by Monica Belle
‘Yeah, so six, and the office door doesn’t even shut properly. I’m sure they knew. I think they might even have peeped in.’
She sighed.
‘While you were doing it?’
‘Yes! I think he wanted them to know, ’cause he didn’t even bother to try and wedge the door shut, and wasn’t exactly quiet about it. Like I said, he sat down in his chair, with his cock bulging up in his overalls, in his dirty, greasy overalls, and he says, “Now there’s your letter, young Lucy, what you need and a little more, and cheap at the price too, but if you’ve a mind to get it sent off you’ll pay your fee, and in advance”.’
Bobbie made a little whimpering noise in her throat. I was trying not to giggle, and warmed to my task.
‘I called him a bastard and told him to go fuck himself. He just smiled, and pulled down the long zip at the front of his overalls, all the way down. All he had underneath was a vest and pair of briefs, little ones which could barely hold in his cock and balls. He was getting hard too. I wasn’t going to do it, I really wasn’t. I said I’d tell my brothers, but he just laughed. I tried to make him feel ashamed of himself, reminding him how long he’d known me, but he just gives a yawn, like he’s getting bored waiting. Then he flops it out over the edge of his briefs so it’s all sticking up in the air. I could smell him, even through the oil and grease and exhaust fumes, and he says, “Shut up and get your mouth around me, you little bitch, or I’ll have you do all seven of us.”.’
‘Oh my God!’
‘He meant it, too, and so I did it, kneeling on the dirty concrete floor between his knees to take him in my mouth. I could hear the men in the workshop behind me, and I’m sure they knew. I’m sure they saw. Maybe he’d even told them, ’cause he pulled my top and bra up to get my tits out and he told me to stick out my bum. I felt so ashamed, but, I don’t know, I just couldn’t help myself, because it was really turning me on.’
Bobbie gave an understanding nod. Her lower lip was trembling and her neck had begun to flush. I wasn’t exactly immune myself, remembering the taste and feel of Niall’s cock in my mouth, as I went on.
‘He took ages to get hard, and he made me do dirty things before.’
‘What dirty things? Tell me!’
‘Like . . . like, he has this really thick, meaty foreskin, and he likes it rolled back with my lips so I can suck just the head of his cock, and . . . and he made me lick under his balls –’
‘His balls? He made you lick his balls?’
‘No! Yes he did . . . he told me to, and I wouldn’t, so he took my hair and rubbed my face against them, until . . . until I just had to, and when I did he laughed, and called me a bitch again, and told me my tongue belonged up his arsehole. I thought he was going to make me actually do that, the dirty bastard. Make me put my tongue in, right in, and . . .’
‘One touch and I’ll come, I mean it,’ said Bobbie. ‘Go on.’
‘He made me take his balls in my mouth again, and suck them while he wanked off. He did it in my face, and in my hair, and he just left me like that, kneeling on the floor of his dirty office with his spunk all over my face and my tits bare. I’m sure the men were watching, I’m sure they were.’
Bobbie gave a single, muted sob. I really thought she had come, touch or no touch, but then she was laughing and smiling, shaking her head. Probably she realised I’d been exaggerating, but she didn’t say anything and her eyes were full of happy mischief as we pushed into a sandwich bar.
I stayed at the same place for the rest of the week, on reception, then feeding in data on car and household accidents. We were collecting and processing it for our parent company, Emblem Insurance, but as Bobbie said, when you’re a temp, it doesn’t matter what the company does, who’s who or what’s what. All that matters is that you get to the end of the week, because the next week you’re likely to be somewhere completely different and all the stuff that was so important just doesn’t matter any more.
By Friday I’d got to know the rest of the Super Staff crew on the same job: four girls and one man, or rather, boy. Bobbie was senior, not just in that she’d been made assistant to Mrs Tench, but in experience. Even Talia deferred to her, despite having temped in New York and Boston before coming to England as a PA. I learned her story after work on the Wednesday, over a bottle of cold vino in the big wine bar, Lascar’s, that served the cluster of office blocks we were in.
She’d caught the eye of a senior man in one of the big oil companies, and after a lot of spiel from him about how his thirty-year marriage was on the rocks, and a lot of expensive presents, she’d started an affair with him. He’d been very much to her taste; in his fifties, affluent and powerful, and she had seen herself getting well cosy with him, even married. Unfortunately his promises had not only been bullshit, but things had come to a head in London, with what sounded like a serious fight in one of the Park Lane hotels. She’d ended up out on the street, and had gone into an Edgware Road pub with the intention of getting blind drunk before trying to make her way back to the States the next day. She’d met Bobbie, and was still here over a year later.
Kanthi was Indian, shy, strikingly pretty, with lustrous black hair that went all the way down to her knees when she didn’t have it piled on top of her head. She never said very much, but seemed to worship Bobbie, while she had a reputation for understanding everything and doing it twice as fast as anyone else. I’d quickly tagged onto her, because half the time I didn’t have the foggiest idea what I was doing, and she could always be relied on to help without making an issue of it.
Her opposite was Sophie – petite, with blonde hair cut in a bob, she was full of life and full of mischief. She knew what she was doing, just about, and thought it hilarious that I didn’t. Work was something she avoided. as far as she possibly could, and she seemed incapable of taking anything seriously. She got away with it because there was something about her that left men with their tongues hanging out of their heads, although she’d fallen in with the wrong boss in Mrs Tench.
The boy was Keith, good-looking in a baby-faced way, with floppy blond hair and pleading eyes. What he was pleading for I could guess, because his eyes followed us about the office constantly, Sophie especially. He was in awe of Bobbie, blushing if she even spoke to him, and barely able to get his words out properly. That was just fine by me, because if Kanthi wasn’t around to help me out, he was.
By the Friday I’d got it sorted, at least the basics. I could quantify an accident report and feed it into a spreadsheet so that what came out at the other end didn’t cause Mrs Tench to have a hissy fit, and that was good enough for me. By five o’clock I knew I’d made it, a whole week without getting found out, thrown out or even bawled out. I had Bobbie to thank, mainly, but the others too. I also had the prospect of over three hundred pounds in my hand even after the taxman had taken his slice, which was more spending money than I’d had at any time in my entire life. We were aiming to go out for a drink anyway, but I was determined to say thank you, and at least get the first bottle in. Bobbie was last to leave, and I waited for her in the foyer, taking her arm as soon as Mrs Tench had gone on her way.
‘How about a bottle of champagne? My treat.’
‘You haven’t been paid yet!’
‘I’ve got a little, just enough. I insist.’
‘You’re on, then. Are the others in Lascar’s?’
They were, including Keith, which was a pain as I’d been hoping it would be just the girls, and maybe we could meet some worthwhile guys later on. I didn’t say anything, because he was one of the gang, sort of, and he had been a lot of help to me. Instead I ordered up six glasses and a bottle of the house champagne. It barely touched the sides as it went down, fresh and cool and enervating; instant resuscitation after a day of feeding endless strings of figures into a computer.
We were talking shop, inevitably; whether we were likely to be back next week, what a pain in the bum Mrs Tench was to work for, if any of the men who worked in the other offi
ces were up to scratch. Talking about men made Keith blush, and it was impossible to resist teasing him – not to his face, but comparing notes with the others on the guys in the bar. I really thought he’d go, but he hung on, through a bottle of white wine bought by Bobbie and he took his share of another, champagne again, sent to us by a group of six suits in the far corner.
They wanted our attention, obviously, but they weren’t going to get mine, being too old, too slick. The guy with the silver hair I’d seen around our building was with them. One had a bit of style, very dark with a strong face. The other four were right out of the question. I could see they had Talia’s interest, and maybe Kanthi. Not me, and not Bobbie, though. Sophie wasn’t bothered either; she was more interested in tormenting Keith.
‘So which one do you fancy, Keith? How about the big fat guy with the bald spot?’
His mouth came open like a cod fish.
‘Me? None of them! I’m not gay!’
‘You accepted their wine.’
‘Yeah, but it was sent to this table.’
‘Yes, as a present, which is obviously a come on. If you’re not interested, you shouldn’t have accepted, should you?’
‘No, but . . . yeah, but . . .’
‘There are six of them, after all, and six of us, and statistically one of them must be gay, so you’ll just have to do your best to accommodate him, won’t you? It’s only fair.’
‘No way!’ he spat, his youthful gaucheness obvious and really funny. He was so easily wound up.
‘Don’t be so ungrateful, Keith, he bought you a present, so put out.’
I couldn’t help but join in.
‘I bet he’d love it, right up the bum!’
Bobbie shook her head, smiling. Kanthi burst into embarrassed giggles. Talia had made eye contact with the silver-haired man and wasn’t even listening. Sophie went on, her tone cool and confident, as if she was stating some well-known fact, and totally at odds with her words.
‘It’s well known. If you accept a drink from a guy you have to go to bed with him.’
‘No way! I bet you don’t!’
I decided to chip in.
‘Of course she does. We all do, don’t we girls?’
Bobbie answered me in her best cut-glass voice.
‘It’s only good manners.’
Keith glanced between us, surely aware we were teasing but looking in urgent need of reassurance. I shrugged.
‘It’s very simple. If you’re not interested, you refuse the drink. If you are interested you accept, and once you’ve accepted, well, you have to go through with it, don’t you?’
Sophie nodded earnestly.
‘It’s true. The only question now is, who goes with whom. I think Talia’s clicked, and I’m having Mr Moody in the corner. You’re little, Kanthi, you take Shortarse, and Bobbie can have Lanky.’
Bobbie laughed.
‘That leaves Miss Perks with the guy with the gin blossom nose!’
She was joking, but I had to protest.
‘No way! He can have Keith. I’ll fight you for Mr Moody, Sophie!’
Both she and Keith were going to reply, but the guy with the silver hair had got up and was walking towards us, his expression affable yet thoroughly in control. I could see that Talia was transfixed, and both Sophie and Kanthi were posing on the instant, flicking their sleek hair about and throwing dazzling smiles. I filled my glass from the bottle he’d sent. I was amused, but no more. He’d figured out how things stood, because he came straight to Talia, addressing her and Bobbie too.
‘Perhaps you ladies would care to join us at our table?’ he asked, seeming not to care that our status as ‘ladies’ could be shot to pieces in moments if he plied us with more drink.
Bobbie answered him.
‘We’re with our friends.’
Talia nodded, just a little hesitant. He gave us a little smarmy smile.
‘All five of you, naturally.’
It was obvious who wasn’t included: Keith, cut out as if he didn’t exist. He was a wimpy kind of bloke, but he was still with us. I felt my temper start to rise, and my mouth came open before I’d engaged my brain.
‘There are six of us, now piss off, you old perve.’
He rounded on me, silent for an instant, as if he couldn’t believe his ears, before speaking.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Are you deaf as well as blind? There are six of us at this table, not five, and anyway, aren’t you getting on a bit to be perving over young girls?’
His mouth came open, then it shut again. Talia was staring daggers at me, and Kanthi too. Bobbie was trying to hide her giggles behind her glass. Sophie wasn’t, she laughed so hard she spilt her wine, and could barely get her words out.
‘You tell him, Lucy! Go girl!’
He turned away to walk rapidly back to his own table. Talia threw me a single dirty look and followed, tripping on her heels in her eagerness to catch up with him. Suddenly I felt deeply embarrassed, and wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Me and my big mouth was about to make me enemies. Again. Would I never learn?
‘Let’s go,’ I said, sheepishly.
Bobbie nodded and got up, the others following as we trooped out of the wine bar. It was still light, but cool, and as the air hit me I felt a little unsteady, both from the drink and the sudden burst of adrenaline. Kanthi came up beside me as we started across the plaza.
‘Actually, you were right to tell him. What a rude man!’
I shrugged and smiled. I wasn’t even sure why I’d done it, except maybe that the way he’d approached us had made me feel small. Certainly it wasn’t for Keith’s sake, because half-an-hour before I’d been thinking he was a dead weight to have around. It had looked that way, obviously, because he came hurrying up to my other side.
‘Thank you, Lucy. That was . . . that was really nice of you.’
He looked at if he was about to cry. I put my arm around his shoulders.
‘Don’t worry about it, man. The guy was an arsehole, that’s all. Where are we going now?’
I gave him a squeeze and let go. He was embarrassing me, but I didn’t want to be nasty. I didn’t want him coming on to me either, because I knew I’d have to turn him down. To my relief Bobbie came and rescued me, slapping my bottom as she came up between us.
‘Bad girl! You’re going to get us in trouble, you are. How about a pub, or several?’
We went, along the shore and down under the river, laughing and joking and growing gradually more drunk and more relaxed. I’d soon forgotten all about the incident in Lascar’s, teasing Keith and other men too. He made himself a target, and I couldn’t help myself. Nor could Sophie, and we were encouraging each other, getting worse and worse, while he actually seemed to be enjoying it, or at least the female attention.
By the time it was dark I didn’t even know where we were, except that it was somewhere along the river bank, near the Thames Barrier. We’d been drinking wine steadily, and I was starting to need to pee, only we seemed to have wandered into some sort of antiquated industrial zone, with tall warehouses of blackened brick rising high to either side of narrow alleys lit yellow by the infrequent streetlights. Trying to hold on until we found another pub was just too much of a pain, and I nipped into an even narrower alley, barely more than a crack between two buildings.
Skirt up, knickers down, and I just let go, with a glorious sense of relief. Only when I’d finished did I realise that Keith had positioned himself so that he could see into the mouth of my alley without it being too obvious. He couldn’t have seen much, but he’d watched, and I wasn’t going to let that pass.
‘You weren’t looking, were you, Keith?’
‘No, I . . .’
‘Oh yes you were, you dirty little boy! He was looking, wasn’t he, girls?’
They’d carried on walking, and couldn’t possibly know, but Sophie answered immediately.
‘Yes you were, you dirty, dirty boy!’
He’d
gone crimson, and was stammering desperately, but no words came out. Bobbie came close, her hands on her hips, her expression mock stern as she spoke.
‘So, Keith, do you like to watch girls doing private things?’ I asked.
All he could do was stand there, his jaw moving up and down mechanically, his face the colour of a beetroot, which was just asking for trouble. He got it, from all three of us, with even Kanthi managing a tut of disapproval
‘I bet he does. I bet he’s a Peeping Tom.’
‘He is a Peeping Tom! He just watched me pee, didn’t he?’
‘Dirty boy!’
‘Dirty, filthy boy! Do you get off on watching girls go to the toilet then, do you?’
‘Oh, he does, you can see it in his eyes!’
‘Would you like to watch me too, Keith, would you?’
‘Sophie!’
‘Oh, but he would, I bet he would!’
I couldn’t tell if she meant it or not, and nor could he. The sudden expression of hope in his eyes was a completely betrayal, and she just dissolved in laughter. So did I, and Bobbie, with Kanthi standing back looking shocked and excited. It was Bobbie who finally managed to find her voice.
‘Don’t tease the poor boy, Sophie, you’ll make him cream his pants.’
Sophie turned to her, then to Keith.
‘Who says I’m teasing? I’ll pee for you, Keith, but only if . . . if . . . what can I make him do? Come on, girls, help me out!’
I was going to make him strip, but Bobbie answered first.
‘Spank his arse for him! That’s what dirty little boys deserve!’
Sophie was crowing with glee instantly, and he finally managed to find his voice.
‘No, that’s not fair.’
He didn’t mean it. I could hear the pleasure in his voice, and from that moment he’d had it. He was still babbling denials as Sophie marched quickly into the mouth of the alleyway I’d used, speaking as she squatted down.
‘What d’you like best, Keith, front or back view? Back, I bet you like back. Dirty little boys like you are into girls’ bums.’
He didn’t answer, gaping as she turned her back on us and tweaked up her skirt, showing off her bare pink bottom. She had a Celtic tattoo just above her crease, and a bright-green thong, which came straight down. Keith gave a weak gasp as her pussy came bare, and watched, staring open-mouthed as she let go, her pee splashing on the pavement to trickle down into the gutter.
