Office Perks (12 page)

‘This is excellent; a pity I'm driving.'

I nodded, considering the prospect of most of two bottles. Our food arrived, some fancy dish involving king prawns for him and whitebait for me. We fell to talking, quite easily really, with Richard asking the questions and me answering as best I could. He seemed genuinely interested – in Ireland, in what I did as a temp, in my prospects at university, and not at all in a hurry.

Steaks and salad washed down with strong red wine followed, and chocolate cake, with which he insisted on getting me yet another wine, this time sweet and maybe even stronger than the red. By the time we'd finished I could barely get up. My stomach was a hard, round ball and my head was swimming with drink. I'm used to it, though, and managed to leave the club without doing anything stupid, either in the way of falling on my arse or offering Richard a blow-job in the loos.

I wanted it, though, just as soon as I could move; to be laid down and very gently undressed, all the way, until I was stark naked, then slowly teased to readiness, and fucked. If he had any idea of the state he'd got me in he didn't show it, merely offering an arm and helping me into his car, smiling all the while. He'd barely drunk anything, and drove back towards London with an easy confidence. I'd got two bottles inside me, and spent the journey staring out of the window with my mind drifting lazily between the thought of having sex with him and the growing tension in my bladder.

The sex could wait. My need to pee couldn't. The moment we got to our destination and through the check-in I was making for the Ladies. Interconference turned out to be a vast and brand new centre, the main
area a great airy space beneath a dome not much smaller than the one at Greenwich. It was packed with stands, all to do with technical stuff, engineering, computers, even lubricant technology, whatever that was.

I made my way across the concourse, following a little green sign suspended from the ceiling on wires. It wasn't at all obvious where I was actually supposed to go, and still less so when I'd got in behind the stands. The first door I tried opened into some kind of storeroom, stuffed with bits of display stand and hoardings advertising everything from timeshare to rolled steel. After a very brief nose about I tried the next, and struck luck.

Relieved, I went to find Richard, wanting to be with him, and vaguely aware that I should be doing what he was paying me for. If I wasn't to be taken to a hotel, seduced and shagged, I was presumably just supposed to smile and pass the odd compliment, maybe flirt a little. I was too drunk to care much anyway, full of lust and mischief too.

He was at a stall, involved in a highly technical discussion about suspension systems. I joined him, taking his arm, was introduced, complimented on my hair, and then they went back to suspension systems. It was the same at the next stand, only involving magnetic oils, and the next, chromatics, and the next, rubber technology. By the time they'd finished with rubber technology I was bored silly and beginning to feel I was really and truly earning my money. My feet hurt, I was beginning to regret the amount of drink I'd put back, and my sense of erotic mischief had given way to a dull frustration and a slight headache.

Richard was consulting his catalogue as we moved away from the stall, and nipped in to the space between them and the outer wall to take a short cut. One more bike tech stall and my brain was going to explode, so I
didn't hesitate, but took him firmly by his tie. He looked around, surprised. I smiled, looking up into his bright blue-grey eyes.

‘I think you'd better come with me.'

‘Yes? Is there something you particularly wanted to see?'

‘Yes, there is.'

‘What's that?'

‘Your cock.'

He never even broke his stride, but let me lead him, smiling gently, to the storeroom I'd found earlier. We pushed quickly inside and I closed the door, jamming it with a big piece of red and yellow painted chipboard under the handle. My need was coming back, hot and strong, and I went straight to him, leaning up to kiss him, letting my mouth open to his as he took me in his arms. He wasted no time, one hand coming quickly round to cup a breast, the other moving lower, onto my bottom. I held on, letting him explore as we kissed, enjoying the taste of him and the feel of his strong hands on my body.

I was pressed tight to him, his cock swelling against my flesh, the cock that would shortly be mine, to touch, to suck, to take inside myself. My hand went down, his zip came low and I pulled it out, thick and heavy in my hand. I began to tug on him, kissing more fervently than ever, my body shivering with need as he expanded in my hand. He was nearly stiff when I went down, to take him in my mouth, sucking to let the male taste fill my senses and set me shaking harder still. As I took the head of his cock into my throat he sighed.

‘Yes . . . like that . . . that's beautiful. Make me come, Lucy.'

‘Uh, uh, I want it all, inside me,' I said.

I pulled back, looking up, as his penis reared above my face. He nodded and glanced around the room.

‘You'd better bend over, then, young lady.'

I nodded in turn, more than happy to comply, thinking of him between my bottom cheeks. There was a stool in the corner, just comfy enough to bend over for a good fucking. I went, bum up, tugging at my skirt even as I got into position. Richard watched, cock in hand, his eyes lingering on my rear as I showed off first my knickers and then my bare bum, ready to take him.

He came forward, and as he pushed his rock-hard erection down between my cheeks I was fumbling with the buttons of my blouse. They came open, and I pulled up my bra to free my breasts, even as the head of his cock found my hole and he was inside me, filling me up with two long, firm pushes. He caught me by the hips, fucking me hard and jamming me against the stool, so that I was forced to cling on, panting and gasping as he drove himself into me, hard and fast. I lost control, shaking my head in my ecstasy, my body quivering to his thrusts.

For a long moment I could do nothing but cling on and take it, a rough, powerful fucking, as hard as Niall gave me, or even Todd. It didn't matter. Only when he slowed down for a moment could I get my fingers where they were needed, to my clit, to touch the hard shaft of his erection where it entered my body; to stroke the lips of my open sex as he began to pump more firmly once more. I was going to come in moments, bent over, stripped and fucked in the storeroom of an exhibition hall with hundreds of people just yards away. It was from behind too, as I'd imagined it, and as his thrusting grew faster and more urgent still I thought of how he had first pressed between my bottom cheeks and how inappropriate the whole situation was.

He should have taken me then and there on the green, and balls (literally) to the golf committee. They could have watched from the windows as he lost control with me, me with my skirt high, him ripping my blouse open, tearing my knickers off, and stuffing the full, glorious length of himself up me from the rear with several hundred people watching in shock or delight, in lust or envy, utterly horrified or keen to take their turn with me.

I groaned as I came, because I couldn't help myself. Richard immediately snatched at my mouth, holding my jaw shut, to leave me writhing on his cock, helpless in my orgasm, barely able to breathe, shuddering and biting at his fingers. He held on tight, until at last I'd finished and he was ramming into me again, harder than ever. I clutched onto the stool, determined to take it, gasping out my reaction as his hard belly slapped onto my bottom and his cock drove in, harder and deeper, fully taking advantage of the saucy little temp who'd crossed his path and wriggled herself against him.

It stopped, suddenly. His cock came free and he was groaning and grunting out my name as he finished himself off over my upturned bottom. I let him, too exhausted to protest, too well-fucked. He even apologised when he was done, and passed me a handkerchief – monogrammed, naturally – to clean up. I did it quickly, sure that we'd be interrupted at any moment, and terrified of being caught with my knickers down despite the jammed door.

That was that, the end of my day and my first shagging by a suit. I was really rather pleased with myself. I'd coped. I'd done more than cope. In fact, I was well pleased with myself, because I'd done what I wanted to do, and enjoyed myself without letting anything get in
the way or picking up any emotional baggage. Not only that, but I'd done it without having the faintest idea what was going on. However pleased with myself I might be, Sophie had some questions to answer.

I tried to call her on my way home from Watford, but her mobile was off. It looked like I was going to be back at Tilbury the next day too, which was a serious pain. Egg and chips for tea didn't help any either. As I ate I was thinking of my three-course lunch, and of how easy and pleasant Richard Drake's life was. Maybe Talia was right, and the best thing to do was find a wealthy lover and take it easy. It made sense, yet the idea grated against my pride.

When the phone went on the Wednesday morning I had my fingers firmly crossed, praying it would be Mrs Maryam Smith and that she wouldn't be sending me to Tilbury. It was, and she wasn't. I had an assignment in the West End, at a theatre. I went in full of anticipation, imagining myself doing something exciting, even glamorous, helping out backstage, perhaps even with costumes or make-up, even meeting the stars . . .

The job involved sitting at a table in a dusty room in a shed built on at the back of the theatre, putting perforations in ten thousand tickets which had been delivered without them. It also involved Sophie, who turned up ten minutes after I'd been put to work, greeting me with a hug and a kiss that drew a look of disapproval from the woman who'd been set to watch over us, presumably to make sure we didn't pinch any tickets. I had to ask.

‘So, yesterday?'

‘Yeah, thanks, Lucy, that was so good of you. I'd dropped myself right in the shit.'

‘Good of me? You didn't give me a lot of choice.'

She gave me a puzzled look.

‘Sure I did. You could have just told him to fuck off, couldn't you?'

‘Yes, but, it might have been nice to know what was going on!'

‘Yeah, yeah, I should've rung, sorry. The thing is, I got two at the same time, you know how it is, and –'

‘Would you two please concentrate on your work. It is very important.'

The supervisor had spoken, and I bit back my responses, both to Sophie, asking if ‘how it is' involved shagging clients of Super Staff, and to the woman, asking why if it was so important she wasn't doing it herself. I knew the answers anyway. Richard Drake hadn't expected to be dragged into the store room, but he hadn't been that surprised either. The supervisor was far too important to lower herself to manual labour.

We weren't, but we were being paid for a full day, regardless, and so it made sense to work as fast as we could and hope that if we managed to finish early we'd be given the rest of the day to ourselves, or at least a more interesting task than making perforations. It was hard work too, tedious and tough on the muscles and the skin, leaving my arms and shoulders aching and a blister on my thumb by lunchtime. We'd done more than half, and the supervisor grudgingly let us out for a half-hour break. I had a dozen questions to ask Sophie the moment we were out of earshot, but she got in first.

‘So what's this, Miss Perks? You shagged Bobbie, and this guy Niall, and you didn't invite me?'

‘You were with two other guys.'

It was the first answer that came into my head, and a pretty good one, I thought, but I was blushing, as much for what she'd said as that I was sure we could still be overheard. She didn't care.

‘Oh, them. Idiots! They got into a fight over me, would you believe it?'

‘Yes. Now what happened on Tuesday? I didn't know what was going on at all. I had to bullshit my way through the day.'

‘You didn't shag him, did you?'

‘Richard Drake? No . . . yes.'

‘Cheeky cow! He's mine.'

‘What do you mean, yours?'

‘I always get Richard Drake; he's one of the best. Where'd he have you, in the boardroom?'

‘No, in a storeroom at . . . never mind that, what do you mean, he's yours? If he's special, why didn't you go?'

‘I couldn't. Anyway, I want to know about you and Bobbie. Did you lick each other . . .'

‘Sophie!'

‘Come on, did you?'

‘Sh!'

We were out in the street, but there was no shortage of people, ears flapping for a juicy bit of scandal. There was a pub a little way down, The Cross Keys, and we made for it, Sophie still talking.

‘I bet you did, dirty bitch.'

‘Sh, will you!'

She laughed.

‘You did, didn't you? I bet he got off on that, they always do.'

‘What do you mean, always?'

‘Oh, come on, you're not the first.'

‘Have you?'

‘Sure, twice. You know how it is, you get pissed and there're no decent guys around, so . . .'

She trailed off with a shrug, leaving me gaping for just how casual she was about it. I didn't want to sound
naïve or shocked by what I'd done so I answered just as casually.

‘You're right. No big deal.'

‘Fun, though, which is why I want the details. Spit it out, Miss Perks, all of it.'

The pub was crowded, but so noisy that once we were installed in the corner with our drinks in our hands, nobody could possibly hear what we were saying. I told her everything, from leaving Phatz to the morning after. She soaked it up, just glowing with pleasure as I told her how Bobbie and I had shared his cock and balls, how we'd lain side by side, then knelt, arms around each other as we were fucked doggy style. How we'd gone head to tail, how she'd sat up on my face as Niall fucked me. That made her eyes go round and her lips come apart, giving me a flush of pleasure at her reaction.