“They used to use Landies for farming tasks like this, before they had tractors,” Andy explained.
“Actually, that’s not true,” I corrected him, pleased to know more about something to do with his favourite car than he knew. “They tried to plough with them. It didn’t work out. See the steering wheel?”
Bex looked in through the windscreen on what should have been the driver side. She covered her mouth with her hand then turned to face us in amazement.
“Why is the steering wheel in the middle?” she asked.
“I think they wanted it to work on roads that were left-hand or right-hand drive without having to adjust it,” Andy said.
“It wasn’t a roaring success, let’s put it that way,” I added. “There aren’t even any seats either side of it. They changed their mind about that before they started selling them.”
“This looks like the most useless car in the world,” Bex snorted.
Andy shook his head. “Not true. Also, it’s the most expensive car in the world. For years, people thought it had been broken up. When it was found, it was sold at auction for eleven million pounds. It went for almost as much as Chris Evans’s Ferrari GTO. British Chris Evans, that is,” he explained, like we might have thought he meant Captain America.
“So, someone really rich owns it?” Bex looked around in case a celebrity was nearby.
“Yeah. Take a guess,” Andy said.
“Jeremy Clarkson?” she hazarded.
Andy blew air out in scorn and shook his head. “Jezza would never buy one of these. It’s nowhere near fast enough. Guess again.”
“Matt Le Blanc?” she asked. Andy shook his head.
Curious, I joined in. “Tiff Needell? No. Ichael Ackinkacker!” I did my impression of Michael Mackintyre saying his name at the dentist and Bex laughed out loud.
“No, and no,” Andy chuckled. “It was Ryan Reynolds.”
“What? Deadpool? No! He’s here?” She looked around again. I glanced around a little more subtly then decided I preferred to act nonchalant.
“He might be,” Andy conceded, clearly enjoying the fact that he’d surprised Bex and I.
“Oh, yeah, doesn’t he own a Welsh football team or something?” I pointed out. “I wouldn’t put it past him to own the world’s first Land Rover. He’s probably got the money for it as well.”
“Yeah, trouble is, even I can see that car isn’t road legal,” Bex said, looking it over. “He must have brought it here on the back of a recovery truck.”
Andy nodded. “Right again. Look at it. No registration plate.”
“Is that even allowed?” Bex asked.
“Yep. If the car isn’t driven on a public road. Although it’s not recommended,” Andy explained. Trust him to know such things.
I smiled to myself. Everything here was completely new to Bex. It was great to see her getting interested in cars, even if they were more Andy’s thing than mine. It was something outside her own bubble. A distraction. She needed that, right now.
We spent the day looking around, and I managed to steer Bex away before she noticed the lady selling flowers near the food trucks.
“Hey! D’you want a flower for your bird, mate?”
Fuck. She spotted us.
“No, thanks.” I tried to keep walking toward one of the burger vans, but the woman was fast. She stepped in front of us.
“It’s Valentine’s Day and you’ve dragged her out to a car rally. Don’t you want to make her feel wanted?”
I didn’t want to have an argument. Bex sighed heavily. There was only one way to get this stupid woman to go away without shouting.
“She’s my sister,” I said flatly, with a deadpan expression.
“Mine too,” Andy added, catching on quick.
The lady’s eyes widened.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought—never mind.” She shuffled off and I looked over at Bex to check if she was okay. Her shoulders were shaking. When I caught her eye, she burst out laughing. Andy was chuckling, too.
“Your sister? Nice one,” Bex said.
Phew. Crisis averted.
We ambled to the nearest burger van and got lunch.
The rest of the day went by without any problems, and by the time we got home, Bex’s spirits seemed to have lifted. Obviously, she wouldn’t have forgotten what day it was. But we hadn’t let the date defeat us.
In bed that night, my relief at the fact we’d managed to steer Bex through this difficult time was overshadowed. Another, darker day loomed up in the distance. Sometime in the coming months—I wasn’t sure of the exact date—we would have to comfort Bex through what should have been her wedding day.
Chapter 5
Three months later:
Bex
The sun was shining, it was a warm mid-May afternoon and I definitely had that Friday feeling as I skipped back into the house from my car. I'd found a job in the office at a HR company nearby, and while it wasn't as well-paid as I'd like, it was keeping my head above water. Anyway, it was interesting, and I was learning a lot about HR, even though I was just working in reception.
Andy had taken me shopping for a car about two months ago, and I was now the not-so-proud owner of a second-hand P-reg Ford Fiesta which had cost five hundred quid. It had faded red paint and looked completely out of place on the driveway next to Ben's Volkswagen Golf GTI, and Matt's Audi A1. But when Andy's ancient Land Rover County Defender was parked in the driveway, looking like it had gone to battle with the countryside every day for the last thirty years, my car looked just right.
Inside the house today, there was that stillness which meant I was the first person home. I could always feel it, in some way that was impossible to explain. Feeling happy, I skipped to the kitchen and began filling the kettle to make tea. I always put enough water in for everyone, because it was just my luck that they would come home in the middle of it boiling or two minutes after I'd made a drink and then I always felt guilty.
Predictably, I was at the fridge, reaching for the milk, when the front door rattled closed.
“Hi!” Andy's voice called.
“Hey, I'm in the kitchen. Want a cuppa?” I had already opened the cup cupboard and was reaching for a second mug when Andy replied from behind me.
“Yes, please, I'm parched.” He moved fast!
I looked over my shoulder, suddenly very aware of how hot he was in his Air Force uniform. The blue-grey coat looked so smart over his shirt and tie.
“The other two still working?” I looked over his shoulder. If they were parking their cars, I’d make four cups.
“They had to see a sergeant about something. I don't know when they'll be back.”
“Just us, then.” I don't know why I said it, and I definitely don't know why a tingle ran through my body when I spoke.
It was true I had been getting along a lot better with Andy than with Ben or Matt, both of whom were a bit bossy, but I still wasn't sure if I was ready to find out where this might go. I'd been holding back a lot. I didn't know how long I should wait after losing Adam. What was right? Was I a horrible person for being attracted to someone else?
On top of that, while I really liked Andy, there was the added complication that I really didn't want to date another serviceman. Even though Adam hadn't died on a deployment, I didn't want to date anybody when there was such a high risk of losing them. I couldn't.
“Fun day at the office?” he asked.
I shrugged, trying for nonchalance. I finished making the tea and handed him one.
“Got any plans for the weekend?” I asked.
“I was going to go to another vintage car rally, but it's been cancelled at the last minute.”
“Oh no. What a shame. What sort of cars was it this time?” I’d really enjoyed our day out to the Land Rover rally back in February, but I’d always been busy when Andy had gone to other rallies.
“Lotus rally. Oh, Bex, you would have looked stunning at the wheel of a 1967 Lotus Elan.”
&nb
sp; “Weren’t they the plasticky ones?” I asked, remembering someone on my road had a Lotus when I was little. It hadn’t looked that great. All boxy and in a shade of paint that had faded in the sun to an unflattering, patchy orangey-red.
“Nah. That was a later model. Maybe an Esprit? The really old Lotuses were incredible.”
“Shame your rally got cancelled, I could have seen them for myself. Will you find something else to do?” I knew he loved going to car rallies and looking at the old vehicles. I’d found it surprisingly fun, and I was amazed at how much Andy knew about cars. He was a fountain of knowledge on them. It was easy to look up to him when he was telling me about straight-sixes and V8s, and other things I’d never heard of.
“I can think of a thing or two.” His voice hinted at something we'd been dancing around for the past three months. I flushed red as I contemplated spending an entire weekend by myself in the house with Andy. Of course, it depended what the other two guys had planned to do over the next couple of days, but I could hope. Every Saturday morning, Ben played airsoft, and quite often, Matt and Andy joined him. The RAF was a strictly Monday-Friday, 9-5 job when they weren’t deployed, so they almost never worked weekends. Almost. Sometimes one of them got called in, usually Matt, as he was the highest-ranking, but it was pretty rare.
I took my tea into the living room and sat down on the sofa. Andy sat beside me.
“What aren’t you telling me?” His hand reached out and stroked my cheek. I hesitated, trying to think of a way to answer his question.
Obviously, the truth would be a good start, but I was scared of airing my concerns, in case he rationalized ways around them that led me to doing things with him that I wanted so badly, but simultaneously was afraid of trying.
Since that night when Ben had caught me in their sex dungeon, I’d extensively researched things online and decided I might want to possibly try some of the bizarre-looking things I’d seen. However, I couldn’t work up the courage to talk to any of them about it, even though they were obviously already interested in this stuff or they wouldn’t have a room full of it.
Andy was definitely my favourite of the three of them. He always knew what he was doing, and he exuded this air of calmness and direction that reassured me.
At the same time, there was something cold and unyielding beneath the surface. I knew never to lie to him or fuck with him because he wouldn’t stand for it.
“You’re aching to talk about something, Bex. You should just spit it out.”
I nodded absently, but I had no intention of telling him anything.
“I’m curious about the sex dungeon,” I blurted.
“I think we’re supposed to call it a playroom, these days,” he teased.
I gave up.
“Bex?” He tried to get me to reply but I wouldn’t. “I was just making a joke. What’s the matter?”
“I can’t do this. It’s too hard. I’ve been trying to say something for weeks and when I finally did... no. I can’t.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he pointed out.
“Nothing ventured, nothing lost,” I countered.
I thought he might make me, somehow. There was a word I’d read which fitted Andy perfectly. Dominant.
Instead, he took the cup from my hands, placed it on a table, and pulled me onto his knee so my head rested on one of his thighs while my body was on the sofa beside him. He tangled his fingers in my hair and tugged gently, causing tiny sparks to ignite in my scalp. I began making an uncontrollably feline noise; a delicate mewling I’d never heard come out of my mouth before.
“Stop stressing,” he murmured. “Just start at the beginning.”
Hesitantly, embarrassed, I told him about all the websites I’d read, trying to find out about BDSM. I also admitted that I’d briefly talked to Matt about some of it, what seemed like a lifetime ago, back in late January.
“There was so much that made sense when I was reading about it. It was like I finally had a map that explained why I do things. So... er... I think I might be a tiny bit submissive. But I don’t know how far it goes.” I paused for a moment because the next part was a request, and I didn’t like asking for things. “I need to know more. Want to try some of it. But I’m scared,” I finished, very aware that I’d been talking for a long time and feeling my cheeks flushing.
“Scared? Of what?” His fingers had never left my scalp. It was easier to talk to him when I didn’t have to look at him.
“Getting hurt.” I wasn’t sure those were the right words. They seemed so... general.
“Physically? Or emotionally?” he probed.
“Yes.” Both. Everything. I didn’t understand how this could possibly end well.
“Did you read the part where we would discuss everything between us carefully, and I wouldn’t do anything you hadn’t agreed to try?” His voice became more direct, now.
“Yes. Matt told me that, too.”
“Then why don’t you try it? If you don’t like it, we won’t do it again and we will speak of it to no one. But if, as I suspect, you’re breaking down my door for more, we can do it again.”
I thought about this. Part of me wanted to play-punch him for his mock-cockiness, and part of me wanted to spread my legs right now and beg him to take me.
“Yes or no, Bex?” he asked. “Nothing happens without your consent.”
“Yes,” I replied breathily. “Yes, please.”
“It’s about time,” he replied, gently. “There’s one other thing you need to know about Matt, Ben and I.”
Oh God, here it comes. They’ve got herpes or something. My mind raced to conclusions because nothing good ever came from a sentence like that.
“Tell me.” I tried to keep my voice steady.
“We usually share one woman between the three of us.”
Two things happened at the same time. My pussy spasmed so intensely that I shuddered, and the rest of me was so shocked that I fell off the sofa, landing on the carpet between the sofa and the coffee table with a bump, my face pressed up against Andy’s black socks.
“You don’t need to kiss my feet just yet,” he quipped, laughing. I was blushing so red, I didn’t think there was any blood left in my hands and feet. I’d thought I knew what I was getting into, and Andy had just added a whole extra complication.
“You share. One woman. Three men...” I couldn’t form a coherent sentence.
“Yes.”
There was only one thing I could think of in response to this revelation.
“Is that why all three of you have been single the whole time I’ve been here?”
Andy laughed loudly, as he helped me back onto the sofa and put my tea in my hands.
“We’ve been waiting to see where things went with you, you muppet,” he replied.
I shook my head in disbelief. “All of you?”
What woman had the time or energy to handle three men? It seemed like an elaborate practical joke but when I looked back on the past twelve weeks, so much suddenly made sense.
“All of us,” he confirmed. “But we can get to that later. When those two are home. Right now? It’s just you and me.”
I felt like those times when I’d gone into a shop planning to buy one small thing and somehow ended up walking out with a ton of heavy bags filled with stuff. I hadn’t done that in a few years, so the feeling sideswiped me. Mild shock, coupled with confusion about what just happened, while that one runaway part of my mind was already planning what to do with five new pairs of oven gloves.
When I finished my tea, Andy got to his feet and held out a hand to me.
“Let me show you. Will you do as you’re told for me?” he prompted.
“Yes.” I knew I would obey him. It was almost impossible not to. His air of command was intoxicating.
“Good. To my bathroom.” He led me by the hand as we walked down the hall, up the stairs, and through Andy’s tidy bedroom, into the big en-suite bathroom. Matt had one, too, which meant only Be
n and I shared the main bathroom.
I’d never been in here, before, and the room surprised me. The shower was double-sized and had two shower heads that would ensure lots of water raining down. There was no bath. The sink and toilet were ordinary, white porcelain, and I guessed the whole lot was installed less than five years ago, because it all still looked fresh.
The tiles were mostly plain white, with the occasional pop of deep, sapphire blue, at intervals which didn’t seem to follow a pattern.
“I thought we were going to use the—downstairs,” I remarked.
“We’re starting slow. Today is about obedience and whether we fit together. Not rope or whips. Those are props, the real heart of what we do is you obey me and I push at the edges of your comfort zone. But first I need to learn what it is.” He reached in and turned on both showerheads. “It’ll take a minute for them to warm up. While they do, I want you to take your clothes off.”
I turned away from him, to undress as modestly as possible.
“Face me, Bex.”
I hesitated, feeling vulnerable.
“Why?” I asked.
“I’m going to see you naked in a minute, anyway,” he pointed out. I knew that, but there was something oddly intimate about actually taking my clothes off in front of him. I couldn’t explain why, but it felt embarrassing.
“Bex? You said you would do as you were told,” he reminded me. I had agreed to that.
Reluctantly, I turned around to face him and pulled my vest top over my head, revealing my bra. I cast aside the thin top and went for my socks. They were easy. I should have started with those. Once my feet were revealed, I unbuttoned my jeans, very conscious of his eyes on me, appraising me, taking in my flesh as it was slowly uncovered. It made me feel very self-conscious. Wrong-footed. I guessed that was what he had wanted.
When I got down to my bra and knickers, I unhooked the bra, painfully aware that it was padded, and that my real breasts weren’t going to deliver on the promises my bra had made. Suddenly, increasing my cup size with foam didn’t seem like such a confidence boost. I took the bra off and waited for him to say something about the size of my tits, but when I looked up, I saw he was staring at my boobs with an expression like a hungry puppy on his face.
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