“If we’re going to be friends we neededn’t be so formal.” Helena rose and accepted his hand as he then guided her towards a drinks cabinet. “Now, I wouldn’t ordinarily suggest this, but you look like you could use a drink to calm your nerves. Wine?” Helena’s mind screamed, “No booze! Basic rules of staying in control. No booze!”, but her face betrayed her relief and her hands were soon clasping a glass of Pinot Noir and eagerly sipping it as she got to know Jack. Judging by the bulge in Jack’s pants, she figured things were going to get interesting pretty soon. They sat on the sofa together and as Helena sipped her wine, allowing the alcohol to calm her nerves, Jack made pleasant soothing conversation whilst all the time caressing her stocking clad knees and taking great pleasure at the thrill of being able to push Helena’s skirt hem further and further up her deliciously firm thighs. He told her how he had first met Helena, how glad he was to have found such an intelligent. He was yelling something intolerable and his grubby clothes were soaked in what was most likely the waters of the stormy sea. She backed away from the man, glancing the mad look colouring his eyes. There were hands grabbing at him, trying to yank him back but the madness strengthened his desire. He roared, seeing his prize clothed in an oversized shirt and backed up against the bed she had only a moment ago been placed in. ‘The Faerie bitch will kill us all!’ He roared to the struggling figures that pulled at him. Some were yelling his name, others stayed silent, some cheered him on in his quest, the insecurity of the common superstitions eating at their souls, fuelling their own madness. The brute who she now knew as Drok managed to struggle past the door, flinging himself from the arms of those who seeked to stop their fellow man. It all happened in a matter of seconds but time moved so slowly she could almost see each action before it even happened. He was moving towards her,.
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