Amanda's Young Men

by Madeline Moore

  When she was snug on his lap, her tailbone pressed on to his pubic bone, he pulled her back to loll back against his chest. Trevor braced. His feet were flat on the floor. The back of his neck pressed against the back of the sofa. With just those contacts, he arched up, almost into a wrestler’s bridge, and fucked up into Amanda’s bottom.

  Amanda bounced. Although she was being shaken, she could see that Trevor was pouring butter all over Nola’s right hand. Why?

  Oh! Was it possible? Trevor’s cock filled her insides. It felt as if her organs had been nudged aside to accommodate its bulk. Surely he didn’t expect her to take more distending than she was already enduring/enjoying?

  But he did.

  Nola stuck her tongue out so that each of Amanda’s bounces flicked it over her mistress’s clit. That was nice, but what concerned Amanda was the way Nola was fondling the lips of her pussy, spreading them wide and working two, or was it three, fingertips up into her.

  Trevor stilled. Amanda was suspended, held up by his staff up her bum and his strong hands cupping her hips. Nola’s fingers squirmed deep, then withdrew. When they pressed into Amanda again, she could tell that the thumb and little finger were tucked in, as Meg had taught her to do. Nola bore deeply, stretching Amanda as she had never been stretched before. The pressure became excruciating, in a way that was unbearable but simultaneously glorious. Amanda held her breath and tried to relax her internal muscles but she was afraid. If she hadn’t been flattened by the invader that filled her back passage, she might have been able to bear the devastating sensations she was being forced to endure at Nola’s hand.

  Trevor’s thrusts accelerated. He grunted. He was close.

  Amanda closed her hand around Nola’s wrist, stopping it from burrowing any deeper.

  Trevor lifted his hips up, higher than before, and slammed back down on to the sofa. He erupted inside her, flooding Amanda’s tunnel with his scalding essence. He let loose the bellow of a bull elephant in must, and slumped.

  ‘Potato!’ Amanda shouted immediately.

  Trevor chuckled weakly.

  ‘No more,’ she amended for Nola’s sake.

  Nola drew her hand slowly out from inside Amanda. She grinned at Amanda’s sweat-streaked face. ‘I think he’s out of it,’ she said.

  Amanda managed a smile. She eased herself up off Trevor’s softening cock and said, ‘Yes. I think I’ll just curl up here with Trevor for a bit.’

  ‘What should I do?’ Nola tilted her head in that way that Amanda always found endearing.

  ‘Sweetie, how about you get us a throw? And a couple of pillows.’

  ‘Sure! And then I’d like to tidy up while you sleep, if that’s OK?’

  ‘Silly thing,’ Amanda muttered. She yawned and snuggled into Trevor’s arms on the couch. Just before she drifted off she wondered if she’d been sleeping when first she’d dreamt up this eager, talented, energetic Girl Friday. If so, Nola was a pink-haired dream come true.

  23

  AT SEVEN AFTER nine on a Monday morning, Eggerdon flustered into Amanda’s office with an envelope in his quivering hand.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  He waved the envelope. ‘Our Mrs Carrey – she’s given us notice.’

  ‘Oh? How long?’

  ‘Two weeks, but not exactly.’

  ‘But not “exactly”? What does that mean, exactly?’

  ‘She’s given two weeks’ notice, but she’s still due a week of this year’s vacation time and she’s taking it, so one week, really.’

  ‘That’s not much notice,’ Amanda allowed. ‘Who do we have to take over from her?’

  ‘No one, and hiring someone new will take time, much more than a week.’

  ‘What happened before, when she went on holiday?’

  ‘We work a month in hand, so she did all the salaried people in advance before she left and had time to catch up on the hourly and part-timers when she got back, provided she took her holiday at the beginning of the month, which she was always meticulous about doing.’

  ‘So we actually have a full month before disaster strikes.’

  His eyes brightened. ‘I suppose we do!’

  Serendipity struck again. Only that morning, Amanda had read an article in Financial News, on outsourcing HR. She told Eggerdon, ‘Outsource our payroll and HR. There are lots of companies that do that sort of thing. It should give our people better benefits packages, as outsource HR companies represent dozens of employers, not just one. I’ll leave it up to you to investigate and organise.’

  ‘I won’t let you down, Ms Garland.’

  ‘I know. Mr Eggerdon?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Mrs Carrey must have known she’d be leaving us in the lurch. Why would she do that, do you think?’

  He looked embarrassed. ‘She – she and Sophie Sharpe got along very well.’

  ‘Really? In that case, have Mrs Carrey escorted from the premises immediately. Arrange for a forensic audit of Mrs Carrey’s books.’

  Eggerdon looked shocked. ‘You aren’t suggesting …?’

  ‘I’m suggesting nothing, but do it anyway.’ She paused for thought. ‘When you sign the outsourcing contract, bind us to it so that, if Sophie beats me and takes over, she won’t be able to break it and rehire Mrs Carrey or, at least, she’ll find it awkward to.’

  ‘I understand. I’m behind you one hundred per cent,’ he assured her.

  ‘I know.’ She patted his creased cheek. ‘It’s only just over a week until the shareholders’ meeting, and then the suspense will be over, one way or another.’

  He looked glum.

  Amanda continued, ‘Just in case, prepare a Letter of Intent for me to sign, would you? It should guarantee you your job, indexed with inflation protection, until you retire. Make it ironclad, so that any successor of mine, such as dear Sophie, couldn’t possibly break it.’

  ‘That’s extremely generous of you.’ He looked close to tears.

  ‘It’s nothing. You’re a good man, Eggerdon. While I’m in charge, I want you working with me. If Sophie gets her way and takes over, at least you’ll be protected against any repercussions for having supported me.’

  Amanda followed Eggerdon out of her office. Nola was particularly outrageous today, in full Harajuku style. Her always wild hair was tied up in untidy bunches. She was dressed in a pervert’s garish dream of a Japanese schoolgirl’s outfit, with a floppy tie, a gauzy shirt that just hinted at the locations of her nipples, a pleated skirt that left six inches of her thighs bare above her red and white horizontally striped over-the-knee socks and flat buckle-up black patent shoes.

  ‘That’s quite the little outfit, miss. Find Rupert and Paul for me please; they’re not in their office.’

  The phone rang.

  ‘Should I answer that before I go?’ Nola was even more eager to please than she’d been before Amanda had presented her as a gift to Trevor.

  ‘No, I’ll get it.’ Amanda shooed the girl from her office and picked up the receiver. ‘Amanda Garland speaking.’

  ‘Hi. Ms Garland, it’s Meg.’

  She’d have recognised Meg’s voice anywhere. The sound of it made her tummy flutter. At the same time, Amanda felt a little guilty. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch, Meg. Things are pretty crazy around here.’

  ‘That’s OK. It’s just that – well – Ms Sharpe came by this morning. She said she’d be back, at closing, to go through the books and such. I don’t think she gets to do that, does she?’

  ‘Certainly not. She’s not in control of my company yet.’

  ‘Well, she said it would go best for me to do as she says and keep my mouth shut. But I thought it’d be best to call you.’

  ‘Thank you for your loyalty, Meg. I’ll come by after work and – or, no, I’ve a better idea. I’ll ask the building security guard to come by. He’ll make sure there’s no trouble. His name is Trevor.’

  ‘How will I know him?’

  ‘Oh, you’ll know him.’
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  Amanda placed a call to Trevor. From the background sounds, it was obvious he was in the middle of teaching a karate class, but he promised Amanda he’d be done in plenty of time to get to the store Meg managed by closing time.

  ‘I’d really appreciate it if you’d protect Meg,’ Amanda stressed, though she needn’t have.

  ‘Anything for you.’ Trevor chuckled. ‘How’s that tasty pink-haired pet of yours?’

  ‘More slavish than ever, thanks to you. Would you like her again?’

  Trevor’s answer surprised her. ‘Not right away.’

  ‘Oh?’ Amanda was a little disappointed; it was if he’d made a fuss over a watch she’d picked out for him, but subsequently never worn it. ‘Not your type?’

  ‘All women are my type,’ he replied. ‘Some more than others, of course. It’s just …’

  He was interrupted by a clipped shout, the word foreign, and delivered by a foreign tongue.

  ‘I’m disrupting your class, Trevor. Sorry. Thank you for helping me.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ he replied, and hung up.

  Nola came racing into her office, her ribbons askew. ‘Oh. My. God.’ She skidded to a stop at Amanda’s desk.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Amanda turned her attention away from her conversation with Trevor and on to the flushed girl twisting to and fro in front of her.

  ‘You know what, Ms Amanda. Whenever you’re involved, there’s always enough lust around for everyone to share.’ She giggled. ‘Like, you shared me with Trevor and you shared Rupert with me, and me and Paul and Rupert with you. I’ve been thinking about it. You’re like a – a love-catalyst. You make everyone around you hotter without being changed yourself.’

  Amanda didn’t know about ‘not being changed herself’, but she said, ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, but what’s going on? Is there something you want to tell me?’

  Nola leant closer. ‘Talking about people that you’ve brought together – guess why Paul and Rupert aren’t answering their phone.’

  ‘Do tell.’ Again Amanda’s tummy did a little flip.

  ‘Well …’ said Nola, obviously basking in the sun of Amanda’s attention and eager to keep it for as long as possible. ‘The storage room used to be part of Purchasing’s main office. Then it got partitioned off, just a frame and wall-board, with cork tiles covering it on Purchasing’s side.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Only Paul and Rupert ever go in there any more. And there’s a spot where you can see right through.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘When I saw they weren’t where they were supposed to be, I peeped through the little peephole and sure enough Paul and Rupert are in there and they’re – they’re kissing.’

  Amanda nodded. ‘On company time.’

  ‘Oh!’ Nola’s face fell. She’d been so sure Amanda would enjoy her story she hadn’t thought it through.

  ‘I’m not sure that’s a very good idea. What else were they doing?’

  ‘Nothing else. Nothing much. Oh, Ms Amanda, I didn’t mean to get them in trouble.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Amanda. She stood, smoothing her skirt down in front. ‘I’ll be right back. You get to work.’

  With Nola’s reluctant instructions, Amanda found the peephole with no problem. She peered into the darkness of the unlit storage room. Yes, there was Paul. He was the taller of the two, by a couple of inches. Now Rupert came into view. He was shaking his head. She couldn’t hear what he was saying but, even though he seemed to be saying no, he just came closer until he was kissing Paul.

  They stood like that, their arms at their sides, kissing hungrily. Amanda wondered how long they could continue ravishing each other’s mouth without reaching out to touch.

  Paul raised his hand first, to stroke Rupert’s cheek. Rupert’s entire body shuddered.

  Then, surprisingly, his hands flew to Paul’s belt and began flailing at it, clumsily trying to get it unbuckled.

  God. Her first impulse had been irritation, but she already recognised it as jealousy. When she’d had them at her mercy, strapped into chairs and blindfolded, she’d purposely not made either boy actually perform any sort of sexual service on the other, though it might have been possible to substitute her dildo, or Nola’s, with a real live cock. She’d held back for fear of pushing them into something they weren’t ready for. And look at them. They were dying for it!

  Paul stayed Rupert’s hand. Instead, he stepped back and unbuckled his own pants, indicating that Rupert should do the same. Although their white shirts obscured the view, Amanda could tell that both boys were erect. Once again they stood, close but apart, facing each other, like opponents almost, equal opponents or, at least, equals.

  This must be what it was like for the ancient Greeks, a sense of same-on-same being, not perverted or bad, just equal. Like her and Meg.

  She blinked. Rupert and Paul were kissing again, as sweetly as girls. But their hands were on the move, each reaching for the waistband to the other’s underwear, slipping inside now, grasping each other in a moment so tender, so private, that Amanda backed away from her spyhole.

  How would she have liked it if someone had spied, unseen, while she and Meg had made love? And if that person had been her boss?

  On her way back into her office, she beckoned to Nola to join her. It looked as if the silly girl had been crying.

  ‘Stop snivelling. They’re not in trouble.’

  ‘Really? I thought you –’

  ‘I’m not paying you to think,’ said Amanda. She hastily amended the remark. ‘Well, yes of course I pay you to think, but you needn’t anticipate my actions. Those boys – those young men – work hard enough for me. If they want a couple of moments alone, so what.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I mean – what I would’ve thought, if I were supposed to think.’

  ‘You are supposed to think, Nola. I misspoke. Get back to work and don’t say anything about this to either of them. If they want us to know about it, they’ll tell us. OK?’

  ‘Yes, Ms Amanda. I’m just a little surprised that Rupert never told me.’

  ‘Oh? The two of you talk a lot, do you?’

  ‘Uh huh. Some.’ Nola started twisting in her skirts again, afraid she’d once more said too much. ‘I’ll go to my desk now.’

  ‘You do that,’ said Amanda. ‘And shut the door behind you.’

  When she was alone, Amanda gave herself a mental shake. What difference did it make how her young playmates interacted when she wasn’t around? All three were hers for the taking. If she wanted something more, she always had Trevor, to take her, and Meg, to be her equal. Maybe everyone needed to be equal once in a while. It made sense. So why did it hurt?

  24

  ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, Amanda thought, everything was fitting together like the precision-made parts of a well-designed machine. Forsythe Footwear’s shoe shop Number Twenty-two was performing the best in the drastic chain-wide sale. After just a couple of weeks, its manager had started to beg for more inventory, any inventory. The shop was blessed by being located in a rundown shopping precinct that was surrounded by towering blocks of cheap flats, with two hospitals plus an old people’s retirement home close by.

  Nurses from the hospitals came in droves for the cut-price duty shoes and often walked out with a couple of pairs of dress shoes as well, all for the price they usually paid for a single pair of flat duty whites. The old ladies from the home devoured every pair of the orthopaedic and ‘sensible’ styles and demanded more. Single moms from the flats were delighted to be able to buy ‘for best’ dress shoes at sneaker prices and, surprisingly at first, snatched up the sexier, more dressy, styles as well. It made sense, when Amanda thought about it. As a whole, the single young women with kids had more reason to want to look sexy and catch partners than the childless ones did.

  When four more of their shops, one at a time, reduced their inventories to below thirty per cent, Amanda closed them, temporarily, as she would do all the shops when they got their st
ocks down to that level. The staff of each shop had stayed on for a couple of days to pack everything they had left into cartons and ship the stock en masse to Number Twenty-two. The full-time staff had then been given time off with pay until their shops were ready to be restocked and reopen.

  Today, Meg’s shop was scheduled to close temporarily. Amanda had intended to talk to her about it, make sure she was comfortable with the arrangement and that she’d be back when it was time to reopen for business. She hadn’t heard a word from Meg since the girl had called for protection from Sophie Sharpe. But Amanda wasn’t particularly worried – Trevor was more than a match for Sophie, even if she was a true battleaxe.

  Amanda had tracked down some old friends from her amateur-theatrical days. She’d found an electrician and a set designer who were happy to work after their day jobs, fixing up the empty shops. She’d kept the costs down. Mainly, in the shops’ interiors, she’d had them install rows of mirrors around the walls at ceiling height, to give the illusion that the premises were much bigger, and again at floor level, to encourage customers to concentrate on their feet and shoes. The tacky old backdrops in the windows were being ripped out and replaced with swathes of burgundy velveteen. The cheap fluorescent strip-lighting was being replaced by recessed spotlights and laser lights, for drama. The finished effects would be similar to club lighting. It was to wear in dance clubs and bars that young women bought their sexiest shoes, after all.

  The first container of new styles would arrive in ten days. Paul had flown to Bonne and then on to Paris to oversee its packing so that a quarter of its cargo could be unloaded at each of the four shops that had been emptied, in order. More containers would follow, coordinated to supply the other shops as soon as they were ready.

  There were still decisions to be made. Paul wanted the shops to start carrying hosiery at loss-leader prices, just to bring the young working women in. Amanda hadn’t decided whether to close Number Twenty-two once everything was reorganised throughout the chain or to keep it open as their discount outlet.