Black Lace Quickies 5

by Kerri Sharpe

  ‘Mr Locke’s coming here? Tonight?’

  ‘Around midnight, yes.’

  ‘OK, OK.’ Suki chewed her lip. She knew that Cups and Cuffs made the kind of film that you did not take your five-year-old nephew to see on a Saturday morning. She was simultaneously appalled and excited. She sighed and slid back the bolts on the warehouse door. She turned the latch and Furst came barging in, looking around him at the space, already checking the light with a meter and barking orders to the three people following him. She took a brief look outside in case Johnny Locke was already here and watching to see how she was coping with this situation – maybe it was some kind of test of her security skills – before closing and locking the door again.

  Furst had his cap and jacket off and was assessing positions to place a tripod. ‘What do you think, Saffy? Do you think we’d get good light if we nailed one here?’

  ‘Whatever, Heck,’ said the woman, Saffy, he was addressing. ‘You’re the man. I go where you go.’

  ‘OK.’ He started clicking his fingers. His mirror shades remained in place. He was dressed immaculately in a blue suit with a faint charcoal pinstripe, a pink shirt and a grey tie with a shiny abstract pattern, as if he’d let a slug crawl all over it. ‘Neil and Guy. Get into your gear. I want to be ready to go in five.’

  ‘I think, maybe, I should call Johnny,’ Suki said. ‘Or someone at Cups and Cuffs. Just to make sure.’

  ‘Make sure what?’

  ‘That you’re … you know … who you say you are.’

  Saffy started laughing. Neil and Guy joined in. Furst regarded them fondly, indulgently. He held up his hand and they became silent.

  ‘Look,’ Furst said, ‘I’m already behind schedule on this picture. It’s low, low budget and what you see here is the staff. Director, producer, actors, cameraman, best boy, gaffer and bleeding key grip. We are it. If you keep fannying around like this, I’m going to be in the red so deep I’ll look like Father fucking Christmas. Now you go and make us some tea, keep quiet for a couple of hours, and I’ll make it worth your while. Shall we say, two hundred pounds?’

  Suki clenched her jaw. Something about him was so familiar it was making her brain hurt. She must have seen him on the television. ‘Two hundred pounds,’ she said. That was the equivalent of ten shifts. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Fine,’ Furst said. ‘But do it quietly.’

  Suki went back to the little office where she spent most of her time. At the rear there was a kettle and a Tupperware box filled with teabags. While she waited for the water to boil, she wondered if what she was doing was right. But her mind kept sliding away from this moral dilemma. It kept wanting to focus on Saffy’s soft red hair and criminally high cheekbones. It lingered on Guy’s tight arse beneath his distressed blue Diesels. It was distracted by the swollen mass curling against Neil’s left thigh. Why was it that she only ran into interesting, sexy people when she was wrapped up in her frumpy work gear? She wanted to storm back out there and shriek at them that she was sexy too. And interesting. And funny. And talented. Being a nightwatchman was just a way to keep the wolves from the door. She had plans. She had a future.

  She poured water into cups. Caught sight of her face in the mirror. How tired she looked. How old. And she was what? Twenty-eight. She breathed in deeply. She could look good in front of a movie camera. She had great tits. Her ex-boyfriends had all drooled over them. Like juicy apples, one of them, Adam, had said. Firm and packed. Nipples up top. Always the sign of a great boob. Flat tummy. Succulent, greedy puss. An arse she could pick up pencils with, it was so tight. OK, so her face was a little plain. Her legs not so long. But she had more than most. She was blessed with plenty. She just wished more people would give her credit for that. An ordinary face ruined everything. She had a body that, at school, had made everyone else look flabby or geeky or, at best, nondescript. But because she didn’t have Tamara Bowden’s pouty lips, or Debra Houghton’s shock-green eyes, or Steph Moulton’s slathers of caramel-brown hair, she was overlooked by the boys. Only later, at sixth form, when someone took a risk with her at a party, did she get a decent press. The boys she had been with started off kissing her as if they were doing her a great favour. Bra off, their eyes would pop out of their heads. By the time they were creaming themselves over her incredible curves, they were in love with her. But still that stigma remained.

  She felt like pissing in their tea and kicking their cameras over. Who cared if she got the sack? She could clean school toilets and still earn more than this.

  Teeth grinding, she took a tray with their drinks back to the warehouse proper. And almost dropped it.

  Saffy was naked, spreadeagled on a cardboard box filled with lever-arch files. Neil and Guy were standing over her, shirtless, dressed in blue serge trousers and jackets, peaked caps and black boots. Guy’s heavy, coffee-coloured prick was bent down into Saffy’s mouth like a piece of flexible piping. Glimpses of his shockingly pink core slipped into view as Saffy tried her best to keep her lips fastened to his slippery, sizeable girth. Neil was squatting between Saffy’s legs, his thighs shaking as they took the strain. He was sawing the underside of his rigid cock, tip to root and back again, along Saffy’s juicy slot. Now and again he dipped his helmet into her folds, but did not penetrate her fully. She moaned at this teasing, and tried, unsuccessfully, to feed him deeper into her by wrapping her long legs around his buttocks.

  Hector Furst watched it all through the viewfinder, occasionally muttering orders to the threesome: ‘Ginger it up.’ ‘Throat it, Saf.’ ‘Pinch her nips, come on, let’s see her stiffen.’

  Suki put down the tray and considered going back to her little corner until they’d finished what they were doing, until Johnny Locke came along and sacked her or gave her a rise, or whatever the hell was going to happen. But she was transfixed. The pages of her magazine seemed to have come alive. And seeing so much sudden life within those heavy, boring uniforms was a real shock, a welcome one at that. Guy’s tree-trunk legs made the fabric shiny where he was bulging against it. The contrast between the corded, dark texture of the jacket and Neil’s smooth, willowy chest was breathtaking. The gleam of the caps’ peaks was mirrored in the slicks of sweat spreading beneath them. And, under it all, tiny Saffy gulped down Guy’s monster schlong, ground herself against Neil’s solid curve and massaged her own yummy breasts until her nipples were sore from all the attention.

  I’m her equal, Suki thought. She ticked off every department that she and the other woman shared and found that, apart from Saffy’s legs (which were longer) and her face (amazing cheekbones, bee-stung lips, soft brown eyes), Suki was not wanting. I’ve got you beat on boobs, bum and bush, girl, she thought, and then, horribly, as the faces of Neil, Guy, Hector and, finally, bemusedly, Saffy, turned her way, she realised she had not thought the words at all. She had spoken them out loud.

  ‘It’s a little late for a screen test,’ Hector said. ‘And as I’ve stressed, time is money. But you … what, exactly? You feel you can improve our outfit here? You want to add your spice to the recipe? Or is it just the desperate squeak of a little bird, a plain little sparrow who believes she is a dove at heart?’

  ‘Give her a chance, Heck,’ Saffy said, and Suki loved her for it, wished she hadn’t been so harsh in her demeaning of the other woman. Still, she didn’t know quite what she was letting herself in for, or what she ought to do. Her uniform never felt so uncomfortable. It bit at her all over her body, prickling, pinching, chafing.

  ‘Come on then, little bird,’ Furst said. ‘Sing for me.’

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked.

  ‘Everything,’ Furst leered. ‘But first, that tea. And a little breaking of ice, yes?’

  She sipped her tea sitting next to Saffy and apologised for her outburst. ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she said. ‘Just job frustration, I suppose. I feel as though I could do something much more interesting than being a stupid nightwatchman. But I never seem to get any opportunities.�
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  ‘Well, there’s one staring you in the face now, isn’t there?’ Saffy said. She had not dressed to enjoy her tea break; she sat on the edge of a table, swinging her long, bare legs, one arm folded under her pert, gravity-defying breasts with their soft, pale-aubergine nipples – the kind that Suki’s mother had always referred to as ‘sit up and pay attention boobs’ – and her tiny pot belly with a simple steel bolt through the navel.

  Neil, Guy and Hector were investigating the darkest corners of the warehouse, looking for props or locations that would elevate the film into something out of the ordinary. By the time Hector came back with three black truncheons, some handcuffs and the frame of a small metal bed, Suki was confident to say of Saffy that she was a friend.

  ‘Film’s called Smash and Grab, Suki,’ Hector said. ‘Here’s the story. As you’ve already seen, Saffy’s been taken into custody by our two manly nightwatchmen here, having been found trespassing on private property. Next scene, the scene where you come in, she’s been delivered to the big boss, the ultra-disciplinarian bitch from hell, who just happens to be an insatiable nympho-slut with a taste for woman flesh. That’s you, by the way. Thing is, she can only get her rocks off if said woman is yelling for mercy. So the way I see it is this: interrogation scene. Guy and Neil will busk things to start off with, get Saffy prepped, and then you, Suki, will come on and do what comes naturally. Let’s see how you steal this scene from the others.’

  Furst had lined up a couple of portable heaters and trained them on the roughly assembled scenery: the bed was padlocked to a heating pipe in a shabby, unadorned corner. Through the viewfinder, it looked exactly like a cell. No scripts were consulted, no motivation sought.

  ‘You do what I say,’ Hector said. ‘That’s all there is to it.’

  Saffy was gently handcuffed to the bed, a gag wrapped around her mouth. Everyone smiled at her and asked if she was comfortable. Suki was touched by their concern for her and looked forward to a little bit of attention being paid to her. It had been a long time since anybody lavished that level of affection on her. Neil and Guy paced around Saffy like panthers until Hector said: ‘OK, we’re rolling. Action.’ Guy unzipped himself, took out his cock and began to slowly masturbate himself hard. Saffy arched on the bed, her eyes large, at the same time looking as though she wanted to escape and yet equally desired what the two men were about to serve up to her.

  Neil stood over Saffy’s head and lowered his gear onto her face, smearing his swelling prick and balls against her nose and lips, causing her nostrils to flare with mild panic when she was momentarily unable to take a breath. He leaned over and roughly sucked her nipples awake, the large areolae gathering up into nubbled peaks that he hassled further with his teeth and tongue. His sucks and slurps flicked a switch in Suki’s knickers. She felt herself moisten, as Saffy groaned beneath his tireless mouth. Neil reached down and cupped Saffy’s neatly shaved mound, rotated his palm slowly until Saffy was pressing against him, seeking the entry of his fingers. The chains slinked against the metal bed frame; the sound of serge rubbing against itself as rhythms were found was like lazy wasps coming and going in a summer breeze. The polished peaks of their caps flashed as they turned their heads this way and that, observing Saffy’s body and the things being done to it.

  The heat increased. The three actors began to sweat. Saffy’s body developed a glaze that gleamed and winked under the lights. At one point she turned her heavy, pleasure-loaded cat eyes Suki’s way and winked drunkenly at her. Suki licked her lips. She wondered when she would be given the signal to enter stage right.

  Guy had lifted Saffy’s legs up so that they were vertical, making a right angle to the rest of her body. He placed them against his chest, the feet either side of his face. Without ceremony he plunged one of the black, shiny truncheons into the ripe split of her sex, which had been thrust plumply out between her closed thighs. Saffy howled around the gag and squeezed her eyes shut. She reached out and grabbed Neil’s tool, began pumping it hard. Her face was red, lashed with damp curls. Guy found an instant, punishing rhythm that painted the truncheon with her fluids and sent a wet, slapping echo beating around the warehouse. Saffy’s moans as she thrashed against Guy’s pistoning action were having a positive effect on Hector Furst too: Suki saw his crotch begin to resemble a tent being assembled.

  He said: ‘OK, Suki. Do your worst.’

  She stepped into the frame and put her hands on her hips, slung one out to the side. She knew how curvy she was; she knew how sexy this pose looked on her. She reached up and undid the clasp keeping her hair tied and knew how good the cascade of blonde hair against the blue serge at her back would look on film. She bellowed at Neil and Guy: ‘Keep up the interrogation. She’ll break before too long.’

  She strode over to the bed and ran her hand down the slick, quivering tautness of Saffy’s thigh. She stood behind Guy and got him to replace the truncheon with his own cock, pressed her hands against his buttocks and dipped a hand underneath to feel his pendulous balls as they slapped against Saffy’s sodden perineum. She crouched by Neil, whose head was thrown back as Saffy’s expert hand action drew every morsel of pleasure to the bulging purple bulb trapped in her fist. Suki rolled her tongue around it, created a drawbridge of saliva from his tip to her teeth. Her sex felt swollen with need. She felt that if someone were to touch her there she would drown the world with her moisture.

  Everything she did was driven by instinct, and yet measured by what would look good on film, or what was visible. She never once stood between the lens and the action. She was on auto-pilot, yet aware of angles, space, aesthetics. She was a natural. She was thrilled that what she had been steaming up over in her magazine was suddenly being played out for real, with her at the centre of it all. The uniform of the nightwatchman suddenly possessed the authority and power that she had never believed invested in it before. She felt it stretch against her thighs, her breasts, her belly. She felt its seams empowering the V of her sex, could almost see her own oysterish folds delineated within the thick, rugged material. She squeezed her legs together, got a little motion going, felt the vibration of the narrow corded fabric, heard its busy little buzz. Her cunt lips meshed together like oiled silk.

  She removed her jacket and clip-on tie. She pushed her arms inside the orbit of her braces and flipped them away, unbuttoned her blouse and pulled that off too. Back on with the braces, each strap pushed outwards slightly by the fine curve of her breasts: nipples concealed. She repositioned her cap so that the peak created a shadow that hid the upper half of her face. Just her wide, crimson-streaked mouth was visible. A half-turn to let the camera pick up on her lush profile, then she picked up her tie and approached Saffy.

  Hector’s voice: ‘Oh, am I liking what I’m seeing very fucking much!’

  She pushed Neil and Guy gently out of the way, enjoying the way they bowed slightly to give the impression of rank, and stood looking down at Saffy. Her face bore disappointment. She lowered her legs and her tuft of pubic hair glistened with all the juices she’d leaked.

  ‘You will talk,’ Suki said, forbiddingly, and pressed open the spring-loaded crocodile clip at the back of the knot of her tie. A plain black tie that was suddenly the focus of everyone in the room. Saffy’s eyes widened with pleasure and apprehension as she realised what was about to happen. Suki winked at her as she positioned the teeth of the clip on either side of Saffy’s left nipple. Then she let go. Saffy’s moan was like something being birthed, some magnificent, dark bird releasing itself of the fabric of fantasy. Suki thought she saw even the shadows quake as it reverberated around the massive space. Saffy’s face had contorted into a mask of concentration. Her lips had turned ruddy and her cheeks bloomed two high punches of colour. She lifted her buttocks clear of the boxes and parted her legs. Hector raced around with his camera trained on her pussy.

  ‘She’s coming. Christ, girl, she’s coming.’

  Saffy’s hips bucked twice, three times, and a clear jet of fluid da
shed from her quim. Neil and Guy, momentarily stunned by this occurrence, quickly got back into character and homed in on Saffy’s writhing body to avail themselves of its bountiful fruits. Suki peeled off Saffy’s gag; she was still coming down from her climax. ‘Oh, God, that was good. That was so good.’ Suki stepped out of her braces again, unfastened her trousers and knickers and stood naked in front of everybody. She saw Neil and Guy trade looks and heard Hector’s breath catch in his throat. She was like something that could only be measured in sine waves.

  ‘More curves than an Aston Martin,’ Neil said, reaching out to stroke her breasts, which jiggled slightly under his fingers.

  Suki bent over Saffy’s face and kissed her, upside down, on the mouth. She took her time over it. She had never kissed a woman before and wondered at the tenderness of it, the fullness of the lips. She felt Saffy’s sweet little tongue dab at her own like a curious fish. When she broke away, Saffy smiled at her. Suki leaned further over and allowed her breasts to drag sensuously across Saffy’s hair, forehead and face. She clenched her hands together as she felt Saffy’s mouth suck and kiss her nipples erect and returned the favour, turning circles with her tongue around Saffy’s beautiful globes. Still she moved on, encouraged by Saffy’s hungry mouth, stopping only when she felt Saffy’s tongue slip into her bush and flicker at her clit. She closed her eyes and felt herself being almost reshaped inside, so intense were the sensations. When she opened them again, Guy was standing in front of her, his feet on either side of Saffy’s belly. His large cock was waving in front of her face, millimetres from her mouth. ‘Hi,’ he said.

  ‘Hi,’ she replied, and happily wolfed it down, wondering what had happened to their interrogation scene. Hector was no longer barking orders. She glanced his way, having to shift her head slightly to see around Guy’s thrusting hips, but Hector had gone, the camera on its tripod drinking in their details alone. She was too blissed out on what was happening to her to care. She let Guy fuck her mouth, greedily sucking him as deeply as she was able, before she was aware of Neil, who had crawled between the V of Guy’s legs. He was athletically fucking Saffy now, missionary style, and taking it in turns lapping at Saffy’s and Suki’s breasts. Saffy’s hands were coaxing Guy’s balls. There were limbs everywhere. She felt a change of pace, of intent. She felt her insides grow so hot she couldn’t work out where her pussy and Saffy’s mouth were divisible. She felt herself beginning to lose control, her bum and thighs trembling uncontrollably. Guy’s head was thrown back; she could make out the cords on his neck. She wrapped her braces tight around the base of his dick until the veins stood out. Her nose mashed against the reinforced serge flaps of his fly as he rammed himself home for the final time and she felt his end twitch, his arse turn as stiff as two bricks and what felt like a half a pint of come explode into her mouth. She tried hard to breathe and swallow and let him loose gently as her own orgasm blistered through her. Neil was next, pulling out to shoot his load across Saffy’s belly and thighs. Commas of seed splashed against his heavy work trousers, the material too dense to absorb it. The stack of bodies collapsed deliciously into a soft/hard mass. A little time helped to soften it further, to slow breathing, to remove the red colour from cheeks and chests. Gradually the limbs disentangled. Nobody spoke.