by Karen Botha
I give him a look. That consists of me raising my eyebrows, and staring at him with severity, as I simultaneously move my head backwards. The look tells him he’s on dodgy ground.
“Lucy, listen, try to be reasonable.”
Oh, really. Reasonable, huh? I make to leave the room, but he dashes round and catches me, pinning me against the wardrobe before I’ve had a chance. He thrusts his lips on mine and secures my thin wrists together in one of his large hands above my head.
I’m too shocked to resist, but that intensity of our bodies being in the same space is back and I have no way of controlling it. I’m immobilised from head to toe, Adam’s body is crushing mine against the cool surface. His hardness presses into my hip and he grinds against me. My pelvis moves with his, forcing back, causing friction as he groans.
“You’re fucking infuriating sometimes, do you know that?” He growls into my mouth.
I’m fucking infuriating, is he kidding me? I bite his bottom lip and break my wrists free from his grip. I shove both my free hands against his chest. “Really? I’m not the one placing the one I love in danger.”
“You’re not in danger. Do you think Eric will let anything happen to you?”
“I don’t even know this guy, he’s a thug. Who knows?”
“Exactly. He’s got more chance of protecting you than anyone else. You should see the security in that place. Even I got checked on the way in and I know him from way back.” He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into him. Locking them behind me, he snarls, “Now shut up and come here.”
That’s the moment when I drown. Our argument forgotten, I swim in the tide of our passion. His mouth moves down my neck and with his kisses, more nerves ignite. I close my eyes, happy in the moment. My hands move down to his butt and I grab. It’s firm, and I thrust into him as I pull him near.
“Get on the bed.” He whispers between breaths and manhandles me in the general direction. “On your knees, by the edge.”
I do as I’m told, slipping down my leggings and panties in one swift action before bending on all fours for him, my top still intact whilst he does the same.
Burying one hand in my hair, he slaps my arse cheek with his other. The sting feels good. My head tilts back exposing my throat as he pulls a fistful of my locks.
“Oh, you’re wet.” He sticks a finger in me, circles it, adds another and works my moistness externally. Jamming into me without warning, I gasp, eyes wide. Thrusting, hard, he speeds up, faster and faster, grabbing my hair, pulling me into him, using every inch of my available space. Sweat trickles between my breasts and I have the urge to rip my top off, to feel cool air against my hot skin. But I can’t move. He’s thrusting so hard, it hurts. But it’s good. The kind of solid, throbbing pain that you know you’ll regret later, but at the time, is just perfect. His open hand connects with my butt cheek again and then he slows momentarily whilst he bends to bite at the red welt that forms under his palm before pulling out.
“Turn over.”
I’m happy to oblige. There’s no-one more attractive to me than this man and to see his face as he takes his pleasure in me is not something I complain about.
As I turn, I notice his cock. It’s not like I hadn’t realised it was there, obviously, but now I really notice it. The bulbous end, straining out of his foreskin. His whole length, throbbing, veins bulging in his anticipation of me.
I bend and take him in my mouth. All the way down until I gag at his base, back up, swirling around his head, tasting his pre-cum mixed with my flavours and relishing our power over each other. I take him back down my throat, swallow and grin as he groans.
“Careful, you’ll make me blow.” His voice is raspy.
I swallow again and he pulls out, panting, eyes screwed up, trying to control his natural reactions.
“Come here,” I whisper, unbuttoning my top, knees bent, hips raised. I curl my index finger, beckoning him back.
He slips my bra straps down my arms and frees me. I take him between my breasts. His head kicks back as he slides between them and a husky growl escapes his throat.
“Go on.”
He shoots his load all over my chest. I rub the tips of my fingers into it, kneading it into my skin.
“What are you doing?”
He’s sliding open the wardrobe door and, yep, pulling out my toy.
“Lie back, I want you to feel as good as me.”
Happy to oblige! With my bum on the edge of the mattress I splay my legs upwards diagonally as he kneels on the floor.
And then...
That.
Is.
It.
As soon as the vibrations of our chemistry are enhanced by battery power, the craziness begins. My arms flail, my hips buck and my face contorts. It takes less than a second for my ankles to clamp over his shoulders. My groin vaults in ecstasy before the inevitable wave comes crashing down, a thundering release of pent up anger and hurt.
Adam
It’s odd waking up at Lucy’s. We tend to spend more time at mine and so, when the sun bursts through her blinds in the morning in a rare showing, I’m a little disorientated. I tune into the sounds from upstairs, before realising where I am. Lucy is snoring. I’d like to say she’s cute, but she’s really driving them home. Sometimes I wonder how I get any sleep with that racquet going on. I must be tired I guess.
It doesn’t last long, she wakes when I rise to use the bathroom.
“Hello sleepyhead, how are you?” I bend to kiss her forehead, smoothing away stray strands of her hair.
“Morning.” She lifts both her arms and links them around my chest drawing me in for a hug. She’s still warm from the covers, my temperature having already dropped from being out of bed for more than two seconds. She doesn’t keep her bedroom as warm as I’d choose.
“How did you sleep?”
“Not well, I was awake thinking about this whole murder thing Paula has going on. I may have overreacted.”
OK, so this is where I must, absolutely must, keep a straight face. Do not mess this up with the wrong comment, when she’s doing so well. I plump for a simple, “Oh?”
“Yeah, you’re right, I’ll be fine. It’s like you say, if Eric has security everywhere what harm can come to me? I’m only going into a public place and giving massages. It’s worse for me here where I’m on my own. I don’t know who is walking through the door. So, if you still think it would help the investigation, I’ll go for it.”
“Ah, Lucy, you’re brilliant, but only if you’re sure?” I don’t want blaming for this later if she’s not happy. I’ve taken enough crap, it needs to be her decision.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I’m happy to go ahead. I’ll call Paula, you get everything set up with Eric. I’m free later today.”
I want to fling my arms around her, tell her how much I love her and that I knew she’d come around. That I couldn’t believe my kind and caring Lucy could be so reluctant to help save lives. Instead, I keep these thoughts to myself and suggest, “Tea?”
She grins. It’s a rhetorical question with no need of an answer. Lucy always wants tea in the morning so, without waiting for further instruction, I slide on boxers and go say “morning” to her lodgers whilst fighting for a time-slot with her kettle and letting my imagination replay last night. So aggressive and horny as hell. We’ve never behaved like that before.
When I walk back in, two steaming cups in hand, she’s propped up in bed, the covers pulled up under her arms. She’s naked under the synthetic down and I can’t help but imagine what she looks like.
I snuggle back into bed with her and we sit like an old married couple, at ease whilst we establish ourselves with a fresh day. I let my hand trail under the covers to touch her thigh. I stroke up the outside and meet her hip, circle it with my fingers and then trace across her stomach with my flat palm.
She curves her eyebrows. “You ready for more?”
“I could be convinced.”
/>
“Well, I don’t have time. I have a client coming in an hour, I need to get ready.”
I have no idea why, but it always takes Lucy an hour to get ready. If an hour only lasted thirty minutes, then it would still take ‘an hour’. This woman is not high maintenance and so taking sixty minutes to shower, dry her hair and dress is not really required. I'd bet she needs the time to faff more than actually prepare herself for external contact.
She bounces out of bed and walks past me, naked, towards her en suite. I’m still considering the way her tight butt moves as she walks and how her full breasts jiggle, when she jumps out of the way of the cold shower spray. There’s some rummaging about and then the familiar sound of her foot slipping on the plastic as she dips under the now warm water.
That’s it, my cue.
I bob my head around the door and yes, her face is under the shower, eyes tight whilst she soaks her hair to the roots. Apparently, she tells me, this is important!
“Let me wash you.”
She opens her eyes and her lips curl upwards, splitting to display just the slightest sliver of white teeth. She laughs and hands me the sponge and liquid soap. “Fill your boots.”
As I load the detergent, she lifts her arms so her boobs lift into two firm mounds. I make a slow trail from her wrist, down to her elbow and circle under her arm. My journey slips down, brushes under the mound of her breasts and I grow firm as I touch their heaviness with the back of my fingers. Up through her cleavage and back down under her left breast, I move up to under her arm back up to her other wrist.
She kisses me. A brief peck, then spreads her legs as wide as the cubicle will allow.
My cleaning just became mega dutiful, I’m sure that cleavage could do with another wipe. And so, just to be a dutiful boyfriend, I allow my cloth to soak down her cleavage again, resisting the urge to grab her pert nipples and suck them into my mouth. My abstinence is a turn on, but my hand has slipped and is now wiping down her stomach, into her belly button.
Until... we’re there.
She tilts her hips forwards, but I take my trip around to her lower back and between her buttocks. She relaxes so I can reach between and then I pull my hand round to the front, but start underneath her, at the back and press in. With a swift movement of my arm, I jerk the sponge upwards catching her clit full on. She moans, thrusting towards me. I’m so hard, throbbing with repressed anticipation. My sponge works backwards and forwards. Her legs wobble and she supports herself on the tiled wall.
Grabbing at the shower head, I rinse her off. I watch the soap suds collate across her belly and drip down to her neat triangle, pooling by her feet. I take one hand and spread those lips before hitting her with the warm jets of water.
“Wouldn’t want you to not be rinsed off properly.” I nip the tender part at the base of her neck with my lips, before slipping upwards to her mouth where she meets me with her lips parted, eager to kiss me back.
Our tongues mingle for a few moments. “Right, you’re all clean and ready for your day,” I say as I replace the shower head back in its cradle.
“Whoa, you’re kidding me. That’s cruel.”
“Hey, I only said I’d wash you, you don’t have time for more, remember?”
She wags her finger in my face. “You’re one naughty boy. I’d better not catch you finishing that up,” she points to my throbbing erection, “without me. I’m coming to get you when I next see you.”
We laugh and she jumps out, dripping water all over her floor before wrapping the towel around her and setting her blasted hairdryer going.
Lucy
The casino is nothing like Adam’s, which isn’t a surprise, but the state of it is. And wow! It’s as lucrative as Adam’s? It says a lot to me about how strong an addiction can be.
Adam was right, the security is reassuringly intense. The reception is as far removed from the West End as possible. It’s a caged desk where punters are paying an entrance fee before being patted down and scanned with a handheld metal detector. It should be reassuring that no-one is allowed in without being clean, but it’s more disconcerting than anything that there is a need for this level of paranoia. We agreed it would be easier for me to slip under the radar if I’m alone, so I’m here without a safety net. It’s the right decision, but it doesn’t stop me regretting it.
I fidget from one foot to the next whilst I wait for Eric to turn up. All types, but mostly men, come and go. Without fail, they hang their heads low. I’m not sure whether this is through shame, or because they’re teetering on the edge of some unimaginable cliff of despair.
“Lucy!” I’m assuming this is Eric because he’s greeting me as though I’m a long-lost friend. He’s pulled me in for a hug and kisses me on the cheek, before announcing, “We’ll chat in my office and run through some orientation before you get to work.”
Once inside, he closes the door before gesturing to the couch on the side that has seen better days. I have a vision of what has gone on, on this sofa, and at the risk of being rude, say, “I’m OK standing, thanks. I’ve been sitting all the way here.” Then I realise and chastise myself because I’ll be standing all night whilst I knead the shoulders of greasy men.
I’m surprised when Eric starts by a run through of the fire exits. Guess this place is more normal than I thought. However, that pleasant surprise is cut short when he moves on to the ‘in case of emergency scenarios.’ Should a fight kick off, I’m to remain calm and keep to the periphery of the room. Security will sort the trouble out. I only need to keep an eye out for flying objects. Under no circumstances am I to get hysterical as that won’t help anything.
Well, thanks for that!
“Now onto the fun stuff,” Eric says. “The cards. You will be offered a bribe by players to give them a step up on their winning streak. I know you’re here in an unofficial police capacity so it’s unlikely that you would, but for the sake of the record, I need to tell you that under no circumstances are you to take any such payment. There will be no excuses and no second chances. You’ll be marched out of here without so much as a hearing.”
“That’s fair enough. I wouldn’t anyway, I understand how it works from being at Bright Nights.”
“Yes, of course, and I’m not suggesting you would, but for the sake of being transparent, it’s as well to get these things out in the open.”
“I agree.”
“Now, that goes for cells too, they must be left here.” He taps a tray on his desk with a pile of phones in it. I’d spotted them when I entered, but assumed, with him being a criminal, that they were burner phones.
“I’m not sure about that, I need to call Adam during the night.”
“That’s OK, you can come up here and grab it at break times and use it in the privacy of my office.”
I let out a sigh. It’s not like I have any choice, so I fish in my pocket and retrieve my lifeline. As I hand it over, it occurs to me that I don’t have a pin lock and what if this is a ruse to get my phone and set me up for some heinous crime. But then, I remember, this is Adam’s friend. If he was going to set anyone up, choosing me would not be sensible.
“Brilliant. Now the chap you’re looking for is called Brian, well, that’s the name he gave us, anyway. I don’t know any more about him, but I will be down on the floor with you tonight so when he arrives I’ll give you the nudge.”
“Thanks.” I’m not sure what to make of all of this. It’s so far outside my comfort zone, I don’t have any point of reference to latch onto. Until we hit the floor. Eric said all I needed to do was walk around and ask if anyone needed a shoulder rub.
I take a deep breath and head over to the makeshift bar where guys are taking a break over a vodka.
“Anyone been gambling a lot and need their shoulders massaged?” I ask. I’ve thought about how to phrase this a lot over the past few hours and this is what I came up with. Being a massage therapist is bad enough without offering a shoulder rub to a bunch of old men drinking vodka. That’
s how to land yourself in trouble from the start.
I must have nailed it, because I don’t get any lewd comments, and one chap accepts. And that’s it. I’m right in my comfort zone again, chatting and passing the time of day with a perfect stranger.
The next few hours pass without event and I’m enjoying myself. It’s no different to any other job, it’s just the scenery which changes. And the people are interesting. I’ve already found out way more than I appreciated about gambling.
“So, how did you get into this?” I ask Tom, a young lad of twenty-four.
“It was so simple. I was eighteen, my friend wanted to place a sports bet. Of course we won. Over £1000 and that was that, I was hooked.”
“But you don’t always win, hey?”
“Nah.” He falls quiet and I nudge the muscles free under his neck where he’s been in one position too long.
“You’re tight. How long have you been here today?”
“No idea, too long.”
I look around. There are no clocks, which isn’t a big shocker, but they’re absent, nevertheless.
“Long enough to spend £5k on the tables though.”
“Whoa, £5k, really?”
“Oh, trust me that’s nothing.”
“But how do you get hold of enough money that you can risk losing that much in a few hours?”
“Oh, you duck and you dive.” I think that means stealing, but I don’t pry. His head droops forward under the power of my manipulation and I leave him be.
By midnight it’s my first break and I’m ready for it. Having nothing to report as Brian hasn’t shown yet, I send Adam a quick text letting him know I’m OK and that there’s nothing to report. I do the same to Paula. By now, I’m ready for a seat on that sofa in Eric’s office, so I slump down, all thoughts of what I may be seated on banished to somewhere unreachable as I rest my head on the back of the couch and close my eyes. I’m not used to working these shifts and although I’ve tried to nap during the day, it’s not the same. I could sleep right here and now.