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My Business

By: scotjock1



My business.

It's a word that conjures up images of boardrooms, deals worth millions being made.

But my business is drugs, and crime in the Capital; London.

Now that's not to say I am new to the game, I'm no Londoner but a Glaswegian. 

From Scotland, I came down south after getting into some trouble with another local drug crew in the Clydeside area, and worse was that I heard their boys were gunning for me.

My saviour was my uncle Tommy, who was in the game and had been for a long time both during Arthur Thompson's reign, and the years that followed his death.

He told me once, that the game down south was always being played by Scots. We were taking over a chunk of the drug trade in London as the traditional London, Cockney gangsters were forced out. They didn't have the stomach no more after we entered the 2000's. 

London was up for grabs to ethnic groups, and gangs especially the Russians and Yardies. 

But my uncle told me, that we were one the main suppliers to London with Heroin and so were the Scousers in Liverpool.

They didn't take it down to London, the Scots did and we sold it on in the streets of the Capital.

So that was my opportunity, my uncle gave me a way in with some of his friends in London. 

There I could help run our operations down there, even my uncle answered to bigger players in Glasgow and things had to run smoothly south of the border, as it was a good earner for the organisation.

And so here I was getting off the train from Glasgow in Euston Train Station in London, to be met by a friend of my uncle's named Terry. 

I didn't have to wait long, waiting for me in a suit and trench coat Terry was there. 

He had short black hair, and was clean shaven but he had a few scars dotting his chin and neck from past fights.

I had turned up wearing a grey hooded jumper, jeans and my rucksack I was carrying some of my possessions I wanted to take with me.

He nodded at me saying nothing, as people walked past me.

I followed Terry out of the station to a waiting car, a black Range Rover already being driven by a bald man in a suit.

"Get in."

He told me, and I got into the back seat with Terry as I put my bag down near my feet.

The car took off, and we were soon driving from Central London outwards.

"So ya' uncle told me you wer' coming doon' here to get away from some trouble."

I nodded, and Terry sighed.

"Trouble up there, dosnea' come doon' here at least. We're left in peace tae' dae' what we want. Do you know what wae' dae' doon here?"

I nodded, my uncle talked me through operations down here in London.

Heroin sometimes partly came from Glasgow, from across the waters in Belfast or Dublin and then we brought it down to London ourselves. At other times the Liverpool Drug Barons did it for us, sold it to us on whole-sale price and transported it down to Terry and his crew directly for a price. 

The Scousers weren't interested in selling it in London themselves, but to sell it onto gangs and crews for a whole-sale profit. 

But we had a good relationship with Liverpool, and they usually sent down their supplies to Terry and such for sale in the capital.

We never directly sold it on either, we had gangs and local street-crews who came to us to buy a Kilo here or more for a set price, usually for cash or they had a deadline to pay us back what they owed us for the drugs, with interest.

Most made good on the promises, and paid us what we were owed.

Others did not but we either dealt with them, or we got the local Yardies to deal with them for a price or cooperation between our groups.

"Noow' listen tae' me lad. Doon' here we run our own things. We get our stuff from home, or Liverpool. We then sell tae' the locals, and that's how it's been working down here since wae' us."

I nodded staring out of the window of the Range Rover at London, a city I had never visited before.

"We don't carry shooters, unless we have tae' but even then you watch who you top doon' here. We don't need plod on us, and knowing our business."

I nodded once more, turning to face him.

"So what is ma' job doon' here?"

I asked him.

"Watch, and learn for noow' lad. That's what your uncle asked mae' tae' dae' with you. Given time, wae' have jobs for you."

I agreed.

"Noow' I have a wee flat for you in West London, near Hammersmith. It isnae' much but it's a good place. That's our territory, West London. We leave East London tae' the Yardies who don't bother us much. South of the river is Turkish turf, we didnae' dae' business with them. They supply the south with dope, and then you have North London which is torn between dae' black lads and Asians. Our pie is the West, we supply the gangs there with supply and make good on the profits back. Noow' if yae' get into any trouble wae' anyone you tell me first, I'll decide on what we dae' alright?"

I agreed once more, not wanting to argue with Terry.

"The way we deal wae' things back up the road doesn't fly doon' here unless we have to tool up and deal wae' it. Usually we'll talk it oot' wae' people first, then we go the whole road with them and give them a kicking. One wee tool you can carry, is the old blade. Just didnae' get pulled over by the pollis. Understand?"

I coughed, but sat up and nodded.

"Good, here."

Terry slipped a closed lock-knife from his trench coat pocket, it had a black handle and was heavy when I took hold of it.

I opened it discreetly, below the height of the car window next to me and saw it was a good nine inches long, and very sharp.

"Brand new son, a fish-gutting blade. Danny there got you it, before yae' came doon' ahead of time."

Terry nodded to the driver, who gave me a quick glance through the mirror and then continued driving on.

I liked the feel of it, good old-fashioned blade like back home that I would use or carry on me.

"Didnae' dae' anyone with it, if yae' have tae' you know a good scalping does the job right enough, or open the cunt's face a bit. But you didnae' put him in a bag."

I closed the blade, shoving it inside my jean pocket.

We were soon driving into West London, and through Hammersmith beneath its fly-over. We drove through a few side-roads and parked outside a small housing estate.

"Flat seven, that block there."

Terry said nodding to the building we were parked outside of, and handed me a set of two single keys for its front door and the main door of the building.

"Wee bit of dough for yae', didnae' spend it all."

With that he handed me a roll of banknotes, I didn't count it in the car and would do so in the flat. 

"Finally a clean mobile phone, it's a burner. Dump it when I tell yae' tae' or if you dae' something then dump it when you get the chance. I'll call yae' in the morning."

A small Nokia hand-held phone, very cheap costing about £20 in a local Argos store.

"The SIM is pay as you go, but didnae' use it to call home. Use your normal phone for that, and it's already got £20 quid's worth of credit in it. Only call me back, when I tell yae' tae. Off you go son."

I opened the car door slowly, and stepped out of it.

Before I could ask any more questions of Terry, the door shut behind me and the Range Rover was off down the road, and out of view.

It was only 11:30am, still in the early morning. 

I looked up at the block of flats, looking around the area lacked any real security and so I walked up to the main door with my bag over my shoulder, and with the key opened it.

Inside I climbed the stairs to the second floor where flat seven was, and found it's red featureless door.

Unlocking the door, I stepped inside.

It was sparsely decorated, and renovated.

The main front room of the flat had a single couch, and a flat-screen LCD television on a simple, cheap stand against a wall in front of the couch.

The remote for it was on the couch, I turned it on and saw it was one of those Freeview televisions, with the channels loaded into it, I skipped through the channels until I found a re-run of Only Fools and Horses on the channel Dave.

I left it on, and inspected the rest of the property.

The kitchen was bare, but had a small fridge, toaster, and microwave.

There was no food in the cupboards.

I grunted opening a cupboard to find it bare, and closed it. 

A takeaway would do fine, when I was hungry.

The bedroom was not furnished either, just a simple mattress with no coverings or pillows.

I'd have to furnish this place myself, out of my own pocket given time.

I went into the front room, put my bag down and took the knife out of my pocket.

I put it onto the television stand, and unrolled the banknotes Terry had given me.

I sat down and counted through it, not paying much attention to the TV.

Finished counting the cash, I counted that he had given me £550 in notes. Some were larger denominations, and some in low £5 banknotes.

I was going to eat tonight, that was for sure. 

And maybe even make this place a bit nicer to reside in.

I sat watching the television for about half-an-hour on the couch, before deciding to go shopping.

I snatched up my knife, sliding it into my pocket and decided to leave £400 of my money in the house, hiding it in the kitchen in a small empty coffee tin in one of the cupboards in case I was burgled.

Turning off the television, I left the flat locking it behind me and exiting the building before heading towards a busy street nearby.

This was Hammersmith, the main road near to the busy transport hub that served the trains and buses to the area.

There were shops everywhere, from a local Tesco and Morrisons to a KFC shop, and some bars and clubs.

I had my hood up over my face, my thick beard fully grown into a red-copper tint across my jaw.

Some people stared at me, as I walked the road.

Some young lads in hoods, and sports attire watching me.

The local gangs, I assumed.

I knew where my blade was in my pocket, in case I needed it.

I decided to pop into the local Tesco's store, buy some cheap cutlery and kitchen utensils.

I also bought some milk, bread and cereal as well as some Irn Bru - a Scottish favoured beverage brewed back home.

On the way back towards where the flat was, I popped into the KFC shop and bought a bargain bucket with a side of gravy.

I was starving, and decided that I wanted some hot food tonight.

Heading back to the flat, I put the shopping away and camped out on the couch with the KFC bucket and my beverages.

I munched through some chicken wings, a few pieces of chicken thighs and drumsticks, and even finished the four portions of fries that came with it. 

About two hours passed, and I finally slept on the couch. 

It wasn't cold, and it seemed Terry and put £20 each into both the gas and electricity meter, so I turned on the radiators in the flat.

The Next Day, 9am

I woke at about 7am, but during the night woke up every so often and watched some films on the television before falling back to sleep.

By 9am, I was eagerly waiting for a call from Terry as I ate my way through a bowl of cereal on the couch watching the morning news.

I was almost through the bowl of cereal, when the phone Terry had given me rang and vibrated on the couch next to me.

I picked it up, and answered.

"Hello?"

"Aye James son, I'm coming tae' pick you up from the flat in aboot' twenty minutes. I have a wee bit of business tae' deal with, and I want you there tae' see how things are done doon' here. Get a shower, and meet me downstairs when you're ready."

I agreed, and the call went dead.

I put the bowl into the sink, and had a quick shower. 

My lucky blessing was that I had a towel in my bag that I brought down with me.

I didn't truly know if I was going to sleeping rough, so I packed some essentials including a towel, and a thin blanket along with my clothes.

Dressed, and washed wearing the same hooded-jumper from yesterday I locked the flat up, and waited downstairs outside of the block of flats.

As I waited outside, with my blade in my pocket feeling somewhat safer I noticed a dishevelled white guy approach me wearing a rough, dirty hooded-jumper of his own and torn jeans.

He was stumbling all over the place, as he approached me.

He then spoke in a rough, London accent.

"Hey man, you got anything? I'll pay, just a fix. I know you lot sell it, just a £20 wrap. Come on mate, I'm good for it."

He fumbled in his pockets for a moment, producing a handful of two £10 notes crumpled up. 

He assumed I was a drug dealer around the area, that I was selling drugs and that I was waiting for my next customer.

"Mate, fuck off. I ain't selling tae' you."

I said angry.

He looked sad, his teeth all brown and damaged from years of drug abuse.

"Come on mate, I know you run with them Hammersmith boys. You know them MDP, Money Drugs and Power stuff. I know you're selling man, you guys usually hang out here to sell some dope."

He kept on walking towards me, and I was wary.

My hand was in my jean pocket, clutching at the lock-knife.

"I just fucking said pal, I innae' selling anything."

His hands came up from his sides, pointing at me.

That was it, I didn't know if this guy was just a junkie or someone trying to rob me.

I pulled the blade from my pocket, and lunged at him shoving him against a wall to his face.

The guy dropped his money, and began to cry and weep.

"Just one fix mate, come on. The money is right there!"

He was clutching at my jumper feebly.

I knew it then, he wasn't a robber. He was just a junkie who wanted to buy his next fix of Heroin, or Cocaine or whatever his poison was.

I sighed, letting him go and stepping back.

"I'm no dealer pal, alright? Go look aroond', you'll find someone yae' know selling it."

He slid down the wall picking up his money, and shuffled away.

I looked around for any witnesses, but saw none and so I closed the knife and put it away in my pocket again.

I turned to see Terry's Range Rover pull up to the curb of the street, and walked over to it opening the door myself and getting inside to sit next to Terry again.

He was wearing the same suit as yesterday, but with a light blue shirt today.

"What was all that aboot'?

He asked me concerned.

"Some fucking junkie thinking I were a dealer, came tae' buy aff' me."

Terry rolled his shoulders and spoke.

"Probably thought it was his lucky day, a dealer oot' this early selling. Even the MDP didnae' get oot' their beds this early to sell."

I needed to know who the MDP were, if I was going to ply my trade here in the area.

"Who's this MDP crew, the junkie spoke about? He thought I were one of them."

Terry looked at me, and fixed me with a questioning look.

"They're no' up to much really, dae' control Hammersmith and most of the White City and Shepherd's Bush area. Wee slags go by two different names; Murder Dem' Pussies or Money Drugs Power is their other tag. They're dae' young ones of a firm calling themselves MPR; Make Paper Regardless. They're the elders, some old hooligan faces have been running that firm since the 80's. MPR are the elders we sell the gear tae', and the MDP are the younger crew who dae' the dealing, robbing an' killing. No' much in business tact them wee shits, but the MPR control them. If one of their lot gae' you any trouble yae' come to me and I'll sit doon' with the MPR lot to sort it oot'."

I nodded, feeling a bit safer now as the car drove off.

"So this is their ground?"

I asked.

Terry nodded.

"Aye, they hav' some dealers aboot' here slinging and selling but ave' made sure dae' know aboot' you and to no' hassle you. They know you live aroond' here and shouldnae' bother you. No' wae' us protecting you, and you being one of ours."

I nodded, and sat back.

"So where are we going?"

Terry smiled at me.

"A wee bit of irony today, I hav' tae' sit doon' wae' the MPR lot to settle out their next supply. A wee bit of negotiating on price, and stuff."

"What are dae' like?"

I was curious.

"Older faces, from the QPR and Chelsea days. Old-day hooligans, but they've ran the drugs aroond' here for a long time. I hav' tae' sort out the price they're paying."

I nodded.

"You'll see how we dae' business today. So pay attention, James."

I nodded once more, as if a teacher was lecturing me about ethics or a class study.

We were soon in an area nearby named White City that had a ton of council estates and run-down housing schemes.

We pulled up to a three storey Victorian style house, that looked like it was only one flat in the whole property.

"The guys we're meeting are big players, stay quiet and listen tae' me. Two guys we're meeting today are Marcus, and Raffy. Keep your heed' on and listen up."

Danny was behind us at the door, as he parked the car.

I checked my lock-knife was still in my pocket in reach.

"Didnae' worry James, you won't need it here. If ar' thought we had tae' come tooled up Danny would have brought a shooter, but we don't. This is just a talk wae' them, they always agree to our price. It's better than the Turks, or Pakistani suppliers give."

Terry knocked pressed a bland coloured buzzer at the door, and it rang out inside.

It was now I noticed the whole three floors above were just one big apartment.

There was some shuffling of feet inside, and the door opened to reveal a beautiful black woman with black dreadlocks hanging over her shoulders.

I always loved Black women, or Ebony women more than any other ethnicity.

And I was gob-smacked by how gorgeous she was, wearing a pair of figure hugging black leggings, and a white tank top she looked at us with dark crimson lipstick on her lips.

She was voluptuous and curvy, the leggings clinging to her hips and bottom as she swayed on the spot looking at us.

"We're here tae' see Marcus, and Raffy hen."

She nodded, and spoke in a London accent.

"They're upstairs, up you go. Do you want anything to drink?"

She asked us, and it was then she noticed me staring at her.

"What's wrong babe, you never notice a black woman before?"

I smiled, behind my beard.

"No' one as fucking stunning as you hen."

She laughed, and blushed shyly.

"Well cheers for the compliment, even if it's from a young lad like you. Go on up, and I'll bring some drinks up for you all."

She was soon away in the kitchen that was off of the corridor preparing beverages.

Danny shut the front door behind us, and we climbed the stairs to the first floor of the property.

We stepped out into a spacious front room, very well decorated and furnished.

Terry leaned towards me.

"Careful wae' her, she's Marcus's wee sister and he's protective of her."

I nodded.

"What's her name?"

I asked, wishing I hadn't asked.

"Aisha."

He told me simply as we stepped into the main room, where a large flat-screen HD television was mounted on the wall in front of two black, leather couches. Two men sat around the coffee table in front of them, and I saw a mixture of different drugs in front of them.

One of them was white, bald and built as if he was a weight lifter. 

The other man was black and clean shaven, with short black hair. He was counting out some cash on the table, and smoking a cigarette as the white man smoked what looked to be a Joint.

The strong aroma of Cannabis filled the room, and we stepped inside.

"Terry."

The black man said standing, and smiling as he greeted his guests.

They hugged, as if they had been business partners for years.

"How are yae' daein' Marcus, mate?"

Marcus stepped back smiling.

"Not too bad mate, business is good and life cannot get much better I think. But we plod on, and survive as best we can."

He answered in a strong Cockney, London accent.

"An' business is always good mate."


My Business Ch. 02



One Month Since James Arrived in London, West London, United Kingdom, 4:35pm

A month had passed since I arrived in London, taking on my role within Terry's organisation, learning the trade from him. 

Since arriving I had met Marcus, Aisha's brother and local gang boss.

Terrry had sent two shipments down from Liverpool which was ours, and another fortnightly re-up for Marcus's crew.

I knew one was of entirely Heroin, but the second shipment to Marcus was directly from us with one of our own, clean drivers had a mixture of Cocaine and Heroin, and even some grade-A class Cannabis.

I discovered that each shipment down to London, for us to distribute to street gangs in West London were twenty Kilo's a shipment.

A value of upwards of £200,000 in each shipment of pure product with a minimal purity level of 90%.

Now given just a single Kilo to a drug gang or crew in London, who buys from us on a regular basis can stamp on the product up to three, or even four times to lower its purity level, but raise their profits with use of Talcum Powder and even Flour.

So a Kilo we sold for about £10,000 a brick would turn up profits of almost £80,000 upwards depending on how much they stepped on the purity, in favour of more in weight.

It was a hell of an operation, I was told it came directly from Columbia for Cocaine, Afghanistan and Turkey for the Heroin in their Poppy fields.

All in metric-tonnes of Kilo's, we're talking mountains of the bricks. 

At least a hundred Kilo's in one shipment bound for Europe, and sometimes higher than that.

Then it came through ports all over Europe, broken up into smaller consignments.

From there it travelled to the Cartel's main customers, major drug distributors in England, Scotland and Ireland but also the rest of Western Europe including bound for Amsterdam when Cannabis was ordered on bulk.

From local-major drug distributors, it went down the chain to their local crew in the city, such as here in London who sold it on whole-sale to the street-gangs.

It would come to us with at least twenty Kilo's per shipment.

We'd break up what we had given the amounts who were buying from us that was Marcus. 

He'd get five Kilo's the moment it came into London, then the smaller gangs and crews who bought from us on a regular basis, but who did not have the standing level of respect Marcus had with us.

After that the last of the shipment was divided up among new gangs sprouting up, or just those who only bought a Kilo from us a month sometimes.

They all got the same pure product, but Marcus and others were given priority on the first bricks to leave the van.

So that's how it worked, our primary trade for our group.

We sent the proceeds from the sales up to the bosses in Glasgow, but we got to keep 20% of overall profits made.

This covered costs of running the business down here, in terms of properties and muscle we'd hire.

The organisation back home North, knew we needed funds to cover local muscle needed to help us keep control, cars and properties as well as our own money because we were certainly not working for free to the firm.

This was how the distribution, and transfer of proceeds happened.

At the end of every month, profits from both shipments per month were divided between two, clean drivers who would drive up to Glasgow with the thousands of pounds in the boot of the vehicle.

I heard that on average, the Glasgow Connection were making almost a quarter-of-a-fucking million pounds per month alone.

£400,000 is a lot of money, especially just for their London-based operations.

I asked Terry on occasion who we really worked for; and he'd only give me two names but nothing more on them.

One of our bosses was linked to a notorious crime-family in Glasgow called the Daniels Clan, he wasn't family of them but a close associate who worked in his own territory.

His name was Conrad.

Finally the second man we were supposedly working for was named Tony, and he worked closely with the British Cartel. A notoriously known Britain-wide drug network that was supposedly formed in the 1970's in the UK, and now controlled a lot of connections, routes and contacts world-wide in the drug trafficking trade.

These two men were all I knew of in Glasgow, and who we worked for.

They sometimes sent us rare muscle, when we needed it.

Unknown gunmen from Glasgow, or other parts of Scotland to come down and murder our rivals.

This only ever happened in times of war, when someone attempted to push us out of the city to peddle their own drugs.

We had kept control for a few years already, through contract-killings and imported Russian gunmen who were even cleaner than our own soldiers in the north.

Because of this our own existence was kept away from the authorities notice for so long.

This was a multi-million pound making operation, and it was worth killing over.

Guns were kept somewhere safe, where we could arm ourselves if we were at war or feuding with gangs.

They were kept with people the Police would not suspect, and I thought a few handguns was the most we had access to.

But I saw one time, when Terry had to meet with one of our holders of weapons for a pistol we may have needed for a sit-down with one of the Russian OC men.

However I saw the holder was holding for us a Mac-10 sub-machine gun, with a silencer plus two pump-action shotguns and a few different types of handguns.

But it was the AK47 assault rifle, from Russia that caught my eye.

Only used once prior to our organisation buying it, and it was used in Moscow by the Russian Mafia on one of their own rivals.

We had access to a military-grade assault rifle if needed, the thought made me shiver at the idea of unleashing that beast with its fire-power on a rival, or a street.

We could access some serious fire-power if we needed to, that much was clear to me.

But it was on Terry's stern instructions, we were not to carry any firearm in public unless we were at war or in danger of attack by rivals.

We couldn't risk arrest, and the discovery of our presence in London's drug world.

So now a month here in London, I had used the money Terry constantly gave me to renovate the flat and buy some new clothes for myself, including a suit on Terry's advice.

Because Marcus bought five Kilo's of Dope from us per month, sometimes even ten given his gang sold it all on quickly, he was one of our contacts in London Terry told me.

He sometimes supplied muscle to us, but mostly threw business from other drug deals he was involved in, armed robberies and car theft.

We could always sell on the stolen goods elsewhere, and us and Marcus made more profit in the end.

Whatever we made from these extra dealings did not go north, we kept it. It wasn't related to the drugs we were distributing, it was our own thing and we kept it to ourselves.

So that was more cash in our own pockets, and made life down here liveable for us.

It was about a month since I arrived in the city, and I was called Terry on a new throwaway mobile phone in my flat.

"Get doon' tae' Marcus's house, we have a wee problem."

That was all he said, and I ended the call.

I got dressed in jeans, and my hooded jumper.

I slid the fish-gutting lock knife into my pocket, and locked up my flat before heading to Marcus's house via bus.

It was a short journey, but I saw the Range Rover Terry was driven in parked up outside the property on the road.

I stepped up to the front door of the property, and pressed the doorbell.

It rang out, and the door opened.

Aisha was standing there, with a bruise on her cheek wearing black leggings and a hooded top.

"Jesus, what the fuck happened Aisha?"

I asked concerned stepping inside.

"It's nothing."

Aisha said trying to look away from me.

"Aisha was this Marcus?"

She looked at me furiously.

"Never, he has never hurt me. I am his fucking sister, this was one of his rivals. Found me out shopping, and hit me."

I sighed.

"Who?"

Aisha sighed too.

"Some guys from Southall, recognised me as Marcus's sister and two of them slapped me around. They told me to tell him, they were coming for him and his territory."

I gently touched her bruise below her left eye, and she moaned.

"I'm gonnae' kill these bastards for this."

Aisha smiled gently.

"You better head upstairs, they're waiting for you. We'll talk later honey."

I nodded, and as she went into the kitchen I mounted the stairs to the top floor.

Upstairs everyone was assembled.

Terry and Danny sat in their pressed suits, as Raffy and Marcus sat on the couch talking together.

They all saw me walk in, and stopped talking.

"James, take a seat." 

Marcus told me, waving to an empty recliner chair across from the couch.

"What happened?" I asked sitting down.

Marcus sighed, and looked at me.

"Some of my rivals in Southall, saw Aisha shopping and attacked her. They made it clear to her that their crew are going to try and push us out of our own territory."

I nodded.

"So who heads up this firm doon' in Southall, your rivals?"

I asked.

"A cunt called Mahmood, and his younger brothers Isid and Abdul. All connected to the Turkish firm down south, they buy their dope from them and sell it in Southall. Now usually we've had problems with them in the past, but nothing beyond a few street fights and stabbings. This was a threat on me, my family. They should fucking know that she was off-limits. If they come at me, they come at me. Not my family."

Marcus was angry, gripping his bottle of beer in his hand with his dark knuckles clenched.

"We'll get them, didnae' worry Marcus."

I said without even consulting Terry, who gave me a look of 'know your place, and do not promise things' sitting across from me.

"So who runs this Turkish firm doon' south?"

Marcus turned to me.

"Some guy named Rezzar, major fucking player. Back in Turkey he topped enough people, to fill a fucking cemetery. Now he heads up his organisation back home, here in London. Brings in enough dope, and Weed for the whole of South-London and further afield. He has had aspirations on taking West-London also, to peddle his product. That puts him at conflict with you guys, and your organisation back north. But that's not all, he's moving into the arms trade. Big time I would add. He's the fella people go to for clean guns from the Middle-East, and we're talking everything from pistols to AK-47's."

I sighed, the whole thing was giving me a fucking headache.

"We've dealt wae' Rezzar's firm before, if he is thinking of coming at us then he knows what we will dae' wae' him. We've gone to war before, and we will dae' it again if we have tae'."

Terry chimed in.

"What about muscle? I can't have my lads doing the shooting, if they are going to end up doing a stretch inside. I've already had to look after two of my lads in prison, since they did some work for me a few months back."

Terry turned to Marcus, and answered his question.

"Muscle from abroad, we cannae' call doon' muscle from Glasgow. No' right noow' anyway. But we can call upon the Russians tae' dae' some heavy work for us. They charge, and we're noo' gonnae' foot the whole bill Marcus. This is a war wae' one of your rival crews, you have tae' deal wae' them. We deal wae' the Turks if they get involved."

Marcus grunted, and became angry.

"So that's it, you leave me to fight this war alone with the Southall lads?"

Terry sighed.

"Marcus it doesnae' work that way. We don't get involved in these inter-crew conflicts, we supply you. You have tae' deal wae' your own rivals yourself. If the Turks get involved, then that's them coming at us, your suppliers. We wouldnae' ask you to get involved in that, so you cannae' ask us to help you more than advice, and contacts we can give yer'."

Marcus sighed.

"So these Russians, how much would they charge for them to go after that Mahmood and his brothers?"

Terry sat back.

"You'll have tae' work oot' the deal wae' them. But as I said, they don't come cheap for a reason. They use clean enforcers, hitters and muscle. From back home in Russia, and fly them over. Unless one of them is already in the country. They usually charge us aboot' £10,000 a hit. More if it's a higher-risk target. So ma' estimate is its gonnae' cost you about thirty grand for the three of the brothers."

Marcus reclined on the couch.

"Thirty fucking grand, that's a lot."

"You pay for good service, if yer' want it cheaper yer' can always pay a junkie tae' dae' it. Likelihood is he'd fuck it up though. Believe me, we've all moved away from that. None of our own lads dae' the dirty work, nor do we hire junkie fucks tae' dae' it for us in hope they actually fucking succeed."

Raffy agreed, and Marcus took heed.

"Alright, thirty K. I can find the cash for it, who do I call?"

Danny leaned over, handing Marcus a single phone number on a scrap of paper.

"Take it doon' and remember it. We cannae' have that number flying aroond' and end up in the hands of the filth."

Terry remarked.

Marcus was already dialling the number, and saved it to his phone before handing the scrap of paper back to Danny.

"That's aboot' everything, we should head aff' and sort out our own things with the Turks."

Terry said.

At that moment Danny, and himself stood from their seats and I followed suit.

We all shook hands, Terry told Marcus we would be in contact soon again.

We all made our way downstairs, with me at the back and as I was about to step outside Aisha stood in the kitchen alone staring at me.

As Terry and Danny walked to the car, I stepped into the kitchen.

"Who did this? Gie' me a name Aisha."

I said gently stroking her bruised cheek.

"No James."

She tried to turn away, but I firmly held her cheeks in my hands and kissed her moist lips.

"Who?"

Aisha grunted, and sniffled.

"Some low-life named Farah I think, one of Mahmood's lads."

She answered me in a low whisper, in case Marcus could hear her.

"Don't say anything to Marcus, I'll deal wae' him. I promise yer'."

I said kissing her once more, holding her waist.

I soon left, and got into the waiting Range Rover with Terry and Danny with a name.

A name I could find Aisha's attacker with, a man who was going to face a fucking blade for what he did to her.

A Few Hours Later That Day, 9:55pm, London, Southall

I made my excuses to Terry, of wanting to get home and relax with some Weed.

But I had in fact went home, changed into my new suit I had bought recently.

A brand new black suit, smart pressed trousers and steel-toe cap boots.

I also bought a brand-new £300 Trench coat, to wear over my suit.

I slipped a Stanley-knife into my coat pocket, used mainly for DIY work for cutting through wood and such with a thin serrated blade.

I had the name, and had contacted some of the new contacts I had made in London in the past month to find this man named Farah.

It was almost ten o'clock in the evening, by the time I reached Southall train station.

Through my contacts, not linked to Terry or Marcus I was told Farah was a local dealer for Mahmood's gang, selling Heroin, Coke and Weed from a local council-estate.

With a brief description of the man, I watched the street he was known to stand on and sell to his customers with two other young men with him.

They were obviously his tout, keeping an eye out for rivals or Police and the other was his 'runner' who was young who collected the drugs, and handed it to the customer.

This meant Farah never touched the drugs personally, and could never be nicked for drug possession or possession with intent to supply Class A narcotics.

I approached the alleyway with my hand on my Stanley-blade already extended and ready to use.

Farah was in his mid-twenties, with short black hair and stubble on his jaw.

He was Turkish, and had the olive-skin of his native land.

I approached him, my head down, my trench coat buttoned up around my neck.

His tout, a young man spotted me but I brushed past him looking as if I lived in the street.

Farah stood against a low-bearing wall in jeans and a black hooded-jumper.

As I approached I slipped the blade from my pocket, and with my other hand outstretched it and grabbed Farah by the throat, pressing the blade to his throat.

His tout, and runner turned to me.

But I turned Farah towards them, facing them with my blade to his neck.

"Back aff' or I'll gut him, then the two of you next!"

The two of them flinched, stepping away.

I turned to Farah who was flushed.

"Noo' I know yer' the one who hit Aisha, Marcus's sister. Well she's ma' woman, and I don't fucking like cunts like you hurting her, or any woman for that matter. Noo' I think some rough fucking justice is in order, cause' you threatened her and her brother who I work for."

With that I turned the blade, and ran it from his chin up along his nose and to his forehead cutting deep with the knife.

He screamed in a hoarse voice, in pain sliding down onto the pavement ground.

"Tae' help yer' fucking remember what happens if you cross a line. Never hurt fucking innocents! Doesnae' matter who they're related tae'!"

I told him, stepping away as I saw his cradling his face covered in blood.

His two men looked at me.

"Yer' want what he just got? Then fuck aff'."

The pair fled, running from the alleyway leaving their pal behind.

I walked out of the alleyway closing the blade again, and shoving it in my pocket.

I made my way home, not looking back once until I was home in my flat again.

I washed the blade, and put my clothes into the washing machine to clean them of blood.

I called Aisha's phone, and she answered.

"Baby?"

She asked knowing it was me calling her.

"It's done hen, the bastard is no' gonnae' think of daein' that again to yer' or any woman again."

She sighed.

"Why did you do it?"

I was sat on my sofa, and held the phone to my ear wearing my shorts and t-shirt.

"Because I luv' yer, and I protect the woman I love."

There was a silence from Aisha.

"You do?"

"Aye, I fucking luv' yer Aisha."

She giggled down the phone at my words.

"Marcus is preparing for war, he's calling up everyone in the MDP for muscle."

I listened to her.

"Muscle? Just muscle? Nae' hitters?"

"No, Terry got him told on that. But it's happening. Can I come round to yours today, and see you?"

She asked me.

"Of course, I'll clean up the place for you."

She giggled.

"Good, I was worried you'd not want me around or something."

That made me upset.

"Hey, I'm no' like that Aisha. I meant it, I dae' love you. I wouldnae' say no' to you coming round' tae' my place. Besides, I miss yer' Aisha."

She laughed.

"Good, I'll be around in an hour."

The call ended.

I cleaned up the flat, putting away empty take-away boxes and such to clean the place up for Aisha arriving.

The buzzer for the building's front door buzzed, and I went to let Aisha in who on the grainy black and white camera looked to be wearing a long coat with a shoulder bag on her arm.

I let her, and opened my front door for her.

I heard footsteps, and she stood in front of me wearing a long dark coat with her dreadlocks combed back and smiling at me.

"Hey."

She said grinning.

"Come in."

I said smiling.

She smiled, and stepped inside.

I closed the door behind her.

She walked into the lounge and I followed her.

She noticed I had bought some new electronics for the flat.

A new Stereo sound system for the television, some new video games and a microwave for the kitchen.

She also noticed new curtains on the windows of the lounge that were dark crimson in colour.

"You've really spruced this place up haven't you?"




My Business Ch. 02



I smiled.

"If yer' gonnae' live in a place, make it liveable. That's what my aunt told me."

Aisha turned to me.

"Your aunt? Not your mom?"

I sighed.

"My maw' was never there for me, I didnae' even know who my father was. My maw' was Heroin junkie, sold everything we had in the hoose'. Then she tried to sell my sister to a registered rapist, she was eighteen at the time. Gave the sick fuck the time, an' place to grab her on her way to college. She had even promised the wee fuck tae' claim he were with her the whole time he would have taken to rape her an' even try to convince my sister no' to press charges against him. She was living with my aunt an' uncle at the time, with me and my other two sisters. I'm the only boy. When that happened, I made ma' maw' flee the city. She stood to make £200 for that information, but her dealer was going to take £100 back in unpaid drug debts to him. She was gonnae' sell my sister to a registered nonce, for a measly £100. Her own flesh an' blood, her daughter. I told her in simple terms, leave the fucking city an' never come back or I'd kill her meself' and she chose wisely."

Aisha was surprised, shocked even looking at me.

"My sisters an' me lived wae' my aunt an' uncle. The same uncle who sent me doon' here for my own safety. They couldnae' have kids, so they took us all on as our parents. Put my sisters through an' education, but I didnae' want that. I grew up on the streets, so my uncle brought me into the fold of his business. Good compromise, its no' like he didnae' try to convince me tae' go back tae' school. He did try, but I wasnae' interested in that."

Aisha was flustered, her warm cheeks flushed.

"I never knew."

I grunted, and sat down on the couch as she stood.

"I didnae' tell many people aboot' it. It's a secret, some could take advantage of against me. Ma' aunt an' uncle know that tae' and don't tell anyone."

Aisha nodded.

"My mother and father died when I was young, drug overdoses when the Heroin hit the country like it did in Glasgow for you. But I was so young, and Marcus was already a grown man when they died. He's the only guardian I've ever known, and he has never done anything to hurt me. He's put me through schooling, college and such even when I barely left with basic qualifications."

I laughed.

"You're lucky, I didnae' even leave school wae' qualifications. I didnae' even show for ma' exams. I think the day ma' exams were held, I was selling dope on the street corner. Ma' uncle went ape shit when he found oot' but calmed doon' when I made it clear in all honesty, I wasnae' interested in a legitimate life. I didnae' have the focus to study, or take exams. Waste of time tae' even be in school, so he realised that maybe I was better suited tae' the family business. My uncle is my maw's brother, he tried his best to keep her away from the drugs but she wasnae' interested in listening tae' him. It's worse, when you're the one selling it an' distributing it on the streets and your own sister is buying the shit. He told me once, that when ma' maw' got hooked on the brown he tried to get her tae' go cold turkey. It didnae' work. She sold ma' Playstation One, ma' uncle bought me. Then disappeared for a few days wae' the money, shooting the shit intae' her veins. Then came crawling back tae' my uncle for money."

Aisha's smile was gone, my waste of a life story had depressed her.

"Marcus always made sure I was cared for, I never had to ask for nothing really."

I nodded.

"A good man, like ma' uncle in many ways. But there were only so many ways ma' uncle could help me. I fucked up many a time, and he'd come an' bail me oot' of the Police station."

Aisha nodded, and sat down next to me on the sofa.

I noticed her legs were clad in nylon.

"Did you ever forgive your mother for what she tried to do?"

I grimaced.

"Never, I'll never forgive her for what she tried to dae' wae' my sister. Nae' fucking chance of that."

Aisha took my hand and squeezed it, as I stared off at the wall for a few moments.

"I never knew how bad it was for you."

I nodded.

"Doesnae' matter, ma' life up there is over. Noo' all that matters tae' me is you, and here."

Aisha smiled, and leaned down and kissed my lips.

"I brought my bag with me, so I could stay a few days with you. If you want me to I mean."

I smiled.

"Stay forever Aisha, you're mine."

She looked down at my bulge in my shorts and up at me.

"Open my coat, James."

I slid my hand over to her buttons and undid them.

Slowly her coat opened, and as it parted open saw the shining of what looked elastic on her body.

It was PVC, or made of the material.

The buttons came undone more, and with the whole coat open now I saw she was wearing a figure-hugging PVC top, and what looked to be a matching pencil skirt.

The skirt was bright purple, and the top was black in colour.

"Mary fucking Joseph."

I gasped.

Aisha giggled.

"I went shopping a few days ago, saw this outfit in an Ann Summers shop. I thought of you, and knew you'd like it so I bought it."

She slowly pushed her coat down onto the sofa behind her.

"I dae' love it."

The PVC material shone in front of me, her big breasts pressed inside the elastic material.

"Stand for me."

I told her, and she slid from the couch now wearing only the PVC outfit.

In front of me I saw her in all of her glory, the curves she possessed squeezed into the skirt, and top.

She wore black PVC ankle boots, and what looked to be black fishnets.

"Do you want to spend the whole day staring at me, or are you gonna take me to bed?"

Aisha asked winking.

"How aboot' right here."

I said standing with a tent in my shorts, big enough to knock over a glass of water if it were in my way.

"Whoa easy there tiger!"

Aisha said gasping, looking at me in surprise.

"I want to tease you first, dance in front of you and drive you crazy with lust for me first before we get down to fucking. Come on, bedroom lover."

I smiled and as we left the lounge, she picked up her bag that she brought with her.

In my bedroom where the bed that was once just a mattress had clean sheets, a duvet and pillows.

She pushed me onto it, and I landed on my back as I looked up at her in her PVC outfit.

"I kinda went overboard at the Ann Summers shop."

At that she opened her bag, and took out a few items.

Placing them on the nearby table, I saw one was a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs, and a black silk blindfold.

"For you, to use on me if you want babe."

She said grinning as she placed them on the table for me to see.

"A war is being fought outside this flat, but we don't have to spend every moment of it in the thick of it. I mean that for you, you're a soldier but I don't want you to get hurt."

The sexual moment was still alive, but I felt that Aisha had more to say to me.

"You're worried aboot' me ain't yer'?"

I asked her.

She slowly turned to me, and looked as if she was wiping something from her eyes.

"I just don't want you to turn up dead, or Marcus tells me that they got you. Those fucking Turks."

I saw how upset she was thinking about this war between us and the Turks, if it came to one.

There was already a war between her brother's gang, and the Mahmood's crew over the attack against her and the struggle to keep control of the drug trade in West London.

This war alone would end up in bodies, and a few of them if Marcus paid the Russians to do the dirty work.

But that was not the war Aisha was referring to, it was the possible war between the Turkish Drug gang and Terry's organisation.

That could end up in bodies, of me, Terry and even Danny if it came to it.

"Hey, Aisha. I'm no' gonnae' drop dead, no' withoot' a fight I swear it. If those Turk bastards want me, then they'll have tae' come at me tooled up for a fight. I'm no' leaving you, I promise."

Aisha didn't look at me as I spoke, staring at the wall and wiping her eyes.

"Come here."

I said gently pulling her limp arm towards me, and she gently fell onto my lap as I sat up.

"I get you, and there's a chance I won't have you for long."

It was a whisper, but emotion was raw in her words.

"I've survived more than I should have in ma' life. I am still here, an' am no' gonnae' lay down an' let them dae' me in withoot' a fight Aisha."

Asiah was so frail in my lap, so beautiful yet she was fighting to control her emotion as she rubbed her delicate hands.

"I know the risks, Marcus being my brother I never knew if one day he would get popped and I'd lose my only brother. But this is a different kind of love, I've never felt for any man and yet the risks are as big as they were with my brother."

Aisha took my hand and cupped it to her face, and closed her eyes.

"I don't want to lose you James."

The tears were there, my fingers moist from her cheeks.

"You're no' gonnae' lose me Aisha, I'm here an' and I'm staying."

Aisha smiled, kissing my hand to her cheek.

"God you drive me mad with worry you do, yet I can't stop loving you."

I gently turned Aisha's face, noticing now how beautiful this woman was.

It wasn't simply sexy, or hot but a pure beauty. 

A beauty I had searched for my whole life in Scotland, but only ever saw a chance of in a black woman or an ebony lady.

This was a passion I had never felt for Caucasian woman, or any other type of woman.

Being in Scotland, my choice of woman was vague since it was all Caucasian woman in the city of Glasgow.

Her eyes twinkled with passion, with fire.

Her beautiful dark skin made me shake holding her.

"Don't ever leave me, James. Not for this war, not for another woman because I can't love another man like I love you. I just can't. I think about losing you, and it pains me the same way it pains me to think of my brother dying out in those streets."

I turned her to face me, her eyes still closed and saw the dark purple eye shadow and lip-gloss she wore.

I leaned in and planted a firm, moist kiss on those very lips.

At first her lips quivered, but she soon kissed me back turning her body to face me and dangling her legs either side of my own sat in my lap.

The kissing intensified, as my hands ran down her back making Aisha shiver and moan as my hands stopped on her hips.

Her hand went to my head and held my tightly.

Her eyes opened staring into mine.

"I love you James, I really do."

Aisha kissed me hard, sliding her warm tongue into my mouth as she rocked on my lap.

"I love yer' so much Aisha."

She grinned and kissed me harder, pouncing on my lips with her own.

My cock was between us, fighting to be free of those shorts I wore.

"I'm wet."

Aisha moaned pressing against me.

"I'm hard, for yer' wet hole."

She giggled, kissing me.

"Do me, anything you want. Handcuff me, ride me. Blindfold me so I don't see that big cock of yours coming my way."

I was shaking, at the idea of full control over this beautiful woman who loved me and I loved in return.

I reached over to the table, and picked up the blindfold.

"Close yer' eyes."

Aisha slowly closed her eyes in a very submissive, sexual way.

I slid the black, silk blindfold over her head and across her eyes blinding her sight.

The moment the blindfold covered her eyes, and took away her sight she shivered.

I was taking control of her, taking away her ability to see me and my cock.

Next was to take away her ability of movement, with her hands.

I picked up the fluffy pink handcuffs, and took her slender wrists and behind her back locked them into place in the handcuffs, essentially binding her.

She couldn't move her arms, or wrists and was now also blind.

She was as submissive of a sex-slave as a woman could be, like in those BDSM videos on the internet.

I laughed gently.

"Where did yer' get this idea from?"

I asked her holding her hips now.

"From that film Fifty Shades of Grey, I felt like I loved you enough to try this idea out from the film."

She told me blindfolded, giggling as she was bound and blindfolded in my lap.

"How did yer' know I would be up for this?"

I asked pulling her across my lap so my bulge was pressed into her and myself.

"I just knew you'd want to try it, you're the type of guy. To want to control me, dominate me and my body for sex. I'm kinky for the right guy, and you are that guy."

It was so unnerving to hear her speaking, watching her speak blindfolded and bound in her outfit sat in my lap.

"Jesus."

I said with a laugh.

"Jesus is the right word, I've never in my life done this for a man before James. You have to understand how much I love you, to do this even after just a month of knowing you."

I nodded to myself, it was all true.

"So this means like I can dae' whatever I want tae' you, your body."

Aisha giggled, but I felt her shaking in my arms.

"Pretty much, in the film the guy really does do a lot to the girl when she's like this."

I grinned, snaking my hands around to clasp her big firm ass in my hands and the rubbery PVC skirt she wore.

"Oh really, so what does he dae' tae' her?"

I asked intrigued, having not seen the film yet.

"Spanks her, fucks her. He never makes her suck his cock in the film, but I'm sure he does do that to her in the books."

I smiled, a gang war was brewing and here I was alone with the most beautiful woman I had ever been with in my life, bound and blindfolded.

It was sort of strange, like an unexpected turn of events to have such control over Aisha in the midst of this war.

"Yer' want me to control you, your body. Decide which holes ma' cock goes into huh?"

I asked as I felt Aisha grind, rolling her hips and ass in my lap.

"Yes."

It as a purr she spoke in, and my cock felt close to snapping in two from this pleasure I was feeling.

"Then that's wat' yer' gonnae' get hen."

I said and stood from the bed with her in two, pressed against me as she didn't know what way to turn or stand.

I held her and inspected her body, and her outfit.

I leaned in and kissed her exposed neck, breathing from my nose onto her warm skin making her convulse from the sensation, and not knowing where I was physically.

I turned her to face away from me, and her back to me.

I pushed my bulge into her bound hands, and it was like a tent being clasped between her slender fingers.

They tightened and closed around my bulge, and stroked my cock through my shorts.

"It's so fucking thick and big."

I smiled at her wry comment.

"Take it oot' Aisha."

I told her, as I kissed her neck and earlobes.

"If you keep that up, I won't be able to get a hold of this cock with shaking hands."

Aisha said in a purr.

"Try baby, for me."

She was shaking, shivering as her fingers found the waistband of my shorts.

They were loose, and were easy to push down.

Slowly they came down with her nimble fingers, and down over my cock which sprang out between her bound hands.

All the while I was kissing, and licking her neck breathing heavily as I always did when I was aroused.

"God give me fucking strength."

She whispered closing her fingers around my naked, erect cock and began to stroke it up and down from the base to the end.

She turned her head sideways from my kisses, to gasp.

"God it's so fucking big."

I smiled, and found the zip on the back of her tight, constricting PVC skirt which was clinging to her skin.

"Strip me down, I'm yours James."

I pulled the zip down, to see as the skirt opened up that she was wearing fishnet tights from the waistband of them around her waist.

She wore no underwear of any kind beneath her fishnets, she was naked other than them.

Her moist, tight pussy had a slight bush around it and it was staring me in the face as I yanked down the skirt with difficultly down her firm thighs down to her feet, and slipped it off to throw aside.

I took hold of the fishnets around her buttocks, and with my hands tore them to expose her firm, dark ass cheeks and her pussy.

I slid down onto my knees behind her, with her ass in my face and leaned forwards to kiss each cheek once, and then twice.

"Have you dreamt of me like this, James?"

I gasped, kissing her ass crack and licking her slit from behind her.

"Every minute of every fucking day Aisha, I cannae' control my thoughts aboot' you."

Aisha giggled.

I helped her sit on the bed, at it's edge and stood in front of her with my cock level with her face.

"Open wide."

Aisha instinctively on my words opened her mouth wide, as wide as she could do so and I plunged my cock inside.

"Suck it."

I said caressing her hair behind her head into my hand, and gripped it as she sucked my cock.

Blindfolded, she was a beauty to watch sucking my cock completely in my control.

"Yer' dress like a whore, you'll be ma' whore and woman."

Aisha moaned, gagging on my cock as if my words intensified her resolve.

"All der' way doon' tae' my fucking balls."

Slowly, while gagging and jerking she forced her mouth down on my cock and took the whole thing in her throat.

My hands slipped down and pulled her big, firm breasts free of her PVC top to hang out, and saw her dark brown nipples were erect and hard.

"Suck it."

I snapped, pushing Aisha down by her head onto my cock once more making her wretch, and gag.

"God I'm choking on this big fucking cock of yours."

She growled, the moment I took a chance to plop my cock from her mouth before ramming it back home.

"Aye an' its right back in your mooth'."

I grunted back holding her head.

I fucked her mouth for a solid five minutes, the only noise in the bedroom was her gasps, moans, grunts and gagging.

I pushed Aisha down onto her back on the bed.

I pressed my cock-head to Aisha's pussy, and slammed inside of her making her scream.

The whole room echoed with her scream, but it subsided as I began to slam into her making her big black tits swing.

"Fuck Aisha yer' feel good, and wet aroond' my cock."

Aisha laughed, but began to pant and grunt as I rubbed her clitoris with my thumb as I fucked her.

"Oh no, stop I am going to cum if you keep fucking touching me there!"

I leaned down, an inch from her ear and grunted.

"Cum for me Aisha, all over ma' cock. Cus' I am gonnae' cum in you, and stick yer' wae' my child. My woman, and ma' wee boy or girl."

"Oh fuck!"

Aisha screamed, and she suddenly exploded around my cock and the bed with her liquid juices.

Her mouth was wide open in a soundless scream, and slowly she shivered and convulsed with me still inside her.

I couldn't last long seeing my woman cum in pleasure, and I exploded soon after depositing my load inside her womb.

We lay together, and I uncuffed her wrists and gently removed the blindfold from her eyes.

They were glazed, but her sight returned quickly and she kissed me as we lay under the bed sheets together.

We lay together for an hour, and Aisha was sleeping soundly away at my side.

It was barely an hour or two we lay together, when my mobile phone given to me by Terry rang at my side.

I picked it up and answered the call from Terry.

"Aye, Terry?"

I spoke low in order to not wake Aisha.

"James, fuck it. We've been hit by them fucking Turks. Noow' you get doon' to our man wae' the tools, you know who and arm up. Carry a simple shooter, nothing special. They're coming at us now, it's no' longer aboot' Marcus and the Southall crew. This is between us an' Rezzar's firm."

I sighed, wiping my face of some sweat.

"What the fuck happened?"

Terry sighed, not happy about these sort of questions on the phone.

"They came at us, nae' more to it than that. Yer' know what's coming, so go and see our man in the morning. I'll call yer' when I need tae' meet."

And that was it, Terry ended the call and the line was dead.




My Business Ch. 02



The message was clear, even when it was cautiously relayed.

The Turks had come at Terry and probably also Danny, an act of war.

That meant they came at them with guns, and tried to kill the head of the Scottish connection down here in London.

Now I was already aware that the only time I would ever carry a gun was if we were at war, or in direct danger of attack.

I had to go see the man with the AK47, who was holding guns safely for the firm.

I laid with Aisha who was sleeping away, and pondered what this meant for me.

I would be carrying a gun, the first time in a few months since I last did in Glasgow.

The Next Morning, 10:34am, Outskirts of London, Suburbs

I told Aisha the next morning of the call with Terry, and she said she'd go out shopping for a few hours so I could go and visit Terry's contact with the guns.

I took a local bus to the outskirts of London, near Uxbridge to meet the same man I had last seen with Terry who had our guns.

He lived in a two-storey Victorian style house in the suburbs, supposedly a gunsmith and was able to procure weapons for the firm.

I was in my jeans, and hooded-jumper with my lock-knife safely in my pocket.

I pressed his front door bell.

It rang out, and I waited.

A few moments later the man answered the door.

Clearly in his sixties, with greying hair and a bookish appearance with black-rimmed reading glasses.

In a light blue shirt, and smart trousers he didn't seem like an underworld gunsmith or criminal.

The moment he saw me, nothing was said and he nodded to me to follow him inside his home.

I followed inside, closing the door behind me and followed him a man named David into a back room where his gun room, and workshop was.

When I say workshop, it had everything needed to repair, and maintain firearms.

He periodically for the local low-level gangs, and street crews took BB or pellet guns, the types used as toys but turned them into replica firearms capable of firing live rounds.

So let's say a BB air gun you buy for £20 at a local shady shop, can be turned for a fee of say another £50 into a lethal firearm it's not a bad deal really.

But the problem is being made of plastic, and poor metal there was always a likelihood of the guns blowing up in the poor fuck's hands who was using it.

To buy a good, proper handgun on the street that has already been used in crime would set a young hoodlum back about £200.

But to buy a clean gun, never used in a crime or used in another part of the country it could cost upwards of £400.

David knew his guns, work tables had bullets, and the tools to maintain guns laid out on them as if he was a simple craftsman.

But his craftsmanship was guns, and he was good at it.

Supposedly David had been supplying London's criminal underworld, and its elite for over forty years after leaving the British Army. 

In the old day's he supplied the likes of the Arifs Crime family back in their own heyday of the 1990's, as well as the notorious Clerkenwell crime syndicate based out of North-London. And he even which surprised me had on a few occasions loaned out, or sold guns to the legendary London gangsters The Richardsons, and 'Mad' Frankie Frasier himself, a notorious London gangland legend in the 1960's.

In his criminal career, he had supplied some of the earliest criminals with guns or explosives for safe-cracking, up to now supplying local drug gangs and crews with deadly handguns, and machine-guns even.

In his back room he spoke, in a strong-Cockney accent from his days of once living in the city itself.

"Right son, I have the shooter Terry told me to hold for you."

He told me, leaning down into a box and pulling out a small revolver.

"32. Snub nose handgun. Small, and easily to conceal. It's as deadly as the mope using it, if used properly. Have you handled a shooter before son?"

I looked up at him as he handed me the gun.

"Once, a nine millimetre handgun. I didn't really aim the bastard tho', just fired at the wanker."

David sighed.

"Did you hit him?"

"Aye."

I said.

"Good, that's a fucking start at least. Aim with this one, its single shot and you've only got six bullets at any one time. Aim for centre mass, or the fucking head if you have to. I'm going to give you another thirty rounds for it. But my advice, don't use it unless you have to. Once you shoot someone dead, you better hope there are no witnesses or you'll go inside for long while."

I nodded, the rules of the street hadn't changed since I left Glasgow.

We said our goodbyes as he shoved a bag of more bullets into my hand, I hid the gun in the waistband of my jeans and shoved the bullets in my jeans pocket.

I just hoped I didn't have to use it today.



My Business Ch. 03



The word was out on the streets, Marcus was warring with the Southall boys. Not to mention in smaller, quieter whispers of a war between us and the Turkish Heroin firm.

Either way calls were made the day after Terry called me, and the truth finally surfaced about the attack.

Terry and Danny were on their way back from a meeting at some swanky, expensive restaurant in Central London. 

En route home in their Range Rover, they had been tailed by another car since the restaurant.

That other car had one heavy hitter from Rezzar's gang, a former Turkish soldier with two low-level Southall gang members.

The Turkish hit man was armed with a silenced Mac-10 sub-machine gun, and the other two guys had handguns.

As Terry and Danny sat in traffic in Central London, the hit squad jumped out of their own car behind the Range Rover and hit it hard, spraying the car with bullets from all three guns.

Luckily Terry noticed the gunmen via the rear car mirrors, and ducked as did Danny.

Only one shot struck, a single round to Danny's shoulder.

But that didn't stop him putting the car into acceleration to get free of the traffic, and speed away from the gunmen.

Their attackers didn't follow them, and fled the scene in their car which was later found a burnt wreckage outside of the city.

About an hour later Terry made his call to me about arming up for my own safety.

But it was what happened in the early hours of the day I picked up the gun from David.

Two separate attacks all my Marcus's men on Mahmood's gang.

One of Mahmood's drug dealers had strayed into Marcus's territory, and so he ordered two of his soldiers to cut him up with a machete.

They didn't kill him, but made it clear to not stroll onto their territory again.

The second attack was a Russian hit, Marcus had contacted the Russians and made for a hit on one of Mahmood's brothers.

Abdul was on his way home from his girlfriend's house, and was notoriously known as a sex-pest to girls in the area.

On his way home, a lone gunman dressed all in black walked up to him on a quiet street as people slept in their beds, at almost 7am when Abdul was shot dead point-blank range by an unknown assailant. 

But we all knew who had done it, the Russians paid by Marcus.

The streets of West London were running with blood, and the Police reacted fast kicking in the doors of low-level Southall gang members and of course some of Marcus's low-level guys.

Nothing was found at the addresses, Police walked away with barely a few grams of Cocaine and Heroin and a few knives that the gang members carried.

But the war was heating up on both sides, Terry ordered muscle from Glasgow down. 

Two lads named Derek, and William.

They were covered in tattoos and had done a few long stretches in prison for violent crimes, and drug distribution.

But the firm looked after them while they were imprisoned, until they were released.

These two were classed as hitters, or contract killers.

Terry put them on Rezzar himself, and one of his lieutenants named Ahmed. 

They weren't going to stop until Rezzar was dead, and Ahmed to cripple the Turkish mob.

The Police were still not aware of the Scottish drug connection, of our own existence so they weren't looking for Scottish shooters coming down to London to knock off some local drug kingpin.

It was quick, barely a week since I was given the gun by David had passed when news of Ahmed being gunned down outside of his local barbershop spread across the streets.

Most spoke of it being Marcus's work, but some knew of our existence and pinned it on us rightly.

Just like the Russian hit on Mahmood's brother Abdul, this hit on Ahmed was fast and professionally done.

I never found out who fired the fatal shot of five, but I knew it was either Derek or William.

I was paranoid, sure that one of Rezzar's men would come for me and I carried my gun on me every day since I was given it.

But alone with Aisha, I was able to relax.

She wasn't an enemy, she was my lover and she loved me.

But that didn't make me feel safe for her, fearing she could get caught up in this war as collateral.

Especially if Rezzar simply ordered his men to kill anyone related to Marcus on sight.

I was alone at home, when Terry called me.

"We're coming tae' pick you up, hav' tae' go an' see our Russian contacts. Be there in half an' hour."

The call went dead, Terry hadn't waited for me to answer him.

I showered fast, and changed into a clean pair of jeans, and a blue hooded-jumper and waited downstairs on the street for Terry and Danny.

The Range Rover turned into the street, and pulled up next to me.

I opened the back passenger door and saw Terry sat waiting for me in his suit, and I slid in closing the door behind me.

"So what's going on?"

I asked him.

Terry looked at me very seriously.

"This war is heating up, no' doubt aboot' that. We've hit Rezzar's people hard, an' he's lost one of his top lieutenants. Noow' our man Sokolov calls me up, oot' the blue. He hasnae' called us in a while, we go through another man of his for muscle or hitters. Tells me we hav' tae' sit doon' tae' discuss the Turkish problem. Noow' the Russians are no pals of the Turks, the opposite infact noow' that the Turks are selling guns, which has always been Russian trade for them. He made it clear we're no' at risk of conflict wae' the Russians, or Sokolov's people. He wants to sit doon' and discuss how tae' deal wae' the Turks even."

"Can he be trusted, this Sokolov?"

I asked cautious.

"Well his people hav' been doon' here as long as we have, when the Cockney London firms upped and fled the ship when it was sinking back in 2002. But they've been here before that, but like us noow' we both work together. As I said, we go tae' them for muscle and hitters, and of course shooters. That rifle you saw at David's, that's one of theirs they sold tae' us. The Turks are muscling in on their trade, their business. Drugs isnae' really their sort of thing, but bringing it in is along wae' guns. So you sit, you keep quiet an' yer' listen to what's said alright?"

I nodded, and agreed with Terry.

The drive into Central London took about an hour in the traffic of mid-day rush hour, and Terry turned to me.

"We're going into an establishment that yer' suit would have been ideal tae' wear, but it cannae' be helped noow'. I shoulda' told yer' that when I called."

A moment passed as we drove through Oxford Street among traffic.

"So hav' you told him yet?"

Terry asked me.

I turned from the window to look at him.

"Who?"

Terry sighed.

"Don't play fuckin' dumb, yer' know who. If Marcus finds oot' aboot' you an' Aisha from Raffy, or one of his lads on the street it will go sour between yer' both. An' any future you an' that lass want together, will never happen if you dae' this behind his back. The pair of yer'."

I sighed, rubbing my chin and jaw through my thick beard.

"One of yer' has tae' tell the man, that's the fuckin' least yer' both can do."

I nodded, everything Terry was telling me was true to the last word.

"How dae' I tell him?"

It was a genuine question, I was asking.

I had no idea how to broach the subject with Marcus, I barely knew the man and yet here I was sleeping with his younger sister behind his back.

"Yer' sit doon' wae' the man, an' yer' lay your cards oot' on the table. Especially noow' that he knows."

Terry said turning away to peer out of his own window.

"Knows what?"

I asked.

Terry turned to me with a grave look of knowledge and disappointment.

"That yer' went after the cunt who beat on Aisha."

This was fucked, how did Terry and Marcus knew about this?

Had Aisha told her brother about what I did for her?

"Fuck mate, am' sorry aboot' that. But I let what happened tae' her get in the way, an' went after him for hurting her."

I said genuinely apologising for my mistake.

Terry just stared at me.

"If I thought this we're a front, tae' muscle in on me an' this firm. You'd be deid' already, an' floating in a canal somewhere. But that's not the way yer' did this, yer' did it because aye yer' let your emotions run free, an' like a fucking' idiot you did this fuckin' stupid thing withoot' consulting me first. I can let that slide for those reasons, but if yer' dae' this again withoot' telling me, I'll hang you oot' tae' dry and wash my hands clean of yer'."

I nodded, a lump in my throat causing me to breathe harder.

I was in the car with a notorious gangster, and murderer once in his early days. I did fear crossing him again, would land me in a canal somewhere.

"That's why yer' tell the man noow' aboot' you both, because I hav' a feeling he's already put two and two together aboot' you an' Aisha. So the man would probably, maybe give yer' his blessing for what yer' did for her because of how yer' feel aboot' her."

I nodded glumly.

"I'll tell the man today, after we're done with this."

I said.

Terry nodded.

"Good lad, noow' dae' you have that shooter wae' you noow'?"

He asked me.

I nodded pulling the snub nose from my waistband, and showed him it.

"Danny will hold it for yer' in the car, it's yer' an' me who goes intae' see the man."

I nodded, and we soon pulled up outside a very posh restaurant somewhere near Oxford Street.

Those sitting inside and outside were all in suits, dresses and drinking Wine or Champagne with their meals.

"Where the fuck hav' yer' taken me tae'?"

I asked chuckling.

"A place where yer' will see where our power, an' money gets us. The finest restaurants and bars, clubs you'd never step foot inside withoot' what we hav' noow'. As I said doon' here we dae' what we want, as long as the bosses back home get their share of the profits."

Terry said grinning.

We stepped out of the car, but not before I handed Danny in the driver's seat my gun where he shoved it inside his own suit jacket he wore.

"Come on, cannae' keep a man like Sokolov waiting."

Terry remarked.

The stares started immediately as we walked into the restaurant together, me in street clothes as diners were wearing suits, and golfing attire.

But Terry wasn't stopping to sit with these people, and continued walking deeper inside to a back door where a staff member stood.

"Here tae' see Sokolov."

The man said nothing in his suit, and clean shave appearance and nodded as he opened the door for us.

We went inside, and saw a very lavishly decorated dining room with only one other customer sat at one of the tables drinking a glass of wine and eating.

There were two big, heavy-set men in suits flanking him as he sat at his table.

They watched us with precision the moment we stepped inside.

The man at the table looked old, at least in his late fifties or maybe early sixties with white shock hair, and a matching thick beard.

He wore a two piece grey suit, and from what I could see many tattoos on his arms and neck.

We both strolled up to the table, and the two men flanking him stepped forward.

The old man at the table said something in Russian to them both, and smiled at us both.

His bodyguards stepped back, and assumed their positions again in silence.

"Terry, long time since we had a meal together no?"

The old suited man said smiling behind his beard, and ushered Terry to a chair.

I took the third chair at Terry's side.

The man studied me in silence.

"A new friend, Terry brought to my table. Please introduce us?"

I assumed this was the man named Viktor Sokolov, head of the Russian Mob here in London and perhaps all over the UK even.

"A friend's son, who asked me tae' bring him doon' here an' get him working for the old firm."

Terry said smiling.

Sokolov smiled.

"Your name, my friend?"

He asked me turning to me.

"James."

I said simply.

"James, well welcome to my world. I own this restaurant, and it does the finest seafood in all of London. Do you have time to eat, and talk?"

He asked me, but I turned to Terry for advice and he gently nodded.

"Aye, I'll stay. I wouldnae' mind trying some seafood."

I said smiling.

Sokolov smiled, and shouted something in Russian to a nearby waiter who rushed into the kitchens to get me and Terry some of the food that Sokolov himself was eating.

The dish was a mixture of shellfish, crabs, and prawns with a thick white sauce.

Sokolov sat back, and turned to Terry.

"So these Turks, this war with them is heating up Terry. I am usually a man of peace unless there needs to be war, but it seems Rezzar is moving into my trade, the gun trade. That makes him our problem too, the idiot thinks he can sell fucking Muslim guns to our customers for half the price we charge. That's not going to work for us."

Sokolov said using a spoon to scoop up some of the sauce on his plate, with a prawn and shoved it into his mouth.

"I did warn yer' aboot' Rezzar aboot' a year ago Viktor. I did tell yer' he were selling more than a few pistols, and shotties'."

Sokolov took a moment, and smiled.

"Yes that you did. Unfortunately I did not listen, and now he's selling rifles and cheap Russian knock-offs from Turkey, Iran, and Syria. I can't have that, nor can I really have war with the Turks but I have no choice. My bosses back home in Moscow want him dealt with, regardless of the consequences. If he was selling just a few handguns, we'd not have a problem with that. But he's trying to move into our world. So you have our back-up should you need it, if Rezzar is dealt with by you and your organisation we'd greatly appreciate it. Not only that but you may use our number, free of charge for anyone or anything you need."

I assumed the number he was referring to was the one for contracting Russian hit-men for jobs, that we usually paid for. If we contacted them to hit at Rezzar, we'd get the hitters for free.

"So yer' want us tae' do the grunt work, find Rezzar's people an' deal wae' them ourselves, but with your people?"

Terry asked as the waiter placed a bottle of red wine on the table, next to the one Sokolov was drinking from and two clean glasses for me and Terry to use.

"As I said you will have the full backing of us on your side, our hitters and muscle. I will also throw any work we will have after this war concludes your way, something you don't need to tell your bosses about back home but will mean more cash for your people down here."

Viktor said sipping his wine, as the waiter poured wine into our glasses.

"Like what exactly, I mean what kind of work makes this worth doing?"

Terry asked.

Sokolov smiled.

"I do not forget my friends, how about 5% of what we make in a month from our guns for a year?"

Sokolov offered.

"That's easily a hundred thousand pounds to your organisation after six months, two hundred thousand after the year is up."

Terry was thinking, I could see it in his face.

"Make it 10%, an' we'll dae' this for you."

Sokolov smiled, swirling his wine in his glass.

"We know yer' have other business interests, the guns are just one of them."

Terry added.

"That we do, 10% is steep though no?"

Terry swung his head.

"Yer' don't want your prints all over this war, an' neither dae' we. But if it's worth our time, we'll dae' it."

Sokolov smiled.

"Like the good old days, when we were both just starting up down here no?"

"Aye."

Terry said grinning as two plates of hot seafood were served to us both, and I got into it eating the prawns in the creamy, thick sauce.

"We'll dae' the dirt, just supply us wae' the bodies."

Terry added scooping up a prawn and ate it.

"Done."

Sokolov said smiling, and leaned over the table to shake Terry's hand to confirm things.

"Now, about our other business. You said your bosses want to bring in supply direct to London for a while?"

Terry nodded sipping his wine.

"Aye through your connections in the ports, right noow' we're having complications moving stuff down tae' London. The Polis' watching the motorways from Glasgow tae' London."

Sokolov nodded.

"A faint thing, I remember the days those motorways were busy with shipments from your people down to you here. What's changed?"

Terry looked up at Sokolov.

"Just Polis' interest, nothing more. We cannae' hav' one of our couriers grabbed on the motorway with Kilos of stuff in the car. Right noow' the Polis' are watching the motorways, not us but our routes."

Sokolov reached for his wine and sipped it.

"You know our fees, to bring in stuff off the boats direct from Holland or elsewhere. Are your people willing to pay such costs to minimise risk?"

"For the moment aye they are, nae' point risking our dope being snatched by Plod."

Sokolov nodded, and reached into his pocket for a mobile phone.

He pressed a few keys, and turned the phone to Terry to look at.

"A man named Itzhak, he will sort out your shipments from source. He will negotiate pricing with you."

Terry nodded at me, and I took out my own phone and dialled in the number from Sokolov's number into my contact book on my phone temporarily of course, and when I was done Sokolov turned the phone off and put it back in his pocket.

"Is he Russian?"

I asked, and regretted it immediately.

But Sokolov smiled.

"No Isreali, right now one of the best places for dope and Coke to come through. No one is watching the ports there, nor are they following shipments from Isreali companies. Plus you'd be surprised how high quality their own dope is, if you chose to buy from them directly. A good time to be Isreali I think."

I smiled, playing along with this whole old-school gangster meeting.

But I was learning the trade, and that number for Itzhak could come in handy one day for myself.

I wouldn't delete it, or I would hide it in my flat somewhere safe.

"So how about that crew you supply, what is his name Marcus right?"

Sokolov asked.

Terry looked at me, and it was a look to say 'don't say anything, let me talk' and so I complied.

"Aye, Marcus and his crew."

"At war right now, with one of Rezzar's street gangs that he supplies. I hear bodies are dropping all over West-London right now."

Terry nodded.

"A bloody war, but it's always bloody when people fight it oot' over territory."

Sokolov chuckled.

"Makes no sense to fight over territory, not like that. Not over street corners, over who slings dope."

Terry laughed.

"Remember we once slung dope on street corners, we came from that life Viktor. But we've been smart, the both of us. Noow' we run things, didnae' hav' tae' get our hands dirty no more."

Sokolov chuckled.

"Never again my friend, never back to that life again on those streets. Moscow was a fucking cesspit, and I am glad to be running things now. Same for you too, Glasgow must have been a war zone when you were doing your deeds there."

Terry nodded eating away as I did.

"Sure, I wouldnae' go back tae' it again. Neither is this lad, he's gonnae' work for us doon' here. Doesnae' have to lay his hands on dope again."

Terry said with a nod to me.

"Smart man you've got tutoring you, he's been here as long as we have and he's done a lot."

Sokolov reminded me.

"I heard aboot' one of yer' men, getting butchered up near Brixton a few weeks back. Not a war brewing?"

Terry said, and even I hadn't heard about a Russian mobster being murdered in London.

This must have happened before I came down.

"Fucking Albanians, no respect for anyone. They jumped our man on his way home, we're not even at war and then hacked him to pieces like they do in their homeland. No fucking respect. Fucking peasants."

Terry nodded.

"You dealing wae' them?"

Sokolov smiled.

"Of course, those Albanian shit farmers have been losing bodies since our man dropped. We're making them pay, do not worry friend."




My Business Ch. 03



I spoke up, I assumed this was casual talk but I was careful what I said or asked in Terry's presence.

"Are they muscling in on your gun business?"

I asked eating a prawn.

Terry looked at me, but Sokolov answered.

"A bit, moving from a few pistols to rifles. I can't have that, I told their man Daut to not move into anything bigger. The little rat has, and of course I cannot have that. But we didn't go to war yet, then Daut orders his young soldiers to hack my man Dimitri to death. I knew Dimitri, he saved my life in Paris once, and I will have Daut's head for what he did to him. Everyone can sell a few pistols, a few shotguns but nothing more than that. It's our business, always has been and the Turks and Albanians aren't getting a piece of it here."

I nodded and ate away.

"Can you handle the Albanians, Viktor?"

Terry asked as I looked to see his plate empty.

"Don't worry friend, the Albanians aren't going to be a problem."

The meal soon ended, and we left Sokolov on good words.

We got back into the car and Danny began to drive.

"When did you last sit doon' wae' Sokolov?"

I asked Terry.

"Aboot' two months ago, as I said you don't see Sokolov withoot' a reason an' he doesnae' see just anyone. He sees us when I ask, because we work together. That is money, that is power tae' have a sit doon' wae' someone like him, to have a line to his best shooters an' hitters. Money and power, but what yer' were daeing' up in Glasgow, that's the lowest bit of the ladder. I'm taking yer' as far high as I can, but yer' have tae' put away your blade or shooter for this to work James. Think wae' that heid' of yer's and no' yer' heart for once. I know yer' did what yer' did tae' protect Aisha, your woman but it's got tae' stop. If we have tae' dae' something we will, an' if we don't her brother would have."

I nodded.

Time must have past fast, as Danny brought the car to a stop outside a flat.

The building Marcus lived in, his flat.

"What are we daein' here?"

I asked.

"You mean what are you daein' here? Yer' have to set this right wae' Marcus, I didn't tell him I'd send yer' tae' see him, so it looks like yer' deain' that yourself. Go on up an' speak tae' the man James. You're fuckin' his sister James, he needs tae' know that that's not all yer' want from her."

I sighed and nodded, getting out of the car and walking up to the front door.

Behind me the Range Rover was gone, I was alone.

I buzzed the door bell, and waited dreading every passing second.

The door opened, and it was Marcus wearing a shirt and jeans.

"Marcus."

I said simply.

"James."

I nodded.

"Can I come in, and we can talk a wee bit?"

Marcus stared straight into my eyes, and I waited for the inevitable beating I was waiting for.

"Yeah, come on in."

He said suddenly turning his back to me, and I saw him go upstairs.

I followed him and closed the door behind us.

I followed Marcus up to the lounge up the stairs, and saw him sitting on a couch. 

He saw me and waved to the chair opposite the couch.

For a few brief moments he just stared at me, relaxed in his seat.

It was his house, he could kill me and quietly dispose of my body if he had to.

"How long?"

He asked me.

I was stumped for an answer, but knew I had to be honest.

"A month, after I came doon' from London."

Marcus nodded, putting his arms behind him and draped them on the back of the couch.

"So did you even plan on telling me, that you were seeing my fucking sister?"

I nodded.

"We didnae' know when to tell you, I assumed you'd never gie' me your blessing because of what I am."

Marcus nodded, his hard stare never left me.

"Damn fucking right I would not have given my fucking blessing!"

He shouted.

"I've done everything, everything in my fucking power to keep Aisha away from all of this. The violence, the crime, I want her to live a good life and not the one I got stuck with. I'd have never given my blessing for her to go with one of us, because of the dangers."

I nodded.

"I know, I understand that."

I said simply.

"Do you? Because it doesn't fucking seem like you do. You go with her the moment you get off the fucking train, literally."

I nodded, feeling guilty for the shame of not telling Marcus sooner about me and his sister.

"Do you have sisters, James?"

I nodded, thinking about them back home.

"Aye, two."

Marcus nodded with hatred in his eyes as he stared at me.

"Now would you allow one of them to date one of us, in this game? Would you let her date a player, who could get shot dead one day or perhaps get her fucking killed when someone comes gunning for that guy?"

I dropped my head slightly.

"Fucking look at me, if you are a real fucking man then look at me and talk to me with some fucking decency."

I decided he was right, and looked up at him not looking away.

"No, I guess I wouldnae' approve of it."

Marcus nodded fast.

"Fucking too right. So why are you with my sister then? Not mentioning the fucking war going on right now, but how do I know you'd not throw her aside like a piece of used fucking tissue once you've had your fun with her?"

I looked Marcus dead in the eyes.

"Because I'd never dae' that to her, Marcus."

"Why?"

The question was simple, but I could only give one answer and one he'd not believe.

"Because I luv' her, Marcus."

His stare of malice, hatred calmed.

"I'd never believe that coming from any other man, but knowing what you did to that mope who beat her I can believe something is there. No man would do that unless he cared for her."

I nodded, saying nothing.

"Do you know how I know about what you did to that guy Farah?"

I swung my head.

"No."

Marcus nodded.

"Because I already had a man of mine on his arse that night, who was going to beat on the bastard once he was alone. But then you stroll in and cut his face wide open. My man saw it, not to mention Farah talked about some Scottish fella who did it to him. Now with some fucking common sense I put the two together, Farah and an unknown Scottish attacker. Not many of them around of your people, so the connection was my sister. What fucking Scottish man is in direct contact with Aisha, who'd have the balls to go for the little cunt? It wouldn't be Terry, he's never looked at Aisha in that way and hasn't gone out of his way to see her alone. But then you come along, a young lad who of course happens to take a shine to her the moment you see her. Even I knew the moment I saw you that you had the balls to go after anyone if you had a reason to do it. Aisha was your reason for Farah, and you made him pay for what he did to her."

I nodded, and sighed.

"I did it, I cut Farah's face open wae' a Stanley blade."

Marcus sighed.

"I fucking know you did, my man told me you did it and said something to him. What did you tell the fucker after you opened up his face?"

I looked at Marcus.

"I told that wee fucker who beat on a lassie, that she was mine. That I protected ma' woman, an' I would come after him again if he tried again. He got the fucking message, once I opened his face up."

I said simply, honesty in this situation might save me.

"You did that?"

I nodded.

"Aye, because I protect those close tae' me. My family, ma' friends and my girlfriend. I don't promise things, an' don't deliver Marcus. Yer' know me better than that, if you sized me up the moment you first saw me. I luv' yer' sister, an' I'll die before I let anything happen tae' her. An' if people come after me, she'll be here wae' you or on the first train up to ma' family in Glasgow for her own safety."

Marcus stared blankly at me for a moment, and then suddenly laughed.

"How do you even know you love her?"

I shrugged.

"Yer' just know, don't yer'? The moment you see someone, an' know she's just right for you. That's how I feel aboot' yer' sister."

Marcus nodded.

"I don't approve of her being with a player in this game, but you're not the sort of player I worry about her being with. At least you have brains, and balls to protect those you care about. Not to mention working for Terry's firm, keeps you away from the street unless you're needed. I've noticed, when she picks up her phone that she's happier. It must be you because you takes the call away from me, probably afraid if I found out."

"Does she hav' tae' be worried?"

I asked.

"No, I approve of you. You, because I think I know enough about you. But you keep her away from all of this, like I have done. If you are serious about my sister, you provide her a safe home and life with you. I'm guessing she's been buying things for your flat?"

I laughed smiling.

"Yeah, a few things for the place. Brighten it up a wee bit."

Marcus smiled.

"You're in my family for now, which means I protect those close to Aisha."

I nodded.

"You have some street feud, or someone hassling you then you don't go to Terry you come to me. I'll deal with it, and if it's something bigger you go to Terry. But you don't put your fucking hand on a blade again unless you have to, or a shooter unless Terry tells you to do so."

I agreed, another similar agreement like the one I had now with Terry.

"I'm not letting you end up doing a stretch inside, and Aisha wails on me for letting it happen."

I nodded again.

Marcus suddenly stood, and I tensed up thinking he had been lying to me all this time and was going to strike me.

Instead he put out his hand to me, and I shook it.

"Don't hurt her, or I'll do worse to you than you did to Farah."

I nodded.

"Don't worry, I will not hurt her."

Marcus nodded, and I left the house after saying goodbye to him.

Standing outside of the flat I took in a deep breath, my entire body was tense.

I then noticed I had my gun on me again, Danny had given it to me when he stopped the car outside of Marcus's place.

I didn't want to think on how things could have transpired, involving a gun with Marcus.

He gave me his blessing, and I quickly made my way home to call Aisha.



My Business Trip



Here I am, 62 years old and feeling like a young girl. In fact, feeling even better about myself than I did when I was in my 20's.

I had recently lost 35 pounds, had my hair tinted, and had been working out to firm up my body. My husband of 40 years, Bill, couldn’t keep his hands off me. As if he ever could, even when I was fat. Whenever I dressed in front of him he couldn’t keep his eyes off my tits and ass. I was now a full 37-24-36 and didn’t even need to wear a girdle anymore.

Bill and I had tried early retirement but we both got bored with it. He went back to full-time work as a consultant and I, by luck, got a job with a regional company as an administrative assistant and employee trainer. It was a good job with good people, and I was really enjoying it.

One day my boss told me that he was opening a new office in Denver. He asked if I could go up there for a week to hire a new administrative assistant and teach her “the ropes”. It sounded like fun so I said “Sure”. I hadn’t had a break from Bill for some time and this sounded like a good chance to have some time for myself.

During all these years of marriage I have been completely faithful to him. He is a loving husband and very good to me. Our sex life has been okay and, over the years, Bill introduced me to such pleasures as vibrators, cunnilingus and fellatio. He just loves to suck my cunt but I’m not too keen on giving him a blow job. I know he really enjoyed it the few times I did it for him but it just wasn’t for me. Bill’s main problem is that he gets through too early. Often I will fake an orgasm just to make him feel better. He really does enjoy pleasuring me.

The day came for my flight to Denver and I boarded a United flight. As I usually do, I sat on an aisle seat near the front of the plane. Just before the doors closed, a nice looking man asks if the seat next to me is taken. I tell him “No” and he squeezes by me to the window seat. He was really very attractive, about 40 years old with jet black hair and greying temples. As he squeezed by me to get to his seat I couldn’t help but notice that he had a nice, tight ass.

After takeoff we begin some small talk and I really enjoy talking with him. He tells me his name is Jim, and time passes quite quickly. We discuss jobs, families and hobbies. As we talk, I notice him looking at my legs and breasts. I also notice that my blouse has gaped open and he can see right down to my bra and the tops of my full breasts. I feel myself blush and, hoping he doesn’t notice, I discretely shift my position so that my blouse closes. I glance at his lap and notice a slight bulge at his crotch.

As we come in for a landing Jim asks where I’m staying.

“The Holiday Inn.”

“The one near the airport”?

“Yes.”

“So am I. Want to have dinner tonight?”

“I’m a happily married woman ”

“It’s just dinner at the hotel.”

“Ok, remember it’s just dinner. Nothing more.”

“Ok, meet me in the lobby at 7:30. Will that be all right?”

“Sure, I’ll see you then.”

When I check into the hotel I go to my room. It is a mini-suite with couch and stuffed armchair, a work desk, and a huge king size bed. I lay down on the bed for a few minutes before getting dressed. Then I got up, stripped off my clothes, and admired my new body in the full length mirror on the wall opposite the bed. “Not bad”, I say to myself. I think I look pretty sexy and I feel good about myself.

I take a bubble bath and pay special attention to my breasts and crotch, thinking back to this afternoon and Jim’s stares. I am wondering if he would like to be here washing them for me. I massage my breasts and move my hand down to my pussy. I begin fantasizing about Jim waiting for me in bed just outside my bathroom door.

“Enough of this”, I murmured to myself, and got out of the bath. I was feeling very sexy. I am looking forward to tonight even though I haven’t had a “date” for 40 years. I decide to dress sexy even though there would be no sex tonight. It has been ages since I tried to turn a man on but I was going to try it tonight.

I put on a charcoal mid-calf length skirt and cream-colored silk blouse. I sit on the bed with my pantyhose in hand about to put them on. Then I pause a second. If I’m really going to be sexy tonight I won’t wear the pantyhose, just a pair of black silk panties. I look at myself in the mirror for a final inspection. I can barely see my bra through the blouse, and a though strikes me. Why not? I take of the blouse and bra and then put the blouse back on. Back to the mirror. My nipples showed through just enough, and now they were firm and extended just with the thought of teasing Jim.

Bill had jokingly(?) suggested a few times that I go braless but I never felt comfortable with that. Tonight is different. I’m in a strange city and will see no one I know. I leave the two top buttons unfastened. This is not like me at all, but it is exhilarating.

I meet Jim in the lobby at 7:30. As I walk towards him I can feel my braless breasts bounce underneath my blouse with every step I take. My walk has a little extra bounce in it tonight and I feel quite risque. I can tell that Jim notices. He is wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and a red patterned tie. He looks very distinguished. I figure that Jim is a bit over 6 feet tall and probably weighs about 160 pounds. His face and hands show signs of strength and I wonder what the rest of his body looks like. “Too bad I’ll never know”, I think to myself.

We have a glass of wine before dinner, another during our rare roast beef dinner, and another after. I usually don’t drink more than two and I’m feeling a little tipsy. Jim can’t keep his eyes off my breasts. He makes me feel very alluring. 

“They have a live band in the bar here at the hotel”, Jim said. “Would you like to go in for a drink?”

“No”, I answered, “I have to get up early and I’ve already had more drinks than I need.”

“Just one drink and a dance or two”, he pleaded?

“Ok, just one drink. Then I must go to bed.”

We walk to the bar and find a table in the back of the room. The ban is playing oldies, which I love. We order more wine and Jim takes my hand and holds it. I feel like a teenage girl on my first date. I’m having fun and it’s very romantic. The band begins to play a slow song and Jim asks me to dance.

When we get to the floor Jim takes me in his arms and holds me close to him. My breasts press into his chest and I just know he can feel my hard, erect nipples. I lay my head on his shoulder and give in to the sensuous rhythm. He is a wonderful dancer. In a few minutes I feel him getting hard and his erection presses against my belly. His chest is massaging my breasts and I’m really getting turned on. Suddenly I notice that I have pressed my pubic bone against his thigh. I hadn’t been aware that I had done that.

After the dance we return to our table. We finish our wine and he asks me for another dance.

“Just one more, Jim, then I have to go”, I told him.

This time he holds me close to himself and his hand finds its way all around my back and under my arm. He presses it against the edge of my breast. His other hand begins to work its way to my ass.

“Jim”, I say firmly. He moves his hand away from my ass but doesn’t move the one near my breast. Again I can feel his hardness against my thigh and my pubic bone presses against his thigh. I feel a wetness between my legs and, with my head again on his shoulder, I am breathing into his ear. He holds me tighter and our bodies seem to blend together.

After that dance I say “Jim, I have to go now.”

We leave the bar and he offers to walk me to my room. “Just to the door”, I caution him. I can tell he is turned off but, if I let him into my room, it would become a wrestling match. My room is on the fourth floor and, when we get into the elevator, Jim takes me in my arms and kisses me. I break it off and say again, firmly - “Jim, I like you and you are a very nice man. I have had a wonderful time tonight but I will not cheat on my husband.”

The elevator reaches the fourth floor and we walk hand in hand to my room in the middle of the hall. I turn to him.

“Thank you for dinner. I really enjoyed the evening.”

He put his arms around me and kisses me again. This time I can’t resist putting my arms around his neck and returning the kiss. His right hand discovers my braless left breast and very gently squeezes it though the thin silk blouse. I hear myself gasp. Without thinking, I press my breast into the palm of his hand. My breathing accelerates. In 40 years, no man but Bill has put his hand on my breast. I know I must stop him now but it feels so good that I want it to continues for just a few minutes. My panties start getting wet again. It feels sooo gooood the way he gently caresses and fondles my breast. I have not felt this way in a very long time.

His tongue slides into my mouth and his other hand begins to rub and knead my ass. I don’t notice that he is working his hand under my skirt and, soon, only my panties are between his hand and my butt He slides his hand around to the front of my panties to my pubic mound. He presses a finger against my very thin, very wet panties and begins to lightly trace the outlines of my tingling outer lips. I now can’t help myself and I spread my legs slightly. His strong finger presses into the crack between my swollen pussy lips and he finds my throbbing clit. My knees are trembling and I’m quickly approaching the point of no return.

“Oooohhhh .....Nooo....Please stop....someone will see us”, I moaned in his ear. I move my hand down to remove his from between my legs. He gently takes my wrist in his grip and moves my hand to his throbbing bulge. I feel his hardness pulsating with a life of its own and I’m reluctant to let it go.

“Let’s go into your room”, he urges.

“I would love.....to make love to you.....but I can’t....I have never made love to anyone but my husband”, I managed to say. I can hardly talk I’m so excited. I feel like I can’t breathe.

Jim continues fondling my soft breast making circular motions with his hand, moving my responsive breast in circles. His other hand returns to my panties and finds its way between my lips and begins to rub my clit. I am losing control. My hand is still rubbing up and down his hard dick. I am astonished at how big it is. I can hardly fit my fingers around it.

His hand slips under the elastic leg band of my panties and finds my hot, well lubricated opening. He gently pushes a finger inside and slides it in and out. I am astonished. Even his finger feels bigger than Bill’s dick. The palm of his hand is gently brushing against my clit.

“Ooooooohhhhhh”, I moan quietly. It feels incredible. My hips rotate back and forth and I am quivering all over. I think maybe I should take him into my room. At that moment a door opens down the hall and brings us immediately back to reality. He quickly removes his hands and I straighten my clothes. A man comes out the door and walks down the hall in our direction. I know I look flushed. I quickly turn, unlock my door, and step inside.

“Thanks again for a wonderful night, Jim.” I close the door before he can answer and before he can enter the room. Safe at last My hands shaking, I put on my yellow shortie nightie, crawl into bed and turn out the light.

“You dummy”, I think to myself, “why didn’t you let him in? I’ll bet he is a great lover You will probably never have a chance like this again.” I am really giving myself a rough time.

The phone rings and shakes me out of my thoughts. Who could be calling at that time of night? I answer. It is Jim.

“Can I come to your room and talk?”

“Only talk?”

“Yes”

“I don’t think so, Jim. I’m too shaky right now. It will just lead to other things.”

“Ok, sorry to bother you. But I just want you to know that I find you to be an incredibly sensuous, sexual woman and I would really like to continue our evening. But, anyway...Good night.”

After he hangs up I begin thinking to myself again. “You are a stupid asshole”, I berate myself. “That was your last chance. You will never see him again.”

With that there was a knock at the door. I put on my robe and looked through the peep hole. It is Jim. I am glad to see him as I open the door.

“Let’s talk”, he said.

“Ok, come on in.”

Jim had changed out of his suit and was now wearing a t-shirt, shorts and loafers with no socks. His body was magnificent A chiseled upper body with wide shoulders dropping into a waist which couldn’t be any more than 30 . I could see the wash board outline of his stomach. His long legs were quite hairless and very well muscled. Through his shorts I could distinctly see the large bulge of his flaccid penis and large balls. I felt my body twitch in longing for him.

We move to the couch and Jim begins to ask about my reasons for not wanting to have sex. I have never had sex with anyone besides Bill. If I did cheat on him, I felt it would have to be with someone I knew and cared for. I had only known Jim less than 12 hours. If we have sex tonight it would not be “making love.” It would be FUCKING. Plain and simple. When I was growing up nice girls didn’t fuck. They only petted with someone they were “going steady” with and loved.

In an attempt to cool Jim’s sexual attracting for me I reminded him of our age difference.

“How old are you, Jim?”

“I’m 42 

“Well I’m 62, 20 years your senior. You are such a great looking guy, you could have girls 20 years younger than you wanting your body. Why would you want to fuck a woman almost old enough to be your mother?”

“Well, Judy, I have always had a strong desire for older women. Not old women, mind you, but older women with Rubenesque bodies like yours. My ex-wife was 18 years older than me and she was able to keep up with everything I tried in bed.”

Jim understands my feelings completely. He reminds me that I may never have another chance to have sex with anyone else other than my husband. He tells me that most married men have at least one affair in their lives and that Bill is probably no exception. 

“It would only be fair if you had one, too.”

“But, Jim, it would still be FUCKING.”

“That’s right.”

He then puts his arm around me and kisses me gently. I kiss him back, and his tongue again explores the inside of my mouth. Jim pulls me over his lap so that I am laying on the couch with him holding my upper body. He moves his hand inside my robe and begins to tweak the nipple of my right breast with his fingers. He squeezes it gently and we both begin to breathe deeper. He alternates between both breasts, gently squeezing each nipple then pinching it and twisting it. By now my nipples are fully hard and erect.

Jim has me stand up and move to the bed. He removes my robe and then pulls my nightie up and over my head. He looks at my bare breasts and I can tell he likes what he sees. My heart begins to race. Breathing is difficult. I am standing naked before a complete stranger showing him everything I have.

He bends down and takes a nipple in his mouth and begins to suck. Oooohhh, that feels so good His tongue runs circles around my hard brown nipple.

“Oooooohhhhh”, I moan out loud. I put my hand into the top of his shorts and find his hard erection. My fingers encircle it. It is HUGE I don’t know if I will be able to take it inside of me. We are still standing at the foot of the bed and I am about a foot in front of him, facing him. He turns me around and backs me up to him and puts his arms around me. He kisses me on the neck. He then cups a hand around each breast and squeezes. I look into the full-length mirror and see this strange, beautiful man kissing my neck and fondling my breasts. My face is flushed. I feel my crotch getting very wet and I am tingling all over.

Then I feel the head of his erect cock touch the small opening where my thighs and crotch join. He slowly pushes his huge erection between my legs, sliding along my pussy. My eyes widen as I see in the mirror the swollen head of his exquisite circumcised dick peek out from between my legs and extend a full few inches in front of me. How long must he be to be able to do that, I think in wonder?

Jim then turns me around and has me sit on the bed. He has removed his t-shirt and now I can see his athlete’s body and incredible dick. His incredible erection is amazing It must be at least 10 and his balls are large and hang down pendulously. Bill is about 5 long, fully erect. I can’t imagine what a prick like Jim’s would feel inside of me, but I now plan to find out.

Jim studies my pussy for a few seconds and I spread my legs slightly to give him a better view. I am now as horny as I’ve ever been and I really like having this gorgeous stranger staring at my cunt. He rubs my legs very slowly and very lightly from my ankles, up to my calves, over my thighs to my pussy lips. I spread my legs a little more and he never takes his eyes off my pulsating pussy. He slides one finger into my slit and slowly moves it around. Hy heart is racing He then slides another finger inside, and then another I can’t catch my breath. His other hand finds my swollen clit and begins massaging it.

“Oooooohhhhhh”, I moan. “Ooooohhhhh.”

Jim says “Open your eyes and look at my face. I want to show you something unusual.”

I do as he commands and he proceeds to stick out his tongue. I can’t believe it He moves it down and it touches his chin. Then he moves it up and he has completely covered his nose. It must be 6 long 

I am laying on my back at the edge of the bed with my feet on the floor. Jim kneels down before me and gently spreads my legs with his hands. He moves his head forward and kisses my puffy lips. I reach forward and put my hands on the back of his head, drawing it into me. His huge tongue probes my outer lips and then dips between them. I spread my legs more to give him easier access to my most private area. His tongue gently twirls around my clit and I begin to tremble. Slowly it enters into me, moving back and forth, to and fro, like a snake. My whole body os jerking and my breasts are heaving with each jerk.

“Ooooohhhhh”, I moan and I thrust my pussy as hard as I can against is face. His long, thick tongue is thrusting in and out of me. I’m being fucked by a tongue His tongue swirls around inside of me and I can begin to feel an orgasm coming on. I am breathing and moaning and my stomach begins to tremble as the orgasm begins to take hold and then it is off and running like a runaway freight train. I choke off a scream as a flood of my cum shoots into Jim’s mouth. He continues to probe me with that marvelous tool and swallows repeatedly as I gush into his mouth. Gradually the orgasm weakens and I fall into a semi-faint. I can feel Jim ministering to my drenched cunt with his mouth, sucking me dry.

Jim stands next to the bed and reaches under my shoulders. He gently moves me up onto the bed until I am laid out fully on it, on my back. I have never in my life felt so completely sated. 

I said “Jim, that was an incredible orgasm. The strongest I have ever had. Thank you.”

“Oh, that was only the first”, he said. “We have many more ahead of us.”

I laughed. “That’s what you think”, I said. It is rare for me to have even one orgasm. And I’ve never had more than one in a row.”

Jim chuckled. “Well, let’s see about that.”

Jim was standing next to the bed. My hand reaches out and grasps his mighty sword. It is astonishing. It stands fully erect and is about 10 heavily veined inches long. The bulbous head must be 2½” thick and I wonder if I would be able to take it into me. I have not seen many dicks in my life but this one must be the most beautiful in the world. I begin to gently stroke his dick up and down. I realize that I could not contain it all even in a two-handed grip.

I want to take it into my mouth but I am afraid. Sucking dick is not one of my favorite things. But this one is so beautiful, I’ll have to give it a try. Jim puts his hand on my head and moves it closer to this monster. I see a drop of his love juice squeezing out of the hole. I kiss the head lightly and taste that sweet juice. It is like ambrosia I move my mouth down the outside edge of his shaft and kiss the sides of this magnificent tool. Jim uses a little more force with his hands and moves my head back and forth in front of his dick, pushing it between my lips. I open my mouth and he slowly inches it inside.




My Business



Terry said laughing.

"Come on sit down, Aisha must be bringing up the drinks I think. The girl was supposed to be at a work today, but she's been nursing a hangover all morning."

We all sat down on the couch, and Raffy introduced himself to us but didn't say much expect greeting us as he sat down to smoke his Joint quietly.

I sussed out Marcus as the boss, the business side of things and Raffy was clearly the muscle.

He was clearly an ex-football hooligan, covered in tattoos of the Union Jack flag and an England flag on his neck.

Marcus turned the television on, and put it onto a radio station on low volume as he spoke to us.

"So when can we expect the next supply?"

Terry leaned over from the couch and spoke.

"The Scousers are bringing it doon' by the end of the week, should be Friday. They owe us a favour, so it should be on time. The Liverpool firms are never late on a deal."

Terry smiled.

"No they never are."

Aisha walked in holding a tray of drinks, a mixture of cans including Cola, and a Coffee that Marcus took from the tray thanking his sister.

I took a can of Fanta, and opened it as I felt Aisha sit right next to me at the end of the couch.

"So they're not gonna ask for a transportation fee from us then?"

Terry swung his head.

"Naw' they owe us, nae' transfer fees for anyone. They're using a clean driver, nae' record on him so it should go smoothly."

Marcus nodded sipping his Coffee.

"Big load coming down?"

Terry nodded.

"You're five Kilos for the next month, and some mare' for our other buyers."

Marcus grinned.

"We're running on the dregs right now, barely half a K' for the rest of the week. Hope they come through, we need enough to cover the next month with our lads."

Terry nodded, opening a can of Cola as Danny did the same in silence.

I noticed now, Danny was huge being the same build as Raffy but much taller.

I felt Aisha sit really close to me, until her thick, firm thigh pressed to mine on the couch.

I looked at her, and she simply smiled.

"With us or the Scousers, you know yae' always get what you pay for on time. If it's late, I'll throw in a Kilo for compensation until the main source arrives. Nae' cost, as I always promise."

Aisha's hand gently grazed my thigh, and I shuddered.

She simply smiled at me, as if she was doing nothing wrong.

"So who's the new kid?"

Marcus asked turning his attention on me smiling.

"James. My pal's nephew, from home. Got into a wee bit of trouble up there, so I promised his uncle I'd take him on doon' here."

Marcus chuckled.

"Working for the old firm then?"

I nodded.

"In a capacity, once he's learned enough."

Terry added.

"Good to meet you mate."

Marcus said extending his hand across to me, I shook it firmly to show I was paying him attention.

"I gave the lad one of our flats doon' in Hammersmith. Was hoping you'd let your lads know he's a friend, no' foe."

Marcus agreed.

"Of course, any of them little shits give you trouble James come to me. I'll sort them out, a few kicking's and they fall back into line."

Then I felt it, her hand.

Aisha's hand on my back behind me, well out of sight of Marcus or anyone else in the room.

She was gently trailing her fingertips along my back and down to my waist through my jumper.

I quickly glanced at her, and she was simply smiling.

I noticed her dreadlocks were in places dyed purple giving her an exotic appearance.

"Cheers for that mate."

I said shivering, her fingers trailing along my back as if she was doing nothing out of the ordinary.

Marcus smiled, and nodded before turning to Terry again.

Her fucking hand slid down and was inside the back of my jeans, right in my jeans her hand was touching my arse through my boxers.

"I'm guessing you heard what happened with the Turks across the river?"

Terry nodded, in full knowledge of something I knew nothing of.

"A war wae' the Albanians over the girls doon' there, and the dope. Fighting over the prostitution, and drugs. Makes nae' sense really, dae' Albanians aren't usually this eager to war over something like that."

Marcus agreed, drinking his Coffee as Raffy sat listening to the music from the television smoking his Joint.

Aisha slid even closer to me, her body pressed to my arm and side.

"I heard they've pissed off the Russians over this, Turks are usually the best customers to the Russians for arms. Albanians are wary, about the Russians, a fucking useless war if it comes to one."

She took my hand, the one I was not holding my beverage with and slowly slid it down between her legs and I felt the smooth material of her leggings, close to her crotch.

All the while, no one seemed to notice this not even Danny who was so busy watching over the meeting he hadn't noticed the groping going on between me and Aisha.

"Sokolov wanted a sit down with the Albanians, literally told him to fuck off they did. The Russians ain't happy, it's an insult to refuse a sit down with Victor. Especially when he's the Russian mob's main man here in London, and probably the rest of the country even."

She pressed my hand to her crotch, and it felt warm as if she was on fire.

I was breathing hard, as my shaking fingers felt the camel toe of her leggings pressed to her vulva.

I could barely contain my breathing, I was worried if Marcus noticed any of this.

Not to mention the raging hard-on in my jeans I tried to hide with my jumper.

"Those Albanians didnae' listen to anyone, believe me. They tried to muscle in on us, and when we showed we werenae' gonna let them they backed doon', even them Russians talked them down. I think Sokolov is gonnae' have tae' dae' something tae' them, has tae' send a message to them."

Marcus sighed.

"Fuck it, not like the old days no more. We better square up, make sure your bosses up North get paid."

He said forcing a smile.

He nodded to Raffy who pulled from behind the couch a small but large cellophane parcel of what looked to be blocks of banknotes, I saw they were all in £50 denominations, and some in £20 notes.

Raffy handed it over to Danny, and Marcus turned to Terry.

"Sixty grand, for the five Kilo's. You want to count it?"

Terry looked at Marcus, but smiled.

"We've been daein' business for years Marcus, I trust yer'. Nae' point in ripping one another off doon' here if we hav' tae' dae' business together another day."

Marcus laughed.

That moment, I felt Aisha had pressed my hand into her crotch and I felt her vulva part and I knew I could literally feel her pussy now with my knuckles.

As the meeting was over, everyone stood up and something was shoved into my hand by Aisha. 

I quickly glanced at it, and noticed it was a torn piece of newspaper with a phone number written on it with the words 'call me' underneath it in Biro pen.

She smiled at me when I read the note, and stood with us all.

"I'll gae' yer' a call if the shipment is gonnae' be late, and if it is we'll set up a place for your lads tae' pick up the compensation package."

Terry said shaking Marcus's hands.

"Good man."

"I'll walk them downstairs."

Aisha said smiling.

She walked ahead of us, and I could not take my eyes off of her ass encased in the leggings. 

It was firm, thick and so beautiful to watch sway and bounce.

We walked down the stairs behind her, and at the door she waited.

"Can we talk James?"

She asked me.

Terry looked at me, and he knew what was going on.

He didn't seem to approve, but walked outside followed by Danny to the car.

I turned to Aisha, and suddenly she pulled me into the kitchen and without warning pressed her moist lips to mine.

We kissed, with me pressed up against the fridge as she lifted her leg up to my waist.

I held it up, as we kissed and I slid my other hand under her along her crotch and around to her arse making her gasp, and purr.

"You better call me, I don't do this normally but what you said to me I really liked it. Maybe you're a different guy, to those I am used to."

Aisha said grinning as I squeezed her firm, thick arse through her leggings.

"Didnae' worry, I'll be calling you the moment I get home hen."

She giggled, and kissed me once more.

"Go."

I smiled and stumbled out of the kitchen clutching her phone number, and out of the house closing the door behind me as I ran to the car getting inside next to Terry.

He was not happy.

"I'm assuming that wee lassie slipped yae' her number, didn't she?"

He asked.

I just nodded, knowing I had fucked up.

"You better hope that Marcus doesnae' find out, or if he does he approves of it James. We've had good business wae' him and his crew for years, we cannae' fuck it up over something like this."

I nodded.

"I'll keep it discreet, Terry. I promise."

He sighed and nodded.

"For our sakes, I hope yae' dae' son."

The drive back to the flat in Hammersmith was short, and Terry turned to me.

"I know that place isnae' furnished, so I'm gonna get Danny to run around tonight wae' some things. Fix the place up a wee bit for you. And here, another bit of dough tae' keep you tiding over."

He said handing me another roll of banknotes, and smiled.

"Regardless of that wee lassie, it seems you're learning. Wae' Marcus there is future business, and allies if wae' need them. He can put together a good crew, some shooters and some just muscle. But he is worth keeping as a pal, than an enemy. He pays on time for the supply, and he is never late on payment. We've had business wae' him since we took our share of things doon' here. We keep things under our control doon' here through Marcus, Raffy an' others. They know tae' pay their supplier promptly, they're no' dealing with the London firms no more, but we're a better bet than the Turks or Asians for them. Just be careful wae' that Aisha, didnae' get involved wae' her if you're not in for the long haul wae' her. In all dae' years I've done business with her brother, she has never been an easy lay, she's never been known aroond' for being an easy girl. If she's interested in you, she is interested in you for a reason, no' just a leg over."

I nodded, looking at Terry and agreed.

I stepped out of the car, and it was soon out of sight down the road.

I checked my cash given to me nearby, out of sight and counted another £500 in banknotes. I shoved it into my wallet, and decided to go out and get some more shopping.

I made my way down to Hammersmith Broadway, the centre of Hammersmith and found an Argos store.

I bought a PS3, and a few games for less than £200, and then bought a pizza from a takeaway shop before heading back home but not before buying some cheap films on DVD at a second-hand store.

By the time I had my new gaming console connected up to the television, it was almost 1pm.

I tried some of the games, and picked up the number Aisha had given me.

I pondered if I should call her, and eventually dialled in her number and called her.

The call rang out, but a voice answered.

"Hello?"

I breathed hard.

"Hey, it's James. I hope it's alright I called yae'."

Aisha giggled down the phone, and I felt my heart flutter.

"Definitely, I was hoping either you called me back tonight or tomorrow."

I smiled clutching the phone to me, as I had Call of Duty paused mid-level on the screen.

"I was wondering if yae' were busy, maybe if yae' wanted to come over to the flat I'm staying at. I've got some DVD's and games I bought for the PS3, and well I was thinking about you."

There was laboured breathing, and I thought she was going to say no to my invitation.

"Sure, I can get away from here. Just give me an hour, I'll get changed and I'll be at your place soon."

I smiled and gave her the address of the flat, and she told me that she wouldn't be long.

I cleaned up the flat as best as I could, putting my rubbish into a plastic bag in the kitchen and waited.

I spent the next hour playing a few of the games I had bought, and looked at the DVD's I had bought.

Some were as little as £1 to buy, and I had bought some comedies, horrors and action movies.

I then heard the buzzer of the main door downstairs, next to the front door. 

Using it for the first time, I took the receiver off the handle and a screen came alive next to it in black and white showing who had buzzed.

It was Aisha, smiling up at the camera.

"Hey."

She said grinning, her voice coming out frazzled via the intercom.

"Come on up."

I said buzzing her in through the main door.

Opening the front door, I waited for her.

I heard footsteps on the stairs, and suddenly I saw her.

Her beautiful black hair in dreadlocks, the purple locks shining in the light of the day.

She had changed her clothes, now wearing a short black skirt with tights or what looked to be nylons with a purple blouse, wearing a long jacket over herself.

She had in her hand a shopping bag, and she showed me it with a smile.

"I brought some beers, and Vodka."

I smiled and stepped inside to let her walk ahead of me into the apartment, her ankle boots clinking on the wood floor of the flat.

I closed the door behind her and followed her into the lounge.

She smiled turning to me, and grinned.

"Nice place."

She said smiling.

"It will be, once I get the place furnished."

Aisha took her coat off, and placed it on the couch standing there in the figure hugging short skirt she wore that was leather, and the tight blouse she wore that clung to her chest and torso.

"God, how old are you?"

She asked me.

I smiled.

"Twenty one."

I said checking her out.

"Jesus, I'm thirty three. You know that right?"

She clasped her hands to her face, as if guilty or ashamed of the age gap between us.

"I dae' noo', but it doesnae' bother me. I meant what I said back at the flat, when I first saw you."

Aisha laughed, and put her hands on her hips staring at her.

"God, you're so young."

I grinned.

"And you're so fucking beautiful, you know that right?"

She beamed, so beautiful.

"Want to watch a film?"

She nodded.

"Sure, put anything you want on."

I nodded, and went over to the television stand.

I picked out Austin Powers, the first film and put it into the PS3.

It quickly came on, and the movie started.

As I stood I saw Aisha lounging on the couch, legs stretched out and grinning at me.

I sat down next to her, and she turned to me.

She leaned down and pulled out two bottles of beer from the shopping bag she brought, and we opened them with a can-opener she brought with her.

The beer was Fosters, Australian Lager and she began to sip from her bottle.

"God you are so fucking sexy."

Aisha giggled, almost spitting out of her beer.

"I figured that back at the flat, no one has ever said something like that to me before when they've come to see my brother. No man has ever had the balls to tell me that, but you did. I know I came on strong with the hands, I should have just given you my number when I could."

I smiled.

"I'm no' complaining, but either way I wanted your number."

"I've seen my brother do business with Terry for a while now, and no man has ever come over to the house and flattered me so much. But I'm guessing you don't have a filter do you, back home?"

I drank from my beer.

"No' really, I usually just tell it as it is. Dae' what I want, and stuff."

Aisha smiled.

I moved closer to her, so our legs touched.

My jeans against her nylon clad legs.

"So what happened in Glasgow that forced your uncle to send you down here?"

That was a big question, and I wondered if she could follow the story from my mouth.

"Well I was dealing up there, yae' know for a wee crew that worked for my uncle. A few weeks ago, one of our rivals came after me. His boys cut me up a fair bit, and left me tae' die. But I didnae', I recovered and found him about a week ago noo'. I cut him up, far worse than his pals cut me up. I put him in A&E for a solid month or two. But his father was like my uncle, had some graft and influence. He worked for a firm, like my uncle worked for another. No' really rivals, but no' friends either. I guess I added petrol tae' a fire already there, and made things too hot for me to stay."

I recalled my story, of how I was sent to London for my own safety by my family.

"So you just do whatever you want? Fight those who hurt you, doesn't seem that bad really."

I grinned, slurping back my beer as I placed my hand on Aisha's knee.

She looked at me, but then smiled back.

"Well it wasnae' the first time I did something that stupid, I cut up another rival a few months back. He had tried to undercut our price, and sell a weaker product than ours. I couldnae' have that, so I went to speak to him. Next thing I know he's coming at me with a blade in his hoose' and I got mine out, we tussled for a bit then I managed to stab him in the ribs. He nearly died, but nae' luck. Next thing I know his crew has a price on ma' head. £1,000 to be exact. But I left the city for a wee while, then came back. The price was still on ma' head but I at least had some breathing space with my uncle helping me oot'."

Aisha nodded.

"I guess it was safer to come doon' here than give my uncle any trouble, or the firm he works for. I cannae' trust his bosses no' to dae' me in, kill me to keep the peace. That's what my uncle was fearing would happen. So he made a deal wae' the firm, for me to come doon' here and work with the firm's business doon' south. I couldnae' complain, ma' uncle saved me from a shooting and an early grave."

I slid my hand along her leg, up her firm, thick thigh along the nylons and pushed her skirt up to expose more of her inner thighs.

I had a massive, raging hard-on in my jeans sticking up like a pipe towards the ceiling and was rubbing Aisha's inner thighs with my free hand.

"It's the life we live I guess, it's the same with Marcus. Even from a young age, coming up through the ranks down here almost cost his life twice."

I nodded stroking her thigh.

"What happened the first time?"

Aisha put her hand on mine, and manoeuvred my hand up and down her inner thigh stroking her.

"First time was similar to yours, he crossed a rival back in the late 80's and was almost shot but he took the bullet in his shoulder. It happened in East London I think, he went there to oversee some deal going down. He was quite young, I was barely six or seven I think. Being a young black man in London back then, only the Irish or Scottish faced the same discrimination as he did. The rival was white, and didn't like him making connections with other firms and gangs in the city. They followed him from the meeting he had with a contact of his, then shot him as he was trying to get into the car. Luckily the shot just winged him, and he lived. But my brother never forgot it, he was running with the QPR hooligan gangs back then and he went with some of his pals to the guy's house in Bethnal Green. I don't know what happened, but the guy was never seen again. My brother told me whenever I asked that he was just simply dealt with, and had left the city. But I'm not a fucking idiot, even back then he was in the drug trade and stuff. He had the guy killed, and rightfully so."

I slowly inched up her skirt more, exposing her crotch to me and that purple panties that hid behind the nylon pantyhose she was wearing.

"And the second time?"

I asked.

Aisha smiled, and helped me inch up her skirt all the way around her waist, now acting more as a belt than a skirt exposing her full thick, thighs to me and crotch.

"Second time was over a girl, he had fallen for a blonde white girl in the 90's. Even then a black man, falling in love with a white girl was unheard of and people didn't approve of it. So the girl happened to be dating some guy from Brixton, down south-way. He was in an old firm that still ran things there, and when he found out about my brother with his girlfriend he went mental. Called in his friends, and went looking for Marcus. Next thing I hear, he's been shot near Hammersmith with a shotgun. But luckily they had shot him as he was getting out of the car, and when he saw the gun he ducked and only took a few pellets in his arm. He leans out of the fucking car, and starts shooting back with a handgun. They ran for their fucking lives, they never thought my brother was that ballsy. But no one was killed, and yet they stayed away after that but it was on a condition. My brother had to stop seeing the girl, and he did. He knew the next time they came calling for him over the girl, they would kill him."




My Business



I nodded, and drank my beer.

"Shooters, they pull them out more noo' than blades doon' here. Difference is, a shooter can kill. If you're smart wae' a blade, then naebody' has tae' die. You still get yer' message across, but naebody' ends up in a body bag, and the pollis don't get involved unless the little fucker's a grass."

Aisha sighed, spreading her legs more for me literally spread wide open with her legs dangling over my thighs.

"Well, shooters have always been there. The amount of times I've found one of my brother's guns hidden somewhere in the house, or some boy I was dating having one. It's just a part of this business now. They're just more readily available I suppose."

"I did someone wae' a shooter once, about a year ago. I didnae' intent to kill him, so I ended up just kneecapping him. He'd tried to rape my sister, because he thought he wer' a bigger man than my uncle, or than I was. Threatened her wae' a blade, and said he'd come back. I made sure he wasnae' coming back for her. He'd live, but would be walking wae' a limp for the rest of his raping life."

Aisha nodded, and I leaned in close to kiss her open mouth tasting the beer she was drinking.

"Do what you do, you want me and I want you to take me like a real man."

She said in a whisper as we kissed.

I turned her to face me, lifting her legs onto the couch until she was facing me completely with her body.

We kissed harder, as our tongues met and I began to push her blouse up and over her breasts and then over her head showing me she was wearing a big black silk bra, that barely held her big breasts inside their cups.

I pulled one cup down, letting her big breast slip out and took her dark, soft erect nipple into my mouth and sucked on it deeply.

"James."

She panted, sliding her hand across to grab my crotch and feel my hard bulge in her hand.

I slipped the last breast from its cup, and moved from the two sucking on each soft, erect nipple.

"Get this beautiful fucking cock out of those jeans."

She purred, and found the zipper of my jeans. 

I helped her with my hand unzipping them, and she slid hand inside to pull my cock out.

She was stroking it fast, and hard making me gasp as I continued to suckle on her big, firm breasts.

I sat up and undid my jeans fully, kicking them off my feet to the floor and yanked down my own boxers to free my cock.

"Suck it." 

I knelt on the couch, grabbing Aisha's head but not violently but firmly guided her mouth over to my cock and she took it, slowly sucking it as I worked it into her mouth with my hips.

"God you're big, young man ain't you?"

She asked in a gasps of air, as she worked my cock past her lips.

"Yes I am, and yer' my woman now Aisha."

I said with a grunt, clenching my eyes closed.

"I never cheat, if you're mine fully I am yours James."

Slowly working my cock into her mouth, I played with her big, hanging breasts.

I found the clasp of her bra behind her, and undid it before removing the whole bra from her body throwing it aside.

She was now naked except for the tights, panties, skirt and ankle boots she wore.

She was now sucking my cock fast and deep, with help of my hands on the back of her head pushing her down on my rod.

The sight was beautiful, her dark brown skin shining in the light of the room as he sucked my pale cock into her mouth, she was a stunning woman.

After a few moments, I pulled out of her mouth and she began to take deep breaths as I threw aside my jumper and t-shirt, being fully naked now except for my trainers and socks.

I helped to stand, and began to yank down her extremely tight skirt down around her feet and she kicked it aside.

"A skirt that fucking short, you didnae' think I wasnae' gonna fuck you did yer'?"

I asked half-heartedly, teasing her.

"I didn't think you'd be almost tearing it off to get to me."

She answered giggling.

"I'd tear every inch of your clothing aff' to get to yer' Aisha, you drove me mad back in the flat yer' know."

I said grinning, unzipping her ankles boots and slipping them off of her nylon-clad feet.

"I'd tear your fucking kilt off to get to that big, fat young cock of yours."

Aisha winked, stroking my cock the whole time I undressed her.

"You know I dae' wear kilts, keep things up and the next wedding yer' go with me tae' I'll be flashing my cock to you, and you'll be crawling under the table for it."

Aisha purred, clenching her eyes closed and biting her bottom lip.

"Don't you fucking tease me like that, you know that sort of thing drives me wild. Especially now you're here with me."

I giggled turning her to face the couch away from me, and rubbed and squeezed her arse through her tights.

"I'm no' teasing, I will wear one for yer'."

"Jesus, fuck."

She whispered, shivering as my hands rubbed at her mound through her nylon tights.

"You big cock Scottish fucker, rip them open and fuck me already I am gushing here!"

She screamed at me, shivering as I stood behind her. 

Her nylon clad buttocks pressed to my cock which was rock hard and erect against her crack.

"Rip them open, before I shove that fucking pole of yours up my pussy myself."

The comment made me grin, and smile.

I took hold of the tights where her arse crack was, and began to tear and rip them open showing her dark skin, and luscious buttocks to me fully.

More tears, and eventually a large gaping tear was around her crack, and buttocks only stopping near her hips.

I yanked her panties aside, the shiny silk material of her panties glinted bright as I pressed up behind her finding her slit with my cock-head and began to slide inside her parting her buttocks as I did.

"Easy, slowly fuck."

Aisha panted as I slid my member inside her.

Her entire body arched upwards, as my cock entered her and she arched her back in response.

"Oh fuck."

The whisper was so low, I almost didn't hear her.

Fully inside her, I began to slide in and out slamming into her buttocks with my balls and thighs.

"Oh shit, fuck fuck fuck!"

God she was a screamer, I had to admit I loved that about her.

Our bodies mashed together, sliding up and down my cock I slammed into her pushing her down to the couch head first, where she lay her head.

Minutes went by as we fucked, and our bodies were now moist and glistening with sweat from our fucking.

My hands left to find her breasts, and I squeezed and held them as I fucked her with my hips doing all of the work.

"Deeper, fuck me deeper."

I grabbed her hair, but did not pull too hard on it as I reigned her in and slammed harder into her pussy as her head came up to my shoulder with the hold of her hair.

A few more minutes passed, and in that time Aisha came once in the middle of our fucking soaking her torn tights, the couch, her coat and my legs.

I couldn't last no longer inside her womanhood, and ejaculated like broken water pipe inside of her, coating her womb and pussy with my semen.

I held her close, as what was left of my load emptied inside of her and we collapsed together onto the couch.

"Fuck."

Aisha panted.

"Aye I know, you were fucking screaming like fuck."

Aisha simply smiled as I held her, both on our sides on the couch with me more to the edge of it.

"Do you blame me, a young buck like you fucking me like that I had to scream."

I smiled.

"We need to get this place better furnished, so we can go to the bedroom instead of the couch. A nice comfortable bed, for us."

She kissed me and we lay there, for hours until she had to go home before Marcus grew suspicious of her absence.

*****

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