Criminal Comedy

Although I don't write comedy as such, a touch of humour among my characters usually comes naturally to me, and just occasionally, I do like to put them in ridiculous situations with amusing possibilities.

For example, in Ariadne's Thread, my Glaswegian heroine, is in such dire financial straits that against her better judgement, she's helping her brother and his criminal (and not very bright) pals rob a mansion in the Highlands during a New Year party. The plan is, if they're discovered anywhere they shouldn't be, they just say "Happy New Year" and no one will suspect a thing. Apparently.

Except Ariadne (Addie) is mistaken by the house's owner - an impoverished but very sexy concert pianist with a past - for a friend of his sister Tammy's, and she gets dragged into the party and ends up flirting so much with her host that he takes her upstairs to show her his etchings (or something). Unfortunatley, this takes them within spitting distance of where the robbers have locked Tammy up to stop her raising the alarm. And...

Well, see for yourself :)


From ARIADNE'S THREAD By Marie Treanor

     They had reached the top of the stairs now. Turn right, please turn right, away from Tammy…

     He drew her to the left. Addie was sure she could hear the office door rattling. She coughed to cover up any shouting, then found herself whisked into the piano room and the door firmly closed.

     “What are we doing here?” she demanded.

     “I thought you might like to play the piano with me.”

     The lamp was still on. By its poor light, his face looked rugged and more devilish than ever. And he stood too close, much too close. With the door behind her, there was nowhere she could go. God help her, there was nowhere she wanted to go…

     “Though now we’re here, I find I don’t give a stuff about playing.”

     You could drown in the storm of those eyes. She so needed to be away from him…

     “Shit, Kate.” His breathing seemed suddenly uneven. “Remember what you said about the lucky bag?” She opened her mouth to deny that she’d meant any of that, but he didn’t let her speak. “You’re right. It would be a bloody unlucky dip that dropped me in your lap. Tell me to sod off. Tell me quickly, and mean it—right after this kiss…”

     His head swooped down and his mouth seized her parted lips before she could think, let alone react to his words. She wasn’t prepared for it. She had no time either to reject him or to savor the moment. He went from speaking straight to kissing, his hands on either side of her face while his body pressed her back into the door. Paralyzed, she hung there while his mouth devoured hers, moving across her lips with a strange, tender hunger she’d never encountered before. It astounded her, enchanted her. So when his tongue slid between her lips, she opened wider to him, meeting his tongue with her own. He wound it in his, danced with it, sucked it into his own mouth while he explored every nook of hers.

     Sensation rolled inward like a tidal wave. Every caress of his sensitive fingertips at the corner of her lips, every movement of his devastating mouth, dragged her further in. She clung to him, kissing him back with forgotten passion till he groaned into her mouth.

     His hands left her face, trailing down her neck to her shoulders, and down the sides of her body, just teasing her breasts on the way to her waist where they lingered, stroking. Her hard, needy nipples pressed into him through the thin camisole. She moved in his arms, rubbing them against his chest. His hands swept down her hips, holding her while he pressed his lower body into her, his sporran jabbing into her abdomen.

     With an impatient jerk, his hand pushed between their bodies, pushing the sporran aside so that he could grind his erection into her instead. Through the thickness of his kilt, she could feel it already hard and thick. Desire flooded her, soaking her jeans. Her pussy pulsed with need.

     This can’t be happening…how can I want him so much so quickly?

     Changing the angle of his mouth, he deepened the kiss even further. One questing hand found her breast, cupping and caressing, his thumb flickering back and forth across her rigid nipple, making her moan into his mouth. She pressed forward into the delicious hardness of his cock and obligingly he rubbed it against her. She wanted it inside her, pushing, thrusting. She wanted him naked, to feel his skin, every inch of the hard body pressed so beguilingly against her now.

     At last, as if it were a supreme effort, he dragged his mouth free. “Tell me now,” he whispered, touching his forehead to hers. “Tell me quickly… ‘Sod off, John Maxwell, you’re nothing but trouble.’ Kate…”

     His mouth found hers again, brushing back and forwards across her lips as reality flooded back, bringing shame and guilt and a pain so sharp it made her gasp aloud. She grasped his head between her hands to stop his devastating mouth.

     “Johnny… I… Johnny, I’m not…”

     Something bumped inside the room, crashing against the window frame at the same time. A body fell into the room, cursing in fluent Glaswegian.

     Appalled, Addie watched over Johnny’s shoulder as Big Malky rose to his feet, shaking his shaggy head as if to clear it.

     Johnny spun round. “What the…?”

     Malky blinked at the pair of them. “Aw right there, big man?” he said amiably to his host. “Happy New Year.”