Office Perks (4 page)

‘Uh, uh, no blow-job from Lucy, not until you've found out how it feels to have a great big cock stuck in your mouth!'

‘Yeah, but you're a girl. You like it. Come on!'

‘I love it, but it's hard work. Now come on, open wide, Lukey baby.'

I'll swear Luke was going to do it, but Frazer cut in.

‘Choh! Will you two mad bitches just shut up and lick?' said Frazer. ‘I ain't having no guy suck me.'

I went back down on him, feeling full of mischief as I began to suck again, wishing he'd let Luke suck him, no, made Luke suck him; maybe after he'd fucked us both, and come in his mouth. It was a great thought, and I held on to it as I sat up to undo my jeans, keen to get Frazer inside me. Bobbie stayed down, holding his erection and licking at the shaft and the bulging deep purple sac of his balls. I watched as I pushed my jeans down, taking my knickers with them, kicking it all off. Bare but for my lifted top I crawled close.

Frazer lifted Bobbie off his cock and I mounted up, his big hands on my waist as I felt the firm, round head beneath me, pushing between my cheeks, in the slippery groove of my pussy, and to my hole, third time lucky. I sighed as I felt myself fill, all the way up, as if he was in me right to the top of my head. He took my bum, pulling my cheeks wide as I began to bounce on his cock.

I showed behind, his thick brown cock straining out the mouth of my pussy and the little pink star of my bumhole between my spread cheeks. Luke was staring, I knew, and he could see just about everything too. I didn't care. I wanted him to. I wanted him to watch and wish it was him. I wanted to laugh at him while he sucked Frazer's cock, then deny him after all. I wanted to come, and I was going to.

My hands were around his neck, touching the thick,
heavy muscles of his back and shoulders. He held me like a doll, gripping my hips and bottom as he bounced me on his cock, in full control of my body. I put a hand to my pussy, spreading my lips to show him what I was doing, and Luke, rubbing myself to the ecstasy of being fucked. Bobbie gave a delighted gasp as she saw I was masturbating, and I was there, thinking of the two of them watching me as I was fucked.

It was so good, long and tight and lovely, after building it up nearly all day. I was so full of cock, moving in me to a steady rhythm as I rubbed at my bump, and so full of delicious, dirty thoughts. There I was, near nude, mounted up on a big, big man, his hands on my body, his erection inside me, my new friend watching, another man watching, and wishing he could have me too, both of them, in me together, pussy and mouth, but with Luke's own mouth still full of the taste of Frazer's cock.

Bobbie was pulling me off before I'd even really finished. I tried to protest, but I was dizzy with pleasure and drink, and off balance. I went over, legs wide on the floor of the compartment, and banged my head on the wall. By the time I managed to focus she was on his cock, just like I'd been, only the other way around, with her bum stuck out into his lap. He obviously didn't care who he was in, fucking away merrily with his huge hands covering her tits.

Luke was still staring, knelt up on the middle seat, only Bobbie had taken her knickers off at some point and he had them held up to his face, sniffing them as he wanked himself indulgently. A moment later I was laughing.

‘Look at you, you little pervert! Get off on girls' knickers, do you?'

He looked at me, his face so full of hurt and pleading
that I immediately felt a real bitch. Then he was babbling.

‘Please, Lucy . . . Miss Doyle . . . please, just in your hand. Anything, please!'

I opened my mouth to call him a wanker, but nothing came out. He just looked so sorry for himself. Telling myself I was just being kind, I scrambled down beside him. I didn't want to touch his cock, but I was going to do it, the way Father Slynn had made Siobhan, using a pair of knickers, not mine, Bobbie's.

She tried to say something as I took them and folded them around Luke's straining cock, but Frazer was jamming himself into her hard and fast, and all that came out was a grunt. I began to wank Luke, his cock pushing up and down in the silky knickers, hot and hard beneath. Frazer gave a deep, animal growl; Bobbie cried out in delight, and he'd come in her, finishing himself off with a series of furious thrusts that had her gasping and squealing in pleasure.

Her thighs went wide as she lay back on him, her pussy open, his cock dark and thick in her straining pink hole, his hands still kneading her breasts. She started to rub, squirming on him as she brought herself up towards orgasm, with Luke staring enraptured as I wanked him into her knickers. In just seconds she'd come, panting out her lust with her eyes shut tight and her bottom wriggling in Frazer's lap.

She wasn't the only one; my own excitement was rising too high to stop Luke as he began to paw my tits, and to groan, and thank me over and over in a voice thick with lust. One hand found my bum, but I didn't stop him, until his fingers had slipped down between my cheeks and he was tickling my bumhole.

‘Get off me, you dirty pig!' I yelped.

Too late. He grunted, and his cock jerked in my hand.
The white silk stretched on his knob went suddenly dark and he'd come in Bobbie's knickers. He'd penetrated my bumhole too, and I squealed in shock and outrage as I felt his finger go in, right in, because I was wet with my own juice.

‘You bastard!'

His answer was a long sigh, and broken words tumbling out, maybe an apology, as he pulled me dose, too strong to resist, with his finger working deep up my bum. I let go of his cock and slapped him, hard, a lot harder than I would have done if the finger up my bottom hole hadn't felt quite so lovely.

21 July – Lucy Doyle persuades her uncle David to pretend to be a priest.

22 July – Lucy Doyle fails to persuade Niall Flynn to provide a reference.

23 July – Lucy Doyle persuades Niall Flynn to provide a reference.

WHAT A BASTARD!
What a conniving, evil gobshite! He's my brother Ryan's best mate. He's known me since I was like seven, six even. And what does he want? He wants his dirty cock sucked just to say I've done a bit of typing for him in his mouldy garage. Flynn's Executive Motors, my arse. More like Flynn's Con Artists and Rip-Off Merchants.

I should have kicked him in the balls. If he wasn't so horny I would have kicked him in the balls. If he wasn't such a blarney-mouthed son-of-a-bitch I would have kicked him in the balls. He is, and I didn't. I sucked them instead. It was what he wanted – him tossing off in my face. That was after I'd got him hard. He came in my eye too, which is always a shocker.

Not that it was exactly the first time, but still.

So I got my references, one from uncle David, who just thought it was funny, and one from gobshite bastard Niall Flynn. He thought it was funny too, but in a different way. Mrs Maryam Smith phoned me the
following Monday and I was officially a Super Staff girl, highly recommended by my ‘former employers'. I had an engagement, too, at twelve pounds. By lunchtime I'd have more money than Father Jessop would have paid me in a week, and it was just as well, what with Mum and Mary lecturing me on how I'd brought shame to the family and what an ungrateful cow I was.

I had to move myself, with the agency ringing at just after eight to tell me I was supposed to be in Docklands by ten. The only thing I had which was going to make me look even close to the way Bobbie had the week before – that is, the way she'd looked before she started getting her kit off for Frazer – was the black skirt and jacket set I'd bought for Great Uncle Stephen's funeral two years before. A white blouse pinched from Mary, a black velvet ribbon in my hair, dark tights and black court shoes, and I really did look as if I was going to work in an undertaker's. I put on some cherry-red lippy and nail polish on the way, adding a little more each time the train pulled into a station, and by the time I got there I looked at least vaguely businesslike . . .

. . . to find that everyone else was in casual clothes. Some of the girls were even in low-rise jeans with the tops of brightly coloured thongs showing at the back, making me feel seriously overdressed. Two other women were smartly dressed: my boss, a fire-breathing dragon of at least sixty, Mrs Tench; and Ms Roberta Davenport, which is what it said on her desk, anyway. She was acting as Mrs Tench's sidekick, and looked so prim and proper in her perfect grey suit you'd have thought butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. I knew better. I'd seen her rubbing her bump with her pussy full of big black cock. She seemed to be in charge of me.

‘What are you doing?' I asked, secretly delighted that we were going to be working together.

‘Being your boss, that's what, Miss Perks. Now get to work, before I take my whip to your arse!'

‘Yes, but you're a temp!'

‘A temp with experience. The company's on a major decruitment drive and we're here to rationalise their personnel overheads.'

‘What?'

‘They're trying to get rid of expensive full-time staff, so every time one leaves they get a temp. That's so when the whole thing gets cut they don't have to pay out any redundancy money.'

‘Oh, right,' I answered. I was beginning to realise that the London employment scene was not exactly worker-friendly. The laws had been changed to favour the bosses all down the line. Gone were the days of the unions and ‘out, brothers, out' that I'd read about in my sociology classes.

‘What am I doing, anyway?' I ventured, in a half-assed way as I fiddled with one of the desk toys.

‘What do you want to do? You can mash data into spreadsheets, file, mail, or go on reception. Smile.'

I smiled.

‘You're on reception.'

‘What do I do?'

‘Look pretty, smile sweetly, say “Good morning, Sir” as if you're really impressed, and oh, don't hit anyone.'

‘Hit anyone?'

‘Like Luke.'

‘Yes, but he –'

‘I'm joking, Lucy. The only thing you really need to know is that nobody, but nobody, gets to see Mrs Tench without going through me first. The extension numbers are on the switchboard. You do know how to use a switchboard, don't you?'

‘Er . . . no.'

She shook her head.

‘You'll learn. Go on, get on with it, or I
will
take a whip to your arse, or at least a ruler. The whip requisitioning procedure around here is just too slow.'

I stuck out my tongue at her and disappeared from her sight, very, very glad it was her I'd had to deal with and not Mrs Tench, or the slight exaggerations on the Super Staff application form would have become evident in double-quick time. OK, not slight exaggerations, blatant lies, but in GCSE business studies they'd always been going on about how important initiative was.

As it went, reception was no big deal. Nearly everyone who came in had a little badge to show me, and I had visitors' passes for the ones who didn't. Not that there were many, in any case. By lunchtime I was bored stiff, and was just wondering if I was going to be allowed to eat anything when Bobbie appeared with another girl; dark and willowy with an olive complexion, maybe Italian or Greek. Bobbie pointed between us as she reached the desk.

‘Lucy, Talia. Talia, Lucy. Lunch?'

‘Sure. Hi, Talia. You're taking over, then?'

‘Sure am.'

Her accent was American, New York maybe, and her manner seriously laid back as she took my place at the desk, as if she could just about be bothered. Bobbie gestured with her eyes as we made for the lift and spoke as the doors swished shut behind us.

‘Mouse potato.'

‘What?'

‘Talia, she's a mouse potato, like a couch potato, only with a computer. She's great on computers, when she can be bothered, but hates anything physical or that means interacting with the general public.'

‘Can't say I blame her. She looks fit, though.'

‘I don't think she eats.'

‘Is she with Super Staff?'

‘Sure, nearly as long as me. Fun, but no taste in men.'

‘No?'

‘Older guys, rich and smooth like cream, she says. Smarmy old gits, I say.'

‘I'm with you; young and strong . . . and dirty.'

‘And rough.'

‘I think your rough is my ordinary.'

She didn't answer, as the doors had opened again. A trio of businessmen got in – suits, one white-haired and obviously senior, the others younger. The tallest of the three gave us an admiring glance but his colleagues ignored us completely, and we descended to the ground floor in silence, staring at our shoes and feeling awkward, unsure if we should be trying to strike up conversation. Bobbie only spoke again when we'd come out on the board plaza, with the buildings rising to either side, dizzyingly high.

‘You obviously got your references sorted then?'

‘Yes, and how!'

‘What happened?'

‘My Uncle David was OK, no problems, but my brother's mate, Niall, who runs a garage, was a complete bastard about it. He made me suck him off.'

‘He didn't!'

‘He did, and he was a real pig about it too.'

I broke off, laughing. She looked so eager, like a cat peering into a fish bowl. I'd been going to admit that Niall and I had had that sort of relationship since the day he'd taught me how to suck cock properly. That wasn't what she wanted to hear. What she wanted were rude details, which I was happy to supply, maybe even embellish a little.

‘I wouldn't do it the first day, because I thought he'd
back down. After all, he is supposed to be a family friend. He didn't. The letter from Super Staff had arrived, and he had it on his desk in the little office at the back of his main workshop. He'd even done a reply, saying how good I was, punctual, efficient, quick on the uptake, good with computers and accounts – more than I really needed. All he had to do was sign it and send it off. I thought he'd relented, but oh no, not him. He sits down in his chair –'