Quote Originally Posted by Horatio Palmer View Post
It was the kind of morning that Clinton Baines knew foretold the heat of the day to come. The sky was cloudless and the same kind of blue as his sleek Jaguar sedan. There was no wind. As he (wind, as he) drove slowly through the neighbourhood near the Horizon Park chapel. He could see kids playing in the gardens with hoses, mothers out jogging on the sidewalks and dogs lying lazily in any shade they could find. It was a typical weekend, S(s)ummer morning in San Diego. He reached the church and he stepped out of the air-conditioned Jaguar into the morning heat. He didn’t lock his doors- he never did. No one would dream of stealing from Baines.


She took a table by the window. There weren’t many(tables? if you mean people say so) in the restaurant yet. Tony waited a few minutes before coming in; no point in acting suspiciously. He chose a table by the window, allowing him to look at Stephanie across the room. She was too engrossed in the menu to notice him yet.

A quiet thud was all he heard as the redhead shot him twice in the head with a silenced pistol. He fell to his knees. Unlikely he would hear anything, ' flash of the silenced muzzle was the last thing he saw...' might work better
“Yes Mr. Baines, you’ve been very useful indeed.” She gave him a light push with her sandal clad foot and he fell over, his end untimely (just seems weirdly out of place, maybe few would mourn his untimely demise.

Tony had finished working on the plane. He packed up his few tools and set off home in his red Mazda RX-7. His house wasn’t too far from the field. The drive home took him through mainly residential neighbourhoods. As he drove along Glenhaven Street, he saw the feline profile of a blue Jaguar saloon. It was dark, but he knew (he would know)that car anywhere.

Stephanie awoke from her slumber and she found herself standing up. She tried to move her hands, but she couldn’t. They were tied behind her back. She tried to look down, only to discover a rope, tied tightly around her neck. Stephanie began to panic. She started jerking her arms to see if she could free herself from the surprisingly soft rope. As she moved her hands, she discovered she could feel something- maybe a knot, rubbing against her pussy. She was frightened but highly aroused. She tried to wriggle the rest of her body, but that too was tied. She felt the pattern of a web of ropes on her skin- ornate and tight ( its just me being old fashion here, use of - as punctuation can be confusing do you mean skin-ornate which makes no sense or ...skin; ornate and tight. reconstructing the sentence could work too -felt the ornate pattern of the tight web of rope- . She thought she was naked.

“City of San Diego, before you, you see (Yup some people would speak that way, others would say ...you see before you...) Stephanie Montaigne, the daughter of your mayor.

The temperature in the basement was warm enough so as (that, or 'as to make and drop were) clothes were unnecessary. Stephanie felt a shackle being placed around her left ankle and heard the click of a padlock.
“Now, this chain allows you to move relatively freely around the dungeon. There’s a toilet over there behind that plywood wall, should you need it. Firstly though, we should get to know each other. Tea?”
Stephanie nodded. Lily left and returned shortly afterwards with a tray with a teapot, cups and saucers, a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar. We're slipping back into British charm here, a sugestion, why not make the Mistress a British ex-pat from Seattle? then you wouldn't have to fuss about the vernacular

the material making a satisfying sound ( be specific let the reader really hear it, a satisfying shlucking sound?) as she peeled it away from her skin.

I was born and raised in Seattle (see above suggestion) . My name used to be Alison Keefe until I changed it. I started working as a journalist. I became so sick of the way cops weren’t able to prosecute slick rich guys. There were murderers and rapists walking the streets and there was nothing anyone could do to stop them. I decided to act the vigilante. I killed a couple of high profile dirt bags that had escaped justice on technicalities. I’ve got to hand it to the cops though, they came damn close to catching me. But I got to them first. I killed the ones on my tail- a couple of CSI’s I believe, and I packed up and moved to San Diego. There’s always justice to be dealt everywhere. I came here and changed my name to Arlene Stanton. I opened up my little business in the basement. Mistress Lily’s Dungeon I called it. And well, here we are.” Stephanie sat stony faced..(a vigilante who has no problem killing a couple cops? That's a bit out of character and you'd need to explain the motivation beyond escape, why does she go after 'bad guys'? and how can she justify killing 'good guys? Having killed some cops the police would pull out all the plugs and go after her full bore, FBI would be on her tail big time.)

Their lips met. Stephanie didn’t resist, she just returned the passion. It was a breathless affair unless you're after a double entendre chose another word . This was a taboo that Stephanie had always felt tempted to explore but never did. She just basked in the pleasure of the moment, enjoying every last second. Her hand slipped between Lily’s legs. Lily broke the kiss off and put her finger to Stephanie’s lips.
“Soon, my petal,” she said softly, “I’ve a little job to do first.”
You've done a fine job and probably a bit excessive for a simple writing assignment. I think you might want to finish polishing it and submit it here or elsewhere. You live in a world wide web where the standard for English is US it's not fair but hey, what is? Fortunately the MS word program and others allows you to select your dictionary which could help with US spellings otherwise stick to your proud British traditions all the way through the story.

Yours
Mad Lews