Strip Girl

by Aishling Morgan

  She even looked up those of the French ones she could remember, including salope (slut) and cocotte (trollop), neither of which were flattering, as they implied that Sarah’s behaviour was equivalent to selling herself. Putain de merde was the same but stronger, with a disgusting literal translation of ‘shitty little whore’ or ‘dirty little tart’, but for sheer humiliation turbulente was worse still, which compared the fuss Sarah had been making as she was spanked with a temper tantrum from an unruly child which, given the circumstances, was so grossly unfair it left her open-mouthed with indignation.

  It also confirmed her supposition that the entire thing had been set up. No woman, she was sure, could have behaved with such callous disregard for another’s feelings, at least, not without being well paid and coached by somebody with a mind as perverse as it was scornful of modern values. Save for the occasional moment in the most fevered and private of her own sexual fantasies, the attitude was beyond anything she could imagine anyone taking, with one possible exception: Giles Compton-Bassett.

  She finally managed to screw up her courage enough to confront him. When she rang he sounded genuinely pleased to hear from her, without either the suppressed snigger or guilty tone she had been expecting to pick up. Using the pretext of another story conference, she asked if he would meet her at the weekend in a city wine bar and he agreed.

  Hot Gun came out the next day, and Sarah’s copy arrived in the morning post. Despite what had happened, her fingers were trembling with anticipation as she opened the big brown envelope, and she immediately turned to the back where she knew their cartoon would be. Just one look at it put a smile on her face, and she stayed as she was, standing in the open doorway as she drank in every familiar detail. Whatever her qualms about the rude scenes she was required to draw, she knew she would continue, the pride swelling within her as she admired the first published example of her own artwork acting like a euphoric drug.

  She was still on a high two days later as she took the short tube ride into the city, which she knew was going to make dealing with Giles Compton-Bassett a great deal easier. He would have no choice but to listen as she explained clearly and calmly that she knew it was him, and that what he had done was totally unacceptable. She would then ask for an apology and, if it was forthcoming, promise to take no further action as long as nothing of the sort ever happened again. Once that was sorted out she would point out that their relationship was strictly professional, and that there was no place for childish pranks. Their afternoon of sex together didn’t need to be mentioned at all, although it was probably a good idea to drop Rebecca’s name into the conversation to show that she knew.

  Her resolve lasted all the way to the Two Quart Jug, where they had agreed to meet. It was on the first floor, looking out over the street, and Giles had chosen a window seat, in which he was sprawled, as lazy and handsome and louche as ever. The idea of admitting to him that she had been given a bare-bottom spanking, even if he already knew, suddenly seemed no more feasible than giving him the details of her latest visit to her gynaecologist. He raised a hand in greeting and pushed the open bottle of red wine across the table towards a second glass.

  Sarah sat down, completely lost for words as she poured herself some wine. Giles gave no more sign of what he surely knew than he had on the phone, his voice absolutely casual as he addressed her.

  ‘How was Paris?’

  ‘Great, thank you,’ Sarah managed.

  ‘Did you pick up any good material?’

  ‘I’ve got lots of sketches, yes.’

  ‘Great. So what do you reckon? I think we need to get the story going a bit, but we can’t let them down, so maybe the first page is Céleste du Musigny giving the guy in the office a blow-job …’

  ‘Monsieur d’Orsay.’

  ‘The guy?’ Giles answered without a flinch. ‘That’s a great name, but does he really need one? I only put him in as somebody she could get dirty with.’

  ‘Whatever you think,’ Sarah answered, ‘but does she have to go that far with him? Couldn’t she just show off a bit?’

  ‘I can’t see it,’ Giles answered, ‘not the way you’ve drawn him. He’s a bastard, and he’d want his pound of flesh. I’ve already cleared it with Hugh, and while you can’t show him erect, or her with him actually in her mouth, you can show him limp and make it very obvious she’s down on him. Weird, I know, but we have to follow the guidelines.’

  Sarah made to speak, thinking of the woman’s threat, only to dismiss her worries as ridiculous. There was no Monsieur d’Orsay to have his cock sucked, just as there was no Céleste du Musigny to force her to suck it. Giles continued, apparently as oblivious to her feelings as ever.

  ‘So that’s plenty of good smut on page one. Have her kneeling, okay, with plenty of bum on show, and with women’s bodies we can include every detail. Then on page two we need to move on. She’s sucked the guy off and she’s got the information she wanted. We know that, so we don’t need to see her reading the files or anything. I don’t think we need to know how she’s picked up the threads of the case either, so let’s go straight to the graveyard.’

  ‘We should link the scenes,’ Sarah said, forcing herself to think about the cartoon instead of being held down by the hair as she was forced to take the greasy Frenchman’s erection in her mouth. ‘Maybe with a frame cut diagonally, the top half showing her reading a paper with the dead man’s name on it and the bottom half showing the gravestone.’

  ‘You’re right, that works,’ Giles responded after just a moment’s hesitation. ‘So what does the reader know? That Céleste is prepared to suck some guy off to get the information …’

  ‘Which means it’s extremely valuable,’ Sarah put in.

  ‘I don’t know if our readers will see it that way,’ Giles answered her. ‘Hugh says it’s important to cater to our readers’ fantasy lives, so girls ought to give out blow-jobs without making too big a deal over it.’

  ‘Not Céleste,’ Sarah pointed out, ‘and certainly not with Monsieur d’Orsay. In fact I can’t really see her doing it for anything.’

  ‘Every woman has her price,’ Giles answered.

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘Hugh Bowle. It’s one of the maxims I have to work to when I’m writing.’

  ‘That’s outrageous!’

  ‘It’s not like that. We can’t show sex without consent, so the girl either has to be horny or getting something out of it. If it’s just a lot of people shagging we’re not going to get much of a story, are we?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Sarah admitted. ‘Maybe I could have a couple of text boxes, to say how much is supposed to be in the coffin?’

  ‘Okay,’ Giles agreed. ‘So we have Céleste looking at the grave, and then in the last frame you show that she’s got a shovel in her hand. We don’t have to have a sexual ending twice.’

  ‘She wouldn’t dig it up herself!’ Sarah protested.

  ‘No? Why not? She’s supposed to be tough.’

  ‘Yes, but grave robbery, on her own? She just wouldn’t, and anyway, it would be really hard work. She’d hire people.’

  Giles thought for a moment, then spoke again, more enthusiastically than ever.

  ‘Yes. You’ve got it. She hires three guys, real scumbags, gets them to do the dirty work, then pins it on them while she walks off with the money. That’s a great opening! She’ll have to fuck the three scumbags, obviously –’

  ‘Three men?’ Sarah broke in, appalled. ‘And why do they have to be so awful?’

  ‘To keep the readers’ sympathy with Céleste,’ Giles explained. ‘Anyway, guys love to see a posh girl getting it from some real dirtbag, and we’ve got to keep the sex up. It doesn’t have to be completely gratuitous. Maybe that’s the way she sets them up or something, but we don’t need to worry about that yet. So what about that last frame? I know, we don’t have to waste that d’Orsay guy. He might have grown suspicious, and followed her. We can show him with his face half lit and her in the background
standing by the grave. How’s that?’

  Sarah managed a weak nod, horrified by what she was going to have to draw, and yet unable to deny that the readers would appreciate it. Giles had sat back, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. She still wanted to talk about Paris, but if he did know anything then he was an amazingly good actor, while if he didn’t he was the last person in the world she wanted to discover what had happened.

  ‘Have you ever been to Paris?’ she tried.

  ‘No,’ he told her. ‘Maybe I should sometime. So, what are you up to for the rest of the weekend?’

  ‘This and that,’ she said cautiously. ‘I’ll probably start doing some rough sketches. I suppose you’ll be seeing Rebecca?’

  She felt the question was well timed, seemingly casual yet dropped into the conversation just when he might have been bringing it around to them getting together again. This time there was no mistaking the surprise in Giles’ answer, although there was none of the guilt Sarah would have expected.

  ‘Rebecca?’ he answered. ‘I am, actually. She’s coming up tomorrow and I promised to take her to the V&A. Would you like to come?’

  Sarah didn’t answer, very surprised indeed at his response. He was bold, but to want to introduce his girlfriend to another woman he’d slept with seemed extraordinary, unless he got some sort of strange kick out of it, which seemed all too likely. She wasn’t going to put up with it.

  ‘I’m not sure I should,’ she finally answered him. ‘It’s not very fair on her, is it, after … it’s not very fair on me either, after we … you know, after we slept together.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Why would that bother you, or Rebecca?’

  ‘Oh come on! Even if you’ve got an open relationship or something she’s not going to like you going with me behind her back, is she?’

  ‘An open relationship?’

  For a moment he looked seriously alarmed, then he laughed as he went on.

  ‘She’s my sister!’

  ‘Rebecca is your sister?’ Sarah managed as the blood rushed to her face. ‘Oh, I thought – I mean, Hugh said –’

  Giles laughed.

  ‘What, so Hugh Bowle told you I was with Rebecca? That’s hilarious! When they met he was all over her, and I was still trying to land a contract, so we pretended we were together so he’d leave her alone but not take it out on me. So he told you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he ask you out?’

  ‘No … yes, sort of, but I was going to be in Paris. You don’t think he’d have tried anything, do you?’

  Giles laughed again, louder than before.

  ‘Boobman Bowle? With a chest like yours? Come on, Sarah, don’t be naïve.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean he fancies me, just because I’m … busty.’

  ‘Oh no? You could be a slimy green alien with a pair like that and he’d still be after you. You’re twice the size of Rebecca, and he was drooling all over her.’

  Sarah was blushing, and a primly dressed woman at the bar had turned them a disapproving look. She refilled her glass to cover her embarrassment, then his as she spoke.

  ‘I’d love to come then. Shall I meet you there?’

  ‘Why not come over to my flat now? The tube goes straight there.’

  There was no mistaking the implication of his offer. Sarah hesitated, trying to sort out the tangle of her emotions. It had been good before, dirty, rather humiliating, but good. If Rebecca was only his sister, and if he hadn’t been responsible for her spanking, then there was no reason not to. There was no denying the attraction he held either, both physically and for the way he was completely open about his desire for her. Yet there was still a nagging uncertainty. She struggled for a clever question, something that would make him give himself away.

  ‘What does “turbulent” mean?’ she asked, giving the crucial word a French intonation.

  ‘Turbulent, do you mean?’ he repeated, using the English form and sounding mildly surprised at her apparent ignorance. ‘Rough, maybe, like a patch of rough water on a river.’

  ‘No, I mean in French,’ she told him.

  ‘The same, I suppose,’ he answered her, ‘but if you’re thinking of putting any French in the text, don’t. The guidelines say we should assume our readers are monolingual.’

  Sarah nodded, now almost convinced that Giles was not the guilty party, but if not him, then who?

  ‘You didn’t answer my question,’ he said.

  Sarah smiled.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘One day …’ Giles said as his hands traced the shape of Sarah’s hips.

  ‘No,’ Sarah answered, trying to sound firm while resisting the urge to purr, ‘but you can lick.’

  ‘I intend to,’ Giles told her, and he took hold of the waistband of her jeans.

  Sarah closed her eyes in pleasure. She lay face down on the bed of his South Kensington flat, which he rented for almost nothing from his wealthy parents. Her top was off, her naked breasts squashed out beneath her chest. Giles was straddling her legs, and had been massaging her neck and back, a little clumsily, but in a firm and methodical way that brought her arousal gradually higher. She could guess why he was being so patient, in the hope of bringing her to such a state that she’d allow him to sodomise her, but she was determined it wouldn’t work. Her bottom hole was simply too tight, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy his attention.

  ‘I think you’ll have to undo them,’ she said softly, lifting her bottom to let him get his fingers to the button of her jeans.

  His arms came around her, clasping her bottom to himself, and Sarah sighed as he found the button. It felt good to be undressed by him, liberating yet pleasantly naughty too, for what he wanted to do. Her zip was pulled down, the front of her jeans tugged open. His fingers pushed in at the sides, catching hold of not only her jeans but the big white panties she had on beneath. She sighed again as he began to pull, enjoying the feel of having her bottom stripped, the full swell of her cheeks now a pleasure as they were exposed, to be massaged, stroked, fondled, licked, spanked …

  Sarah caught herself just in time, before the awful words could spill from her lips. It was wrong, completely inappropriate for a woman to be treated in such a way, and far worse for her to actively want it. Yet there was no denying the desire in herself as he eased down her jeans and panties to bare her bottom, a desire to have the cheeky globe smacked, and smacked well, while he sat on her, telling her she was a naughty girl, punishing her, just as the woman calling herself Céleste had done.

  ‘Relax,’ Giles told her.

  Her bottom had tensed automatically at the thought of what could be done to her, but she forced herself to do as he asked. His hands were already on her cheeks, massaging gently, and as she went limp he pulled them apart, stretching out her anus. Sarah felt a flush of shame for being exposed so rudely behind, but only for a moment, before his face pushed in and his tongue was burrowing up the tight little star between her cheeks. It was still shameful, or she was telling herself it was, but it felt too nice for her to want him to stop, far too nice.

  She bit her lip, trying not to whimper for the pleasure of having her bottom licked, but quickly giving in. He had her stripped, everything that mattered showing, and his tongue was up her bottom, helping get her ready for his cock to be put inside her for their first fuck, even if not where he really wanted it. She was ready, completely, and she could hear him pulling at his cock as he licked.

  ‘You can fuck me,’ she sighed, worried that he might decide to come over her bottom and leave her disappointed.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Giles answered, pulling his face from between her bottom cheeks.

  Sarah made to roll over, but he was still on her legs and had taken her by the hips, lifting. She let him, telling herself that it wasn’t really undignified to allow him to have her in doggy position for their first time, although it would have been nice to kiss as she was entered. With her bottom up he wasted no furthe
r time, pushing himself to her so that his cock was briefly wedged between her cheeks before taking it in hand and pushing it down.

  For one awful moment Sarah thought he was going to force her anus whether she liked it or not, and then the rounded bulb of his helmet was pressing to her sex, opening her, pushing in, sliding deep, a sensation so good she cried out in ecstasy. As he began to fuck her she was wondering how she’d managed to go without it so long. She began to push back, rocking her body on his cock as her excitement rose. Her breasts began to swing to the rhythm, her nipples rubbing on the woollen bed cover. His hands closed on her hips, holding her firmly as he fucked her, to make her gasp and pant, already desperate to come.

  She snatched for his pillows, pulling them under herself and reaching back for her sex almost in the same motion. Her hand found his cock, feeling the hard slippery shaft as it moved in and out of her body, with his heavy balls slapping on her knuckles. There was a man in her, fucking her, knowledge enough to send a shock of ecstasy through her, quite separate from the physical sensation of him moving inside her. Her fingers pushed in between her sex lips and she began to rub, her inhibitions completely gone as she masturbated herself with him in her.

  ‘You bad girl!’ Giles gasped as he realised what she was doing.

  ‘Tell me,’ Sarah gasped, ‘tell me what a bad girl I am.’

  Giles gave a low dirty chuckle and changed his grip, moving his body up a little so that he was pumping into her from above, with his lean hard belly smacking on the upturned meat of her bottom.

  ‘You’re very bad,’ he puffed, ‘really bad. How bad can you get, wanking while I fuck you? You dirty girl … you bad dirty girl … you dirty little tart … you fat-bottomed dirty little tart … you –’

  He broke off, gasping. Sarah began to rub furiously hard, sure he would come at any moment, too far gone to care if he did it up her, but desperate to get there first. He’d called her a bad girl. He’d called her dirty, a dirty tart, a fat-bottomed dirty little tart. It was true. She wanted it to be true, and as she started to come his pace picked up inside her, his body smacking down on her bare bottom, just as if he was spanking her. Yes, it was perfect. That was what should happen to bad girls, bad girls like her. She should be spanked and fucked, put on her knees with her big bottom bare and spanked and fucked.