Bang Gang (21 page)

She looked flummoxed as the coven at Mandy’s table started laughing again. “Guess I must have forgotten, sorry. My bad.” She handed over some sugar sachets and I emptied them into the cup. “I serve a lot of people a lot of coffees, Darren.”

“I’m hardly a lot of people,” I said. “You should know how I like my bloody coffee, Jodie, you made enough of them over the years.”

She smiled. “I guess I did.”

“I guess you did.” I took my cup. “And I guess I’m taking this out.”

Her face dropped. “Did you want to drink in? I didn’t think…”

“No bother,” I said, and stepped away.

She sighed. “Sorry, Darren… I should know this kind of crap.”

I raised the cup to her. “Another time.”

I’d taken a few steps toward the door by the time she spoke again. Her low laugh made my stomach lurch.

“Except I shouldn’t know this kind of crap, should I?” She paused. “When did I last make you a coffee, Darren? Six, seven years ago? You always have tea, and you never have it here, not once in all the years I’ve been working here.”

I turned back to her, played it cool. “I come here…”

She shook her head. “No. You don’t.”

I took a sip of coffee and gave her a nod. “It’s good.”

She gave me the first proper smile since I’d walked in, despite another uproar from Mandy’s table.

“I’ll make sure I give you your sugar next time.”

So much I wanted to say, and none of it was about pissing sugar.

I don’t want your sugar sachets, Jodie, I want your pussy on my fucking face. I want you to ride my dick until you squirt all over me. I want to take your asshole until you moan like the dirty little bitch I used to love.

Used to. What a fucking joke.

I said nothing.

Tonya stayed later than the other ladies. She hovered until there was a lull, checking out her phone for an age with just the dregs of a cappuccino in her cup. She waited until the coast was clear and Lorraine was out the back before she came to the counter.

“She was talking shit,” she announced. I stared blankly. “Mandy,” she said. “All bluster. All her
a lady never tells
bullshit is just a cover up for the fact she hasn’t had another go yet. If she had we’d be hearing all about it by now. It would have been plastered all over her Facebook. Lady my bloody arse.”

“What’s your point?” I asked. “That Mandy’s far enough down the queue not to have banged Trent and co again yet? I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.”

“I don’t think Mandy’s in the bloody queue at all, Jo, nor Debbie for that matter.”

I laughed a little. “Nice try.”

“What?”

“Trying to make me feel better about the fact the father of my children is fucking every pussy who’ll pay him within a fifty mile radius.”

“Including yours,” she said, then poked her tongue out. “So, how was the gigolo? I know it was a freebie, but I don’t imagine the service was substandard.” Her eyes sparkled. “Was he a good reintroduction to the land of the sexually active?”

I looked around for Lorraine but she was still out the back, there was nobody in earshot.

“I told you on the phone,” I began.

“You told me fuck all on the phone,” she laughed.

“It was good.” I smiled. “It was really good. It was great.”

She punched the air. “Trent shoots, he scores.”

I grabbed her a fresh mug. “It was
different.
I mean, it was Darren. I know Darren. But some stuff was new. Very new.”

She grinned. “I guess some of his more refined clients have taught him a thing or two, hey?”

The thought of Porsche-bitch or Mandy Taylor teaching him anything turned my stomach, but Tonya was right. He’d learned his shit from somewhere, and it wasn’t from a Haynes manual.

I added milk to her coffee. “He’s definitely had some pointers.”

“You owe someone a drink then,” she said. “I doubt it’s Mandy. That silly cow doesn’t even own a decent vibe. I doubt she even knows what a multiple orgasm is. It’s all talk.”

I love the way Tonya bands that crap around like it’s standard. She tells me she’s the poster girl for multiple orgasms. Three towels doubled over before she’ll even risk getting the vibe out.

That’s one of the reasons we’d forged the friendship of a lifetime – a shared appreciation of a decent fuck.

Only I’d left that crap at the roadside at about the same place I’d left myself all those years back.

She took her coffee. “So, you still going for the big bang? T-minus four days, right?”

The thought made my clit tingle, and I could still feel Darren there, still feel where I’d been fucked.

I let myself smile a proper smile. Fuck Mandy and Debbie and all those other bitches in the queue. I was going to get mine, and it was going to be worth every penny, the
experience of a lifetime
alright. Darren’s new tricks had made it crystal clear this wasn’t some half-rate service, these guys were serious.

Maybe
I’d
be the poster girl for multiple orgasms come Friday.

“Four days,” I said. “And I can’t fucking wait!”

I went through the motions, told myself this was just another mid-week gig that meant nothing more than a fresh wedge of notes for the university fund.

I pulled up her Facebook profile as I got myself dressed. Janie Ryan. Daughter of some rich banker from London, on a break at their country pad over Brecon way.

She’d heard of us through a friend of a friend by all accounts, and she was no stranger to paid-for sex. She’d rattled off a load of escort services over the telephone, told me she knew
exactly
what she was buying into.

This time she was after a bit of countryside rough, and she expected the best our neck of the woods had to offer.

New clients make me twitchy, but not twitchy like this. I showered and shaved and told myself to pull my shit together, told myself to stop being such a soft fucking idiot.

This gig was casual dress, nothing fancy. I pulled on some jeans and a nice enough t-shirt, put some gel in my hair and I was ready to roll. I smoked a cigarette before I got in the truck, having the strangest hope that the bastard wouldn’t start.

It did start.

Of course it fucking did.

I did the rounds and picked up the guys, and the atmosphere was the same usual lairy banter we go through every fucking time. I kept quiet, chain smoked out of the window all the way, kept thinking about Janie Ryan and hoping her pretty little snatch would be enough to get me off.

She’d sent pictures and they were good ones. Janie Ryan was quite a fucking looker.

Her Brecon pad was little short of a mansion, a big stone barn conversion amongst the hills. I pulled up next to a sporty little BMW and we piled out, game on. The banter stopped and we were ready to roll, charged with testosterone and stiff fucking dicks.

Only my dick wasn’t all that fucking stiff.

Fucking hell.

Janie was nicer in real life than she was in her pics. A tall natural blonde with legs up to her pits and a nice perky rack on her. She was dressed in nothing but a silk robe, her lounge set out with candles and this weird scented shit that hit me right in the temples.

It was like she thought she was getting a massage, not a fucking gangbang.

She set herself up in a lounge chair with no time for niceties, beckoned us over like we were fucking lapdogs.

The others didn’t seem to give two shits, just went where she instructed, performing like sea lions with every fucking click of her fingers. She had Buck and Jimmy O double-teaming to eat out her pussy, Hugh giving her a fucking shoulder massage and Petey groping at her tits with his eyes like saucers. And there was me, still fucking hovering, still not feeling this shit – not feeling it at all.

Hugh shot me a look of confusion, beckoned me over to join him on the masseur shit, but I’m no pissing masseur. I watched her spread those swanky pins of hers, saw her tight little cunt well enough as Buck and Jimmy worked her up, and still it did nothing for me. Not one fucking thing.

She didn’t come, stopping them just as they started getting somewhere.

“I want to orgasm through penetration,” she snapped. “Now!” She looked around the guys, not even seeming to notice I wasn’t playing along, and her eyes landed on Petey and the jut in his pants. “You!” she said. “Fuck me!”

The lad was straight fucking in there. He dropped his jeans in a flash, rolled a johnny on his prick with shaky fingers, and the lad was already half-gone. Buck looked at me in horror as Petey mounted the blonde under him, but there was nothing I could do. He was quick, desperate, his pasty ass bobbing as he humped her like a virgin at a strip club. Her expression was one of disgust, nothing better than a grimace as he hit well short of the mark.

She went to shove him away but it was too late, Petey was already grunting, already shooting his
fucking load. The rest was like a car crash, unfolding in slow motion.

Janie’s groan of revulsion was enough to shrivel every dick in a five mile radius, the look she gave Petey as he plopped his still-jizzing dick from her cunt could wilt fucking flowers. He was still out of breath, a goofy grin plastered on his face until he realised he’d fucked up bad. He backed away too quickly, a clumsy hand on his cock that managed to pull that pissing johnny straight off. It landed with a slimy plop on Janie’s belly, splattering spunk all over her snatch. She leapt up and made a right hoo-hah out of it, acted like someone just pissed in her Pimm’s.