by Limey Lady
Everything about her was perfect but still Sean felt an irrational flash of anger. Still his attention was drawn to her throat rather than her throbbing invitations to fuck.
The structure of her neck was even better than perfect. If you wanted to take a picture of the woman with an ideal neck you’d take one of her. He hadn’t a clue what they called all the tendons and what have you, but they stood out like textbook exhibits . . . clearly defined yet not at all overdeveloped; strong and soft at the same time.
Just waiting to be . . .
With a mighty effort he dragged his eyes down, over her tits, towards her seriously self-abused and dripping hole.
‘Come here,’ she said again.
He approached the bed and she had his cock out quicker than the fanciest pro . . . sniffing at it . . . licking it . . . greedily tasting it and giggling like the born whore she was.
‘I thought it might have been in Margie,’ she said.
‘Of course it hasn’t.’
‘Maybe not today, but it has.’ She let out another giggle. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t mind. I’d want to put my willy in her if I had one.’
Sean laughed. He really couldn’t think of anything to say.
‘Seeing as it’s still fully loaded, you can put it in me.’
She was pulling at him as she spoke.
‘Short, sharp and very sweet,’ she added. ‘After that we can do anything you want. Is that a deal?’
He kicked away his pants and fumbled at his shirt buttons.
‘Deal,’ he said.
Then he dived on her.
Infuriating or not, who wouldn’t?
Chapter Thirty-Seven
(Wednesday 7th January 2009)
‘I thought you were afraid of her.’
Matthew looked up with a guilty start. He was sitting at the most remote table in the sixth form library, poring over a pile of text books. If he wanted to avoid anyone, he couldn’t have picked a better place.
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘hi Nat. How was the cruise?’
‘If I ever see another obese American, it’ll be the final straw. Same goes for obese Brits.’
‘It was as good as that, eh?’
‘There or thereabouts.’ Natalie threw herself into a chair opposite him and picked up the nearest book. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be allergic to studying?’
‘Yeah,’ Matthew suddenly looked (even more!) flustered. ‘I got a bit behind over the break. I’m trying to catch up.’
‘Advanced Biology: Principles and Applications.’ She snorted. ‘Need I guess who’s been helping you with that over Christmas?’
‘Nobody has . . . that’s why I’m catching up.’
‘Pull the other one.’
They eyed each other a moment or two, Natalie struggling to contain a smile. ‘As I said,’ she at last resumed, ‘I thought you were scared of her?’
‘I was.’ He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘I still am, a bit. But she’s not as bad as she seems.’
‘Not eaten you then?’ Natalie quickly raised her hand. ‘No . . . don’t answer that.’
‘I honestly wouldn’t know where to begin. To answer you, I mean.’
‘You’re not denying the rumour then?’
‘Which rumour is that?’
‘One of the many Christmas party rumours.’ Natalie sighed. ‘The ones everybody’s been saving for my return.’
‘
Don’t be paranoid. Time, tide and rumours wait for no man. They don’t around here, anyway. You just happened to miss them by breaking up early.’
‘Okay, so I missed the initial feeding frenzy.’
‘Er . . . should I take it you’ve been getting up to speed?’
‘Do you mean with the rumours rather than time and tide? Yes, although I’m not bothered with all of them, just two. Three if I count the one about you and Jayne.’
‘What’s the one about me and Jayne?’
‘Everyone’s saying that you copped off with her. Meaning the second I turned my back.’
‘She sort of advanced on me. It was hard to resist.’
‘Hard?’
‘Okay, impossible.’
Natalie shook her head as the smile finally broke through. ‘Didn’t you say you’d wait for me for as long as it took?’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t say I’d wait like . . .’
‘Are you going to say innocently and chastely?’
‘That’s it, although it was more like chased than chaste.’
‘I’m glad.’ She leant across the table and patted his hand. ‘Are you really an item?’
‘No, not exactly,’ Matthew blushed furiously. ‘She just wants to be friends. Going out and that, but not committing to anything.’
‘Is that what you want?’
‘I don’t know. I think it is. It’s been okay so far, anyway.’
‘I really am glad.’ Nat patted his hand again. ‘Just make sure you get your share of friendship with her. And help me out with the other two rumours.’
‘Mine isn’t a rumour,’ he said, ‘Jayne and I really happened.’
‘You and I didn’t though.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t say you haven’t heard.’ She laughed humourlessly. ‘We took Roger home then had an hour bonking in St Ives estate.’
‘We weren’t gone an hour altogether,’ Matthew protested, ‘and what about Christine? Where was she supposed to be?’
‘Don’t worry. She wasn’t watching. We dropped her off after Roger. Before going back to bonk.’
‘Who’s saying this?’
‘Everyone; it seems to be common knowledge.’
‘But we weren’t gone an hour.’ Matthew said again. Then, frowning: ‘Were we?’
‘I honestly don’t know. I know we didn’t have a spare hour. And I remember bickering with Jamie about whether it had been thirty minutes or forty-five. He’d have said if it had been over an hour.’
‘It’s just bunk. It doesn’t add up.’
‘I know. And it riles me too. I almost wish we had done it.’
Matt’s eyes lit up. ‘Do you?’
Natalie laughed. ‘Of course I do. If I’m blamed for something, I always wish I’d done it.’
‘Oh. I see.’
‘Don’t be like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘”Oh!”’ she mimicked. ‘”I see!” Honestly Matthew, you do overdo it with the sad puppy expression.’
‘I don’t know how you can say anything about sad expressions.’
‘And I don’t know how you can go all sorrowful about missing out on bonking me. Not when you’ve probably been bonking Jayne through all ends of the advent calendar.’
‘No comment,’ he said smugly.
‘I’ll take that as an admission.’ Natalie chuckled. ‘I’ll also stop worrying about the rumours about us.’
Matthew beamed. ‘I never thought we’d be an “us”.’
‘We’re not yet. You’ll still be waiting a few years for that first bonk . . . unless the rumour about Jamie turns out to be true.’
Matthew took Advanced Biology: Principles and Applications and snapped it shut. ‘There are far too many rumours,’ he said. ‘I’m losing track.’
‘That’s the one that I’m really bothered about. Hopefully it’s the one you’ll be bothered about as well.’
‘Go on.’
‘While we were off bonking in St Ives estate, Jamie was bonking Jayne here, in the school grounds.’
Matthew’s eyes narrowed. ‘This is purely rumour, right?’
‘Yes. Hot off the rumour mill.’
‘I did hear something along those lines.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t think it works.’
‘Why doesn’t it?’
‘Same reason as our rumour doesn’t work. Not enough time.’
‘But we were driving . . . what? Fifteen minutes each way?’
‘Probably more like twenty.’
‘So add in ten minutes for Roger’s mum. Five fo
r dropping off Christine . . . we must have been gone nearly an hour altogether. That’s a big enough window of opportunity for Jamie and Jayne to do all sorts.’
‘Maybe it is. But who knows what they were really up to? The rumour I heard was they were both noticed to be missing at the same time. That’s hardly conclusive, is it? In fact it’s no more conclusive than people noticing you and me missing at the same time. And nothing happened between us, did it?’
‘No, but we didn’t have opportunity, did we?’
‘True. But we don’t even know if Jamie and Jayne were together.’
‘Trouble is,’ Natalie said. ‘They were.’
*****
Angel couldn't believe his eyes when he spotted the dealer. Half twelve in the afternoon, a million CCTV cameras watching . . . and there the cunt was, flogging it in the street.
He must be using his own shit, crystal meth or something exotic like that. He’s probably burnt away most of his brain already.
It was hard for someone of Angel's size and everyday appearance to be inconspicuous. Little old ladies crossed the street a mile before they got anywhere near. The dealer hadn't noticed him, however; he was leaning against a building, staring in the other direction past The Fleece, towards The Old White Horse.
The urge to close and kill was enormous. Angel didn't know why his blood was suddenly boiling. Come to that, he didn't even know the cunt's name. He vaguely thought the hatred had something to do with a lock-in at the Kings, late on in proceedings, when all real men were verging on catatonic. Hadn't Andy thrown the bastard out, making a lot of noise but using little violence, wanting to impress Sean's VIP guests? Yeah, that had been part of it. And shame about the violence. Andy was a hard so-and-so; with a different audience there would have been a good hammering to watch.
Fuck Andy, though, can I go for it here and now?
Angel cursed as he realized the answer was no. One of Bingley's less obvious CCTV cameras was directly across the street, currently focused on the bastard in question. He'd have to settle for a quiet word in passing.
‘Three tubes of Smarties and a quarter of dolly mixtures,' he said, 'please.'
The shifty little twat jumped and would have run off if Angel hadn't grabbed him and slammed his puny body against good, solid Yorkshire stonework.
‘Hey,' he said, 'this is the sweetie shop, isn't it? Make with the dolly mixtures.'
Amazingly, the little cunt grinned up at him. 'Well,' he said, 'if it isn't the Gay Leather Man.'
That was it! Angel let the nature of the insult sail over his head. He was a sexist but nothing else. He really didn't care about the colour of a guy's skin or his preferences for giving or taking. So far as he was concerned, almost every other man on the planet existed only to be loathed, end of. He had no time for petty prejudices. That carried over to insults: fuck the small print, any insult was good enough for him.
‘Leather Man,' he said gleefully. 'Are you fucking blind or what?'
It was a fair point. Angel was an originals-coated-in-waste-engine-oil sort of a guy. Comparing him to someone out of Village People was like comparing Sonny Liston to Mr Humphries. He'd never worn that much leather in his life, never mind all at once.
‘Chill,' the little cunt said, still grinning like the rat he was.
‘Me?' Angel returned the grin, doing it better this time, because the other guy's was starting to fade.
‘Look mate . . .'
‘Don't look me, you squirming little cunt. What the fuck are you up to? Who are you with? Danny Painter?'
‘No, it’s better than that.'
‘Come on then, arsehole, out with it.'
‘Just let me go and there'll be no more said; right?'
Angel rechecked the nearby CCTV camera. Was it working or what?
‘I've half a mind to pull off your legs,' he snarled. 'Stick the sharp ends up your arse. Or would you like that?'
‘Let me go. You’ll be sorry if you don’t.'
‘Will I; sez who?'
‘I've got friends in Shipley. Okay?'
‘Please tell me you mean Harry fucking Williamson.'
‘I mean friends. Now let me go . . . before we're both in the shit.'
Angel had another glance at that camera. It was still trained on them.
Acting on impulse, he suddenly stooped and kissed the dealer squarely on the lips. The dealer jerked away from him, almost smashing his brains out on the wall behind his head.
‘Fucking pervert,' he gasped.
‘Go complain to your friends,' Angel replied. 'And tell them I am not amused.'
*****
Natalie could feel the smile wobbling on her lips. They had only been back at school two days and all the Christmas party rumours had seemed old, innocuous and unimportant . . . until the very wicked one she’d heard late yesterday; the one that had grounded her with an enormous bump.
She had been plagued by doubts ever since; doubts and, to her surprise, regrets. Looking at Matthew now, she couldn’t help wondering . . .
It only felt like yesterday when her family had moved into town and she’d started the sixth form, not being as much the new girl as she’d feared, because lots of others had been new starters too. In fact it had seemed as if half the year had been starting afresh, without having graduated up through Bingley Grammar School itself. Back then she’d been attracted to Matthew as well as Jamie, albeit for wildly differing reasons.
Jamie for his muscular build, his easy grin and the inherent sense of danger he wore like a badge of honour.
Matthew for being clever and cute and (go on; think it even if you’d never dare say it) quite possibly still a virgin.
‘How do you know?’ he asked, breaking an uncomfortable silence.
‘How do I know about Jamie and Jayne? I know because I confronted them this morning.’
‘Now I’m the one who’s impressed.’ Matthew whistled softly, drawing annoyed looks from a couple of other library users.
‘Well you shouldn’t be. As far as investigating goes, I’m not worrying Sherlock Holmes.’
‘I’m still impressed, even if you haven’t got anywhere yet.’
Natalie patted his hand again and withered inwardly at the memory. She hadn’t made many close friendships among the other sixth form girls, perhaps because of her almost instant attachment to Jamie, perhaps because she just didn’t do close girlfriends. Jayne had actually been one of the closer friends she had made. Indeed, Jayne still was one of the closer friends she had made . . .
But only just.
‘Your new best buddy wasn’t very helpful,’ she said. ‘She wasn’t for admitting or denying anything. I don’t suppose she’s said anything to you?’
‘Er, no.’ Matthew laughed nervously. ‘We haven’t spent much time discussing anyone else, to be honest.’
‘Mmmm, why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Natalie managed a wan smile. ‘I knew I was wasting my breath with her. It was like talking to a politician. Her attitude was so much so what, I wanted to punch her.’
‘I hope you didn’t.’
‘No, don’t worry. Her so-kissable lips haven’t been splattered. I’m not called “Jamie”.’
‘She wasn’t much help then?’
‘No. She admitted she seriously kissed him. She even said she wanted to bonk him. That she offered it to him . . .’
‘She never did!’
‘She told me she did. Then she skimmed over what happened next. She made it a big deal about me trusting Jamie. Kept saying it didn’t matter what might have happened . . . or if anything happened. That it was all immaterial compared to what I really feel for Jamie.’
‘Very Sixties,’ Matthew said. ‘Did it ring true for you?’
‘Did it hellers like. As far as I’m concerned, she bonked him and won’t admit it.’
‘What about Jamie?’
‘He won’t admit it either. He’s even more infuriating than her.’
‘What if they’re both telling the trut
h?’
