The sound of heavy footfalls filled the empty street.

Huddled inside the depths of a grimy sleeping bag, Sanjay "Billy the Quid" Patoor reacted to the rhythm by slowly raising his head. He didn't usually see people wandering down his street at this time of night. The presence was unusual, but not altogether unwelcome. There was a pub not far around the corner, and that meant whoever it was that was walking had a good chance of being drunk. And drunk people were more generous — especially if the change after a night of drinking was weighing down their pocket.

Clearing his throat with a phlegmy cough, Sanjay squinted his eyes to identify the approaching individual through the blackness of the night. He didn't like to think that he was getting sick, but given the freezing night air and the dew that saturated him whenever he woke up, he regularly felt himself embraced by some form of illness.

Spitting the mucus against the ground, just as the individual came into view, he raised his voice into his signature catchphrase: "Oi, mate! Got a pound?"

As the figure stopped in front of him and paused, Sanjay was able to identify several things about the man. The first was how tall he was; easily over six foot. He loomed over the street in a domineering presence, the shadow cast as he blocked the light from the street lamp seeming to swallow the pavement. The second thing that caught Sanjay's attention was the man's manner of dress. He was clad in an all-in-one boiler suit, and his was torso covered by a waterproof jacket, the hood pulled up over his head. Given the cold weather, the attire was strange — not suited to fight off the cold. However, the final and most apparent thing that Sanjay noticed was that the man was carrying someone.

Cradling the other person in his arms, the manner that he held them was almost tender. It was a woman. It had to be. It looked like a woman. She had long hair, bleached a pale pastel colour that was almost lost in the darkness. The ease with which he carried her scared Sanjay slightly. Christ, he must have been strong.

He regretted suddenly having spoken.

Bowing his head slightly, he retreated back into the sleeping bag.

The man must have been moving at a steady rhythm as the moment he stopped moving, Sanjay jumped slightly, not expecting the sudden cessation of motion.

"Sorry, pal," a deep voice chuckled, from within the shadow cast across his face by the hood. "Hands a bit full at the mo'."

His accent was strange. Not like the people from the local area usually spoke. He sounded like a southerner. London, maybe. Though if he was honest with himself, everyone south of Lindum sounded like they were from London to him.

"No, no, it's okay," Sanjay replied, feeling his voice breaking as he spoke. Shame bled into him and he felt small. Like a child that had done something wrong and was being confronted with it by a parent. "I... Uh... Didn't realise you were... Uh..."

"Carrying her?" the voice laughed and, as if in response, the woman he was carrying was hoisted higher.

He hadn't even breathed hard at the exertion.

Fear inexplicably trickled down over Sanjay's ribs, like a bead of sweat. Something about how casual the man was acting was freaking him out. As if it was the most natural thing in the world to be carrying a woman down the street.

"Yeah," Sanjay exhaled, trying to stifle a nervous laugh. "Why... Uh..." He cocked his head to indicate the girl. "Why are you...?"

"Oh!" He laughed again, his body rocking with the chuckle. "Sorry. I guess this does look a bit weird, huh? Went out for a few after work with the misses." The woman was hoisted even higher, before being lowered slightly. "She got a bit twatted." Another laugh. "So, thought I'd carry her 'ome. Can't very well have driven, could I? Don't wanna get pulled over."

At the explanation, Sanjay felt the tension is his body ease.

Everything suddenly clicked into place. The boiler suit, the girl. Why the man was walking down an empty street, in the middle of the night. There was a pub a few streets over, in the direction the man had walked from.

He breathed out heavily.

"Everything okay down there?" the friendly voice asked.

"Fine, fine," Sanjay fumbled. "Just... Tired."

"Well don't stay up too late," the stranger laughed, tapping one of his feet against Sanjay's leg, through the fabric of the sleeping bag. "See ya' later, pal. If I see you again, I'll see if I have a few bob to spare."


Olivia Casey was thinking of something long and hard. Luke Foad was thinking of something soft and wet. They stumbled across the car park, drunk on lust and cheap spirits. Breath burnedin their throats with the ambience of alcohol, their heads swimming with the fumes.

Every so often they would break from their drunken swagger to engage one-another in a clumsy tangle of limbs. Probing into their mouths, their tongues explored and tangled with each other.

Gasping for air, Olivia felt her body shudder with need.

Fuck, how does he do this to me? she thought, running her fingers back through her hair, to clear it from her face before engaging him in another furious round of kissing.

She felt the tingles ripple through her body, spreading out from her mid-section and warming her body. Her head felt hot. Like she was burning from the inside out. Deep inside her, the flames lapped at her womb.

God, she was so wet.

His hands explored her body, trailing cinders of desire behind them. Around her waist, and up under her shirt. Under the hem of her skirt. Past the waistline of her underwear and...

"No, no, stop..." she whispered, urgency throttling her voice. "Not here..."

Turning her head quickly, from side to side, she surveyed the empty car park for signs of movement. Olivia saw nothing. Only the reflection of the lone street lamp against the windscreens of cars.

There was no one there.

But she still felt exposed. Vulnerable and in the open.

The park was safe. Lyefield community park was a wide open field, with a large oak in the centre. There were no lights to illuminate them. Only darkness.

Olivia had always liked the idea of sex in public. She thought about it often, and masturbated to the thought almost as much. It was something thrilling and dangerous. Taboo. And she loved the thought of it. It elicited a yearning in her that she needed to fulfil.

Just as they were about to delve into the darkness, she stopped Luke with a hand on his groin. She felt him hard under her fingers and moaned into his earlobe.

Pressing her body against him, she inhaled his scent and kissed his neck. Olivia felt him grind back against her, and plunge his hand back down under her skirt.

Grasping at his shirt, she stopped him again.

Calm down, slut… she thought, inhaling the night air to still the rapid pace of her heart. Not now. Just wait two minutes.

Breaking the embrace, Olivia grabbed Luke by the hand and led him off of the Tarmac and onto the grass. Dew caught the canvas of her All Stars and started to seep through them, chilling her skin and creating a delicious contrast with the heat of her body.

Collapsing against the gnarled surface of the oak tree, they fell into each other and Olivia felt herself melt.

Pulling her hands down his body, she fumbled with Luke's belt and dropped to her knees. Above her, she heard him make a guttural sound deep in his throat.

She felt herself smile around him, as she finally got what she wanted.

Swaying sideways in a drunken stupor, Olivia put down one hand to steady herself. Instead of grass, however, she felt something else. Silky and smooth. Almost like hair.

Glancing down, in a sense of vague interest, Olivia tried to discern the outline of what she had touched in the darkness.

Then she saw the profile of the face. And the blood. Black in the moonlight.

Locking up in fear, her body stiffened and her jaw automatically snapped shut.

Thrashing in pain, Luke screamed in pain and grabbed Olivia by the hair. Wrestling her off of him, the second her mouth opened, she too started to scream.

Around the outside of the park, lights from houses started to come on. Then beams or torches began to slice through the night.

And Olivia saw the face of the dead girl, staring up at the moon.