After her first day Heather spent two hours on the phone telling Mum how much she’d enjoyed it. After her second she spent just as long telling Mare the same sort of thing. During her Initial Review, on day three, she was told she’d settled in well and everyone was pleased with the way she’d acclimatized. From then-on she was hooked and didn’t spare Leeds another thought. When it came to her Second Review she must have said we and us ten times as often as her reviewer.
Not that she was totally besotted. She was still very much the newbie with lots to learn. And, even if she was determined to succeed, she didn’t want to alienate her less ambitious colleagues.
Softly, softly, she kept reminding herself. Don’t blow it before you catchee monkey.
* * *
Sean woke when a shaft of sunshine inched its way up the bedcovers, onto his face, making him wonder why he hadn’t drawn the curtains.
Too eager to get into Anne-Marie before the last stroke of three?
He grinned. He could still smell and taste her juices. He could smell and taste her perfume too, just not quite so strongly. Anne-Marie had been a fantastic end to a fantastic evening. He was glad he’d kept his promise, even if she had wound up in his home rather than hers.
She was lying with her back to him. He threw off the bed sheets and looked at her naked body, his cock quickly turning to stone. She was the best thing that had happened in ages: young, witty and the most amazing fuck. Usually he made girls piss off when he’d had enough of them. Not this one. He hadn’t actually begged her to stay, but he might have if she’d shown any sign of wanting to leave.
He rolled onto his side and ran himself up the ridges of her spine. She sighed. ‘Is that what I think it is?’
‘It certainly is.’ He kissed her neck then nibbled her ear. She had the cutest, tiniest ears. Like a little girl’s ears.
Shit!
‘How old did you say you were?’
‘You never asked. But don’t worry, I’m nineteen. I’ll show you ID if you want.’
‘That’s okay, I believe you. You just look a lot younger.’
‘Sweet-talking guy or what?’ She reached back and took hold. ‘And that really is what I thought it was. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.’
‘I’m planning on more than attention.’
She chuckled. ‘Seeing as I never asked either, how old are you?’
‘Me? I’m thirty-six.’
‘Never! You’ve the body of a twenty-five-year-old. And the stamina of a teenager.’
‘I try to take care of myself,’ Sean said modestly.
‘I know. I saw your gym, and your pool.’ Anne-Marie changed position slightly, dipping the business end of his cock inside her. ‘Why don’t you take care of me for a while? Then we can go for a swim.’
So they fucked like spoons, taking it slow and steady. She showed all the signs of enjoying it and saved her climax to coincide with his. It was a good experience, one of the best, much better than just hammering away at each other. When he’d done Sean felt as if he had fired out his heart and soul along with all his muck.
‘That was sensational,’ she cried, bouncing out of the bed. ‘Come on now, twenty lengths.’
Then she looked at the mess trickling from her. ‘Perhaps a shower first?’
He told her to start without him. Not in the least offended, she went to explore his en-suite, which ran the length of the massive bedroom. ‘This is the most incredible house,’ she called.
‘Yeah. I built it myself.’
‘What, brick by brick, with your bare hands?’
‘Not quite. I used professionals. But I managed the project all the way through.’
‘Is that why your shower has a glass wall? So you can see in from your pit?’
He laughed. ‘Yeah, I like watching pretty girls while I’m in my pit.’
Anne-Marie turned on the water then gave him a good view. He gave her a wave and she stuck her tongue out before pressing her body against the glass, flattening her tits. Then she turned round and flattened her bum, bending to touch her toes so her pussy seemed to smile at him. He liked that but five seconds was all he got. Straightening, she briskly washed, singing as she did so. Sean recognized the song from a few years ago. It was a catchy one, but the only words he could remember were something like: What do you see, when you look at me?
In no time at all she’d finished. Still drying herself, she came back into the bedroom.
‘There’s no-one else here, is there? No maids or cleaners?’
‘Cleaners aren’t in until tomorrow. I don’t do maids or wives or anything, just sexy waitresses.’
‘Good,’ she said, and left the room without a stitch on her.
Sean got up and had a leisurely shower and shave. He had a meeting later, so he dressed in some of his better Armani before examining the debris on the bedroom floor. They really must have been in a hurry last night. He’d wildly discarded everything, even the tux. Picking up her clothes but leaving his own he went downstairs, passing the gym and bar, heading for the indoor pool.
Anne-Marie was churning out lengths with the calm conviction of someone who swam often and well. She was, of course, totally naked and looked tastier than ever.
‘Come on in,’ she shouted. ‘It’s lovely and warm.’
‘I can’t. I’ve a meeting coming up.’
‘Is that your polite way of chucking me out?’
‘No, you can stay all day if you want. I just have to be somewhere else.’
‘It won’t be the same if you’re not here.’ She climbed out of the water and faced him, not quite so cheerful now. ‘I enjoyed last night. Are we going to do it again?’
He grinned. This was usually time for the big farewell for the few who made it until morning. But not today.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I want to.’
‘So do I.’
She looked simply gorgeous, dripping right, left and centre.
‘What do you do?’ he asked. ‘When you’re not waitressing, I mean.’
‘I’m at Bradford Uni. Doing Mathematics. Although I am thinking about adding an extra course. The Mechanics of Sex with an Older Man. Something like that.’
‘Can I help with your research?’
She laughed. ‘You already did.’
‘That was only the introduction.’
‘That sounds interesting.’
‘It’s more than interesting,’ he pulled her close.
‘You’ll get your clothes damp,’ she warned, clinging to him.
‘I don’t care. I need you.’
Her fingers were unfastening his trousers. ‘I thought you had a meeting?’ she said as two hundred quid’s worth of Giorgio’s finest slid down onto wet tiles.
‘Sod the meeting.’
* * *
Today, after a month of real job experience, Heather was attending her first meeting with mixed-graders from other WYB departments. It was held in a large, official meeting room and, compared to the usual team huddles and briefs, seemed very formal and imposing. The tradition turned out to be to begin by going round the table. When it came to her she kept it short and sweet.
‘Hi, I’m Heather Hunter, formerly from Hunters Farm, Micklethwaite. I was educated at The Manor and I’m a graduate trainee.’
‘The Manor?’ said a bloke called Chris. ‘Do you mean Cottingley Manor, up the road?’
Heather had wanted to sneak under the radar and didn’t welcome the question. She also didn’t welcome the ogling she’d been getting from Chris, who was wearing a wedding ring. She didn’t do married; life was complicated enough without married.
‘No,’ she said, feeling her cheeks flush as everyone looked at her, ‘just The Manor.’
‘It’s a private school in Cheshire,’ someone put in.
Fifteen pairs of eyes left Heather before her flush became a proper blush, fixing instead on the attractive, late-twenty-something who’d been first to introduce herself.
‘Very swish,�
�� the woman went on. ‘The sort of place you’d like to send your kids, Chris. You’d have to put in some extra hours though. No more sneaking off to St Ives every afternoon.’
Chris said, ‘Thank you, Victoria,’ as if he was used to being put in his place, and that was that.
Heather didn’t have much to contribute to the rest of the proceedings and passed the time by watching, listening and (hopefully) learning. This meant she spent a lot of time looking at Victoria, who had plenty to say for herself.
She was more than just attractive too, Heather decided, if not strictly conventional. She had short-ish, almost-black hair which was spiky and tastefully streaked, somehow making her punky and professional at the same time; a long oval face with perfect, darkish skin, suggesting a dash of Mediterranean blood; big brown eyes behind enormous and exceedingly snazzy glasses; a generous mouth filled with dazzling white teeth. By what could only be alchemy, everything worked so she started off looking good and got better every time you looked again.
I bet she doesn’t need to pour beer down a guy’s neck, Heather thought, after quick glance at Victoria’s left hand.
At one stage Victoria became involved in an exchange with Chris. Heather hardly understood the subject but could tell that, despite the earlier put-down, Chris was combining with Victoria to solve a particularly knotty problem. She also supposed, from everyone else’s silence, that the two of them knew the subject inside out. Trouble was, they were at opposite ends of the table, so it was like watching a tennis match. After turning this way and that half a dozen times, taking a cue from the people opposite, she concentrated on one end of the rally. Naturally, she chose Victoria’s end. Equally naturally, she used Victoria’s total concentration on Chris as opportunity to study her in more depth.
No earrings, Heather noted, just gold sleepers. Thin gold neck chain, hardly showing. Minimal slap and lippy. This girl needed little help and she knew it. It was almost reassuring to see nail varnish on the hands she occasionally waved in illustrating a point: dark brown on what looked to be absolutely perfect nails.
Victoria was wearing a blouse that was, if possible, even whiter than her teeth. She’d left the top button unfastened, more or less holding the collar together with a black neckerchief instead. Her shoulders seemed quite narrow, and the rest of her upper body looked slender, if not downright skinny. Yet the front of her blouse was very well-filled. Heather suspected that, with a lot of disguising of her looks in the first place, Victoria would be a smash hit in one of those old films: the sort where Plain Jane suddenly shakes free her hair, whips out amazingly large bazoomas and metamorphoses into the world’s sexiest sex goddess.
Make that a super smash hit. Better than any of Jacqui’s showings. I’d pay my quid to see her in action, that’s for sure.
‘Right?’ she heard Chris say.
‘Fine by me,’ Victoria agreed. ‘Anyone want to add or change anything?’
Heads shook around the table.
‘Okay, that’s how we’ll work it for November. We’ll discuss and adjust when we meet this time next month. Are you happy with that, Chris?’
‘I suppose so,’ he replied.
‘Sorry, I forgot.’ Victoria gave him a blinding smile. ‘You don’t do happy, do you? Never mind; this next one’s yours as well. And seeing as I’m not hands-on, I promise I won’t say anything for at least five minutes.’
‘That’ll break your existing record,’ Chris countered quickly. ‘By four and a half minutes.’
Everyone laughed at that. Even the new girl felt entitled to join in.
The water jug in front of Victoria was empty. Smiling, letting her colleague have his small victory, she went to get a refill from a cooler in the corner of the room. Heather had intended to give Chris her undivided attention but that didn’t happen. Still laughing dutifully, she left her attention on Victoria just a fraction too long, and it stuck there.
Shocked? No, she was stunned, almost paralyzed, victim of what could only be described as a sexual jolt.
Seen from behind, Victoria’s body still looked slender but was definitely not skinny. It also looked to be long, tapering only slightly from those narrow shoulders to a quite slinky waist. Surprisingly curvy hips connected to legs that went on forever. She was wearing what seemed to be the bottom half of a man’s black suit, but that couldn’t be the case, because the fit over her perfect backside was . . .
Well, it was perfect. And those legs . . .
Those legs had to be capable of wrapping around a lover’s neck three times at least. At five nine-almost- ten herself, Heather hadn’t previously had much of a thing about really, really tall girls, but this one hit the spot. Not even the realization Victoria gained from the heels of her shiny black shoes (they were more like stylish sandals, exposing her perfect toes and perfect, dark brown-varnished toenails) spoiled the image. Knock off the height of her heels and she might be shade under six feet instead of an inch or two over.
Phew, somebody open a window. I’m all hot and bothered!
Heather desperately tried to stop gaping but simply couldn’t.
And that was when Victoria turned back from the water cooler and dropped her a wink.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Are you sure about this?’
Jamie Rodgers grinned. ‘Chill Nando, of course I’m sure.’
‘He’s a big bastard,’ Nando persisted. ‘Never mind a tash, he’s got sideburns.’
Jamie laughed. The big bastard (also known as Haggie) was two years older than him and yes, he did have sideburns. He hadn’t been cock of every walk since he was eight though. And he couldn’t possibly have been coached by anyone half as deadly as Uncle Rick.
‘Chill,’ he said again, ‘this will be no problemo.’ Then, as an afterthought, ‘How much have you got on me?’
‘Three quid.’
‘Did you get my five on as well?’
‘You mean the five you don’t have?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Yeah, we’ve eight on altogether.’ Nando grimaced. ‘And I’ve only three in my pocket. If you blow this . . .’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’
Today’s arena was on the fringes of the rugby pitch, behind Bingley Grammar School. There were plenty of trees about, screening them from the main buildings. Jamie was confident they wouldn’t be interrupted because he’d scrapped here before . . . a lot. In fact he’d scrapped here at least once a week ever since leaving primary school, winning nearly every time, drawing just twice. He was as proud of his unbeaten record as he was of all the successful bets.
He unfastened his tie and passed it to Nando then warily began taking off his blazer. Keeping a weather eye open while he did so, knowing only too well the sneaky sod might launch an early attack.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘ready to rumble!’
There weren’t any rules in this but Haggie started like he wanted to box. That was fine by Jamie. Despite the age difference he wasn’t much smaller and was definitely faster and stronger. Dropping his shoulder he threw a deliberately lame right then, as Haggie tried to pounce, slammed in a hard left.
Suddenly Haggie’s thin tash was dripping blood and Nando looked more at ease. The majority of the crowd (Haggie’s henchmen and supporters) bayed encouragement.
‘GET HIM, HAGGIE!’
‘DON’T STAND FOR THAT!’
‘FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!’
Jamie grinned again. He was indestructible and he knew it. Just as he knew the older boy had already had enough.
‘Come on Haggie,’ he said, deceptively softly, ‘fight, fight, fight.’
Haggie closed in, trying to grapple. Jamie grappled back, quickly overpowering him, landing another sharp blow to the nose before shoving him away. Haggie went clumsily, tripping over his own feet and ending up on the grass.
‘GET UP!’
‘FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!’
And, from Nando, ‘Anyone fancy another tenner?’
Haggie obvio
usly didn’t. Without actually saying No mas, he very conspicuously made no effort to continue.
Feeling a bit short-changed, Jamie recovered his tie.
‘That was a piece of cake. I want to fight a fifth former next.’
‘No way,’ said Nando. ‘We need to keep building up the purse.’
‘What? Fighting tossers like Haggie?’
‘Just don’t make it look so easy next time. Take a punch or two.’
‘Huh! You and Don King.’
‘You and my arse, don’t you mean?’
They both laughed at that.
* * *
Heather stopped to update her team leader on the way back from the meeting. As she was on six months’ probation regular updates were expected. This time it was also chance to be nosy.
‘I jotted down the names and job-titles,’ she said after giving her summary, ‘but nobody explained what they actually do.’
‘Lots of that about,’ Joanna replied with a smile. ‘You’ll get a copy of the minutes tomorrow. They’ll clear it all up. At least they will if we go through them together. I’m afraid I know far too much about everybody. It’s an age thing.’
‘You’re not that old.’
‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’ The much older woman chucked. ‘Is there anything you’d like to ask before we see the minutes?’
‘There were a couple there who puzzled me.’ Heather glanced at her notes, pretending she needed a reminder. ‘Chris Woodhead.’
‘The Tiger . . . please don’t tell me you fancy him.’
Heather didn’t even blink. After her gap year she was (theoretically) off men, but didn’t feel any need to advertise. ‘Slightly,’ she said,’ but only until I saw his wedding ring. I don’t do married; it’s too complicated.’
‘Too true,’ Joanna sighed, looking at her own, ring-less left hand.
‘Why did you call him Tiger?’
‘Because of his second-favourite hobby.’
‘Go on.’
‘When he’s not chasing young fillies he’s usually on some golf course. He says he plays off four, whatever that means. He’s supposed to be quite good.’
‘If he plays off four he’ll be very good,’ said Heather. ‘I got to six, but it used up all my free time, so I dropped it for karate. What does he do otherwise? Everyone seemed to listen to him, as if he knows what he’s talking about.
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