Page 370 - Demo

370was sweating, but it would not evaporate in the moisture-clinging air.It was several minutes before she heard a sound, the odd noise of... what... she thought? Maybe a wounded animal, a deer, or another animal, a large badger possibly, dragging itself across the grass towards her?%u201dThe sound gradually grew louder. This could not be her friend, corpse or no corpse. If he came in a taxi, he would walk across the garden and fuck her. But then there was that smell, like a rat had died and rotted away; its organic pulp emitting that awful gas that signalled to flies that it was okay to come and lay their eggs so their maggots could feed on any remaining goodness. Yes, she thought. That was the smell.It grew stronger, as did the sound. She would admit, she was starting to feel a little scared. Hopefully, Nancy%u2019s friend would appear out of the dark, give her a good fucking, and that wounded animal would be frightened off and drag itself away into the dark to die quietly outside the zone of her nose.Her thoughts were suddenly snatched back a bit closer when the table she was lying on, juddered. Something down on the ground had just collided with it. There was a sound she never noticed before, the noise of rasping, like air being sucked through a pipe with water half blocking it, and a gurgling sound, along with breathing which struggled to take in air and blow it out again. She froze with a spreading, paralysing, chill when she felt sharp claws suddenly dig themselves into both of her ankles. And as one let go to dig into her leg further up, and then the other, she knew something was tugging itself up her legs to reach her. She pulled on the ropes hoping to release herself, but Nancy had tied them very tight indeed. She felt sick to her stomach. It was the smell. It was as if, she thought, someone had gone to a medieval slaughter-house and recovered the rotting waste thrown out at the back. It assailed her senses, and whatever was using her legs as a ladder, was now clawing and pick-axing its way up her thighs.She felt it right then, a gooey substance fall from above her groin; a cold elastic membrane that seemed to be laid down like a slime trail for The Equestrian