by James Grey
Oddly, perhaps getting paid for what I do has done wonders for my sense of worth. I haven’t really thought much about whether I want to date or have a relationship yet, beyond what’s developed with Sarah, which just kind of happened by accident. Between Charles and all the rest of them, I feel like my needs are taken care of without commitment getting in the way.
The air has chilled to a biting, frosty crisp, but the bouncers take no pity on the four shivering girls as they turn us away because I’m wearing sneakers and Sarah’s in her most ragged pair of jeans. Pricks! Latifa shouts at them, but even she can’t win these humourless oafs over.
We need to find somewhere desperate enough for custom on this, the quietest night of the week. We wander into Soho, and eventually find the kind of seedy bar where I’m entirely confident I’d never meet one of my clients. It has a dance floor around the back, and that’s all that matters.
We have it almost to ourselves, but the vibe is surprisingly good. It’s hot and sweaty, despite the cooling of the seasons. The heating’s up, and I feel my own warmth rise as our drinks count hits the teens. It’s gin and tonic all around now – phew!
“How fucked up is it that we end up in a place like this!” shouts Alyssia. “We’ve got all those five hundred Pound dresses from school!”
We all laugh. I blame Latifa for rushing us to get out of the flat and on to the alcohol.
“I’d love to have seen you in an evening gown at lunch time!” comes her retort. She’s still surprisingly sharp and switched-on for this time of the evening. We dance for a couple of hours longer, and I’m actually glad of my sneakers. I just want to twist around the dance floor, after all. I’m not here to feel sexy. I can do that any day of the week – and usually do.
The last song is a slow one, and inevitably Sarah pulls me close. We kiss, long and deep, and I don’t care that a few boys appear to watch. All of a sudden there are more people in here than I thought – word travels fast I guess.
Over Sarah’s shoulder I notice Latifa and Alyssia locked in a similar embrace. Fuck, life is good! I’m just so happy for us all.
It’s past two in the morning when they shut the doors on us. Alyssia pulls out her phone for the first time in hours. “Oh God! A call from Scott! Shit! We forgot all about him, didn’t we?”
“Too much alcohol,” murmurs Sarah, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. “But he’ll come. He’ll still come.”
One thing the delay has done is extinguish any doubts about going through with it. We’re fuelled with passion now, after our slow-dance kissing. Endorphins are knocking against my skin in the oddest places, and I’m sure it’s the same for the others. We want each other bad now, and a fresh-faced young man would be a cherry on top.
“Yeah, like I said, it’s okay if we share,” grins Latifa. “We need to take this night to the next level.”
I find myself nodding. “What the hell – tomorrow’s a write-off already. Call him, Liss!”
“He’s probably gone to bed,” laughs the drunken Sarah, entirely contradicting herself as she tries to wave down a taxi.
“Well, if he has, he’ll get out of bed for us,” declares Alyssia. “I know I would if I were him!”
She proves right. He’s still up. And he’s coming to pick up where he left off at my new flat. Eek!
“We did remember to put the champagne on ice, right?” asks Sarah.
“Yep, done,” smiles Latifa toothily. “We’re all set.”
There’s a nervous lump in my throat and a fire in my belly as we climb into a taxi bound for my apartment.
Chapter XV
Okay, seriously. Life is so fucking sweet right now, I don’t have words for it. I throw my head back, close my eyes and give a funny little growl from the back of my throat as I wallow in decadence. And steaming bath water.
The warm liquid is up to my nipples and London’s twinkling lights stretch out before me like it’s my kingdom. Maybe it’s because I’m so drunk, but the weird window-bath is nothing but brilliant right now. I’m sandwiched between Sarah and Latifa, rubbing shoulders and hips and legs with them as the four of us all squeeze up along one side of the tub to enjoy the magic view.
It’s somewhere after 2am, but I’m in heaven. Because I don’t have to be anywhere tomorrow, and because I’m with my favourite girls, and because I’m full of booze, and because this wonderful bath is mine.
And that’s not all. Fizzy champagne – the real stuff – is being poured out for us by the most adorable young man. Black jeans, white t-shirt, and a confident way with a heavy bottle. If there’s anything to complain about – which hardly seems right – it’s that he has to stand behind us, by virtue of the bath stretching right across the room.
But, strangely, we can see his shimmering reflection in the glass window in front of us. Maybe the shimmering is just my intoxicated eyes, who knows. How can you see out but also see a reflection? Who cares. I hold up a hand for my glass.
And who cares that he watched us all get undressed, and probably doesn’t know any of our names, and that I’m supposed to be a responsible tenant who doesn’t invite intriguing and gorgeous young delivery boys into her apartment.
“Tifa…Tifa…” I slur, whipping my head in the direction of her emerald green eyes, “You…you’re so clever. Fuck me, you’re clever. We’ve got this guy here…hmmm…thanks to you…”
My neck lolls forward and I know I’m far gone. Yet I’m definitely horny. I go back to eyeing the reflection, which is now giving Latifa her glass. Oh my, there’s an inevitability about this.
Latifa squeezes my leg with her right hand, takes the glass with her left, and turns around to talk to Scott. Oh, she’s drunk – but she’s very much still with it.
“Hey, didn’t we have a deal?” she says to Scott, a touch of acid in her voice.
He looks faintly amused. If I were sober, I think I’d be admiring his restraint right now. I mean, four naked girls in a bath, all to himself. Correction: four drunk naked girls in a bath. That’s got to be a guy’s wet dream right there.
“Did we now?”
Latifa rolls her eyes. “Yes! How many times do I have to ask you to take off your shirt?
He says nothing. I just see the reflection put the bottle down on the massive sink area to his right, grab the bottom hem of the t-shirt and heave it over his head. My eyes widen despite myself. Fuck, this guy has been in the gym. Either that, or carrying champagne magnums around London does wonders for the upper body.
Then I notice the tattooed sleeves. My God, the tribal artwork starts halfway up his bicep, runs up to his ox-like shoulders and down the other. This is the kind of thing I don’t see on my everyday clients. It’s a pleasing change, even if I have no idea exactly what the theme is. Looks Polynesian, maybe. Even though he’s clearly a Surrey boy through and through.
We exchange glances and giggles with each other’s reflections, and Alyssia simply says, “Oh, yummy.”
“Hmmmmnnnn,” I smile, leaning back again and closing my eyes, making do with the vision of him that’s etched into my mind. Truth be told, I don’t think I can really drink this stuff. It’s more the decadence of it than really needing a drink. I’ve got other things on my mind right now. I’m not sure if I’ve got the energy to act on what’s happening in my head, but some deep, alcohol-proof part of my being knows I’m not getting much choice.
Yep, sure enough, there it is. Latifa’s hand is back on my thigh. Sarah’s is on my other thigh. Instead of tightening, as once I might have, I relax even more. It’s sort of like that time at the poolside, except I feel better. Different. I feel like I’m me, even as their hands get closer to my pussy – which is wet in more ways than one.
We’re underneath a mountain of bubbles. He won’t necessarily know what we’re up to in here.
“Oh, fuck yes!”
Okay, he knows now. Alyssia, inevitably, has squealed first, presumably because Sarah’s right hand is doing the same thing as her left one.
Giggles all round.
Scott sits down on the broad ledge of the bath behind us. He isn’t stupid. He knows what’s happening beneath those suds.
“Before you get otherwise occupied, ladies, I just want to say thanks for having me here. It’s an honour to be butler to four such perfect women, in such a magnificent home.
“Now, do you really want those glasses or shall I free up your hands?”
“Good boy,” drawls Alyssia, waving her half-empty glass above her head. We all follow suit, and watch his stomach muscles tighten as he stands and then reaches across for our glasses. My heat’s rising as I feel fingers enter me. I know someone’s going to bow to the inevitable any moment now.
Someone says: “Oh, shut up and get in the water with us, will you?”
I’m a little surprised to find that that someone is me. But I’m too far gone down the road of pleasure for old Emma to get a look in tonight. And I think the girls are proud of me, judging by the loud murmurs of approval. And by the deep, beautiful kiss Latifa gives me. I’m vaguely aware of Sarah turning her sweet lips to Alyssia. Oh, that’s so deliciously naughty. Partner-swapping.
Sort of, but not really. I mean, Sarah’s hand is still probing gently between my legs. And I think Latifa’s hand is guiding it, with the added twist that she’s slipping a finger between Sarah’s, and straight between my lips. It’s my best guess, anyway. All I know is there’s some kind of octopus gym routine thing going on down there.
There’s a cough behind us, and we all disengage and stare. Jesus. His lower half is not a disappointment. That muscular V leads to exactly the kind of honeypot a girl wants. It’s shaved clean, it’s substantial and it’s standing very much to attention. I think there are some legs there, too, but my eyes can’t get past his cock.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he grins. And promptly steps right between Sarah and I, as gracefully as the odd and rather packed tub will allow, and sinks to his knees on the other side. His back is to the window and he’s facing us. He’s tall enough that this keeps his magnificent manhood above the water line. “I’m not sure there’s space for me to sink down,” he says with mock guilt.
Even the finger in my pussy has stopped wiggling. I think Latifa is actually thrown by what she’s seeing. But not for long.
“Hang on! Girls, I think we can forget the London view for a moment. We’ve got a better one, don’t you think?”
Alyssia and Sarah agree enthusiastically, and I give my answer by reaching out and touching it. I’m gentle at first, but then my lust floors me and I begin to massage the balls with pleasing ferocity. He groans and puts his hands behind his head.
The fingers leave my pussy, because they know I want to swim across to him. I do just that, and a moment later he is filling my mouth. I want to cram as much of him in as I can, and I suck on him just like I sucked on that boiled sweet back at school. Only this is both bigger and better than a boiled sweet. So much better.
I cup the balls and let my tongue roam all around and over the tip, simply revelling in the taste. I’m dimly aware that I’m not working right now, but also that it doesn’t make much difference. It’s ingrained into me that my pleasure will be his pleasure. That mantra has been working for me every time. Pay or no pay.
And just when I move my hands around to grip his firm buttocks and pull him further into my mouth, there are fingers back in my pussy. I’m kneeling, but Alyssia has gotten one of her hands in front of and underneath me while I work. While she thrusts, grazing my clit with her hooked finger, someone else is rubbing my ass and kissing my neck. Fingers tweak each of my nipples hard.
No amount of alcohol could dim a turn-on as blazing as this one. Even though I am cock-worshiping, I feel worshiped. Every single sexual zone in my body is being touched, and the feeling is insane, beautiful, unspeakable.
I feel a need for a kiss, in spite of everything. As if on cue, Scott tells us he’s close. I pull my mouth off him, and bring a hand back around to work him to climax. My growing experience – and his growing girth – tells me it won’t be more than twenty seconds. I turn to my girl, my main girl Sarah, and begin to kiss her with passion. I’m going to love this, but it’s also going to make him explode as I gather pace with my hand.
“I’m there, I’m there,” he says tremulously, “Where do you want it?”
Sarah comes off my mouth and presses up next to my cheek. I get what she wants. Some of what I want. Still the touches rain down on my breasts and anus and pussy while I aim him at our two open mouths as best I can.
We are both treated to spurts of his hot, white cum on our tongues. We look at each other before swallowing, look up at him, with his dazed, supremely satisfied smile, then look back at each other. Of course we will.
Sarah and I kiss again, spreading his cream further into each other’s mouths, our tongues wrestling in the pearly liquid until it eventually dissolves to a pleasant, salty aftertaste.
Before I know it, things have gotten even more out of control. Scott is a tireless stallion, and what feels like hours pass in the bath. We discover many uses for the ledges to the side of my huge tub, and when I lick Latifa to climax the passion is insane. I finally realise that, deep down, I’ve been wanting to get my tongue on that exotic pussy ever since that hot summer day by the Cranleigh House pool. It sends an earthquake through my nerves to feel her come.
But even then we’re nowhere done. Somehow – I think Alyssia has a lot to do with it – we all tumble out of the bath and pin the willing and relentlessly hard Scott to the heated, slippery tiles. And the four of us proceed to have our way with him like a pack of young cougars on heat.
We tear into the guy as one, each of us taking our own piece of his body. While one of us rides his monumental shaft, another sits on his face and enjoys that searching tongue of his. Another squeezes in to slurp and taste beneath his balls, and the last of us guides his deft fingers into her buzzing pussy.
And yes, each of us takes a turn doing everything. We may be depraved and drunk, but we’re completely and utterly fair.
It’s something like five thirty when Scott staggers out of the door, finally milked of every drop of spunk he has, and we barely have the strength to kiss him goodbye as we collapse in a naked heap on my gigantic bed.
Oh boy. The pleasure bar has just been raised.
Chapter XVI
Many hours later, the four of us are back in that tub of mine. It turns out that this amazing place is not only ideal for getting carried away with your friends and a random delivery boy. It’s also the perfect place to steam out a howling hangover. It’s another sunny day, so it’s shades all around for our delicate eyes as we face up to the best window in London. It feels more and more like I’ve somehow got my own private beach way up on top of a eleven-storey apartment block. Life is getting no less surreal.
It’s nearly four in the afternoon. We’ve managed to keep down the fry-up we ordered from a clever new place that does full English breakfast delivery. Thankfully there’s nothing cute about the delivery guy this time. I genuinely don’t think any of us could fuck anything today. Our communication has been limited to little more than groans.
But we’re starting to perk up at last. Latifa’s the first one to attempt any kind of intelligent conversation.
“So, Miss Carling,” she says after taking a deep breath. “We need to talk about this business with that guy. Your ex-boss.”
I glance at Sarah. I thought we’d agreed not to mention anything about that to anyone. She shrugs. “Er, you spilled the beans very late last night, Em…you were so gone…”
I sigh and shake my head. Alcohol. There’s always a downside.
“Oh, right,” I say dispiritedly. My head hurts a little too much to have strong feelings about this right now. Trust Latifa to be recovering already. And I bet she isn’t going to let this go. Not one bit.
“You can’t go on with it like this,” she says firmly. “Why won’t you tell Lucy? She’s alwa
ys there for you, from what I hear.”
I make a face, mainly because I don’t really know the answer to that question. But then Sarah leaps into the conversation.
“I think I know the answer to that,” she says sagely. “And we may as well talk about this. We’re all pretty close now, I think it’s fair to say.”
The others nod in agreement, and I shrug. Part of me wants to confront this little niggle in my mind with exactly this kind of conversation, but another part still wants to avoid the issue. Especially on a write-off day like this one.
“Let’s sort this out, and then we’ll get out of the bath and watch a chick flick, okay?” smiles Latifa.
“Fine,” I say. “If you know how to sort it out I’ll be pleased to hear it.”
“So, as I was saying,” resumes Sarah. “I think this has gotten personal with you. You’ve got your stubborn side, Em, I think we all know that. Deep down you want to tackle this yourself and not give in to this guy. You think complaining and having him taken off your client list will make him a winner, and your pride doesn’t want that. Not after the way things ended when you left his company.
“Also, part of you also wants to be the tough girl, doesn’t she? I know you’re proud of your pain threshold and I’m guessing that deep down you feel the same way about your threshold for mental pain. The whole thing is not only a challenge, but – although it’s really scary and threatening – it makes you wet, doesn’t it?”
I sigh again. Sarah’s managed to order my emotions for me and hit the nail square on the head. Damn, she’s gotten to know me far too well.
And I’m hearing murmurs of agreement from the other two. Okay then. So what now?
I cough. “Okay, maybe – so what’s the big idea? Get over it and tell Lucy?”
Latifa smiles. “Alyssia and I came up with a more fun idea while we were staggering around London last night. If you want to actually lose this guy without losing face, you only need to get some real dirt on him.”