by Monica Belle
She nearly choked on her wine, clutching at her neck in her effort not to laugh before she managed to get herself under control.
‘Of course I’m joking! It just means you’re expected to volunteer to work late if it would help, that sort of stuff. Basically, be a good little wage slave.’
‘Do any of the men hit on you?’
She shrugged, utterly indifferent.
‘Sure, sometimes. Sometimes I go for it, if they’re cute. You’re not supposed to, but then it’s none of SS’s business.’
‘SS as in Super Staff?’
‘Yes. It suits them. Don’t worry about it, because if you’re good they need you a lot more than you need them.’
I picked up the guidelines.
‘How about all this?’
‘It’s churn. Bin it.’
‘Churn?’
‘Stuff that’s forever being rewritten, so there’s no point in reading it. The only thing they’re really hot on is moonlighting, if you accept private offers for work from their clients.’
‘Is that why you got your warning?’
‘No, that was for flashing a window cleaner.’
‘Flashing a window cleaner?’
‘Yes. He was cute too, and he was staring in at me while I was filing. I thought, maybe after work. So I flashed my tits.’
‘Couldn’t you just have asked him?’
‘Don’t be silly, he was outside the window on the fifteenth floor. He got the message all right too, only there was CCTV in the room. Nosy bastards.’
I couldn’t help but laugh, and warm to her. She was as much of a bad girl as I was, propositioning men and drinking shorts in the afternoon. I just had to top her story.
‘I know the feeling,’ I casually slipped in. ‘I got sacked earlier today, for sucking the gardener off.’
‘You dirty bitch!’
It was not a criticism, far from it. She was laughing.
‘Tell all, and I want the details.’
My head was already spinning a little. No surprise, with four shots of whiskey on a nearly empty stomach.
‘OK. I’m going to university in September. To Edinburgh, and my family had set it up for me to work at this parochial house, that’s where priests live. It was dead, and I won’t even tell you how much they were going to pay me, but the gardener was huge, hands like spades, and just all man.’
‘Rough?’
‘Rough, yeah.’
Her eyes were glittering and her hand was tight on the stem of her wine glass. I suppressed a giggle as her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips.
‘Just how rough?’
‘Rough, but he wasn’t a pig about it. You know how some men are, trying to get the whole thing down your throat. He wasn’t like that, he stroked my hair and tickled my neck. I love that, with a cock in my mouth and my man’s hands holding my head.’
She shook her head.
‘That’s nice, but I like really rough, the sort of guy who won’t think twice about doing it in front of his mates.’
It was my turn to wet my lips, thinking back to Dalkey, and kneeling in the long, warm grass behind my Nan’s house with Shaun Cullen’s cock in my mouth while his mates watched me suck him off. I nodded.
‘I know, but there were only the priests. Father Jessop caught me at it, so I got kicked out. That’s why I was at Super Staff.’
She nodded in turn. Her face was a little flushed, and I could feel the heat at my own neck. My pussy was beginning to feel more than a little in need of attention. I wanted to talk.
‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this, because I haven’t even told my sisters, but last summer, in Ireland, a man I’d been going out with got me to suck him off – with three of his friends watching.’
I giggled. Bobbie had closed her eyes, her face set in dreamy pleasure. When she spoke it was a sigh.
‘Yes, please. Where they very rough with you? Did your boyfriend make you take your clothes off?’
‘He pulled my top up. I wasn’t wearing a bra.’
She purred.
‘I wish!’
‘Haven’t you? Like that?’
Suddenly her tone had changed completely.
‘No! Men are such cowards, or else stupidly jealous, or they can’t get hard in front of their mates.’
‘Shaun Cullen didn’t have any trouble. He was well up for it, so he could show off in front of them.’
‘He didn’t . . . make you do them too, did he?’
‘No!’
‘Pity.’
‘You’re terrible, worse than me!’
‘I want it like that, but I seem to scare them off.’
‘Maybe because you’re too tall, and you do sound . . . you know . . .’ I’d been going to say stuck up, but decided against it. She made a face.
‘It’s just me,’ she said, anticipating what it was I was going to say. ‘I shouldn’t complain, I suppose. The window cleaner, Jack, he was good. He still had his overalls on, and he took me down a back alley, right in the middle of the city, behind a church. I went up against the wall. He just picked me up, under my bum, pulled my knickers aside and lifted me onto his cock. All I could do was cling on tight while he had me. It was like being fucked by a bear.’
‘How do you know? Do you often get fucked by bears?’
‘Very funny.’
‘Are you going to see him again?’
‘I don’t know . . . maybe. I don’t want him to start thinking I’m his. Do you want another whiskey, or shall we share a bottle of wine? The Sancerre here is OK.’
‘Fine, that would be great, yes.’
I’d glanced up to where a list of wines was written on a blackboard, with the names in red and white chalk within a fringe of grape leaves. The Sancerre was a white, and cost twenty-five pounds a bottle. Bobbie wasn’t bothered, making sure the barman took a really cold one from the back of the fridge. He brought it back with two glasses on a tray. I knew it was stupid to drink wine on top of whiskey, but I didn’t feel I could refuse her. She poured and we chinked glasses.
‘Here’s to big, rough men.’
My response was a giggle. I felt happy, accepted, and had no desire whatsoever to start for home. Much better to drink with my new friend, and talk dirty, only the pub was beginning to fill up as people came out of work. A group of young men had sat down at the table beside us, five of them, talking in loud, brash voices about money, cars, girls. I caught a snatch of conversation.
‘. . . and the girls go down under the table, right. Blow-jobs all round, right, and afterwards, they get up on the stage to do a strip, only one of them’s a tranny!’
The others burst into raucous laughter and I found myself giggling, imagining the men he was talking about, all as pleased as punch because they’d had their cocks sucked, and then finding out one of the girls was really a man. Two of them were quite attractive, in a slick sort of way. I glanced at Bobbie, wondering if she was thinking the same, just as the buzz of general conversation and the music hit a lull at the same instant. The voice of the biggest of the five came to me, clear as a bell.
‘Who d’you reckon on, Pinky or Perky?’
It wasn’t hard to guess who he was talking about, or why. Talking sex with Bobbie, my nipples had gone stiff, and were sticking up through my top as if making a determined effort to escape, upwards. I could see why Bobbie was Pinky too, because she was flushed from her neck up. So was I, as my temper flared with my embarrassment. I rounded on them, wanting some really biting put-down – just the sort which always comes ten minutes after you need it. Bobbie just laughed.
‘Show them what they can’t have, Lucy!’
I didn’t even think. My hands went to the hem of my top and up it came, tits bare to the room, perky nipples pointing more or less at the ceiling. There was a wonderful moment as the guy’s jaw dropped and his eyes went round. The guy next to him saw too, and swore. Their mates realised something was up and jerked around, too late. I’d already covered up,
trying to look sweet and innocent as I raised my glass to my lips. Bobbie dissolved in laughter, and so did I, unable to stop myself.
For just an instant all five men looked completely stunned, before they all began to talk at once, the three who hadn’t seen demanding to know what had happened and the two who had telling them. I got up, walked slowly around to the big guy who’d called me Perky and put my hands on my hips, looking down at him. I meant to give him a moment to take me in, maybe wonder if I was interested, before telling him he would never, ever, have the least chance of getting his hands on what he’d seen. The barman got in first.
‘You two, out!’
I rounded on him.
‘What’s it to you, you great gobshite? I’ll –’
He started around the table. Bobbie was already on her feet, giggling and shaking her head, the bottle of Sancerre clutched in her hand. I made for the door, laughing so hard I tripped and had to clutch on to a lamppost for support as I fell out onto the pavement. Bobbie came after me, stumbling on her heels, and we ended up in each other’s arms, laughing too hard to stand properly.
The barman had had enough of us, and didn’t follow, leaving us to move off up the road, arm in arm and drinking Sancerre from the bottle. We hadn’t gone ten yards when the guy from the pub appeared, overtaking us, to turn and walk backwards . . .
‘Hey, girls . . .’
. . . straight into a huge black guy who’d just come out of a doorway. Both of them went down, and Bobbie and I were clutching onto each other for support. The guy from the pub was babbling apologies immediately and the black guy didn’t look best pleased, but when he did manage to get up it was Bobbie and me he rounded on.
‘What’s so fucking funny?’
Bobby made a little purring noise in her throat.
‘Ooh, big man!’
‘Are you taking the piss, ’cause . . .’
I’d stepped in-between them, sure he was going to hit her. I caught the scent of him, totally male, my face level with a heavily muscled chest half covered by a vest.
‘Sh! Cool down!’
He was going to push me aside, until I squeezed his crotch, filling my hand with his cock and balls, or rather, not filling my hand, because he was packing more meat than a steak house. A shiver ran right through me as I stepped back, my tummy fluttering, a little scared, but hoping he was man enough to react to me the way a man should. He gave a sharp shake of his head.
‘You want to watch who you tease, girl!’
‘Who says I’m teasing?’
He just picked me up, one big hand under my bum, one on my back, pressing his lips to mine. For just an instant I was fighting, shocked, before I melted. My mouth came open under his, our tongues met and we were kissing. His hand was kneading my bottom, my body right off the ground, and all I could do was cling to him, my legs up around his huge hips, the bulge of his cock pushing up against my pussy, already growing hard. I wanted to be fucked, then and there, on the pavement of the Edgware Road, my clothes ripped off and my legs spread wide, his lovely big cock in my mouth and up my pussy, filling my body right completely.
I was drunk. I was horny. I’d have done it if he’d made me, maybe. Not really, no, because no man is that much of an animal, more’s the pity. He put me down and I let go of him, my legs shaking as my feet met the pavement. Bobbie was staring at me. She looked as flushed as I felt. The guy from the pub had stepped back a little, and glanced between us, hopeful but unsure of himself.
Something inside me wanted to tell the black guy to fuck off. Maybe it was social conscience. Bollocks. I took his arm.
‘Well, are we going?’
He looked down, and just nodded. Bobbie took his other arm and the three of us had started up the street, with the guy from the pub trailing along behind. I had no idea where we were going; maybe to another pub, maybe to somewhere our new friend could fuck our brains out, only I was leading them, so . . .
‘Where the fuck are we going?’ I blurted out.
The black guy answered me.
‘If you want what I think you want, that’s my rig. Otherwise, you’d better run, girl.’
He’d nodded to where a huge great articulated lorry was blocking half the road. Bobbie looked towards it, her mouth a little open, her eyes wide, just creaming herself as she spoke.
‘You’re a trucker?’
He nodded and said something under his breath, maybe “posh skirt”. My stomach was fluttering terribly as we made for the cab of his lorry, with Mum’s warnings about not going with strange men fighting the raw lust in my head. Lust won hands down, and a moment later he was pushing me up into the cab with a hand on my bum. The rig was spacious, with a flat shelf behind the seats where he could sleep. The smell of him – and the diesel of the truck – was thick in my nostrils as I climbed in. Bobbie followed and he went to the far side, leaving the guy from the pub standing on the pavement.
‘Hey, do I get to come?’ he asked.
Truck man was going to speak, probably to put him down, but Bobbie already had a hand out. He climbed in, and the black guy kissed his teeth as he took his seat, but said nothing. I felt better, because they couldn’t both be psychos, surely?
As the engine rumbled to life, I made myself comfortable on my tummy in his sleeping space, looking forward between a pair of tatty orange and brown curtains. Bobbie was in front of me, between the men, and spoke as we began to move.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked again.
The driver took a moment to concentrate on pulling out into the evening traffic before he answered, his voice full of lust and laughter.
‘Never mind that. You just keep yourselves warm.’
The guy from the pub turned to us, his voice very different, eager and nervous, as he spoke.
‘What are your names? I’m Luke.’
I answered.
‘Lucy.’
And on a whim, ‘But you can call me Miss Doyle.’
It was right, for him, not for the driver, who answered with a grunt.
‘Frazer.’
Bobbie didn’t answer at all, because she was trying to get Frazer’s zip down. He slapped her hand.
‘You want it, girl, you’ve got it, but not here, yeah?’
She stopped, giggling happily as she stretched. The bottle was still in her hand, and I took it, swallowing down a big gulp of wine, cold and sharp in my throat. We were moving north, slowly, the cars stretching in front of us in a multi-coloured metal line as far as we could see. Bobbie sighed, almost whining.
‘Nobody can see, let me play with you!’
Frazer grunted and glanced out at the ranks of windows to his side, most of them with a prime view into his cab, including those of Super Staff. The first bus we passed was going to get an even better view. Bobbie didn’t care, burrowing for his fly as he tried to fight her off, one handed. He was getting hard in his trousers, a wide ridge extending down one leg, extending a long way, I noticed to my delight. I swallowed, imagining how he’d look with it out, thick and dark and proud in Bobbie’s hand, in her mouth, in my mouth . . .
I had to have him, and Luke just wasn’t the same. He was cute maybe, but too much the lad. The way things were going he’d have Bobbie and I’d end up with second best, or nothing at all. I had to stick my oar in.
‘Wait, you greedy cow, you’ll get us arrested,’ I warned her, careless as to how she might react. She seemed like a good sport but I’d known her less than a couple of hours. I wasn’t sure how she’d react to criticism.
Too late. His zip was down. Her hand burrowed in and closed on his cock. He grunted in pleasure and she was purring as she began to rub on him, heedless to my protestations. The other guy, Luke, was staring, his mouth open, one hand on his own crotch. I could smell the musky scent of Frazer’s cock, and I reached down, determined to get my share. His trouser button popped open as I tried to force my hand in beside Bobbie’s, and suddenly he was out: a thick, dark column of meat over two fat balls pushed up where
she’d shoved his briefs down to get him out. I took it, wanking him, as she was, and we were both giggling hysterically.
‘Ladies! Somebody’s going to see! Shit!’
The traffic had loosened up and we were moving, Frazer struggling to shift gear as we tossed at his cock. We’d punctured his cool, shocking him, and the last of my doubts just vanished. I wanted his cock in me, to ride him and let him ride me, to be lifted and popped on the way the window cleaner had fucked Bobbie up against the wall. I wanted to be bent over and have it slid up me from behind, good and deep with his hard six-pack pressed to my bare bum; to go down on my knees with him on my back, doggy style.
If I didn’t watch what I was doing all I would get would be a charge for riotous behaviour, or whatever it’s called when a girl gets caught tossing off her boyfriend in public. I stopped, and slapped Bobbie’s hand for her.
‘Bad girl! Put him down!’
There was a rug at the back, over Frazer’s makeshift bed, and I pulled it away, to cover his lap. He shook his head, grinning as he sped up. Luke let out his breath.
‘You girls are hot,’ he said.
I answered him, eager to get my own back, to turn him on and make him beg.
‘And you’re a cheeky git. Pinky and Perky, is it?’
Bobbie laughed. ‘It suits you,’ she said
‘Hey,’ I cried. ‘You’re supposed to be on my side! Anyway, it’s better than Pinky!’
Luke laughed, just a little forced,
‘I like it.’
‘Miss Doyle, I said, if you want . . .’
‘OK, Miss Doyle, Miss Perky Doyle!’
‘Oi!’
I gave him a clip on one ear, not hard. He had to suffer. Frazer held his peace, very much the man in charge, guiding his huge rig skilfully through Maida Vale with the rest of us joking and laughing, drinking too, the bottle quickly finished to leave me relaxed and eager to go.
We were barely through Kilburn when he turned off onto some sort of service road, between blocks of flats, red-brown brick and several stories high, out into a huge open lorry park, something I’d never even guessed existed so close to home. It was perfect, hardly a soul in view, save for a bored security guard in a hut by the gates and a cluster of truckers idling by a hot dog van.