thigh and
disappeared towards the ladies. He watched her go, admiring the way her hips swayed beneath the red dress.
'Make that a double - no a triple,' he hissed at the barman, once she was gone. 'And keep them coming.' He grinned. A challenge was one thing, but that didn't
mean you couldn't shorten the odds in your favour!
Several drinks later, they were ensconced at a table for two in an intimate corner and - thanks to the gin - her ice-maiden exterior was beginning to melt.
'You look great in that suit, Jack,' she said. 'It must have cost a bomb.' She fluttered her eyelashes. 'Armani suit. Rolex watch.' She giggled. 'I
hope you're not in the Mafia or anything like that?'
'Sorry, Kate. Nothing so exciting,' he said. 'I'm just your common-or-garden businessman.' He smiled modestly. 'Perhaps a little bit more successful than
most.'
'Oh, an entrepreneur,' she said. 'What kind of thing do you sell?'
He shrugged. 'A little bit of this. A little bit of that,' he said. He suppressed a grin. Coke. Smack. Speed. E's. Heroin. Anything at all that his eager customers wanted and could pay for. It didn't matter to him as long as
those obscenely fat profits kept rolling in. He smiled at her. 'You wouldn't be interested.'
'Oh, I would,' she said, smiling back flirtatiously and playfully tracing a pattern on the back of his hand. 'I'm interested in everything about you.'
He grinned. Cracked it! 'Well,' he began, 'how about...' His mobile 'phone went off in his pocket and his grin vanished. 'Dammit!' he snarled into the mouthpiece. 'What is it now?'
'You'd better get the hell out of there,' said the grim voice on the other end. 'We got a tip-off. The police are on their way. It's about that kid.' The line went
dead. Jack scowled at it. Who the hell cared about one more dead junkie? Served the b******s right, shovelling God knows what down their throats and into their veins. The world was probably better off without them. He smirked. And
there were always more to take their place.
'What is it Jack?' asked Kate. 'Is something wrong?'
The drink tricked him into honesty. 'It's the police,' he said. 'They want to ask me a few questions about one of my deals.' He snorted. 'Claim it was a bit
dodgy.' He shrugged. 'Piece of nonsense of course, but I don't fancy wasting my time down the station, arguing about it. I've got lawyers for that sort of thing.' He
looked at her regretfully. 'Sorry, love. I'd better go.' A sudden thought struck him. 'Damn,' he muttered. 'They're probably waiting for me back at my flat as well.'
'Then why don't you come back to mine?' smiled Kate. She giggled tipsily and put her hand on his thigh. 'I've always fancied being a gangsters moll. Anyway,'
she added, gazing into his eyes. 'I don't care what the police say. I can judge for myself what kind of man you are.'
A tingle of excitement ran through him as her fingers teased his inner thigh. Why not? The police wouldn't have a clue where he'd gone. A place to lie low -
he smiled at her appreciatively - and a hot, sexy woman as an added bonus. Somebody up there must love him!
'Thanks, pet,' he grinned. 'That would be great. You grab your coat and I'll get the motor.'

'Nice car,' she said, running her hand over the soft leather. 'You must have done a lot of deals to get this.'
'Oh, I manage to get by,' he grinned.
'I'll just bet you do,' she said, running her tongue over her lips. 'I like a man who knows what he wants out of life - and how to get it.' He swallowed and put his foot on the accelerator.

In her flat, Kate dimmed the lights, put a slow, sexy CD on and poured him a drink. 'Cheers,' she said, raising her own glass. 'Here's to crime!' He knocked it back, not taking his eyes off her as she swayed to the music, sliding the straps of her red dress from her shoulders and allowing it to slip to the floor. Smiling she stood there, wearing nothing but a garter belt and her black silk stockings.
He put down his glass and reached for her.
She was like a wild thing in his arms, her body writhing against his, as he caressed the soft breasts, his tongue tracing a path of fire down her body. She moaned and he scooped her up and carried her through to the bedroom. She smiled up at him as he wrenched off his clothes, not caring where they fell.
'Now where were we?' he panted, joining her on the bed. Her hands reached for him and he forgot everything as her long legs twined round his waist, her soft
body enveloped his and they thrust together, straining towards fulfilment.
'My God! That was wonderful,' he gasped, as he collapsed in exhausted
satisfaction. 'You're some woman, Kate.'
The craving for a cigarette overwhelmed him and he went to reach for the packet he'd seen on the bedside table. Or rather, tried to reach. And failed. His arm lay lifeless and heavy at his side. He couldn't move.
His eyes widened. What was happening to him? 'What's going on?' he said - or at least that's what he tried to say. His mouth twitched feebly and nothing came out but a muffled grunt.
Kate stood up and slipped into her dressing-gown. 'What's wrong Jack?' she asked with mock sympathy. 'Not feeling too well? Oh, dear, what a shame.' She lit a cigarette and smiled down at him. 'Something must have disagreed with you. Perhaps it was the drink?' She held up a small white tablet. 'Or perhaps it was
one of these?'
He forced his mouth to move. 'Ambulan...' he wheezed, begging for his life.
'Oh, I don't think so,' she said. His eyes rolled up until only the whites were showing and his body convulsed, bucking and spasming like a stranded fish. She watched dispassionately until it was all over, then picked up the
telephone. 'Police?' she said. 'I'd like to report a murder.'

'You didn't have to do this, you know, Mrs Harris,' said the inspector, as he took her statement. 'We were just about to pick him up. He'd have got life.' He
sighed. 'You can't just take the law into your own hands.'
Kate smiled at him. 'I didn't,' she said. 'I took justice. There's a difference. My fourteen-year-old daughter died after taking just one his damned pills. I was burying her while he was still driving about in the flash car, her death paid for.'
She raised her eyebrows sceptically. 'Life? What does that mean, these days? A few years in
some cushy jail before he'd be back out again, to start all over again?'
She shook her head. 'Oh no, Inspector. Life should mean life.'
She glanced at the stiffening body on the bed and her lips twisted in bitter triumph.
'This time, it did.'

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