by Various
‘Touch your breast.’
She held her breath.
‘Sarah?’
‘Yes?’
‘Are you doing it?’
‘Mervyn …’
‘I want you to touch your breast, slowly. Squeeze it.’
An inner trickle of warmth told her how much she was in thrall to his voice. ‘OK,’ she breathed, and cupped the warm curve of her right breast in her free hand. ‘I’m doing it.’
‘Rub your hand all over it. Play with your nipple.’
The familiar ache of excitement was running like a tide through her body. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Is it hard? Tell me how you’re doing it.’
It was hard like a bullet. ‘Yes, it is. I’m pinching it between my finger and thumb and twisting it. Like you do to me.’
‘And do you like that?’
She couldn’t keep her voice quite even. ‘It makes me want to feel your mouth on my breasts.’
‘On your what?’
‘My breasts.’
‘Oh no. You don’t use prissy words like that. Breasts and pussy are for good girls. You’re not a good girl, are you, Sarah?’
‘No,’ she whispered.
‘No. You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you? I know that. Ever since that day you stayed behind after my lecture for a little extra tuition. Wanting me to fuck you. It’s not allowed, is it? But that didn’t stop you. In your short skirt and tight blouse, wiggling your pert little body at me. Begging me to touch you.’
Sarah shut her eyes. It was all true; hers had been a crazy all-consuming crush on the handsome older man. ‘Yes.’
‘So don’t tell me about your breasts, dirty girl. What is it that you’re touching for me?’
She was on familiar ground. ‘My titties. I’m touching my titties and thinking about the way you suck them.’
His stifled groan was audible. ‘Then get them out for everyone to see, Sarah. Do that now.’
With a whimper she slipped the top buttons of her blouse and laid it open over her breasts. She wasn’t even wearing her bra; that garment was still hanging over a radiator to dry. ‘I’ve got them out. I’m touching my bare titties for you, Mervyn.’
‘That’s right. And anyone looking up at that window can see them now, can’t they?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what else will they want to see?’
‘No,’ she groaned. ‘Please.’
‘Say it.’
‘My … pussy.’
‘Your twat, girl. Your dirty cunt.’
She took a deeper breath. ‘My cunt.’
‘Are you wearing a skirt, Sarah?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tuck it up then. Pull down your knickers. Show them. Touch yourself. Tits and twat.’ His voice was sounding croaky.
‘Please …’
‘Do it now.’
‘Yes.’ She obeyed, easing her panties down her thighs.
‘Have you got your hand right in your snatch, dirty girl?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes.’
‘Let me hear it.’
She lowered the phone to her crotch to let him hear the moist little noises her fingers were making in her slick flesh. He did not speak for some moments.
‘Now tell me what you’re doing.’
‘I’m fucking myself. I’ve got one leg up on the window sill and I’m sticking my fingers in my cunt and stroking the juices all over my clit. I’m all wet, Merv. I’m all wet and slippery and my titties are wobbling and I’m going to come soon.’
‘Good. Let me hear you. Let me hear you come, you dirty girl. Touching yourself where everyone can see you, like a real whore. Standing there with your tits on show, playing with yourself.’
She drowned his voice with her own, babbling as she slithered into orgasm. She thought she heard his staccato grunts, but couldn’t be sure because, as her moans died away, the connection went dead and she was suddenly alone in her hotel room, with her cheeks burning and the muted TV flickering. She let out a long breath then, almost like a sob.
That was the second time today she’d betrayed Mervyn. She’d pleasured herself just as he’d demanded, but she hadn’t done it in public view. When he’d first told her to touch her nipple she’d moved quietly away from the window and put her back to the wall. The confusing thing was, she didn’t understand why.
The garage looked closed when Sarah approached it at 5 p.m. the next day, her suitcase rumbling behind her on the pavement flagging. The big wooden double doors were shut, but there was a light on in the window of the reception office, so she pushed the door open and heard a bell ring deeper within the building. She had to clench her teeth against an inner wash of embarrassment. How was she going to be able to look him in the eye?
Gavin stepped out from an inner door and smiled at her. ‘Hey.’ He was wearing a blue boiler suit and from under the rolled-up sleeves his forearms protruded, grey with oil to the wrists.
‘Hello.’ OK – so she did look him in the face, and the warmth in his blue eyes made her tingle. She spoke quickly to cover her confusion. ‘Is it all done?’
‘I told you it would be, didn’t I?’
‘It’s just I’m cutting it so fine if there’s to be anything left of the weekend …’
‘Oh aye.’ He tilted his head ruefully. ‘And we’re supposed to be on a half day today. I sent the other guys home and stayed on myself.’
‘Oh.’ Sarah didn’t know where to look. ‘I am really grateful, you know.’
‘No worries.’ He nodded at the door behind her. ‘Just lock that and come on through to the back, then.’
‘What?’ she said in a small voice.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘To get your car. It’s in the workshop. I can’t leave the office unattended.’ A flick of his eyes indicated the till and Sarah had to admit he had a point. This was excruciating, she thought. But she dropped the latch of the Yale lock and followed him through, trundling her case behind her.
Act like an adult, she told herself. You just fucked him, that’s all.
The garage workshop was big enough to hold maybe half a dozen cars, but there were only two there at the moment, including hers. Sarah glanced around, suppressing a little shiver; it was rather cool in here and she was back in her floral dress, which was dry once more but didn’t provide much insulation. She noted racks of new tyres and the two inspection pits with their hydraulic ramps to lift vehicles overhead, batteries and tool-boxes and coils of wire rope and electric leads. The room smelled of oil and filed metal. There was a calendar on one wall that she thought relatively tasteful. Well, it could have been worse.
‘Hold on a sec.’ Gavin went over to a workbench, dipped his hands into a bucket of gel that was an alarmingly lurid shade of green, and scrubbed them clean in the sink. ‘I’ll just get your invoice printed out.’ Wiping his hands on a paper towel he stabbed a few keys on the nearby computer. ‘Luckily we had compatible engine parts in. It’ll run, though I’ve got to say it doesn’t look good long-term: I’d be in the market for a new car if I were you.’
‘Oh.’ Sarah sagged a bit.
‘And, seriously, you’re not looking after it right. Do you want to see what I drained out of your oil sump?’ He brought her a metal pan with inches of liquid in the bottom, viscid and pitch black. ‘When was the last time you had it serviced? The oil and filters changed?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘You can’t just keep running an engine on this crap forever, you know.’ His smile softened his serious words. ‘You’ve got to give it a bit of TLC or the crud just builds up and wears the working parts out or seizes things solid.’
‘Yeah, I know. Sorry.’
‘It’s just about looking after yourself. I mean, there are much worse places to have a sudden engine failure than a back road in Scotland.’
‘Much worse,’ she admitted, and fire sparked in his eyes as they both wordlessly acknowledged what had happened the previous day. Sarah felt the heat in her cheeks.
Gavin cleared his throat. Putting the oil tray aside he turned back to the printer.
‘You gave me a good mark on my customer service form, I hope?’ he asked over his shoulder.
She answered his warm grin with her own, rather shyer. ‘I gave you an honest appraisal.’
‘Oh,’ he said shaking his head. ‘That’s scary. Marks out of ten, eh?’
‘You didn’t do too badly.’
He chuckled. ‘Well, this is the bill for the repair work.’ He pushed a computer printout towards her. ‘I’ve only charged you for parts, not labour.’
Her smile faded. ‘Why?’
‘Well, you know …’
‘Do you think that’s why I did it?’ Her voice was sharp suddenly, startling even her. He stood back, looking serious.
‘No. I just …’
‘That’s sort of insulting, don’t you think?’
‘So why did you do it?’ His voice was calm, his eyes searching. It took the wind out of her sails.
‘I … don’t know. I just –’
‘You just …?’
‘It just happened.’
He reached out and caught her by the waist, pulling her up against him.
‘What are you doing?’ she protested weakly.
‘It just happened,’ he whispered, kissing her. She gave up on the idea of protesting, even though he was pressing her clean dress to his grimy overalls, because under those protective clothes he was all muscle and eagerness. They kissed for a dizzying moment in which she felt like the ground was falling away and he was the only thing holding her up. His body was so solid she felt like she was liquid in contrast. His hand slid to her bottom, cupping her cheek, caressing its roundness voluptuously. It was a hand with a mission of exploration: she realised that as it slid round to her thigh. He’d just worked out she was wearing a tiny little thong that didn’t cover her bottom.
‘Is that for me?’ he chuckled, as they broke for air.
Sarah shrank a little in his arms. ‘No,’ she admitted.
Gavin’s ardour cooled as he read her expression. He let her go and stood back, looking thoughtful. ‘Who is he then?’
‘Ah …’ She shook her head. ‘He’s … We’ve been together five years now – well, sort of. Since I was at university.’ When Gavin waited patiently she felt obliged to go on, though the words seemed dry and harsh in her throat. ‘He was my lecturer, my tutor, there. We started seeing each other. It had to be secret, of course. And we still see each other when we can; it’s just not that easy for him to get away. He’s head of department now …’
‘I see.’
‘I love him.’ She’d expected the confession to be passionate when it was finally uttered but, she thought with alarm, it sounded only pathetic.
‘He’s married, isn’t he?’
Sarah’s face felt like it was crumpling and she fought to keep it smooth as she explained, ‘He can’t leave his wife: she’s got MS and she depends on him.’
Gavin’s eyebrows rose.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she said hoarsely.
‘Like what?’
‘Like you know something and I don’t. He loves me. I love him.’ She stopped suddenly, because other words were forcing themselves up her throat. She tasted them, rolling them about on her tongue, shocked even as she released them: ‘He’s the only man I’ve ever been with.’
Until you.
He shook his head, swearing under his breath. ‘Looks like it’s more than your car that needs attention,’ he muttered as he took hold of her. He bore her back step by step to a bench, pinning her up against the scarred wood to kiss her. Sarah tried to formulate some protest but his lips kept getting in the way of her breath and every time his mouth moved on hers, her words dissolved in the wet heat. His kisses were deep and wild, nothing like Mervyn’s, was her only coherent thought – though in fact Mervyn barely kissed her at all. Then for long moments she couldn’t think at all, only feel, only submit. When he pulled away at last she was breathless and shaken and her body felt like it didn’t belong to her; it felt like it had made some decision without her and she was left to keep up as best she could.
Gavin’s hand closed over her left wrist, pinning it gently to his chest. He reached behind her to the bench and brought forth a length of webbing strap. Quietly he knotted it about her wrist.
‘What …?’ she whispered, surfacing from a whirlpool of sensation.
‘It’s OK. I just want to get a proper look at you.’ Trailing the strap, he pulled her into the middle of the workshop. There was a hoist there for lifting cars, already raised over head height, though no vehicle sat on it. He threw a loop of the strap over a metal strut and pulled on it to raise her arm over her head.
‘Gavin!’ She started to squirm, suddenly nervous. He quieted her with a kiss, gentle and lingering.
‘Don’t be scared, Sarah,’ he murmured. ‘You have to trust me.’
How could she trust him – a man she hardly knew? How could she not – when his hand was moving on her breasts like that, making her melt with pleasure, and when his eyes were full of such warm promise? He’d done nothing since they’d met but give her what she needed, she realised. So she stopped resisting, and he kissed her again to reward her before tying the webbing about her other wrist. Then he stepped back. She was standing with both arms raised loosely above her head, her expression charged with fear and need. Gavin bent to take up the hem of her dress and pulled it slowly right over her head, over her elbows, over the strap, settling it over the metal hoist where he let it hang out of the way. He smiled as he looked down at her. The bra and knickers were a matching set, white sprigged with little red flowers.
‘Very pretty.’
Sarah shivered, aware once more how cool the air was here, longing for his warmth against her. But he stepped away, briefly, in order to thumb the control of the hydraulic hoist. With a hum and a rattle it rose in the air, lifting her arms out over her head, then pulling them taut, then lifting her on her toes with her whole body stretched. As Sarah’s eyes flew wide open Gavin brought the machinery to a stop. There was such a look of pleasure and anticipation in his face that she squirmed in her bonds, feeling the warmth seep into her panties as she writhed her thighs together, making him breathe hard down his nose. He pulled open all the poppers of his overalls and retied the garment around his hips without once taking his eyes off her. Underneath he was wearing a plain white T-shirt, which he pulled off with a single careless motion and dropped on the floor. Sarah saw for the first time the full muscle of his bare chest and shoulders and the flow of dark chest hair over the contours of his skin, and she quivered, thinking he was like his machinery: strong and hard and made for a physical purpose. The blue fabric was tented at his crotch.
Then he closed in again to run his hands all over her, making her skin shiver and dance. ‘He doesn’t deserve you,’ he whispered, reaching round to her back to unhook her bra, loosing her breasts to hang like teardrop pendants, her areolae puckering in the chill. He worked the flimsy garment up her arms and knotted it about her wrists, and as he did it her stiffening nipples rubbed against his bare chest and she whimpered with arousal. ‘All in good time,’ he chided, settling his hands on her breasts and teasing her nipples. Then he relented: ‘Mind, this looks like a good time to me.’
Sinking to his knees he put his mouth to her breasts, one at a time, back and forth, licking the stiff points and the soft orbs and the breastbone between, sucking and tugging and chewing on her sensitive nipples until she squealed with delight, her breasts slippery with his spit and swelling pinker, rasped by his stubble, while he groaned with pleasure into her flesh. His hands delved between her thighs, squeezing the gusset of her knickers and the ripening flesh beneath, exploring the shapes and the depths of her sex, up between her bum cheeks, down to massage her burning mound, pulling her gusset aside to plunder her slippery split.
‘Yes!’ she gasped.
‘Really?’ He pulled away from her nipple. �
�You’re sure you don’t want this then?’ Yanking down her knickers, he pulled her bodily forwards, wrapping her legs about his shoulders as he sat back on his heels, burying his face in her muff. His mouth closed over her clit and she squealed out loud, writhing on him. She was partly hanging off the hoist and partly sitting on his hands and wholly helpless, a prisoner of his tongue and his mouth and the swelling white-hot need in her that raged towards release, coming out in a spitting, shrieking explosion. Her cries of ‘Yes!’ sounded like pure fury.
Gavin set her back down and stood, wiping his mouth. He wasn’t smiling now; he had retreated to some inner place. His eyes might be blue but they burned. Turning to the workbench he sank his left hand into the bowl of filthy oil. ‘I’m going to get you dirty before I get you clean,’ he warned, fingers dripping on the floor as he circled her, sizing up every inch. Flushed and quivering from aftershock, Sarah could only groan. He splatted a black handprint on her pink breast, on the white globe of her bum cheek, on her belly. He wiped his fingers over her nipple, filthying her. He found an oily rag and flicked it across her thighs, leaving grey stains and making her squeak with shock. Then he stood back, admiring his work, the pale canvas of her body so debauched with the evidence of his touch. ‘Not quite yet,’ he muttered to himself.
He went in search of the finishing touch. When he returned with a plastic bottle and twisted off the cap, she saw that it was more motor oil – not used and filthy this time, but brand new. He tipped the bottle lovingly over her right shoulder, watching as the thick golden liquid spilled down the slope of her breast to piddle off her swollen nipple in an arc, and slide like syrup in a wave down her curves. Sarah pulled uselessly against her bonds and ground her hips and moaned.
Gavin took her face gently in his dirty hand and kissed her one last time, simply dropping the oil bottle at their feet. ‘You’re far too good for him,’ he whispered.
Fumbling in the folds of his overalls and the cotton briefs that she glimpsed beneath, he uncovered his big cock which stood like metal, the ruddy glans glistening with readiness as if it had been oiled. Then he reached into his pocket and produced a condom packet. ‘Tear,’ he said, presenting it to her lips. She gripped the plastic in her teeth and they tugged together, popping the little disc of latex from its package. She watched as he smoothed it onto his erection with his clean hand, like he was anointing himself. Then he stepped round to her rear. He gripped her from behind, running one hand up and down her torso and over her breasts, through the clean oil and the dirty, squeezing her slippery flesh as his cock pressed eagerly into the juicy folds of her pussy, seeking its entrance. Then he lifted her off her feet, tilting her arse into him, and impaled her sex with powerful thrusts.