Amanda lined Paul’s chair up next to Rupert’s. As planned, Nola stood and took a position between the two lads and stroked both of their cocks at once. Amanda popped her three buttons and shrugged out of her dress.
Amanda said, ‘We were talking about girls wearing strap-ons. I’d like you to picture that. Let’s imagine it’s me, or perhaps our little Nola. She’s pretty, isn’t she?’
Both young men nodded, each unaware of the other.
As Amanda talked, she fitted a harness around her hips and pulled the straps tight. A lifelike eight-inch purple jelly dildo was already fitted into the harness’s socket.
Both young men nodded.
‘I agree with you. Imagine her lovely slender body, her cute little tits, curvy little bum, stark naked except for the straps around her hips and a very realistic plastic cock sticking up. Got the picture?’
More nods. Amanda’s fingers took over from Nola’s, freeing the girl to strap her own plastic cock into place, this one black as night.
Amanda continued, ‘Now think of me, in the same sort of harness, and Nola goes down on her knees to gobble on the cock I’m wearing. Is that an exciting image?’
Enthusiastic nods.
‘How about it’s you who’s sucking on my mock-cock? Or you and Nola taking turns at it? What if I was to bugger Nola with my strap-on? Would you like to watch me ream her tight little bottom?’
Their nods went into overdrive. Nola took over the stroking.
Amanda purred, ‘You know what – I bet Nola would enjoy watching you suck on my dildo. Better, if she was here, I’m sure she’d love to watch me work my stiff plastic penis up into your bottom and give you a thorough bum-fuck.’
Nola grinned and joined in with the young men’s nodding. Her fingers tightened on their cocks a little.
Pushing ahead, Amanda suggested, ‘How about we imagine something really kinky now – your cock pumping up Nola’s bum while you wrap your arms around her and stroke her imitation cock, just like she was a boy and you were jerking her off as you buggered her, and, at the same time, I’m buggering your bum with my plastic prick.’
The expressions on their faces said more than their violent nods. It seemed that the more perverse the scenes that Amanda described, the more excited the young men became.
Amanda continued. ‘What if I told you that Nola was right here with me, now, and that we are both wearing strap-on cocks?’
Rupert’s mouth opened but quick-thinking Nola covered it with hers before he blurted anything out.
‘Remember the “keep quiet” rule!’ Amanda snapped as soon as Nola’s lips had left Rupert’s.
Paul frowned, obviously not understanding why Amanda had said that. Nola’s fingers, by stroking his cock a little more forcefully, smoothed the creases in his young forehead.
As one, the women went behind the chairs and unbuckled the straps that held their prisoners in place.
Amanda said, ‘Now I’m going to move you. This is a test of your sensitivity and obedience. Let yourself be guided by my touch. No matter what is done to you, just let it happen. Not a sound, not unless you want the game to stop and then you say, “No more,” otherwise not a sound, no matter what!’
Nola led Rupert from his chair and, with a push here and a prod there, made him kneel on all fours.
Amanda took one of Paul’s hands and guided it to the dildo she wore. He stroked it tentatively at first but with more vigour once she imitated his action with her fingers on his cock.
It was Amanda’s turn to lead Paul by his shaft and make him kneel, just a yard away from Rupert and Nola and at right angles to them. As one, the woman and the girl spread their victim’s bum-cheeks. Each applied lube to their mock-cocks and guided their heads to nestle against the young men’s clenched sphincters.
Amanda said, ‘I said this game is by way of a test. It is. It’s a test of depravity and of trust – and of masculinity. A man has to be very sure of himself to let a woman bugger him, just as a woman had to be very feminine to let a man do her that way.’
She signalled to Nola. As one, they applied gentle pressure.
Amanda continued. ‘I like my man to be sure of himself, and to be depraved. Are you? Depraved and sure of yourself?’
Both young men nodded.
‘Depraved and sure of yourself enough to be OK with a foursome, provided the other man was into it as much as you were?’
Both Rupert and Paul paused but eventually nodded.
‘Very well …’ Amanda hunched over Paul.
Nola arched over Rupert’s back. Both the woman and the girl reached down to grip her willing victim’s shaft.
‘Now!’ Amanda thrust deeply into Paul’s rectum, as Nola did into Rupert’s. They looked across at each other and grinned. It was strange, and exciting, to do what they’d only had done to them before.
Rupert grunted but Paul took no notice. He likely assumed it was Amanda grunting, from the exertion of skewering his bum with her plastic cock. The woman and the girl watched each other, and the men they were buggering, intently. When the tendons of Rupert’s neck stood out and his face turned red, Nola’s pumping fist slowed down and Amanda’s accelerated. Timing was everything.
Somehow, likely more by luck than judgement, both men rumbled from deep inside their chests at the same time and both straining shafts spat their foam on to the floor. As quickly as they could, Amanda and Nola toppled the men on to their sides and swooped to take their knobs into their mouths to suck out their second ejaculations. Even as they finished sucking, they whipped the blindfolds away.
Each young man, while at his most vulnerable, looked into the eyes of the other.
Amanda wiped her mouth. ‘There, see what fun four people can have together, if they’re all good friends and don’t let silly emotions, like possessiveness, get in the way?’
The men looked sheepish, but grinned, first at Amanda, then at each other.
Amanda unbuckled her straps. ‘That’s enough of girls doing boys, for today. Nola, swap with me. Let’s show these two lads how quickly our mouths can get them stiff again, given a new girl to do and with two eager little bottoms waiting for their cocks.’
It went very well, Amanda considered, but there was one small disappointment. By the time she and Nola had both been taken fore and aft by both men, with the men growing comfortable enough to do one girl while kissing and caressing the other girl, they were drained. Amanda had hoped to try her first double penetration, but men, it seemed, have their limits, even virile young ones.
18
AMANDA AND NOLA took two large brown paper bags of Chinese takeaway each down to Purchasing. The desks in that department had been pushed together to make one large working surface so she’d been able to have a table and chairs brought in. As often as possible, Amanda and her sexy little submissive receptionist joined Rupert and Paul for lunch. It was all part of Amanda’s plan to strengthen the bonds that united them all into a dynamic team. Her theory was that working, playing and eating together made for – well – togetherness.
Nola set out the paper plates, the plastic utensils and the little cardboard cartons.
At the desk, Rupert hung up the phone and told Paul, who was pinning a chart on to a cork-covered wall, ‘They’ve only got four cases of a broken range of sizes left, but none of their size forties – that’s our size seven.’
‘Damn! It’s sevens we need the most. I’d take what they’ve got, anyway. It’s a nice-looking little number.’
Nola spread out plastic packs of soy sauce. She said, ‘I always thought that a case of shoes had some of every size in it? Have I got it wrong?’
Amanda opened a steaming container of Moo Goo Gai Pan and inhaled the aromatic steam. ‘Explain what we’re doing to Nola, Rupert.’
He sat down and picked up his chopsticks. ‘You’re basically right, Nola. Now remember that we’re talking about high-fashion shoes here, not Dumphries’s so-called “standard classics”. So, let’s say a manufactur
er makes five thousand pairs of a new style. Half or more of those are divided into cases that contain, usually, every size from a three or a four to a ten, or sometimes an eleven these days. Those cases are for orders that were placed much earlier, often a full year ahead.’ Rupert speared a crisply battered shrimp and dipped it into warm plum sauce.
‘The rest of the manufacturing run of the shoes is for back-up,’ he explained around his mouthful. ‘If a shop initially ordered two cases of a style, that would mean it only got two pairs of size four, for example. If both fours sell early in the season, the shop, if it isn’t too far away, can order individual pairs from the supplier or wholesaler, to replace them.’
Paul interrupted. ‘But if the shoe is from China, India or Manila, there are no replacement shoes available.’
Rupert continued, ‘By the end of a season, the manufacturer or the wholesaler is left with odds and ends, covering maybe a quarter, a half or perhaps three-quarters of the original range of sizes. All he wants to do then is liquidate them, get rid of them for whatever he can get.’ He tucked into his fried rice.
Nola asked, ‘But don’t shoe shops always want a full range of sizes in every style?’
Paul took over the explanation. ‘Of course they do, in theory, but, in practice, they never have, not for long. A case comes in, someone buys the only size five in it and someone else buys the only ten, bingo – a broken range. Then, if a customer wants a shoe in a size that isn’t in stock any more, it’s up to the salesperson to offer the closest other styles that they do have in the customer’s size.’
Nola clapped her hands as she realised what the young men were doing. ‘So – you’re buying odds and sods of hot styles from abroad, ones that haven’t reached us yet, and you’re relying on the salespeople to switch customers from the style they asked for to a slightly different one, when necessary.’
‘And we’re buying them at fifteen or twenty per cent of their original prices,’ Amanda added. ‘That’s how we’ll tide our shops over from the time our giant clearance sale ends until we get a proper purchasing system rolling. That’ll take another two full seasons, at the very least.’
‘We can do it,’ said Paul.
Rupert nodded his agreement. Both boys shot Amanda questioning glances.
Rupert added, ‘We can with Ms Amanda in charge.’
Nola grinned adoringly at Amanda. ‘Oh, Ms Amanda, I sure hope you get to stay President of Forsythe Footwear!’ The girl’s exclamation was so ingenuous the three businesspeople in the room laughed. It was the question on everybody’s lips, though neither Paul nor Rupert would have said it out loud.
Affection surged through Amanda. They were all three as devoted as they were adorable. Two of them had exceptional business skills and the third was as sweet as candyfloss. ‘I expect the meeting to go very well,’ she said. ‘But I can’t guarantee it.’
‘We’re behind you all the way,’ said Paul.
Rupert nodded.
Nola giggled. ‘Behind you,’ she repeated. ‘That’s funny!’
Amanda intended to spend the rest of the day calling the other shareholders. There had been no time to woo them as Sophie Sharpe had likely done, and anyway numbers don’t lie, but it would be a good PR move on her part. She sent Nola off to the warehouse with a list of questions she needed answered, and set to work in her office, starting alphabetically on her list of shareholders.
By the time she’d reached ‘J’, Amanda’s face was frozen into a fake smile. She hadn’t seen any of the shareholders since the funeral and so every single one had seen fit to express his or her condolences over Roger, so she’d had to feign a bit of sadness at her husband’s untimely demise. When the conversation turned to the upcoming meeting, most of the shareholders assured her they’d be there, while quite a few, when pressed, admitted they’d already promised their proxies to Sophie Sharpe.
Just as she reached for the phone to dial Jim Jacobek, the next number on the list, it rang. She picked up immediately, glad of the distraction.
‘I’ve got news for you, Ms Garland.’
Damn. Tom Sharpe.
She put on her most commanding voice. ‘Haven’t your friends come to collect you yet?’
‘Forget that. Something’s come up. I’ve heard my Mom talking. She says she has a way to ruin you, and Forsythe Footwear.’
‘Yes, well, she’s obviously been busy wooing the shareholders.’
‘It’s much more than that. Meet me and I’ll show you. She’s gone until Thursday morning.’
Amanda was sorely tempted. Getting more information about her opponent was tempting but, if it meant meeting up with Tom, she had to refuse. ‘We’re over, Tom. I’m not meeting you.’
‘Then I’ll call the police. How do you think the shareholders’ meeting will go with you in jail?’
‘What – what are you …?’ Amanda sputtered. The cheek of the boy!
‘I’m talking “rape”, Ms Garland. Statutory rape.’
‘You’re of age! Right?’
No answer.
‘You’re in college, Tom, you must be of age.’
‘I skipped two years because I’m so bloody brilliant.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘That’s right, lady. Jail time. Major scandal.’
‘Oh my God. Tom, does your mother know about us?’
‘No. This has nothing to do with her. I’ll never tell her about us, Ms Garland, if you’ll just come see me this one last time.’
She knew when she was beaten. ‘When, and where?’
‘My mom’s house. Tonight at seven. Come alone.’ His attempt at a threatening tone might have made her laugh had she not been so thoroughly shocked.
Her next call was not, after all, to Mr Jacobek, but to Trevor. ‘I need your help. Are you free tonight? Around – um – seven?’
‘I can arrange it. Why?’
‘I might have got myself in over my head.’
‘Does this have to do with that phone call you received the other day?’
‘Yes. Trevor it’s Tom Sharpe. Sophie Sharpe’s son.’
Trevor chuckled. ‘You’ll do anything for Forsythe Footwear, or anyone.’
‘It wasn’t like that, honestly. There was an attraction between us, and I – maybe I let it go further than it should have but I – I thought he’d appreciate having his cherry popped by someone with experience. Instead he’s gone crazy. One minute he says he loves me and the next he’s threatening to have me put in jail.’
‘Charged with …?’
‘Statutory rape,’ she whispered. It was horrible, horrible! ‘He says he’s not of age.’
‘Could he be lying?’
‘Yes.’ She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘That’s probably it. He’s probably lying. Still, I think I’d better meet him tonight. Will you come?’
‘I’ll lurk, close by, and listen in, just in case.’
‘Thank you, Trevor.’
‘Bring your super-dooper spy machine.’
‘Huh?’
Trevor laughed. ‘Bring your cell phone.’
19
THEY TOOK TREVOR’S van. Amanda sat in the passenger seat and watched his biceps flex as he turned the steering wheel. He was wearing black pants that were tight over the bulging muscles of his thighs and a matching muscle-shirt, so that his enormous arms were bare. He looked so dangerous that it made her groin ache.
‘I emptied Roger’s cell-phone camera like you told me,’ she said. She was about to say more, but she thought better of it. Instead, she asked why he’d told her to wear a pant-suit for the occasion.
‘The little toad doesn’t deserve to look at your lovely legs, Amanda.’
‘But you do,’ she teased.
‘And when I want to see them, I’ll have you take your pants off.’
Not ‘ask’. Not ‘tell’. Just ‘have’. When they were in dom/sub mode, he was that confident of his control of her.
He parked a few houses down the street from Sophie Sharpe’
s home. Trevor checked that Amanda’s cell, concealed in her oversized Carriage bag but with its antenna slightly sticking out, could pick up her quiet voice and transmit it to his cell. He’d given her a small flat square of metal that had sticky stuff on one side. As he helped her from his van, he told her, ‘I’ll be listening closely. Just call my name and I’ll be there.’
‘What if my gimmick –’ she opened her palm to show the metal square ‘– doesn’t work?’
‘Then I’ll just have to damage Sophie’s door, won’t I?’
‘Oh!’ She had a quick and thrilling mental image of Trevor battering Sophie’s door down.
Tom answered the door quickly. His eyes were bleary. He had booze on his breath. Those weren’t good signs.
Amanda walked in ‘at him’ to make him back up, which gave her the chance to slap her gimmick over the slot the door lock’s tongue went into before she pulled the door closed behind her. Did she hear the tongue click into place? She wasn’t sure. If she’d screwed up, that would delay Trevor’s charge to the rescue, if one was needed.
‘Thish way,’ Tom said and led her into the living room.
The room stank like a rundown slum pub, with traces of smelly old socks and stale teenage testosterone as grace notes. There was a stained towel on the sideboard, put there to protect the French-polished finish, no doubt, and it certainly needed protection. A dozen empty beer bottles lay on their sides and half a dozen bottles of cheap liqueurs stood on the towel, all opened and all streaked with sticky spills. The virulently coloured drinks seemed to be based on banana, chocolate, something green, two kinds of orange and one clear, anise, perhaps. All of them looked and smelt like synthetic treacle. Amanda couldn’t imagine a more nauseating selection of drinks.
Tom waved his arm in a broad gesture that almost un balanced him. ‘These are my mates,’ he announced, as if he was inordinately proud of having the uncouth duo that lounged across the room as friends.
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