SSC (2001) The Dog Catcher Read Online Free

big smile then throw a bowl
of water in their face. In no time at all Sue’s T-shirt was soaked to
transparency; naked but not naked, she felt tremendously sexy and would have
gone to the toilets to bring herself off if they hadn’t been too busy and
crowded.
    The
real horror though began after 1 p.m. Those in the know crowded into the bars
which then locked their doors, leaving those outside trapped and running from
doorway to doorway as they were repeatedly doused. At first they found it
amusing but after a while the constant assault began to wear them down. The
gang Sue was with laughed manically as a couple of Dutch tourists beat on the
glass doors of the bar they were in while behind them a fire truck directed its
hoses onto their backs, till they sank to the flooded ground and curled into a
sodden ball, their tears adding to the pool in which they lay. Surreptitiously
Sue rubbed herself against a corner of the bar as the Dutch couple were spun
and battered to the ground by the gushing hoses of the firemen. She realised
she needed a boyfriend, it was all very well being non-penetratively shagged up
the arse by eighty-year-olds but she needed some cock of her own age.
    As
usual her own personal angel — who a psychic healer in Totnes had told her was
a Choctaw Indian by the name of ‘Lightning Dog’ who’d been killed at the Battle
of Bull Run — must have been listening, for on the Tuesday of the next week
there was a new car in the village. By now Sue knew everybody’s vehicle. Nige’s
beat-up old locally made Santana Landrover, Baz’s Japanese pick-up truck,
Laurence’s ancient Mini still on British plates, the little white vans with
seats in the back that all the local old boys had. The only cars that came and
went were the hire cars, bright little hatchbacks rented by the tourists who
leased for a couple of weeks the few villas that were available to let for the
summer.
    This
big new silver Opel Omega with Madrid number plates stood out, just as the big
dog had when it had come to the valley. When Sue first saw it, the car was
parked outside the house of an old English guy called Max. She had met him once
when he had come out for a weekend. He was a retired engineer who seemed to
talk about nothing except the kinds of toast he had eaten throughout his long,
long life. Laurence said he came for the entire summer once he had got his
mother settled in a rest home in Coventry. The door of the house was open and a
young man of her own age came out, shading his eyes against the bright
sunlight. He took an old leather suitcase out of the car’s boot and was hauling
it into the house when he saw Sue looking at him.
    ‘Awright?’
he said to her.
    ‘Awright’
she replied. He was English and Northern, home-grown cock.
    His
name was Tony and he was from the flat brown alluvial Lancashire farm country
inland from Blackpool Bay. Home-grown, organic, free-range cock.
    They
started fucking that night.
    Sue
introduced Tony to the crowd in Noche Azul the next lunchtime. Of course they
already knew he was there.
    ‘So,’
said Nige, ‘you’re staying at Max’s place — when will he be coming out to join
us?’
    ‘Oh he
won’t be,’ said Tony. ‘Not this year. He decided to stay at home … for the
cricket.’
    ‘Oh
shame,’ said Janet.
    ‘I’m a
sort of nephew of his.. He gave me the keys to his house; he wanted me to enjoy
it even if he couldn’t.’
    ‘Will
you be staying long?’ asked Miriam.
    ‘I’m
not sure, Miriam. I’m on the look-out for opportunities, perhaps here or on
the coast, so I thought I’d chill for a bit, see what happens.’
    ‘Did he
sort of give you his watch as well?’ drawled Laurence.
     
    ‘Did he
give you his watch? A Tag Heurer that his firm gave him after thirty years’
indentured slavery, you … you’re wearing it.’
    Tony
looked at the watch. ‘Yeah, like I said he’s me favourite sort of uncle. He
likes to give me things.’
    ‘That’s
nice,’ said