by Noel Amos
'Oh yeah. Best thing for him. He wasn't doing much good moping around here. I told him if he wasn't going to get back to work he ought to take a holiday.'
'Is Josie with him?'
'She doesn't even know he's gone. She's bloody impossible to get hold of on the phone. Frankly I think she's as much of his problem as this daft robbery.'
Phil poured himself another drink, a big one. He was like Gavin in more than looks, Janice decided as she considered the cross-legged figure on the floor, though in his case the extra years had made him defensive and suspicious. He looked at her as if she might bite. And so she might.
'Is that Josie in these photos?' said Janice, knowing full well it wasn't.
'That,' said Phil in heavily ironic tones, 'is my very dear ex-wife and former business partner. Dear in the sense of expensive,' he added in case Janice wasn't following him. If he only knew, Janice was way ahead of him.
'The price of love,' she said.
'Love has nothing to do with it,' he muttered bitterly.
'Then why have you got her picture plastered around the place? I was engaged once, till my intended decided he fancied someone else. I took all his photos and letters and wrapped them in a sweater he'd given me and stuffed them down the S-bend in his loo. He had a horrible flood and I never gave him another thought. Let the silly cow go, that's what I say.'
Janice beamed at him and helped herself to more brandy before continuing, 'I reckon you and Gavin are very similar. On the surface you're smart, intelligent, educated, sensitive - all of that. But really you're stupid.'
Phil's jaw dropped and he quickly gulped at his Scotch but otherwise there was no reaction.
'You see? You don't know me from Fanny Fruitcake on the corner but I walk into your house and call you stupid and you do nothing. Never mind, just listen, it's very simple. Both you and Gavin are wasting your lives, pining for things you can't have. Gavin's going soft over some bird who waggles her whatsits at him in the course of a robbery and you're feeling sorry for yourself because your wife's scarpered and cleaned out your joint account. Am I right?'
'Well...' Phil took a breath but Janice cut him off. The question had been rhetorical.
'And meanwhile my sister Tina and I are living up the road just dying for the company of a couple of intelligent, good-looking fellers who can talk about a bit more than what's under the bonnet of a Ford Capri. Do you get my drift?'
In truth Phil did not know whether he did. There had been a shift of emphasis somewhere and the whisky was beginning to take its toll. However, he was aware that once more he was being challenged.
'Gavin is engaged to be married,' he said.
'I know that.' Janice was scornful. 'I also know he can't keep his eyes off my tits. Like you. Though maybe you prefer my legs, you've been trying to look up my skirt for the past half an hour.'
'I—'
'Go on, admit it. I'd be upset if you hadn't, to be honest. It's just as well Tina didn't come with me because her legs are just fabulous. Though mine aren't bad, are they?'
She stretched out on the length of the sofa and raised one golden limb, toe prettily pointed, high in the air. Phil's eyes followed the flowing movement with fascination. 'You're lovely,' he said awkwardly.
'Lovelier than your wife?'
To her surprise he burst into tears and for a moment she didn't know what to do.
The long evening was now at an end and in the near darkness the sobbing figure at her feet looked almost exactly like Gavin. Janice slipped the white summer top over her head and threw it to the floor.
'Come here, Gavin's brother,' she said softly, reaching out for his curly-blond head and pulling it face forward into the warmth of her naked breasts.
Chapter 15
Robyn was soaked by the time she arrived at Alistair's apartment. She let herself in with her own key and dashed for the loo in the hallway to grab a towel. She entered the lounge pulling her wet blouse from her body with one hand and rubbing the rain from her thick dark hair with the other.
'Sorry to barge in on you, Needle,' she said, 'but I've had the most peculiar - Oh my God!'
Frozen to the spot in the doorway, she saw the back of a brown curly head that was unmistakably Alistair's resting on the seat of the sofa. Above him, her head bent to the recumbent man's lips, was a sinuous coffee-coloured brunette clad in thigh-high glistening leather boots and a scarlet basque open to the crotch to reveal a strip of black fur.
'Hello, Robyn,' said Mercedes Birch. 'I've been wondering when you might turn up.'
There was a moment's silence. Robyn continued to dry her hair like an automaton, her mind racing. Seeing Mercedes was a shock - all the more so since her stomach had flipped at the sight of her and the memory of her mouth on that wiry pubic bush was suddenly sharp. And to catch Alistair with her was - confusing. She didn't know quite where to focus her jealousy.
'Good evening, Robyn,' said Needle, not even turning his head in her direction.
'Be quiet, Alistair!' barked Mercedes, jumping to her feet. 'You are not permitted to talk.'
It was then that Robyn realised that The Needle hadn't turned towards her because he couldn't move. He was trussed like a mummy in white gauze bandages that bound his legs together and his arms to his side. Now that Mercedes had risen to her feet, Robyn could see that, apart from his bonds, he was quite naked. His big straining cock stretched from his hairy belly to the well of his navel in a state of formidable excitement. The swollen plum-coloured head, unsheathed from the ruff of his withdrawn foreskin, glistened before Robyn's eyes like a mouth-watering lollipop.
'Well, darling, I believe you've caught us in flagrante,' said Mercedes. 'Why don't I help you out of those wet things while you decide how upset you are going to be?'
'You bitch,' said Robyn. 'You conniving, manipulative cow. What the fuck do you think you are playing at?'
'Very good.' Mercedes had swiftly stripped her to her stockings and panties and now placed her hand firmly over Robyn's throbbing pubis. 'Express your anger out loud, it will make you feel much better.'
'Take your hand off my cunt,' Robyn hissed but at the same time her feet seemed to move apart of their own accord. Already Mercedes' fingers were prising apart the moist lips of her pussy.
'Alistair, do something,' implored Robyn. 'She's got her fingers up my twat!'
'Oh shut up,' muttered Needle. 'You weren't complaining when she did it to you the other night.'
There was no denying that Mercedes knew how to handle a woman. It was as if she made no attempt to communicate with Robyn's brain but connected directly with her body. And her body liked it. Loved it, in fact, as the Brazilian's knowing fingers rimmed her aching clit. Robyn couldn't help herself.
'You bloody witch, you're going to make me come!' And come she did. The combination of her recent experiences at Professor Nick's, the sight of The Needle's twitching tool and the pressure of Mercedes' magical fingers soon had Robyn boiling over. The Brazilian held her close as she threshed in orgasm and bent the tall American's face to hers to slip her pointed tongue into the other's slack mouth.
When it was over, Robyn collapsed into a nearby armchair.
'Oh my God,' she wailed, 'what's happening to me?'
'Nothing that you don't really want,' said Mercedes.
'I never used to do things like this. I never used to go to orgies or let women seduce me.'
'Huh.' Mercedes was contemptuous. 'You norteamericanos, you are as repressed as the British. I thought you had more spine than that fool over there.'
'Hey,' cried Alistair, rising to the bait.
Mercedes jumped to her feet and grabbed an object familiar to Robyn - her lover's riding crop. She smacked it down with frightening force across The Needle's hip leaving a candy-coloured stripe on the white flesh. 'I told you to keep quiet,' she said, 'or else I shall gag you. And that would spoil our fun, wouldn't it, Robyn?'
Robyn didn't know what this madwoman was on about. The sudden violence had filled her with con
cern for Alistair's wellbeing and she rushed to his side and began to pluck at his bonds.
Mercedes observed her with a wry smile. 'I wouldn't bother, darling, that's not what he wants.'
Robyn slowed in her attempt to unravel the bandages and bent to plant a kiss on his lips. As she did so, he whispered, 'Do as she says.'
Mercedes heard him. 'That's right. Don't you realise? This is what he likes. Look at his penis. No wonder you two are washed up.'
'What do you mean?'
'He likes to be pushed around. He's a bully himself but he needs a bigger bully. He needs me.' And Mercedes flicked the crop across The Needle's belly making his drooling cock leap and quiver.
'It's true,' he croaked. 'I'm sorry, Robyn.'
The Brazilian grinned and shrugged her delectable shoulders. 'You see. Now, let's not get sentimental, let's have fun.' And she slipped the thin straps of the basque down her arms and shrugged her perfect breasts into the light.
Robyn was frozen to the spot. This was unreal. The big love affair of her life was in ruins and yet she had a powerful impulse to run her tongue around the saucers of Mercedes' areolae, to suck the hard pebbles of her nipples into her mouth, to—
'Come,' said Mercedes, taking Robyn's hand and leading her to the trussed form of Alistair, stretched out on the big couch. 'Just because you are washed up doesn't mean you can't enjoy him.'
Robyn watched in mounting fascination as Mercedes positioned herself across the recumbent Needle, her knees on either side of his body, her arse over his head, and settled her exposed crotch heavily on his upturned face. Robyn was unnerved. It was the position Joyce had adopted on top of Nick Dalrymple-Ripley.
'Eat!' commanded Mercedes and pulled the silk of the basque clear off her pubis. Robyn stared at Needle's chin poking from between the Brazilian's smooth and elegant thighs and saw a wet flicker of pink as he went to work with his tongue.
'Mmm,' murmured Mercedes, 'he's not bad at it - did you teach him?'
'No,' said Robyn, suddenly angry. The bastard was showing the domineering Brazilian more affection than she had enjoyed for months. There were tears in her eyes and she turned towards the door.
But Mercedes had her by the hand and her grip was strong. She pulled Robyn down hard and held her in a fierce embrace, her tongue wriggling into Robyn's mouth, her fingers in her hair.
'Stay,' she said as she broke the kiss. 'Let's have him together.'
'How?' Robyn heard herself say.
The answer was obvious. Alistair's stiff penis sawed hungrily at the empty air, the engorged tip purple with desire, a vein, pulsing on the underside of the shaft. Robyn slid her fingers round the familiar tool. It felt bigger and harder than ever before. She realised she needed it inside her more than anything in the world.
Mercedes helped Robyn settle her long limbs across Alistair's loins and held the sticky pole away from his belly as she slotted the head between her pussy lips.
'Ohhh!' Robyn shouted as she slid down upon the hard flesh, stuffing the entire length up her in one movement. 'Oh, my God, that's fantastic!'
The two women balanced themselves on the supine body beneath them, laughing now and revelling in the sensation of simultaneously fucking the same man. Then Mercedes pulled Robyn's mouth to hers and the laughter stopped. Tongue to cunt, cunt to cock, mouth to mouth - the circle was joined and the sensations ran between the three of them like an electric current.
Robyn felt out of control. Snapshots of the licentious happenings of the afternoon and evening ran through her mind as Alistair's cock speared into her belly and Mercedes' tongue thrust into her mouth... Joyce's big, heavy breasts with their swollen strawberry buds... Hugo's pencil sketches of lush lolling lasses... Nick's beefy sausage of a prick jetting spunk over her shoes... Alistair's tongue probing Mercedes' black strip of cunt fur... the Brazilian's glistening cafe au lait skin and beautiful dark-nippled breasts...
And beneath it all, running like an underground stream through the chambers of her mind, was the knowledge that it was over with Needle. They had failed each other somehow and this wild woman in her arms, with her silky tits and clever tongue, was manipulating them both and Robyn didn't care.
'Oh, ohh!' she moaned as Mercedes' fingers delved into her bush and found her clit. The prick in her pussy seemed bigger than ever, thrusting up into her like an iron bar. Mercedes was trembling and panting as she hung round Robyn's neck. Beneath her, Alistair was straining against his bonds and his cock leapt inside her as it fired its first shots.
'OH, OHH!' Robyn couldn't hold back any longer. This was the most indecent, most agonising, most exquisite moment of her life.
The three of them came off together.
Chapter 16
Hotfoot off the early train from Wales, Josie was surprised by the changes in the Bird household. For a start, Phil was cheerful and animated in a way she'd never seen before. Then there were the bags of rubbish in the kitchen. She poked inside one and came across some women's clothing and lots of torn-up letters. And those ghastly photos of Deirdre had disappeared from the sitting-room.
Josie didn't comment, she was too concerned about Gavin.
'Why didn't you ring me earlier, Phil?'
'I tried.'
'Not very hard. You could have left messages. You could have rung the office.'
'Well, you could have rung too. You're meant to be engaged but he's been gone a week and you haven't been in touch.'
There was silence for a moment. Both parties sipped their coffee without tasting it.
'I'm sorry, Josie, I've been letting it all slide. I can't get that bloody woman out of my head.'
'Phil, that's all in the past.'
'So I realise. I'm cleaning up my act at last - look.' And he indicated the rubbish sacks.
'Deirdre stuff?'
'All of it. Letters, photos, clothes, the lot. Out with the old and on with the future. I'm determined.'
'Good for you.' Josie felt a rush of affection for him. He was so like Gavin sometimes. She kissed him on the cheek in a sisterly fashion.
'So where did he say he'd gone?'
'A funny-sounding place up north. He wrote it down for me - Blisswood-in-the-Dale.'
'Never heard of it. Why there?'
Phil shrugged. 'He wanted to get away from London and the whole mess. Get away from the reporters.'
'What do you mean?'
'Since the Rabbit did that article with his picture they've all been after him.'
'What article?'
'My my, Josie, you are out of touch.'
Upstairs in Gavin's bedroom Josie surveyed the scene with amazement. Newspapers and dirty takeaway food trays littered the floor. The bed was a jumble of muddy sheets and discarded clothes. The wardrobe doors hung open to reveal Gavin's work clothes hanging untidily and a pile of shins and ties lying on top of his shoes. Letters, some of them unopened, were piled high on the table in the window and the rug beneath it was strewn with discarded envelopes and balled-up notepaper.
Above the bed the entire wall was covered with newspaper cuttings featuring the Topless Raider in action. The headlines seemed to leap out at Josie: BIG BOOBS BRENDA STRUTS HER STUFF... YOU PINCH MINE AND I'LL PINCH YOURS... NAUGHTY NORA KNOCKS 'EM OVER... DON'T POINT THOSE THINGS AT ME!...
'Good God,' said Josie, angry. 'He must be ill. Why didn't you do something?'
Phil shrugged and said nothing.
Josie peered closely at the newspaper photographs. 'She's a fat cow,' she said.
Phil chose not to disagree. 'What are all those letters?'
'They were sent on from the paper. After the article appeared he started getting a lot of mail.'
Josie picked up a sheaf of papers and read:
Dear Gavin - I'm writing to say how sorry I was to read of your terrible ordeal. Obviously you are a man who appreciates the voluptuous female form and as I myself have often been told I am 'all-woman' in the bosom department I wonder if I can be of assistance...
Ooh,
Gavin, you hunk - you can weep over my three-pennies any time. Just call 081...
My husband and I run a small amateur video business and I'm always on the lookout for new talent. Having seen your picture in the paper and read of your experiences, I wonder if you would care to recreate them for the small screen. I can guarantee that my own 44-24-36 figure will not disappoint a discerning 'tit-fancier' such as yourself...
'Bloody marvellous.' Josie threw the letters onto the floor. 'They are all from little tarts. No wonder he buggered off.'
'Well,' Phil looked embarrassed, 'I hate to tell you this, Josie...'
'Oh no. He didn't go off with one of them, did he?'
'Not exactly. But there was one letter in particular... It just said, "Sorry!" and it had a big lipstick kiss on it, you know, the imprint of a mouth. Gavin thought it had come from her. That's why he went.'
'Where?'
'I told you - Blisswood-in-the-Dale. That's what the postmark said.'
'Christ!'
The diary editor took the call because Robyn was still nursing her hangover in the loo.
'There's a Josie Twist waiting for you in reception,' he said as Robyn dragged herself back to her desk a few minutes later. 'My, you had quite a night of it, didn't you?'
If only you knew, thought Robyn. The Needle's reserves of single malt were to blame, she supposed, but it was the thought of what she had done with Mercedes and Alistair that really made her feel bad. She hadn't realised guilt could turn a person green.
'I don't know any Josie Twist,' she said.
'She says she's Gavin Bird's fiancee. And she's not going away till she sees you.'
'Oh shit.'
'Sounds like more Brenda copy to me: "My boyfriend can't get it up now he's gazed on the knockers of Nora." You do it so much better than me, of course.'
'Oh, fuck off, Crispin.' Nevertheless Robyn rose slowly to her feet and headed for the door.
Robyn had not given the missing fiancee any thought while contemplating the plight of Gavin Bird. She hadn't given Gavin much thought, either, since her piece about him. In any event she wasn't prepared for the beady-eyed party in red leggings and Doc Martens who came at her bristling with rage.