Henry Morgan - The drivers

"There you go." Dan placed the drinks on the table and dropped down in the seat opposite Peter.

"Where've you been lately? I don't see you at the cafe any more."

Peter took a sip of his lager before answering, using the moment to appear composed and relaxed.

"I spent some time in Suffolk, had a big contract down there, lugging containers out of the port. What about you?"

"Here and there," Dan said, illustrating his point by shaking his hand from side to side. "A bit of this, a bit of that."

"And what about Geordie? He up to much?"

"Up north most of the time. Aberdeen and Edinburgh. He might get down for tonight though. If he makes it, he'll be at the auction."

Peter sincerely hoped not. Convincing the Geordie he really was a Driver would be a lot more difficult.

"Here," Dan continued. "You weren't really thinking of buying those two beauties off Michael were you?"

Peter let out a knowing smile. "What do you think?"

"I think not," Dan laughed. "Can't see any of us with enough clout to out bid the Arabs."

"I can't understand how they smuggle the girls out of the country. Why aren't they checked by customs?"

"Why do you think? A mega rich Arab sheik moving his horses between meetings. Who's going to ask questions? With all his money he hardly needs to smuggle. They take the girls out the same way Michael and the others bring them in. In the secret compartments at the back of the horse boxes." Dan looked at his watch. "Time to get going."

On the way to the show grounds Dan asked Peter if he was going to the passover the following week. Peter had heard the phrase several times lately, though he was unsure of its meaning. All he could do was go along with everything Dan said.

"I'll be there," he told him. "You?"

Dan stopped momentarily to light a cigarette before carrying on his way down the dark country lane. "Never miss them," he said. "Especially the ones held up at Jimmy's."

"Jimmy's?" queried Peter. "I'm not sure I know his place".

A moment of concern crossed Dan's face and he stopped and turned towards the other man.

"How long have you been one of us?" he asked.

Peter's body tensed with nerves, although in the cold night air his sudden movements could be mistaken for the shivers.

He looked nonchalantly away towards the lights of the fair shining brightly across the other side of the field. "About two months," he said. "Just before I met you." He walked casually to the side of the road to relieve himself in the hedge.

Dan pulled a deep drag on his cigarette, the glow from its tip illuminating the concern on his face.

"Who asked you in?" he asked nonchalantly. "Was it Lincoln?"

"No, I don't know Lincoln very well," Peter said, aware of the trap. "I thought I told you that before."

"So you did… you were saying you…" Before he had time to finish Peter interrupted him.

"Actually I did meet him down south not so long ago. Jack told me Felix Ferries had a bit of work. I pulled a few containers for him."

"So Jack invited you in?"

"Did I say that?"

"No," Dan admitted. "Then who?"

"H," Peter told him. "Big bad H".

That seemed to clinch it. He had passed the test. All he hoped now, was that none of the Drivers he had mentioned were at the auction. Getting rid of Dan, who seemed to have taken a liking to him, could prove tricky enough without any other complications. Dan was useful, but he had to be alone to rescue Susan.

As they neared the large tent where the auction was due to take place, Dan asked Peter who he was taking to the passover. Before Peter had a chance to reply he'd already started to rave about the woman he was taking.

"She's a cracker I tell you. A lovely tight little bum and firm titties. I picked her up at some services near Exeter. Now she's been servicing me ever since. Perhaps we'll do a swap, what do you reckon? You pass your's over to me and I'll pass you mine."

Suddenly Peter understood. At this passover the Drivers were able to exchange the women they had captured on the roads of Britain. After the passover each Driver would have a new girl to satisfy his lusts, and that was why Susan had been taken by so many different men.

"And what if you don't have a woman to pass over?" he asked.

"You know the rules," said Dan. "No woman, no entry. If you've got one to exchange you're in. If not you'd better buy one from the Paddies tonight."

"I got one," Peter declared.

"What she like? Nice cunt, good cock sucker?"

"Blonde," Peter said. "Big tits and a nice figure." Without realising it, he was describing Melanie.

"Sounds good to me," Dan said, licking his lips. "I'll sure look forward to it."

"Trouble is, no one has told me where Jimmy's is," ventured Peter.

"Jack will tell you."

"I won't see him for a while. I'm back down south tomorrow."

"It's between Yellow Beck and Cotherstone. The only garage up on the moors road. You can't miss it."

The entrance to the tent was guarded by two men, both nervously tapping the side of their legs with a baseball bat. Dan passed by them with a nod of the head, but Peter was stopped until Dan explained he was with him.

"Can't be too careful," he said, handing Peter a sales catalogue. "You don't know what nosey bastards are around, but if anyone gate-crashes they're in serious fucking trouble."

Once past the security they walked through another door to find themselves amongst eager men filing past the holding pens.

In each pen lay at least one girl, in some there were several. Each was marked with a number that matched their place in the catalogue. Some of the girls appeared to be in quite poor condition and simply sprawled on top of bales of straw, legs open as they had been left for buyers to look them over.

Potential buyers were making notes in books, and occasionally someone would call for the keeper, who would come over and drag the girl across for a closer inspection, pulling back her lips to show her teeth, or milking her breasts to check their firmness or otherwise.

The nearer they got to the main arena, the higher the quality of the girls became. In one pen a man in a white coat knelt between the legs of a young dark haired woman, his fingers probing inside her thighs.

"That's the vet," Dan informed him. "If you're trying to get a few more bucks for your stock you can declare her a virgin. Trouble is she has to be checked by the vet and that costs you up front."

Suddenly Dan took hold of Peter's arm and pushed his way past several men to another pen down the line.

"There you go," he said. "That's one of mine!"

Curled up in a mound of straw lay a young girl. She wasn't asleep, just curled into a ball trying to avoid the prying eyes of potential buyers examining her fresh young features. Small firm titties and flawless legs and thighs.

"What do you reckon?" asked Dan. "I should get a few bob for her, eh?"

Peter agreed. "Have you declared her a virgin?"

"Nah, she may look like a virgin but she ain't. No way. I never put them in for a sale unless I've mounted them first. She's no virgin I can assure you! Don't let those looks fool you. No, I've had many a good ride off of her." He was about to continue his boasting when a face in the crowd caught his attention.

"Gotta go, Peter," he said. "That guy over there wants to offer me money to keep this one out of the auction. See you in the sale room."

So Peter was alone at last, another face in the crowd and quite safe now that he was inside, as long as Dan didn't come back with any friends. Nervously he edged his way towards the sale room, passing pen after pen of captured women. Most, the ones who had been through it all before, lay on the floor, unabashed at their nudity. Others, the first timers, cowered like frightened animals, nowhere to hide, desperately trying to find some dignity in the unfeeling straw.