The Collection

by West, Sam

  “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal, darlin’. I’m sure you’ll still get that promotion without having to go to some brown-nosing dinner.”

  “Oh, come on, you know it’s not like that. Lynda’s been really good to me, and besides, I thought it would be fun.”

  Chris sighed. Yeah, okay, so maybe he was being a little mean-spirited, but he really couldn’t be arsed making polite conversation with Lynda’s husband all evening while the girls talked work which happened to be in the most boring field known to man: Fucking makeup.

  “Fun? Lynda’s husband is about as much fun as diarrhoea in white trousers.”

  Not that he had ever met the guy, or anything, but apparently he was something high-up in banking and was considerably older than his wife.

  In other words, boring.

  His girlfriend’s career was everything to her, and he did grudgingly respect that. She was area manager of a well-known cosmetic company that sold door to door. Ronnie used to be one such salesperson and her natural drive and ambition had quickly seen her claw her way up through the ranks.

  Ronnie may have been successful, but Lynda’s job pissed rings round hers. She was fucking company executive, just a few steps down from the big boss himself. Lynda had taken a shine to Ronnie, and had made it quite clear she was next in line for promotion – if she came to dinner tonight. Of course, she hadn’t actually said that, but as far as Chris was concerned, she didn’t have to. Lynda Hyde was a career-hungry bitch who treated his girlfriend like a little lapdog.

  “Please? Will you come and be nice, for me?”

  She squirmed in his lap so that her dress rucked up some more, giving him an eyeful of her lacy black knickers.

  “Fine,” he huffed, knowing how amenable she could be if she was pleased with him. Maybe she would let him fuck her in the arse again, despite squealing and crying like a baby the last and only time they had tried it. “But you’d better make it worth my while.”

  “Oh, I will, don’t you worry about that.”

  For a moment, Chris marvelled at her ambition and drive. He was a plumber and told himself that he had no strong feelings either way about his job. It paid above minimum wage and he didn’t hate it so what more could he ask for? He was not intimidated by the likes of Lynda Hyde and her equally power-and-money-hungry husband.

  Yeah, sure you’re not.

  A distant part of him recognised that he was jealous of his girlfriend’s success.

  But I don’t even want a decent career, do I? It’s more hassle than it’s worth.

  And anyway, he reminded himself, tonight wouldn’t be such a hardship, because Lynda was a total fox. He’d only met her the once when he had picked up Ronnie one time at the office because her car had broken down. Not that he was looking, or anything, of course. He loved his intelligent, ambitious girlfriend. Just because Lynda happened to look like a Hollywood movie-star, it didn’t automatically follow that he had to fancy her. He could never fancy a woman whose metaphorical balls were bigger than this. His Ronnie was ambitious, but Lynda was a flat-out bitch.

  “Penny for them?” Ronnie asked, cupping his face in her hands.

  “Just thinking about Lynda Hyde,” he answered truthfully.

  For a second, Ronnie’s face fell before she managed to quickly compose herself. “Do you think she’s prettier than me?”

  “Who?”

  “You know who.”

  He did indeed, and cleared his throat, racking his brains for the right answer. “She’s more obvious looking than you.”

  By that, he meant Lynda’s lustrous mane of glossy brown hair, pillowy lips, huge blue eyes, gym-honed figure and endless legs were a damn sight more visually arresting than Ronnie’s lack of height, plump middle, bow-legs and slightly too-big nose. Not that she was a dog or anything, far from it, her pretty smile, natural, strawberry blonde hair and twinkling brown eyes always drew admiring glances, but she was no Lynda Hyde.

  “You mean she’s prettier than me.”

  “No, that’s not what I said.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  She dismounted him and jumped up off the sofa, her usually smiling mouth curving downwards in a grim line.

  “Hey, you’re the one that wants to go. I don’t, remember?”

  “Yeah, you’ve made that quite clear, thanks for your support.”

  He couldn’t bloody win, no matter what he said. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

  Women.

  “Don’t be so sensitive. Hey, where are you going?”

  “To call us a taxi,” she called over her shoulder as she left the living-room. “We have to go soon.”

  Fleetingly, he wondered what it would be like to be with a woman like Lynda Hyde. He bet she never got offended over such trivial crap. No, a woman like her would know what she wanted and where she was headed, she wouldn’t take offense at absolutely bloody nothing.

  And I bet she takes it up the arse, too.

  XII

  Half an hour later, their taxi pulled up outside Lynda and Stefan’s house.

  “Fuck me, this place is big,” Chris said, his eyes huge in his handsome face.

  Ronnie had said that they lived in a big house on the outskirts of town, but there was no way he had been expecting a place this size. It was a bloody mansion, and was entirely hidden from view from the main road out of town. He had driven past the high, wrought-iron gates countless times, but whoever would’ve guessed such a house existed beyond those gates?

  Chris got out of the car in a daze, paid the man, and watched the taxi disappear from view on its way back down the winding, gravel drive.

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Ronnie was saying, but Chris was hardly listening. “Lynda had shown me pictures, but I had no idea it was as grand as this.”

  “Yeah,” Chris said, not really listening to her.

  Christ, imagine living here. It would be fucking incredible.

  He stared up at the imposing façade. The house was big and square and he guessed it to be at least ten-bedroomed. He knew naff all about architectural styles, but he figured it had to be at least from the Victorian era, probably before. It looked like the country house of some city park, but on a slightly smaller scale.

  Movement on the wide, pillared porch caught his eye, and he watched mesmerised as the double front-doors opened outwards.

  Lynda appeared in the doorway, looking more gorgeous than ever. The hallway light behind her threw her into silhouette, creating a halo-effect around her sleek curves. Like Ronnie, she wore a little black dress, but in comparison, Ronnie looked like a sack of potatoes.

  Fuck! She’s a fucking goddess.

  Ronnie walked up to the porch and the two women air-kissed theatrically.

  “Darling, I’m so glad you could make it,” Lynda gushed. She smiled over at him, and he felt his balls tighten. “Well, come on over, sweetheart, I promise I don’t bite.”

  Like a moth drawn to a flame, he went to her, entranced by her wide, supermodel smile and endless legs.

  I knew she was beautiful, but fuck me, it hurts to look at her.

  She kissed him on the cheek and he had to physically stop himself from grabbing her tight little arse.

  “Mmm, you’re even more handsome than I remember,” she sighed softly in his ear, before pulling away from him, all business. “Please, come in, my husband is just dying to meet you both.”

  She led them into the beautiful hallway, complete with black and white tiled floor and chandelier. Not that Chris noticed much of anything because he was too busy gawping at her tight little arse that flexed enticingly beneath the tight dress with every step she took.

  Chris found himself in the grandest dining-room he had ever been in in his entire life, and for a moment, even Lynda’s sumptuous arse was forgotten. The opulence was truly breath-taking, from the high, ornately carved ceiling, to the crystal chandelier and polished herringbone floor. The long, dining-room table was made of clear glass and his gaz
e latched onto the eight glittering glass chairs that surrounded it. He looked more closely at them, not believing what he was seeing. Surely the chairs weren’t actually encrusted with diamonds?

  A painting that looked suspiciously like an original Picasso hung over the open, achingly trendy, white fireplace, and the far wall of the vast room was comprised of a floor to ceiling mahogany bookcase, stuffed with leather-bound books.

  “This is incredible,” Ronnie said.

  Lynda waved a hand dismissively. “Thanks. Now, where is that husband of mine?”

  A door on the other side of the room burst inwards and an older, fat man appeared. He had a shock of pure white hair and twinkling blue eyes. Chris looked at him in surprise:

  He looks old enough to be her father. What’s she doing with him?

  Lynda was beautiful and completely ageless in only the way the truly beautiful can be. She could have been anywhere between twenty-five and forty-five. But this guy, he looked at least fifty-five – a good twenty years older than Chris.

  “Here I am, darling,” Stefan said. He strode over to them, hand outstretched. “Hello Chris, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to our home.”

  “Thanks,” Chris replied, pumping the man’s hand.

  When the introductions and pleasantries were over with, Lynda steered them to sit down at the extravagant table.

  “Dinner won’t be long. It’s something very special.”

  Lynda and Stefan laughed and Chris and Ronnie smiled politely.

  What the fuck is so funny? he wondered.

  He and Ronnie sat on one side of the table with Lynda and Stefan facing them on the other side. Which wasn’t so bad he supposed, as he now had a good view of Lynda’s cleavage. Her tits were bigger than Ronnie’s, despite her smaller frame.

  “We have so much to discuss this fine evening,” she said, and his gaze snapped away from her tits when he felt her eyes on him.

  For a second she smirked, like she knew what he had been doing and he actually felt himself blush.

  Christ, this woman’s got me as horny as a damn schoolboy.

  When he glanced sideways at Ronnie he saw that her expression was stony. He know that look – no sex for him tonight.

  Yeah, well, that’s what she thinks.

  “Who’s for champagne?” Stefan asked, seemingly oblivious to the flash of tension around the table.

  In the middle of the table was a wine bucket with a bottle of the finest magnum on ice. Stefan popped the cork and proceeded to pour it out into four Champagne-flutes.

  “To new friendship and new beginnings,” Lynda said, raising her glass. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” they all echoed around the table.

  “Thank you so much for inviting us tonight, it’s so nice to be here.”

  Chris cringed at his girlfriend’s arse-licking and only just managed not to roll his eyes at her.

  “Oh, believe me, it’s our pleasure. In fact, that brings me to the reason why we invited you here tonight. You are here to discuss your promotion, are you not, Veronica?”

  All eyes swivelled to Ronnie. She shifted uncomfortably, and, put on the spot like that, her cheeks starting to flame.

  “Well, I guess so. I mean, it’s really lovely for to you to think of me with regards the promotion, and everything, but it’s not the only reason we’re here…”

  Her voice trailed away lamely.

  How come I’ve never noticed before how plain she is?

  “Come on, sweet Veronica,” Stefan laughed, “you’re also here for the free dinner.”

  Lynda threw back her head and laughed and Chris admired her even white teeth. Ronnie blushed all the harder as she smiled uncomfortably along with her, but Chris could tell she was feeling small and humiliated.

  And he couldn’t give a shit.

  Christ, I really do believe that I don’t love her anymore.

  The thought slammed into his head, taking him by surprise and he took a big slug of Champagne.

  Oh well, at least she’ll have her promotion, it’ll soften the blow of me leaving her. It’s not like we’ve taken the plunge and properly moved in together, thank God.

  “Oh, ignore my husband, sweetie, he’s just teasing you. Stop it, Stefan, you are such a horror.”

  “Yes, yes, so sorry, dear. So shall we talk about Veronica’s promotion?”

  “Yes, let’s do that,” Lynda said.

  A look passed between them which he didn’t understand. Ronnie looked puzzled, and he couldn’t say that he blamed her.

  Lynda turned her megawatt smile on Ronnie. “It is true that our company is expanding, and you, Ronnie, are exceptionally good at your job. Under normal circumstances, I would indeed be looking to upgrade you from area marketing-manager to director. It makes perfect sense, after all.”

  “I don’t understand. You say, under normal circumstances. Do you not have me in line for this promotion after all?”

  Chris watched, fascinated. It was like watching a cat toying with a mouse. Despite looking younger than Ronnie, Lynda had all the finesse, arrogance and self-awareness of a ‘been there, done that’, aging, Hollywood sex-symbol. Like if Rita Hayworth had lived to one-hundred, then magically had her one-hundred-year-old personality injected into the perfect specimen of a twenty-something-year-old.

  “I suppose what I have in mind for you could be viewed as a promotion of sorts. It will certainly be a big change for you.”

  Ronnie looked at her blankly. “I’m really not following.”

  “No, I don’t suppose that you are. The thing is, I’m looking to move on. It’s fair to say that our time here has come to an end, wouldn’t you say, Stefan?”

  “Why, yes dear, indeed I would.”

  “Are you leaving the company?” Ronnie asked.

  “Yes. It’s time, Stefan.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  Ronnie screamed and Chris gasped in shock, a cold sweat instantly breaking out all over his body. Stefan had produced a small gun from out of nowhere and was pointing it at them.

  Jesus Christ, the bastard must have been sitting on it.

  “What the…” he began, jumping to his feet.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Sit back down, please,” Stefan said, pointing the gun at him and Ronnie in turn.

  Gingerly, Chris sat back down.

  “I do hate guns,” Lynda said. “But don’t worry, it’s only to make you more amenable at this stage of the proceedings. I promise we won’t kill you with it.”

  Stefan laughed. “Indeed.”

  “Now, I would like both of you to strip naked, please.”

  Chris looked at her dumbly, his mouth agape. He had heard the words, but they didn’t quite make sense to him.

  “You heard my wife,” Stefan said. “Do it. Now.”

  Ronnie began to cry and Chris raised his hands in an unconscious gesture of surrender. “Okay, this is obviously some kind of a joke, and you’ve had your fun now. Please put down the gun.”

  This time, Chris screamed too along with Ronnie when Stefan fired the gun. The bullet was loud in the room, making his ears ring, missing his head by mere inches.

  The bullet had hit the floor just behind Chris. When Chris twisted his head round to look, the beautiful, herringbone-floor was ruined. The wilful destruction of their own property alarmed him deeply.

  Shit! They aren’t fucking joking around.

  “I strongly suggest that you both don’t upset my husband further. For pity’s sake Ronnie, will you please stop blubbering?”

  Ronnie didn’t, instead crying all the harder.

  Just shut the fuck up, Chris thought uncharitably. You’re making this worse, you stupid cow.

  Lynda got to her feet and glared down at them with her hands planted on her hips like they were a pair of naughty children.

  “Please don’t hurt us,” Ronnie hiccupped between hitching sobs.

  “Please don’t hurt us,” Lynda mimicked, clutching her face in mock horror. She
lowered her hands and looked at them calmly. “I’ll tell you what, will it make it easier for you if I go first?”

  Bending over and gripping the hem of her short, black dress with crossed arms, she pulled it over her head in one swift movement.

  Despite his predicament, Chris’s heart leapt into his throat and his cock stiffened instantly at the sight of her. She was even more gorgeous than he ever dreamed possible. She wore shocking pink, transparent underwear and her skin was the milkiest, smoothest white he had ever seen.

  “Do you like what you see, big boy?” she asked Chris, licking her lips seductively.

  “Honey, stop playing with your food,” Stefan said.

  Lynda ignored him and locked eyes with Chris. “Well?”

  Chris could only stare at her, at a loss for words. What the hell was he supposed to say? Yes, and get shot in the head by her husband? Or no, and risk offending her which might make the situation even worse?

  Ever so slightly, he nodded.

  “Good,” she said, her big, blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Now, I will ask nicely one more time for the hard of hearing. Please stand up and take off you fucking clothes.”

  On shaking legs, Chris got to his feet.

  “Ronnie? We’d better do it,” he said gently, even though he was mad at her for being such a damn cry-baby.

  He reached out a hand to touch her on the shoulder, then stopped, thinking better of it. Instinctively, he knew that Lynda would be mad if he touched her.

  His hands trembled as he unbuttoned his black shirt, his fingers fumbling on the buttons. Nevertheless, he did his utmost not to show his fear. Fear was weakness, and he knew that showing weakness in front of these two would be a very bad idea.

  Shirt unbuttoned, he slipped it over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

  “Nice. Very nice,” Lynda said, licking her lips. “Now the rest.”

  Chris knew he had a good body. An excellent body, in fact. He went to the gym six days a week and ate well. A sudden wave of resentful anger crashed over him and he glared at her defiantly. Ronnie remained sitting where she was, sobbing pathetically.