by Geraldine O'Hara, Natalie Dae, Nichelle Gregory, Crissy Smith, Lisabet Sarai
“Fucking hell, Pussy!” he said.
“Come in,” I said, stepping back to let them in.
I pressed my back to the wall as they squeezed past, Leon up front and Gary holding onto his arm to usher him through.
“The bedroom,” I said, deciding I’d take the lead from now on—and also take what I wanted before some other woman claimed him. “Sit him on the chair by the window. Get his coat off too. And his shoes.”
I pushed the front door to and waited for Gary to return. I’d be getting rid of him. No way could I perform knowing he was in the corner or in the living room, possibly listening to every grunt and groan. The seconds it took for Gary to do as I’d asked seemed to stretch on forever. I was just about to go in search of him when he appeared at the end of the hallway. He strode toward me.
“I never would have thought,” he said quietly, coming to a stop in front of me, “that our little Mad Mandy would look like this without her normal clothes on.”
“Keep your sinning little eyes to yourself,” I whispered.
“Seems a waste for Leon in there.” He jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom. “He isn’t going to see any of this.” Gary gestured to my outfit.
“No, and you wouldn’t have either if I’d had my way. Why don’t you nip next door while me and Leon get down to business?”
Gary looked startled. “What, to Jen’s?”
I sighed. “Yes, who else bloody well lives next door? If you can’t see what’s right in front of your face when it comes to her…”
He laughed. “Says you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m off to see Jen.”
“You might want to knock hard. She was out for the count when I left her.”
“Don’t you worry about what I’m doing.” He smiled. “You just see to him in there.”
Chapter Three
“Are you in here?” Leon said around the rose between his teeth.
I didn’t respond, just stared at him from my position leaning on the doorjamb.
“Pussy? You there?”
“I am,” I said. “And be quiet. I want to inspect the goods.”
“Goods?”
“Quiet!” I said, louder.
He was quite the most perfect man I’d ever seen—perfect for me, anyway. A specimen whose rugged looks far exceeded those of the men who usually set their caps at me. They were clean-shaven, the type who used moisturiser and preened in front of the mirror for half an hour before they left the house to go out on the pull. If they had a blemish, they’d run screaming to their sisters, asking to borrow some spot cream. Why I attracted them I didn’t know. I preferred men like Leon, and Leon wore the just-got-out-of-bed look so well the trend could have been based on him.
I stepped forward and walked to him, making sure my shoes clicked on the wooden floor, a steady beat designed to get him going. I wondered what it was like to have your sight removed, where you just had to rely on sounds to tell you what was going on. I imagined it heightened the experience, gave it an edge. He straightened his back and cocked his head a bit, breathing out steadily, although it did have a little quiver to it. Was he nervous or just aroused?
“What are you expecting from tonight?” I asked, the remnants of alcohol giving me the courage I needed to pull this off. I fingered the tops of my stockings.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Gary just told me… He said I wouldn’t regret it.”
“What will your girlfriend think if she finds out?” I had to know one way or the other. I stroked his face with the backs of my fingers—his stubble rasped—and a thorn from the rose stem scratched my wrist.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.” He smiled—just about.
“I see. Do you have your eye on someone?” Do you? Have you set your sights on some blonde with big tits and a pert little arse?
“There is someone, yes.” He sighed, his cheeks puffing out. The rose fell to his lap. “But it’s…awkward.”
“What is?”
“Her and me. She doesn’t know how I feel. I keep meaning to tell her but…nah, she wouldn’t be interested.”
She’d be crazy if she wasn’t. Silly cow, whoever she is. “So what we do tonight, that wouldn’t be…awkward?”
“I don’t know what we’re doing, do I?” His forehead creased.
I hoped he wasn’t getting annoyed with me. Wished it was just frustration making him frown like that. “Oh, come on. You can guess, can’t you? Your friend has set you up—in the pub and now here. He obviously thinks you need a bit of excitement in your life. A woman.”
“I do but…” He paused. Tilted his head the other way. “I know you, don’t I? You smell like someone I know.”
I did a good job of not gasping. “You don’t know Pussy Pwoar, no. That’s my name for tonight.”
He smiled, as though a penny had dropped. I didn’t know what to do, felt the need to keep busy, so swiped the rose up and drew it down the side of his face. Across his slightly open mouth. Over his chin then down to his Adam’s apple.
“Do you like the feel of that?” I asked, needing to change the subject.
He nodded.
“Soft as a woman’s cunt, isn’t it?” I gawped at what I’d said. This Pussy really knew how to get saucy.
“Shit…”
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“No, carry on. I just didn’t expect you to say something like that.”
I trailed the rose down some more until it reached his groin. “I could say a lot of things that would shock you. Like I want to suck your cock. That I’d like you to finger my cunt and make me come.” I twirled the rose petals against his jeans, the action more to titillate rather than him actually feeling anything. “And that. What does me doing that make you feel?”
“Like I want to do all the things you mentioned.”
I tossed the flower onto the bed then knelt in front of him. Pushing his legs apart, I settled between them. “We can do that.”
He created fists on his thighs, and I covered them with my hands, taking hold then raising them so they were on my head. He unflexed his fingers and sank them into my hair, roving them over my scalp. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the experience of being so close to him. My breaths were shortening, and my heart beat so hard the sound of it echoed in my head for several hard thuds before it lowered in volume. Noises from outside drifted up—people leaving the Chinese, cars swooshing by, taxis most probably, the odd shout from a drunkard—and they seemed a million miles away. It was so quiet in here apart from us breathing and the now-dull thump of my heart that it was like we were the only people on the planet.
As he continued to fondle my hair, I stared at the white T-shirt that had been lifted in the pub. It seemed days ago, months, even, that I’d bitten his nipple and felt his skin on mine. I wanted that again, to give me a fresh reminder, so I raised it up a little, exposing his belly and the dark hairs covering it. I reached out and touched, loving the tickle of his hairs on my hands, between my fingers, then pushed upwards until his nipples grazed my palms. This was where I was meant to be, with him, alone like this.
I lightly pinched his nipples between fingers and thumbs, watching his face with every gentle tug and twist. I could only imagine he had his eyes closed. His mouth was a tight line, as though he were fighting with inner thoughts or his conscience. He groaned, just a small one, but it was enough for me to know he liked tit play.
“So you like that,” I said, “and I know you like this.” I leaned forward and took one nipple into my mouth, treated him to the same as he’d had in The Rusty Nail.
He smelled of Beck’s and aftershave—a scent I found wholly sexy—and I moaned myself. My doing that had him scrunching my hair tight, pulling it so my head bent to one side. The act set my clit to throbbing, my cunt getting wet. I eased back, taking his nipple with me, and he groaned again, louder, and for longer this time. As I suckled and nipped, I undid
the button on his jeans then drew down his zip. I wanted to see his cock, not just feel it, so I released his nipple then looked down.
He didn’t wear boxer shorts. His cock jutted out from between the opening of his jeans, the zip like tiny gold teeth either side of it. I was suddenly jealous of those teeth so I swooped my head down and licked up the length of him, my tongue wide and flat. God, he tasted good, and as my tongue reached the tip his dick jerked. I swirled around the top while he pressed his fingertips to my head, and I brought one hand up to hold him at his base. Opening my mouth, I plunged down on him, going as far as I could until the end hit the back of my throat. I pulled up, suction hard, and smiled around him as he moaned again.
“You’re good at that,” he said breathlessly, putting more pressure on my head.
I allowed him to direct how it went—the depth, the speed—and it seemed he wanted it done slowly. I clenched my cunt muscles—this was getting to me—and tiny flickers pulsed in my clit. He pressed his inner thighs against me, pinning me there, and with my free hand I reached up to tweak his nipple once more. He let go of my hair, going by feel alone, sliding two fingertips down my cheek then lower to skim the top of my chest. His touch burned. He stilled at the corset, feeling it as much as he was able due to my hunched-over position.
“Leather,” he said. “Christ, you’re wearing leather.”
I bobbed on his cock, sucking him harder.
He swept his fingers across the swells of my breasts spilling over the top of the corset, then encountered the zip. He tugged on it, opened it a little, and slid his hand inside.
Oh, fuck. Him feeling me there sent a spear of lust to my cunt, and I jolted, his cock going deeper. He found my nipple and rubbed over it, coaxing it into a harder peak. I pinched his, hoping he’d get the message. He did and pinched mine, a gentle, massaging sensation. I leaned into his hand, silently asking for harder handling. He pinched again, several times, short, sharp tweaks that had my arousal sparking. I moaned around his cock, drawing upwards, then took him out of my mouth.
I leaned back so he could have more space and wanked him to the rhythm of my squeezes to his nipple. He matched my speed and strength, and I couldn’t hold back the urge any longer. I moved forward and kissed him, a soft meeting of lips that made my tummy roll with my excitement. He parted his lips, and I pushed my tongue inside, twining it with his and tasting another part of him.
“You need to stop that,” he said against my mouth. “Stop that on my dick.”
I was pleased at having got him so riled up, so ready for it. “And you need to stop pulling my hair. It sets me off.”
He pulled harder. “What, like that?”
“Yes, just like that.”
“I know who you are,” he said. “You should stop playing games now.”
I hesitated for a second, working out what to say. “I’m not playing any games. I’m getting ready to fuck you.” I licked his lips, slowly, deliberately stalling for time.
“I recognize your perfume. And I smelled the Chinese when Gary brought me here.”
“I haven’t had a Chinese,” I said.
“So you are playing games.”
“No.”
“Then you’re just not answering me truthfully.”
I licked his lips again, streaked my tongue to his earlobe and sucked it inside my mouth so it stopped me from saying anything that would give me away. He was guessing, that was all, hoping I’d slip up and let the cat out of the bag.
“I want to see you,” he said. “Let me take the blindfold off.”
My stomach lurched. If he did, the pretense would be over. There would be no more hiding behind Pussy Pwoar.
“All right,” I said. “But wait a moment.”
I let go of his cock and nipple then rose, going to walk over by the door. I caught sight of the rose so went and picked it up, then returned to the door and stood with my back to him. I let my hair down. Put my hands at the small of my back and held the rose so it settled over the crack of my arse, the flower pointing downwards. Bent over slightly to hide my face with my hair. He’d never know it was me in this position, and he’d never been in my flat, so I was safe there too.
My legs shook, as did my hands. “Take the blindfold off.”
Please let him look then put it back on. I can’t go through with this if he sees my face.
“Very nice,” he said. “Turn around.”
“No. I can’t do that.”
“Why not? I mean, I’ve got a lovely view of your arse from here, and going by the feel of your tit, the front view is going to be everything I’ve imagined it would be.”
“You barely know me. You haven’t had time to imagine.”
“It only takes a second for thoughts and images to form, Miss Pwoar.”
Why had he emphasized that name? I felt a bit worried. I mean, what if he didn’t put the blindfold back on?
“That’s enough,” I said. “Cover your eyes now.”
“All right. Give me a second.”
I waited, my thigh muscles straining, my back beginning to ache.
“Okay, it’s back on.”
“I don’t believe you.” And how could I check without revealing my face?
The full-length mirror. I glanced across—and stared straight into his eyes. Oh, God, he’d been watching me all this time, had known it was me, just like he’d said.
“Hello, Mandy love,” he whispered.
Chapter Four
Oh, bollocks. My secret was well and truly discovered. How could I have thought I’d be able to pull this off? What on earth had I been thinking? I could no more have kept this secret to myself than stop breathing. I’d have wanted more—did want more—and just being with him in the pub as mates wouldn’t have been something I could handle. And the others, they knew I was Pussy. Who was to say they’d keep their mouths shut? Something would slip out eventually.
I wondered if I’d ever get the chance of having him slip out of me after he’d fucked me silly. And the slipping in—God, I wanted that so badly.
What was I supposed to do now, though? Act like Pussy when I was feeling like Mandy? This wasn’t meant to have happened. I’d planned to fuck him and keep the secret to myself forever, smiling when we were together in the pub—especially if he went on about how Pussy had been such a good-time girl, the best he’d had. Like he’d have said that anyway. Who was I kidding?
Myself, as usual.
“Umm, hello,” I said.
“I had a feeling it was you in the pub,” he said. “Only, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, know what I mean? I smelled you then, but I didn’t think—”
“Didn’t think what?” I held my breath—and my tits, covering them with trembling hands because, well, I was so exposed owing to the front of the corset half hanging open. What on earth must he think of me? A tramp, most probably.
He blushed a bit. “Didn’t think you’d even want to touch me, even for a joke.”
“What?” How could he think that? He was bloody gorgeous. Any woman who had the chance to fondle him was a fool if she turned him down.
“You heard me…Pussy.”
I let out a rush of air. “But I’m not Pussy, am I? I’m just boring, plain old Mandy. Some silly cow who had high notions of you wanting to, you know, have it away with me.” I swallowed, trying to clear the tightness in my throat.
“But I do want to have it away with you. Have done for ages. It’s just that us being friends and whatnot…didn’t think you’d want to know.”
“Of course I do, but I didn’t expect… Look at me, for God’s sake! Dressed up like a dog’s dinner, in clothes meant for someone sexier than I’ll ever be.”
“You’re sexy to me. Mandy or Pussy, makes no odds what you call yourself. Come here.”
Crap it, my legs chose that moment to bend beneath me, all rubbery and numb.
“If it helps,” he said, “I’ll put the blindfold back on.”
Would it help? I didn’t thi
nk so—he’d still know I was Mandy and so would I. Much as I wanted it to, it wasn’t going to work.
“All right then,” I said, despite my misgivings.
He slid it back over his eyes.
Now what?
“Pretend to be Pussy again,” he said. “Go on, you can do it. Rewind a bit, tell yourself I never saw you. Act like you would have done if I hadn’t known it was you.”
“Even though you did anyway.”
“Pretend that wasn’t the case too. Just…do your thing.”
My thing? It’d been so long since I’d been in a room with a man that I’d forgotten what my thing was. If sprawling out on the bed in a drunken stupor with my tights around my ankles and my bra draped over my face counted as my thing, then that was it.
“My thing isn’t exactly an attractive sight,” I said. “So I think I’ll have a good go at being Pussy. She’s not like me, she’s…sophisticated.”
“Then be sophisticated. Mandy, I’ll take you whoever you decide to be.”
Bloody Nora, he’d sounded so sincere I could almost convince myself he’d meant it. If he’d wanted me for ages, why the hell hadn’t I picked up on it? Was he that good at hiding things? Like me? I hadn’t let him in on my secret either, that I’d thought about him every night before I drifted off to sleep and, if I was being totally honest, all the times in between. God, what a sad case.
I stared at him. He was waiting, so patient, his expression, from what I could see around the blindfold, one of calm expectancy. This was my chance, wasn’t it? My one big chance to show him what I was made of. I swallowed again—bloody butterflies in my throat—and closed my eyes for a moment. I sank into how I’d felt when I’d been Pussy, all sexy as sin and a woman who knew exactly what she was after. Leon was so drop-dead lush that I had to become a super-wanton bird if I were to convince him to want to fly with me.
I remembered the things I’d said to him as I’d knelt between his legs. My cheeks heated—God, how they heated—yet just a few minutes had passed between then and now, so how hard could it be to go back to that?
