by JD Nixon
“Not a chance. They’re ridiculously gigantic.”
He shrank back suddenly as a glistening image filled the screen. “Eww! What’s that?”
I shot him a withering glance. “That’s a close-up of private girl bits.”
“Yuck!” Looking ill, he averted his eyes. “That’s obscene. Tell me when it’s gone.”
“It’s gone,” I lied, laughing when he peeked back again, giving a small scream of horror at the continuing vision.
“You’re so mean sometimes,” he grumbled.
“I’m only thinking of you,” I said piously. “It’s good for you, Danny. If you see one, then you won’t be afraid of them anymore.”
“What’s she doing to it?” he asked, his face contorted with revulsion.
“She’s pleasuring herself.”
“How? No, on second thoughts don’t tell me. It’s so gross, I just don’t want to know. This hetero-porn is disgusting. What’s he doing to her now?”
“I don’t know. I think –” We cringed in unison and slammed our eyes shut.
“Did he just insert that huge . . .?”
“I think so. I don’t know. I have my eyes shut.”
“Me too.”
I opened one eye and immediately shut it again. “Yep. Definitely the whole huge thing.”
“Is that even possible?”
“Why are you asking me for? I don’t know!” I opened my eyes.
“What’s going on now?” he asked, his eyes still firmly shut.
“I told you – the plot is very minimal. I mean, just look at him. He seems bored out of his brain by the whole thing. All that mindless pumping. He must take performance-enhancing drugs. No normal man can last that long.”
We watched in silence for a few minutes.
“Oh no, now there’s another woman as well. Where did she come from? The plot’s ridiculous in this movie.”
We listened to some desultory onscreen conversation.
“She’s who?” I complained. “A lady conducting a survey door-to-door? That’s bullshit! And why is she taking off her clothes already? She just met them, for God’s sake! That’s not realistic. Who writes this rubbish?”
“What’s he doing to her? Oh, he’s not going to lick that, is he? Oh yuck! I feel sick. How can anyone do that?”
“Steady on, Danny. You’ll be okay. It’s nearly over.” I squeezed his hand.
“What’s going on now?” he asked, his head on one side trying to sort out the tangle of arms and legs.
“The guy’s doing the door-to-door survey lady, while she does the black-haired chick. Oh look! A happy ending for him, finally. How romantic.”
“God, he’s drowning them in it. I don’t think that’s a normal amount.”
“I don’t either. I think some of it must be faked. You know, like fake blood.”
The credits rolled and we looked at each other.
“I can’t watch another one,” I decided.
“I will never watch another one,” Daniel declared, a little green.
Heller walked in without knocking and regarded us both, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “How’s it going?”
“Terrible. Danny’s severely traumatised and I’m about to join a convent.” I ejected the disk, placed it in the case and handed all five back to him. “I honestly can’t watch any more.”
He looked at the case. “Oh yes. The one with the survey lady. I didn’t mind that one. It had certain . . . artistic merit.”
“We must have had our eyes shut during that bit because there was nothing of any merit in the whole movie, as far as I’m concerned.”
“I’m going to lie down for a while. I don’t feel too good,” said Daniel and staggered off to his place.
“Poor Danny,” I said, watching him leave. “I think that was his first, and probably last, ever encounter with lady parts.”
“I’m looking forward to an encounter with your lady parts later,” he teased.
I swatted his arm. “Which ones are your clients?”
“He was the man in the survey lady movie, and she was the black-haired woman in the same movie. I think they’re married.”
I shook my head indulgently. “Office romances.”
“They’re my favourite kind,” he smiled, putting his arm around me and dropping a quick kiss on the top of my head.
“Do you mind if I contact them to see if they’re interested in appearing on Trent’s show?”
“Only on the proviso that if they decline the offer, then that’s the end of the matter. I don’t want my clients to be harassed.”
“That sounds fair.” I thought for a moment. “Maybe they’ll even let me hang around with them for a while as part of my research. Who are you assigning to the job?”
“Just one man, but I’ll leave it up to Clive to decide who he wants to send.” He yanked me forward so that our hips ground together. “I’m very interested to discover if you learned anything from those DVDs.”
I slid my arms around his waist and smiled up at him. “I did learn something.”
“Mmm?”
“I learned to always pack some condoms when I’m doing surveys door-to-door.”
He laughed and kissed me. “You’ve always been a clever woman, my sweet.”
That kiss led to another and another, and not surprisingly, our evening ended in bed together. As a sexual partner, he normally liked to ride me hard, giving me an unbeatable, mind-shattering, body-jolting fuck that always left me a quivering mess. But now and then, he made love to me, taking me slowly and deliberately, drawing his length out almost to its head before sliding it deeply back into me, over and over again, his lips hungry on mine. It was delicious torture, sensations building up until breaking point when I exploded in ecstasy, every nerve tingling, every sense engaged.
I hadn’t yet decided which way I loved screwing him the best.
“Say it,” he insisted hoarsely, his blue eyes piercing in the moonlight as he moved in and out of me with almost cruelly languid strokes.
I writhed beneath him, so concentrated on my own intense pleasure that I couldn’t answer.
“Say it for me, Matilda.”
He had to be kidding – I could barely remember my own name, let alone his.
“Say it,” he demanded.
“I love you,” I finally gasped, my entire body shuddering with the rolling shocks of my orgasm. My saying that to him released his own tension and he groaned loudly as he came inside me.
We weren’t being careful during sex, not using any kind of birth control. I’d expected him to continue to want to use condoms, his usual practice, but he insisted on having no barriers between us, not even some ultra-thin latex. And as I’d pretty much resigned myself to the fact I’d never have children, the thought of an unplanned pregnancy didn’t even cross my mind.
“Heller, are we a couple?” I asked hesitantly, drowsy with fatigue, but needing to know.
“A couple of what, my sweet?”
I slapped my palm on his chest in exasperation. “Don’t be so dense. Are we a couple? You know, like a boyfriend and a girlfriend.”
“We are lovers like a boyfriend and a girlfriend,” he said, sounding a little puzzled at my question.
“I already know that,” I sighed. “But is that all we are to each other?”
“What more is there to be to each other?”
“Plenty more. Are we going to plan a future together? Are you going to teach me about your business? Will we move in together? Are you going to tell me more about yourself?”
For a while, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. “So many questions, Matilda. Too many to answer now.” He kissed my forehead in what I took to be a dismissive way. “Go to sleep. It’s late.”
And I knew then that I wouldn’t receive any answers from him. Again.
Chapter 5
I managed to coax a contact number for the adult movie stars from Daniel, quickly ducking out of sight when I heard Heller’s tread
on the stairs. Since I no longer worked for him, I wasn’t supposed to visit the office in any circumstances. No matter that we were sleeping together, he wouldn’t be pleased to find me there and wouldn’t hesitate to tick me off about it.
At work, I made an overseas phone call to the UK and spoke directly to Roger, the male star. He was flattered by the invitation, readily agreeing to appear on the show. He also gave me permission to shadow them during their visit. I wanted to be thorough and ensure that my research for Trent’s interview was top notch to help take everyone’s minds off the whole monkey affair.
That phone call was easy compared to the second one I had to make. Reluctantly, I dialled Clive’s number, plucking up the courage when he answered in his unfriendly gravelly monotone to ask if I could accompany the man he assigned to the Seductively Sextravagant job.
“Why?” he asked in a suspicious voice. Although we lived in the same building and he was Heller’s security manager and therefore my supervisor when I’d worked there, he’d never really taken to me. He was exceptionally loyal to Heller, frequently acting as his second-in-command (and henchman), and I often wondered if he nurtured some resentment over my close relationship with Heller. That was only conjecture though, because we’d never discussed it and I certainly wasn’t going to bring it up right now when I was begging him for a favour.
“I told you. So I can get some background on them and determine which questions would be appropriate in the interview.”
“Are you planning on causing any trouble?”
“Of course not!” I was a little offended by the question. “You make it sound as though I go around deliberately causing trouble.”
“Trouble goes looking for you.”
“Look, there won’t be any trouble. It’s a simple research assignment and I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise. I’m going to be with them all the time anyway, just like your man. So you might as well let me join him.”
Still he hesitated.
“Heller said I could,” I lied, hoping Clive wouldn’t check with him.
He sighed heavily and I heard what sounded like his fingers drumming his desk. “I suppose,” he yielded ungraciously. “Be in the section at eight sharp tomorrow morning. Nobody’s going to wait for you, so don’t be late.” And he hung up on me.
“Thanks, Clive. Bye, Clive. Have a great day, Clive,” I muttered at the handset, before hurrying in to tell Trent the good news. He was delighted and I basked in the unfamiliar warmth of glowing praise from a boss for the rest of the day.
The next morning I presented myself to a dour Clive at 7:45 AM. It had been months since I’d set foot inside the security section located on the ground floor of the Warehouse, but nothing much had changed. There was still the same collection of battered desks and chairs only used when the men were forced to complete paperwork; still the same disreputable coffee machine that didn’t look as though it had ever been cleaned; still the same mangy odour floating from the section’s gym; and still the same crowd of huge, muscled men dressed in the black Heller’s uniform jostling and teasing each other. It was like going home and my heart twinged sadly for a moment. I liked working for Trent, but I kind of missed working with these guys. I’d be happy to return to being a security officer when my twelve-month suspension was over.
I was thrilled to discover that Bick was the man chosen by Clive for this assignment, but not as happy as Bick was. From the way he strutted around the office, a huge grin plastered across his face, I gathered that accompanying a couple of adult movie stars to a sex exhibition had been one of those jobs the men fought over. I didn’t know how Clive made his decision about who to send, and unless there was some naked wrestling involved, I wasn’t interested either.
In the black Heller’s fleet 4WD, Bick couldn’t contain his enthusiasm for the job. “It’s fantastic. The best assignment ever! I never got assigned jobs like this when I worked for Select Security.”
“So you’re looking forward to this then?” I asked drily.
“You bet your sweet patootie I am! Do you think they’ll do any filming while they’re here?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t think so. They’re here for Seductively Sextravagant, not to make a new movie. They’re the star draw.”
“They have this great movie with a door-to-door survey lady.”
“That movie stank worse than your feet,” I scorned.
“I’m surprised a girl like you would watch movies like that.”
“Firstly, I’m not a girl, and secondly, it was strictly for research purposes.”
“Sure it was. I only watched it for research purposes too.”
“Oh yeah? What were you researching?”
He grinned irrepressibly, his dark blue eyes sparkling. “How to seduce a door-to-door survey lady.”
I laughed at that. “From what I saw, it didn’t take much to seduce the one in that movie. Her clothes virtually fell off as soon as the guy looked at her.”
“That’s my kind of seduction.”
I shook my head. “Guys.” We drove in silence for a while. “So, how have you settled in at Heller’s? I’m sorry I haven’t asked before, but I don’t get to see any of you guys much these days.”
“Heller’s keeping you in bed that much, huh?”
I gave him a look. “You’re so funny, Bick. You have no idea.”
He laughed. “I have a pretty good idea. And I’ve settled in well. I feel like I’ve been welcomed into the team and that I’m proving myself with every job.” I didn’t show him how much his innocent comment stung. It had taken me a long time to be accepted at Heller’s, and even now I was probably only tolerated because the men saw me as ‘Heller’s woman’. Bick obviously owned the requisite dangling personal equipment that made acceptance into the Heller’s ‘club’ easier. But oblivious to my inner musings, Bick continued, “Clive’s gruff, but I can deal with that. Heller’s not a completely unethical arsehole like Chris Kirnin was, so that works for me too. Overall, I’d say I’m pretty pleased I defected from Select.”
“Great. I’m glad you’re on board at Heller’s now.” And I genuinely meant that, no matter how I compared his acceptance there with mine.
We chatted about nothing much in particular until we reached the arrivals hall at the airport. There, he held up a greeting sign with the wording, ‘Biggen Harder’, which regrettably made me giggle every time I glanced at it.
“It looks as though you’re advertising yourself,” I sniggered.
“I don’t want to sound conceited, but big and harder is probably a good description of me,” Bick said, trying to look modest. That set me off into uncontrollable gales of laughter that made people turn around to look at us in surprise.
“Tilly,” Bick reproached, embarrassed by the attention. “Try to be at least a little bit professional, please. I have Heller’s good name in my care.” I rolled my eyes – he’d clearly bought into the Heller worship virulent amongst the men. “Not to mention Clive to worry about if you turn out to be some kind of liability for me.”
Now that, I could appreciate. The last time I’d let down Clive and Heller, I’d been suspended from the business.
“Stop making me laugh then,” I said, trying to rearrange my face into a more sober expression.
I struggled mightily and finally managed to get myself under control, but avoided all eye contact with Bick and his boastful sign. I had just quelled my last renegade giggle when I saw Heller’s new clients walking towards us. There was no mistaking the pair for anyone else.
She was thin, medium height, with long straight black hair, a hard over-made up face and stunningly enormous boobs barely contained in a white front-zippered leather top. She wore a matching white leather miniskirt and knee-high white leather boots. He had a sharp-featured face, sensual lips, bedroom eyes, slicked-back black hair, tight black leather pants, black boots and a white shirt unbuttoned to his navel, flashing tantalising glimpses of extremely cut abs and large biceps. They w
ere buff, exceptionally well-groomed, smooth and tanned. They looked like porn stars.
Noticing the sign, they walked directly over to us, ignoring the curious, admiring and envious looks thrown by the mere mortals surrounding them. The woman looked Bick and me up and down, her almond-shaped, topaz-coloured eyes widening with interest as she took in Bick’s muscular body, wavy black hair, midnight blue eyes and cheeky grin.
“We’re Biggen Harder,” she purred, and it was almost more than I could bear.
I pinched my thighs viciously, my eyes watering with the effort of not sniggering. But it was no use – the laughter erupted out of my mouth and I tried to cover it by coughing, turning away.
“Back in a sec . . .” I gasped and ran off to find a water bubbler, laughing all the way, tears streaming down my face. By the time I had a few sips of water, splashed my face, thought of something sad, thought of Heller getting angry at me for spoiling Bick’s professionalism, and walked back, I had myself under control and presented a calm demeanour.
“My apologies for that. Annoying tickle in my throat,” I said as charmingly as I could, introducing myself to them both, still careful not to look at Bick. After all the handshaking and ‘pleased to meet yous’, Bick hunted down a trolley. We helped the married couple with their enormous pile of luggage, more than anyone could ever possibly need for a visit of less than a week. They’d brought at least four suitcases each.
It was hard to tell if they’d expected any fans to be at the airport to also greet them, but they’d have been disappointed if they had, because there were none to be seen. They didn’t appear to me to be too bothered though, probably content enough with the attention they attracted from everybody in the vicinity. The Biggen Harder roadshow was not something people saw every day.
We barely managed to squeeze their entire luggage into the back of the 4WD. Bick had to push hard to fit it in while I quickly slammed the door. We crossed our fingers that it wouldn’t burst open while we drove, spraying unsuspecting drivers with Busty and Roger’s probably rather exotic undies. Bick and I took the front, leaving the backseat for the clients. After chatting for a while, we found them surprisingly likeable – friendly and down-to-earth. If I closed your eyes and just listened to them, not seeing their erotic personas, I would have sworn they were Mr and Mrs Average from London.