by Monica Belle
‘Right, but does he have to watch too?’
He looked puzzled.
‘Just come with me.’
I took him by the hand, leading him towards the door, only to have my dramatic exit spoiled by a waiter pointing out that we hadn’t paid the bill. We were both too dozy to realise, having got carried away thinking about Luke’s sexual dilemma. After settling up we caught a cab to Camden Town, with Luke constantly demanding to know what I was up to, with rising excitement, and me refusing to tell him. He wasn’t the only one getting excited. I might not have fancied him, but what we were doing was thrilling, and maybe even dangerous. My stomach was fluttering as we climbed out of the cab and as I tried to figure out which pub the message had been in.
We hit fourth time lucky, after four shots of whiskey and four visits to the loo. The message was still there, clear as day, also the joke, ‘meet me on Lyme Regis cobb’ I’d scrawled underneath it. I copied down the number and rejoined Luke in the bar, where he was sipping nervously at a glass of red wine. Time to tell all.
‘I have a number, a guy who says he’s got a huge cock. He says he’s called Aaron. This is what we do. I call him, and say I’d like to meet. He comes here, we have a few drinks and I take him in the Ladies, where there’s a hole in wall. A glory hole, I think it’s called. Only you’re already in the cubicle, and you suck him instead. Sound good?’
He was shaking as he answered, a wordless noise I chose to take for assent. I wasn’t much better myself, my hand shaking as I tapped out the number.
Nobody answered.
I rang again.
Nobody answered.
I bought a second round of drinks, took as long as my patience would allow, and rang a third time.
Nobody answered.
I could have kicked the bastard. There he was, leaving dirty messages in Ladies loos, and he didn’t even have the sense or decency to leave his mobile on. I’d been so keyed up, especially when I’d found his number, and I was shaking with reaction. Luke was no better, torn between relief and disappointment, but there was nothing to be done, except try again later.
Or try somewhere else. I was game for anything, just about, and I could remember Ryan making jokes about what went on at Hampstead Heath. I took Luke by the hand, leading him towards a bus stop.
‘Right, enough nonsense. You’re going to suck cock one way or another.’
‘Sh! Lucy!’
I hadn’t exactly been subtle, and there were plenty of people around. One girl sniggered as we passed and said something to her mates. A bus passed us, slowing for the stop, and we ran ahead to catch it. As we came into the light I saw just how red Luke’s face was, and I was laughing as I threw myself into a seat. The bus lurched forward and Luke had plonked himself down beside me.
‘Lucy, please, this isn’t something I can really handle.’
‘You started it,’ I reminded him.
‘Yes, but where are we going?’
‘Hampstead Heath.’
He knew, because he made an odd little noise in his throat as he swallowed hard. I was enjoying myself, bold, horny, and, OK, pissed too, but determined to succeed. Bobbie was going to be delighted but envious when I told her. And Sophie. I even considered calling them, but I was scared that Luke would lose his nerve and bottle out. He was holding my hand, or rather, holding onto my hand, adding to my feelings of mischief and power.
We got off where the road passed along side the Heath, which made a great dark space beyond the reach of the streetlights. Alone, I wouldn’t have gone in, but with Luke I felt OK, for all his nervousness. We found a gate between high hedges that cast black shadows in the dull orange-grey glow of the street lights. I could just about see the path, and a figure coming towards us, setting my heart hammering until I saw it just an elderly woman out walking her dogs.
‘Where do you suppose is a good place?’
‘I don’t know. Look, Lucy, I think we should call it a day.’
‘Sh, just relax. It’s too late to back out now.’
He went silent, letting me lead him up the path and deeper into the Heath, where just the occasional light made pools in the darkness. There were people about, more than I’d have expected, and at a junction I turned up the hill, in among trees and alongside where a pond showed as a sheet of dull pewter, absolutely still. A man passed us, his face glimpsed only briefly, but he was elderly, nervous – not a good choice, but perhaps out for the same thing as we were.
I felt a little frightened, very excited, my nerves wire tense, but I was determined not to back out. Luke was worse, hanging back and mumbling about the time, and work, and the possibility of rain. Finally he stopped, where another path crossed ours beneath a lamp.
‘Shall we go back?’
‘No! You wanted this, Luke, and if . . .’
I shut up. Somebody was coming towards us, a man, young, muscular, dressed in an over-tight top, even tighter shorts that left no doubt whatsoever as to his masculinity, and sandals. Luke’s attitude had started to get my temper up, and I spoke without thinking.
‘Excuse me. This is my boyfriend. He wants to suck someone’s cock. He’s a gay virgin and he doesn’t want to me.’ There. I had blurted it out.
The man stopped, surprised, but only for an instant.
‘OK. It’s fifty.’
‘Fifty?’
‘Fifty quid.’
‘Fifty quid? What, you charge?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sod you, then,’ I said, out of shock more than anything else. ‘Come on, Luke, we’ll find someone who appreciates you.’
I still had his hand, and pulled him after me, only not very far, because he didn’t want to come. The guy, the rent boy, had stopped too, and was looking at us, none too friendly. Luke spoke, stammering, blushing.
‘I don’t mind paying . . . fifty is OK.’
The guy nodded, slow and easy, his mouth moving into a knowing smile.
‘Yeah, thought so. And you want your bitch to watch?’
‘I am not his bitch! Fuck you!’ I yelled indignantly.
‘I don’t do girls.’
‘And I don’t do . . .’
‘But I’ll make an exception for you. Two hundred.’
‘Jesus!’ I exclaimed.
Luke put his hands up.
‘Calm down, Lucy, it’s OK, really.’
It wasn’t, but I bit my lip. The rent boy took Luke’s arm, leading him towards where the path disappeared among the trees in absolute blackness. For a moment I hung back, then followed, not wanting to walk back alone. They were talking, mainly Luke, in the same urgent whisper he’d used in the restaurant. My temper was still up, but I wanted to watch. It was something I’d never seen before, something I knew would turn me on.
After just a few yards they went in among the bushes. For a moment I couldn’t see a thing, groping through leaves and twisted branches of some bush, before I saw them together in a patch of faint light where a lamp on the far side of the pond illuminated a piece of open, muddy ground. I stopped, watching, my mouth open, my rising excitement pushing down my irritation. The rent boy gave an order: curt, mocking.
‘On your knees.’
Luke went down on his knees in the mud, his face working with emotion. With one smooth motion the rent boy had pushed his shorts down, exposing a thick, pale cock sat above a fat ball sac, all completely shaven smoth. Luke swallowed, his eyes fixed to the boy’s cock, his mouth a little open. The boy’s hand came down, taking Luke firmly around the back of his head. Luke’s head was pulled in, the young buck’s cock and balls rubbed in his face, and I felt my pussy tighten. The boy snapped out a fresh order.
‘Suck it, you little slut!’
Luke’s face was squashed against the boy’s genitals, his eyes tight shut, his mouth tight shut, before it opened to take in the thick white penis. Luke began sucking with a desperate energy. The boy gasped, biting his lip as if in sudden pain, but Luke took no notice, sucking as if he wanted to eat the co
ck that had already begun to swell in his mouth.
I was in shadow, well back, almost invisible, and the temptation to touch myself as the boy grew slowly erect in Luke’s mouth was just too strong. My hand strayed to my breasts, stroking my nipples through the material of my blouse and bra until they’d grown stiff with excitement. The boy was stiff too, by then, his thick, stubby erection protruding from Luke’s mouth. I saw Luke’s hand go down to unzip himself, pulling out his own penis which was, unsurprisingly, rock hard.
Luke began to wank, and as he did so he let the rent boy’s erection free of his mouth, licking and kissing at the thick shaft instead. He’d quickly grown urgent, and so had I, my hand on the crotch of my jeans, pressing at my clit through the thick material. Luke was going to come, jerking frenziedly as he licked at the boy’s balls. I needed it too, my fingers trembling as I pulled at the button of my jeans, just as the rent boy grabbed his cock, jerking hard, to spray come into Luke’s face and onto the crown of his head. Luke’s mouth came wide in ecstasy, his cock jerked and, as he took the rent boy back in to suck down his sperm, he was coming himself, all over his hand and into the mud beneath him.
My breath came out in a long, slow hiss. I was shaking, badly needing my own orgasm, but it was over, and I couldn’t do it, not in front of them. As Luke got up I was fastening my jeans, unsatisfied, and as I stepped forward the rent boy turned to me with a happy grin.
‘Good, huh, bitch?’
I nodded, swallowing the insult and ducked down to get some tissues from my bag for Luke. He took them with a mumbled ‘thank you’ and mopped up quickly. I couldn’t help but smile, to see a man do what I’d done myself so often. The rent boy waited patiently, before accepting Luke’s money, handing over a card with ‘Big Dog’ and his mobile number on it, then disappearing off among the bushes with a last remark to say that he could be found in the same part of the Heath most evenings.
We walked back down the hill in silence, holding hands. Luke seemed to need reassurance, and I didn’t mind giving it, for all that I was boiling inside and wanted to finish myself off with the image of him sucking on the rent boy’s cock in my head. Only when we came out from the trees did the resentment start to boil up. I’d done a lot for him, and I was going to be left high and dry, which just wasn’t fair. Maybe I didn’t fancy him, but still . . .
‘Luke, stop. You’re going to have to do something for me. Come in here.’
His answer was a soft noise, a whimper, and as I pushed in among the bushes, he followed. It was pitch black, my emotions were a jumble or lust and fear of being caught, and an odd, sullen resentment for the state he’d got me into. I found a tree, by touch, and put my back to it, pushing my jeans and knickers low. Luke’s hands touched me, my shoulders, my breasts, my belly, my hips, and he’d taken hold of my bottom and sunk to his knees, his mouth nuzzling my pussy as I pushed myself into his face.
I shut my eyes, struggling to concentrate as his tongue found my clit, lapping clumsily. Nobody could see, nobody need know; I only had to bring back the images: one man sucking another’s cock; one man on his knees in the mud, wanking frenziedly as he licked and kissed another’s erect penis. Suddenly nothing else mattered, not the noises around us in the night, not the risk, not the rent boy’s snide manner; just that I’d seen Luke go down, not just sucking cock for fun, as I would, but worshipping cock. That was what it had been, dick worship, kneeling at a man’s feet in the dirt, using his mouth to worship at another man’s erection.
My head was full of images of homosexual lust, of cute boys wanking themselves and rough older men spunking in their faces. The urgent male energy thrilled me, and I thought how wonderful it would be if I could swap gender, if only for a day. I’d probably spend it on Hampstead Heath, looking for gay virgins to fuck and spunk over.
As I came I bit my lip hard, determined not to yell out. I took Luke’s head and pulled him in, rubbing my cunt in his face, just as the rent boy had rubbed his cock and balls. I wanted my own sex worshipped in the same rude way as I rode my orgasm to one peak, and then a second as I pushed Luke aside to rub myself, finger to clit in order to get it just right, sighing with contentment as I came slowly down.
That was it, or should have been. I hastily made myself decent and we set off down the path once more. Luke was still quiet, but I wasn’t having it, and soon had him grinning shyly as we came out onto the road. It was getting late and I had to get home, so I took my phone out to call a cab, just as it rang. I didn’t recognise the number, but answered anyway.
‘Hello? I did? Oh, Aaron, yes, I did. Sorry, too late. You’ll just have to wank yourself off instead.’
I cut the call off, laughing.
Tuesday morning Maryam rang to say I was on a different assignment, still with KMC, but at their headquarters and on a higher rate. Somehow it didn’t surprise me, and nor did the sudden change in expression of the receptionist, from superior to deferential, when I gave her my contact name – Andrew Miller. He turned out to be Charles King’s PA, which didn’t surprise me either.
What did surprise me was the security, as if I was going to meet some political bigwig and not the boss of a transport company. The lift took me to the twelfth floor, where I was met by Andrew Miller, a blond young man with a crocodile smile who I vaguely recognised from Mise en Scène. He took me to another lift, with no buttons but a slot for a card. It whisked us up two more floors, to a hallway comfortably furnished with black leather armchairs, potted palms and what looked like original artworks. There was a single door with a panel of number buttons to one side into which Andrew Miller pressed a code before using his card once again.
As the door slid open I was expecting something out of a James Bond movie, perhaps a big table with expensive but dodgy-looking characters sitting around discussing the latest plan for world domination. What I got was a big, very masculine living-room, done out in black leather and chrome, with a huge picture window at the far end looking out over London. In the centre of the floor was a magnificent rug, woven in tones of black, deep red and old gold. Charles King was seated in one of the armchairs, smoking a cigar.
‘Lucy, hi. Good to see you. Not on the rug please, it’s a Shahin Dezh, pre-war.’
‘Oh, right. Is it expensive then?’
He chuckled.
‘About what you’d earn in ten years, and irreplaceable’
‘Oh.’
I glanced around the room. Somehow it didn’t seem very likely I’d been asked up to do some filing. Carefully avoiding the prized rug, I took a seat near his and crossed my legs, wishing I didn’t feel quite so unsure of myself. It was something about him – his power, not physical power so much, for all that he was a big man, but a businessman’s power, or a politician’s power. Richard Drake had had it, in an easygoing way. Charles King had it in spades. I felt I ought to be attracted to him, as if it was obligatory. He got up.
‘Drink?’
‘Please, yes. Whiskey, Irish if you have it.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Not just a pretty face, I see. Redbreast OK for you, or Bushmills Green label?’
‘Redbreast, please.’
‘You’re a Catholic girl, then?’
‘They’re both owned by Irish Distillers, I just prefer Redbreast.’
‘I didn’t mean to offend.’
‘You didn’t. I’m Catholic, yes, but you could say I was lapsed.’
I’d been going to say ‘very lapsed’, but I bit it back. He’d made a gaffe and apologised, only the apology had been in his words, not his tone. I took my whiskey, a triple by pub standards, wondering if the idea was to get me drunk and seduce me then and there. He’d poured himself a Scotch, a single malt I didn’t know, and a measure, if anything, that was even more generous. By the time I was too drunk to know what I was doing, he’d be too drunk to do anything about it.
He went to the window, looking out over the rooftops towards the river and the London Eye. I waited, more than happy to be paid tw
elve pounds an hour to sit in a leather armchair drinking whiskey. At last he seemed to come to a decision and turned around.
‘You’re intelligent, Lucy, and bold. I like that in a woman. It means I don’t have to dissemble. I find you very attractive, and I’d like you to come out with me on a trip, to Inagua, in the Bahamas, for a week. I have a little villa there. Believe me, it’s paradise.’
It was a bit sudden, to say the least. I’d been expecting him to make a play for me, perhaps as simple as getting me drunk, more likely a slower effort; but a trip to the Bahamas was more than I’d bargained for, a lot more. After all, what he was saying was that he wanted to take me to his villa and bonk my brains out, if not in so many words. Finally I managed a response.
‘That’s . . . um . . . very generous of you, Mr Charles, but . . .’
He raised a hand.
‘I know, a little sudden, but why beat around the bush, eh? I didn’t get where I am today by beating around the bush.’
He smiled, but it took me a moment to get the joke. I managed a weak laugh as he spoke again.
‘Boyfriend? I understand, and I’ll respect your decision, of course, but –’
‘I’m not attached, not really,’ I blurted out.
‘No? Good, but I’ll tell you anyway, because it’s good advice, take it or leave it alone. When you’re young, particularly if you’re a woman, and trying to make your way up in the world, you mustn’t let people hold you back. OK, that boy you’ve known since school may be goodlooking, and he may be good in bed. Go with him, and you’ll be pushing a pram before you’re twenty-one.’
I had to nod, because it was exactly what had been going through my head since the moment it had been decided I was Niall’s steady girlfriend. He knew how old I was because he’d have seen my resumé from Super Staff, and he was right about the pram pushing. He went on.
‘Don’t do it, that’s my advice, and somehow I don’t think you want to?’
Again I nodded, with him still talking.
‘Then there’s the other way. Make your contacts, network, pull yourself up, until you’re in charge. Then you can make your own choices. Marry? Sure, if you want to, when you want to. You’re the boss. Now, I’m not going to lie to you, this is no marriage proposal. I’ve been through three wives and that’s my lot. I want to have you. I want to fuck that round little arse of yours.’