Office Perks (21 page)

Luke put his hands up.

‘Calm down, Lucy, it's OK, really.'

It wasn't, but I bit my lip. The rent boy took Luke's arm, leading him towards where the path disappeared among the trees in absolute blackness. For a moment I hung back, then followed, not wanting to walk back alone. They were talking, mainly Luke, in the same urgent whisper he'd used in the restaurant. My temper was still up, but I wanted to watch. It was something I'd never seen before, something I knew would turn me on.

After just a few yards they went in among the bushes. For a moment I couldn't see a thing, groping through leaves and twisted branches of some bush, before I saw them together in a patch of faint light where a lamp on the far side of the pond illuminated a piece of open, muddy ground. I stopped, watching, my mouth open, my
rising excitement pushing down my irritation. The rent boy gave an order: curt, mocking.

‘On your knees.'

Luke went down on his knees in the mud, his face working with emotion. With one smooth motion the rent boy had pushed his shorts down, exposing a thick, pale cock sat above a fat ball sac, all completely shaven smoth. Luke swallowed, his eyes fixed to the boy's cock, his mouth a little open. The boy's hand came down, taking Luke firmly around the back of his head. Luke's head was pulled in, the young buck's cock and balls rubbed in his face, and I felt my pussy tighten. The boy snapped out a fresh order.

‘Suck it, you little slut!'

Luke's face was squashed against the boy's genitals, his eyes tight shut, his mouth tight shut, before it opened to take in the thick white penis. Luke began sucking with a desperate energy. The boy gasped, biting his lip as if in sudden pain, but Luke took no notice, sucking as if he wanted to eat the cock that had already begun to swell in his mouth.

I was in shadow, well back, almost invisible, and the temptation to touch myself as the boy grew slowly erect in Luke's mouth was just too strong. My hand strayed to my breasts, stroking my nipples through the material of my blouse and bra until they'd grown stiff with excitement. The boy was stiff too, by then, his thick, stubby erection protruding from Luke's mouth. I saw Luke's hand go down to unzip himself, pulling out his own penis which was, unsurprisingly, rock hard.

Luke began to wank, and as he did so he let the rent boy's erection free of his mouth, licking and kissing at the thick shaft instead. He'd quickly grown urgent, and so had I, my hand on the crotch of my jeans, pressing at my clit through the thick material. Luke was going to
come, jerking frenziedly as he licked at the boy's balls. I needed it too, my fingers trembling as I pulled at the button of my jeans, just as the rent boy grabbed his cock, jerking hard, to spray come into Luke's face and onto the crown of his head. Luke's mouth came wide in ecstasy, his cock jerked and, as he took the rent boy back in to suck down his sperm, he was coming himself, all over his hand and into the mud beneath him.

My breath came out in a long, slow hiss. I was shaking, badly needing my own orgasm, but it was over, and I couldn't do it, not in front of them. As Luke got up I was fastening my jeans, unsatisfied, and as I stepped forward the rent boy turned to me with a happy grin.

‘Good, huh, bitch?'

I nodded, swallowing the insult and ducked down to get some tissues from my bag for Luke. He took them with a mumbled ‘thank you' and mopped up quickly. I couldn't help but smile, to see a man do what I'd done myself so often. The rent boy waited patiently, before accepting Luke's money, handing over a card with ‘Big Dog' and his mobile number on it, then disappearing off among the bushes with a last remark to say that he could be found in the same part of the Heath most evenings.

We walked back down the hill in silence, holding hands. Luke seemed to need reassurance, and I didn't mind giving it, for all that I was boiling inside and wanted to finish myself off with the image of him sucking on the rent boy's cock in my head. Only when we came out from the trees did the resentment start to boil up. I'd done a lot for him, and I was going to be left high and dry, which just wasn't fair. Maybe I didn't fancy him, but still . . .

‘Luke, stop. You're going to have to do something for me. Come in here.'

His answer was a soft noise, a whimper, and as I pushed in among the bushes, he followed. It was pitch black, my emotions were a jumble or lust and fear of being caught, and an odd, sullen resentment for the state he'd got me into. I found a tree, by touch, and put my back to it, pushing my jeans and knickers low. Luke's hands touched me, my shoulders, my breasts, my belly, my hips, and he'd taken hold of my bottom and sunk to his knees, his mouth nuzzling my pussy as I pushed myself into his face.

I shut my eyes, struggling to concentrate as his tongue found my clit, lapping clumsily. Nobody could see, nobody need know; I only had to bring back the images: one man sucking another's cock; one man on his knees in the mud, wanking frenziedly as he licked and kissed another's erect penis. Suddenly nothing else mattered, not the noises around us in the night, not the risk, not the rent boy's snide manner; just that I'd seen Luke go down, not just sucking cock for fun, as I would, but worshipping cock. That was what it had been, dick worship, kneeling at a man's feet in the dirt, using his mouth to worship at another man's erection.

My head was full of images of homosexual lust, of cute boys wanking themselves and rough older men spunking in their faces. The urgent male energy thrilled me, and I thought how wonderful it would be if I could swap gender, if only for a day. I'd probably spend it on Hampstead Heath, looking for gay virgins to fuck and spunk over.

As I came I bit my lip hard, determined not to yell out. I took Luke's head and pulled him in, rubbing my cunt in his face, just as the rent boy had rubbed his cock and balls. I wanted my own sex worshipped in the same rude way as I rode my orgasm to one peak, and then a second as I pushed Luke aside to rub myself, finger to clit in
order to get it just right, sighing with contentment as I came slowly down.

That was it, or should have been. I hastily made myself decent and we set off down the path once more. Luke was still quiet, but I wasn't having it, and soon had him grinning shyly as we came out onto the road. It was getting late and I had to get home, so I took my phone out to call a cab, just as it rang. I didn't recognise the number, but answered anyway.

‘Hello? I did? Oh, Aaron, yes, I did. Sorry, too late. You'll just have to wank yourself off instead.'

I cut the call off, laughing.

Tuesday morning Maryam rang to say I was on a different assignment, still with KMC, but at their headquarters and on a higher rate. Somehow it didn't surprise me, and nor did the sudden change in expression of the receptionist, from superior to deferential, when I gave her my contact name – Andrew Miller. He turned out to be Charles King's PA, which didn't surprise me either.

What did surprise me was the security, as if I was going to meet some political bigwig and not the boss of a transport company. The lift took me to the twelfth floor, where I was met by Andrew Miller, a blond young man with a crocodile smile who I vaguely recognised from
Mise en Scène.
He took me to another lift, with no buttons but a slot for a card. It whisked us up two more floors, to a hallway comfortably furnished with black leather armchairs, potted palms and what looked like original artworks. There was a single door with a panel of number buttons to one side into which Andrew Miller pressed a code before using his card once again.

As the door slid open I was expecting something out of a James Bond movie, perhaps a big table with expensive but dodgy-looking characters sitting around
discussing the latest plan for world domination. What I got was a big, very masculine living-room, done out in black leather and chrome, with a huge picture window at the far end looking out over London. In the centre of the floor was a magnificent rug, woven in tones of black, deep red and old gold. Charles King was seated in one of the armchairs, smoking a cigar.

‘Lucy, hi. Good to see you. Not on the rug please, it's a Shahin Dezh, pre-war.'

‘Oh, right. Is it expensive then?'

He chuckled.

‘About what you'd earn in ten years, and irreplaceable'

‘Oh.'

I glanced around the room. Somehow it didn't seem very likely I'd been asked up to do some filing. Carefully avoiding the prized rug, I took a seat near his and crossed my legs, wishing I didn't feel quite so unsure of myself. It was something about him – his power, not physical power so much, for all that he was a big man, but a businessman's power, or a politician's power. Richard Drake had had it, in an easygoing way. Charles King had it in spades. I felt I ought to be attracted to him, as if it was obligatory. He got up.

‘Drink?'

‘Please, yes. Whiskey, Irish if you have it.'

He raised an eyebrow.

‘Not just a pretty face, I see. Redbreast OK for you, or Bushmills Green label?'

‘Redbreast, please.'

‘You're a Catholic girl, then?'

‘They're both owned by Irish Distillers, I just prefer Redbreast.'

‘I didn't mean to offend.'

‘You didn't. I'm Catholic, yes, but you could say I was lapsed.'

I'd been going to say ‘very lapsed', but I bit it back. He'd made a gaffe and apologised, only the apology had been in his words, not his tone. I took my whiskey, a triple by pub standards, wondering if the idea was to get me drunk and seduce me then and there. He'd poured himself a Scotch, a single malt I didn't know, and a measure, if anything, that was even more generous. By the time I was too drunk to know what I was doing, he'd be too drunk to do anything about it.

He went to the window, looking out over the rooftops towards the river and the London Eye. I waited, more than happy to be paid twelve pounds an hour to sit in a leather armchair drinking whiskey. At last he seemed to come to a decision and turned around.

‘You're intelligent, Lucy, and bold. I like that in a woman. It means I don't have to dissemble. I find you very attractive, and I'd like you to come out with me on a trip, to Inagua, in the Bahamas, for a week. I have a little villa there. Believe me, it's paradise.'

It was a bit sudden, to say the least. I'd been expecting him to make a play for me, perhaps as simple as getting me drunk, more likely a slower effort; but a trip to the Bahamas was more than I'd bargained for, a lot more. After all, what he was saying was that he wanted to take me to his villa and bonk my brains out, if not in so many words. Finally I managed a response.

‘That's . . . um . . . very generous of you, Mr Charles, but . . .'

He raised a hand.

‘I know, a little sudden, but why beat around the bush, eh? I didn't get where I am today by beating around the bush.'

He smiled, but it took me a moment to get the joke. I managed a weak laugh as he spoke again.

‘Boyfriend? I understand, and I'll respect your decision, of course, but –'

‘I'm not attached, not really,' I blurted out.

‘No? Good, but I'll tell you anyway, because it's good advice, take it or leave it alone. When you're young, particularly if you're a woman, and trying to make your way up in the world, you mustn't let people hold you back. OK, that boy you've known since school may be goodlooking, and he may be good in bed. Go with him, and you'll be pushing a pram before you're twenty-one.'

I had to nod, because it was exactly what had been going through my head since the moment it had been decided I was Niall's steady girlfriend. He knew how old I was because he'd have seen my resumé from Super Staff, and he was right about the pram pushing. He went on.

‘Don't do it, that's my advice, and somehow I don't think you want to?'

Again I nodded, with him still talking.

‘Then there's the other way. Make your contacts, network, pull yourself up, until you're in charge. Then you can make your own choices. Marry? Sure, if you want to, when you want to. You're the boss. Now, I'm not going to lie to you, this is no marriage proposal. I've been through three wives and that's my lot. I want to have you. I want to fuck that round little arse of yours.'

He stopped, because I was choking on my whiskey, not with shock, despite what he'd said, but with laughter, because he was trying to shock me right out of my knickers. It was funny. If only he knew . . . When I'd finally swallowed the whiskey I'd managed to keep in my mouth I answered him.

‘Mr King . . . Charles, last weekend I went to bed with
a boyfriend and two girlfriends, all together. Believe me, I can handle it.'

For one beautiful moment there was shock on his face, and then he composed himself. He gave a light laugh.

‘I like you, Lucy, I really like you. You've got guts. Say you'll come with me?'

‘I'll think about it, OK?'

‘Fine, take your time. I'm a busy man, Lucy, so . . .'

His hand had gone to the front of his trousers, and my heart jumped at the thought of him simply getting his dick out and demanding it be sucked. I'd have done it, too, because after acting so bold I'd have felt a right prat backing out. He merely extracted a wallet as he continued.

‘Here's a little something for your wardrobe and, if you decide not to come, well, that's the way it is. Here.'

He was holding out a sheaf of notes. I knew the game. If I took it, I was obliged, really no different to the boys who reckon standing a girl fish and chips entitles them to being tossed off on the way home. He didn't know me. Some of those boys had got my knee in their balls. Rather more had got their hand jobs, but that wasn't the point. I do as I like, and I took the money.

‘Thanks, that's very generous.'

‘You're welcome. Drop back this afternoon, say three o'clock? Show me what you've bought.'

In other words, he wanted a strip show, or maybe it was just my dirty mind. I finished my whiskey and left feeling quite pleased with myself but not one hundred percent sure about his offer. For a start there was Niall, who was not going to be best pleased. Then again, eventually I was going to have to point out that he didn't own me, if only when I went off to uni. Mum wasn't
going to approve either, which meant I'd get it in the ear from Mary too. If anything that made me want to go more.