The apartment

 

This is a book about sex. It is highly explicit and erotic. So if you don’t like something well beyond the raunchy I would not read any further. This is definitely for the over eighteens. There is a very dark side to it.

The story is about a group of teenagers who find an old MOD nuclear shelter hidden away in the woods and manage to break into it. They set up their own little den which they call the ‘apartment’.

It starts off very cosy. They do it up and bring in the furniture and then things start developing. Sandy, one of the girls, starts to invite attention and before long it has all developed into a strange sex scene. It appears that Sandy’s responses are out of proportion because she is the victim of gross sexual abuse that has affected her but the boys are attracted like moths round a flame and the girls are intrigued.

It does not take long until they are all indulging and the apartment is the centre of a great deal of sexual activity.

The group take the sex thing a stage further by filming themselves and selling the videos to the highest bidder. Before long they have a lucrative business but it begins to attract attention from some quite undesirable characters who want to muscle in on the business.

They start bringing other people into the action and things become dark and sinister.

I have included a section which does not have too much sex in it. I had to search hard.

I hope you like it:

The APARTMENT

BY

OPHER

Extract:

It was me who found the apartment.

That is not strictly true, as we’d all known it was there in the woods all along. We just never knew what it was and that it was possible to get into it.

The apartment was an old military bunker that had been long abandoned. It was buried deep into a hill in the thickest, most overgrown part of the woods and deep underground as what was obviously a hardened bunker – a relic of the cold war. Supposedly, according to rumour, it was a communications centre. In the event of a nuclear war it was part of a secret series of control bases set up in rural settings away from the cities or other likely targets, a nuclear nervous system down which the echelons of command could communicate and organise their response – (the most likely of which was to remain safely underground until all the hullabaloo outside had died down and it was safe to come back up).

Although it had been long abandoned it was supposedly mothballed and could be brought back to life, if the need arose, at the flick of a switch. One imagined it stuffed with dust covered computers and telephones.

Life went on. Life always goes on. When the box is open you can’t get everything back in again. Everything is always different and you can never go back and do it over again.

All life is a one off.

For good or bad nothing is ever the same.

If we could look into the future then we may have wished for Dave to have quietly slide his fingers out of that slippery hole and walked away as if nothing had happened. We might have wished for Dave to have never slid his finger down that slippery slope in the first place. Then again perhaps we would have gone ahead anyway.

What is life if it isn’t seizing the moment and choosing the most extraordinary?

The thing about the apartment was that it was that it was deep in the woods away from the paths, overgrown with thick undergrowth so nobody ever went there.

We’d known it was there but it had been behind this old fence with barbed wire and all looked pretty boring and uninviting. The warning signs had all fallen into rusted disrepair and the barbed wire was an oxidised relic of itself by the time I got around to investigating.

I found that a section of the fence behind a great unruly holly bush had broken away from the post. You could pull it aside and slide in. That was no problem for a fifteen-year-old boy, slim, fit and in the peak of condition.

The door was a heavily corroded great metal affair, almost octagonal, with great heavy hinges. It was set into a concrete structure at an angle into the hillside. To open it you had to pull it up and out, not that there was any chance of that, except that when you looked at it properly there did not seem to be any reason why not. I tentatively yanked at the handle. Nothing yielded. I was about to go. It was as I had imagined – there was not a chance of getting in to that place. It would have been treble locked. It was a hardened bunker for fuck’s sake! Built to withstand bombs. Still, I am known for my craziness and I placed my feet firmly on the concrete and gave it my best shot. I imagined myself as superman yanking the door off with impunity. That did not happen but I did feel it move a fraction.

That was enough for me. It moved.

I looked around for a lever and got an old branch. I arranged it as a lever with this log and wedged the end under the handle. I yanked and yanked and it lifted an inch. There was a definite crack around the door.

I examined it carefully. The hinges were rusted to fuck. There were two big lugs that looked as if they might have had padlocks on. But there were no padlocks. Perhaps they’d been stolen? There did not appear to be any mechanism shutting the door. You could run your fingers round the edge. It was a thick heavy door but there was nothing there.

I began to suspect that the only thing stopping me getting in were those old rusty hinges.

 

So Dave continued to rapturously, disbelievingly, slide his finger up that impossible and inaccessible channel while Sandy continued to ignore the whole thing and we all pretended everything was normal. Nothing was ever ‘normal’ again.

We were not back at the apartment for days. We had to limit ourselves or we’d get caught out. We didn’t want that to happen. Parents have a habit of being suspicious.

But the scene was set. We had arrived early and taken up our places on the seats as casual as could be. The place was still with the electricity of expectancy and the energy of suppression. Nobody mentioned anything. Care was taken to skirt around it. Nobody could think of anything to say. Our minds were frozen, fixated on what had happened. The girls seemed worse than us, really up for it. Sandy was there and seemingly defiantly struck up her blatant pose on the sofa.

We were waiting.

Dave strolled in and said hello. He made a coffee and fiddled around in the corner with the cups. Everyone studiously read magazines and watched out the corner f their eyes. What was he going to do?

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