All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.
As this is now part three of my tale, I'm assuming you've read parts one & two, so you know how I got into the situation I find myself in at the moment.
So some time later, maybe half an hour or so, I'm still lying face down on my bed sobbing, when I hear Gerry's voice as he stood in the doorway to my bedroom,
“Come-on Mary. You know I didn't mean it.”
I lay there trying to totally ignore him. I could sense he was moving closer to the
bed,
“Please babe. I'm sorry. I was angry, and I just lashed out without thinking.”
He moved in closer still and I felt his hand resting on my back. He slowly moved it around in a gentle manner as he'd done many times in the past; stroking my shoulders, I guess he thought relieving the tension. This was nearly always his approach when he wanted to say sorry after we'd had some kind of fight.
I lay there for maybe fifteen minutes as he sat on the edge of the bed; and whilst his hand attempted to soak away my stress, he would occasionally speak soft words of apology to try to explain away his stupid behaviour. I have to admit; I was on the point of talking to him, even if only to give him a mouthful of abuse. But before I'd opened my mouth, there was a sound from downstairs,
“KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK.”
It was someone at our front door, and as I felt Gerry getting to his feet he said,
“I'll go and see who it is.”
I turned on my side and in an angry voice snapped,
“I don't care who it is, tell them to clear off!”
I listened carefully and as I heard the door downstairs opening, I then heard Gerry say,
“Oh, it's you.”
Then I heard the reply, and even at this distance I could recognise Peter's voice.
“I've just come around to make sure Mary is alright.”
“Yes she is. And she doesn't want to see anyone. So you can clear off and tell Mr Spencer we don't want him to call either.”
“I've just come from Graham's office. There were two of his cronies with him, and they were bragging about fleecing you, and taking advantage of your wife. I just want to make sure she's ok.”
“I've already told you. She's ok, so just go away and leave us alone.”
“Ok. I don't want to interfere if I'm not needed. But please tell Mary, if she wants anything, advice, someone to talk to, or anything at all, she can call me day or night.”
I didn't know at the time, Peter had handed Gerry his card at this moment, all I heard was a short pause before the front door slammed shut with a loud,
“BANG!”
All the time I'd been listening to Peter's voice, it had brought back such a warm feeling inside, and now as I heard the noise of the door being shut in his face, I felt instantly angry. I leapt from the bed and dashed to the front window, where I could see Peter closing our front gate and walking across the road to his car. I dashed onto the landing and down the stairs. As I was descending, Gerry had been about to start to come up,
“What's wrong?”
“Get out of my way you stupid idiot.”
His face as I yelled at him changed from a look of concern to one of anger, but before I'd reached the bottom step he'd stepped back off the stairs and moved clear of my pathway to the door. I wrenched on the front door handle and as I swung the door open called out as loud as I could muster,
“PETER!”
He was at the other side of the road, and just on the point of getting into his car. He stopped and as he stood he looked back across to where I stood in the doorway.
I beckoned with my hand and called, not quite so loudly, but still shouting to make myself heard.
“Please. Come back, I want to talk to you.”
He closed his car door and began to walk back towards where I stood. I turned around and looked back at Gerry and gave him a scowl that didn't needs words to show its meaning. He in turn, looking somewhat confused, asked,
“What? All I did was tell him to fuck-off. Like you told me to.”
“Never mind what I said; the way I feel right now, I'd rather talk to him than you.”
“Well fuck you then.”
And with that Gerry stomped off and went into the living room.
I waited for Peter to arrive at the door and then said,
“Come on in. I'm sorry my husband was so rude to you.”
As he walked past me and made his way towards our front room he replied,
“That's alright; I guess he was feeling more than a little angry after being cheated like that.”
By now I was following him into the room and Gerry was again seated in his chair next to the TV, and again he'd got a can of beer in his hand. I was still angry with him, but now I was also burning with curiosity to know what Peter meant by his remark about Gerry being cheated.
After asking Peter to sit down I sat myself in the chair opposite both Peter and Gerry, and then I asked,
“Cheated? What do you mean?”
Peter looked across to Gerry, and then said cautiously,
“I'm not sure if I've spoken out of turn.”
Then he looked at Gerry,
“Doesn't she know?”
Before Gerry could answer I again gave him a scowl as I asked,
“Know what? What the hell's going on?”
Gerry looked sheepishly in my direction as he said,
“It's nothing. I was going to tell you later.”
Peter now looked uncomfortable as he said,
“Look I didn't come here to cause trouble; do you want me to go?”
I snapped my reply back,
"NO!"
It came out in a lot angrier tone than I'd wanted to use to my guest, so I instantly changed my tone of voice,
"Its not you I'm angry with. Once this rat has explained what he's been up to, I might need your shoulder to cry on.”
And then I turned my head and as I pointedly glared at Gerry I said,
“Well? What's all this about you being cheated?”
Gerry then went on to tell me about the negotiations that had led up to the session with the two men, of course, you the reader already know what had taken place. And then Gerry finished his tale with a classic male excuse,
“And when you came down after those men had left, I was so angry with what they'd done to you, and how they'd only paid two hundred measly quid, I just lashed out at the first person I saw. I didn't mean to call you what I did, but I guess I just used the words they'd fed me earlier.”
Peter looked quite confused,
“My god man, are you saying you not only persuaded your wife into going with two men to earn you money, but then hurled abuse at her once she'd done your bidding?”
Gerry had been looking quite guilty, but on hearing this rebuke, he turned instantly angry,
“You fucking butt out. She's my wife and what goes on between us is nothing to do with you.”
I was already angry, so my flare-up was instant; I sprang to my feet and as I knocked the can of beer from his hand I blurted out,
“You drunken shit. I might be your wife now, but if you keep up this behaviour, I've a good mind to let your dirty minded boss send you to fucking jail. And don't think I'll be here waiting for you when you come out.”
This obviously wasn't the kind of reaction Gerry expected as he sat himself up and took hold of my hands he begged,
“Hey Mary. I didn't mean anything. Come-on girl you know I love you. I just wanted to sort things out without, you know, outsiders interfering.”
“Interfering? I invited Peter in because I can't talk to you these days. One minute you're acting like my pimp, and the next like a bloody holy inquisitor. If you can't say anything civilised, keep your mouth shut until Peter and I have finished talking.”
“Please Mary, just calm down.”
"I am calm, but you butt out until I tell you. Otherwise I promise I will see you go to prison.”
He looked genuinely scared, and I knew my words had really struck home. He pulled himself back into his chair, never even answered, but gestured that his lips were sealed.
I turned to Peter,
“Yes, that's exactly what he did. He asked me to have sex with those men because they were friends of Graham, and because he said we'd get two thousand pounds. I wouldn't have done it for the money alone, but I knew that Graham could still get Gerry in trouble with the police. And then when I came down after doing what he asked me to do, he called me... well you can guess what he called me, exactly what those dirty sods had told him to call me.”
Gerry tried to explain himself,
“Please Mary, let me just explain.”
“Don't bother.”
Then Peter said,
“Look I know I'm an outsider here, and if you tell me I'm not in a position to say anything, then I'll understand.”
I interrupted,
“No please. That was why I called you back in; I need someone from the outside, just to know I'm not going totally insane.”
“Ok for what its worth, this is my opinion.”
“Gerry messed-up at work. And don't get me wrong, we all make mistakes, its just some come home to roost with a lot heavier consequences than we expect."
He paused here, and then turning to me continued,
"Well that said, you were faced with a choice of seeing him go to jail, or doing something you wouldn't have otherwise considered. The incident at the night club could have netted you both a sum of money you hadn't at that point even dreamed of accruing. Now this time it was you who, dare I say it, screwed up. I know you did eventually agree to do the business, but it was after all, your delay, that caused the loss of what could have been a tidy sum of money. And then just to prove how fucked up your head was, you go and fuck the guy for free.”
“But that's all water under the bridge now. But what you have to understand, in Gerry's mind, you've already shown him you have the potential for earning money. And let's not pretend, you've also demonstrated you don't exactly dislike the work."
I think as he'd said this he must have seen the look on my face.
"Hey don't look so offended, I'm not criticising. Now to today, Gerry isn't used to dealing with sharks like those two."
He was still looking directly at me when he asked,
"And be honest, if they'd paid the two grand you'd expected; you'd both be sitting down now trying to work out how to line up your next punter.”
“Don't look so disappointed my dear. Its human nature. You've found something you've got a real talent for, and it pays well. Well it should do."
He now looked back towards Gerry,
"Now Gerry don't get me wrong lad. You're a good sort, and I know you mean well. But you aren't dealing with this situation as it should be dealt with.”
Gerry went to speak, but I held my hand up indicating he should let Peter finish. I think I'd taken more criticism from Peter than I'd expected, and just wanted to let Gerry have a bit too even things up.
Peter continued,
“You see lad, your first priority should be to get Graham off your back.”
“But...”
I interrupted Gerry before he'd hardly began to but in,
“Gerry! Let him finish!”
“As I was saying, we need to get some kind of document signed by Graham, which once signed, will prevent him from wielding this police matter over your head. I know it will involve Mary here doing the business again, but if she tells me her preferences, I'm sure I can guide Graham's mind into a direction where he thinks he's got her squirming, when in reality, she can just do what-ever, and then you'll be free of him.”
Gerry couldn't restrain himself,
“Like what?”
“I don't know yet, I need to talk to Mary to see what she finds the most acceptable. But I'm not trying to pretend he'll go for anything that doesn't involve her having sex with someone.”
“So why should you be the one to do the deal?”
“I'm not saying I should. That's for Mary to decide. But I will say this, I think I've got more experience in negotiations than you, and I for one wouldn't let any deal be influenced by getting two tickets to a football match.”
Peter could see my look of curiosity, but Gerry just sat there silent. Then Peter said,
“Oh I see. That's something else you didn't mention?”
I snapped at Gerry,
“Come on, what's all this about ticket to the footy?”
“Its nothing, they just threw them in. It didn't make any difference to what happened.”
Peter said,
“So Larry and James were just shooting their mouths off?”
This I took to be the names of the two men who'd been with me this morning; not exactly the right protocol to find out a man's name after the event. But I guess in my new profession, this was something I'd have to get used to; that is, if I even find out their names at all.
I turned to Peter,
“Ok being as you're the one stirring the shit pile, why don't you tell me about these bloody tickets?”
“I'm not trying to stir anything up. It was just when I met Graham. Larry and James were going on about Gerry as if he was some kind of moron. They say he point blank refused to let them double fuck you for two hundred quid, and then almost bit their hands off when they threw in two tickets to the game. The irony was, the tickets were freebies they'd been given by the security firm that just re-furbished the warehouse security cameras. And those were the very same security cameras that caught Gerry; getting you into this mess in the first place.”
I looked across at Gerry as I said sympathetically,
“That's about typical for you lately; if it wasn't for shit luck, you'd have no luck at all.”
I think this remark was taken as I intended it, and Gerry said in an apologetic tone,
“It wasn't like that honest. I really did think you'd kick-up a fuss as soon as they both started playing around with you at the same time.”
“It's ok. I guess I should have told you before, just how far that perverted sod of a boss of yours had already pushed me.”
And then I looked across at Peter,
“And for all his protective talk, he's no angel either.”
Peter looked a little defensive as he came back with,
“That's not fair. I've never forced you into anything.”
“No, but you didn't miss out on your chance to take advantage of me, no matter which hole was vacant.”
Gerry looked surprised,
“What? He's fucked your arse as well?”
“Hey don't look so shocked. Ass fucking is almost as common as a pussy fuck these days. And ask her, she wasn't forced.”
Gerry looked quite sad as he asked,
“Am I the only man in this town who hasn't fucked your arse?”
Peter could see my distaste at this kind of comment, and he answered before I got chance to speak,
“See lad, that's the kind of remark that kills the goose that lays the golden egg. She's done nothing wrong, and you should be supporting her, and making her feel good about her performance. Now come on tell her all that stuff about how much you love her, and less of this silly jealousy. If old Graham got one thing right; it was what he told you the other night.”
Gerry asked,
“What was that?”
“That little girl has got more cunt than you or any other one man can satisfy.”
On hearing this crude remark once again, I instantly covered my face with my hands as I coloured up bright red.
“No Mary. Don't take that as an insult. You're good. In fact I'll repeat what I said the other night, you fuck better than anyone I've ever been with; and that I can tell you, is no short list. Be proud of that pussy, if it's managed properly, Gerry can quit work, and both of you could make enough money in the next eight to ten years for you both to retire on a comfortable pension.”
I couldn't be sure I understood what he was actually saying, and I guess Gerry was having the same problem. But he asked the first question,
“Are you saying she should become a prostitute?”
“What do you mean become one? She already is. What did you think those two men paid you two hundred quid for.”
Gerry again flared up,
“You filthy sod.”
He sprang to his feet and launched himself at Peter, who rose to intercept him, and being a far bigger build, just took hold of his wrists and restrained him as Gerry carried on slagging him off.
I got to my feet and took hold of one of Gerry's arms,
“Please Gerry. Stop it. I'm sure he wasn't trying to insult me.”
Gerry shook his wrists free and slumped back into his chair,
“Fucking typical. I say something in anger, and I'm the anti-Christ. He calls you a hooker in cold blood, and you say its ok.”
“But he's right. I am a hooker. A prostitute. A whore. It doesn't matter which word you use, I let those men do it to me for money.”
Peter now had a big beaming smile on his face,
“Good girl. Now you Gerry; if you can accept it, and not get upset, then think of what this means.”
Gerry reluctantly asked,
“I don't get it.”
“Those men came here today prepared to pay up to five grand. They'd told Graham what they wanted to do, and he didn't think she'd go that far for less than that amount, if at all. But in the event, they got what they wanted, and they were only here for just...”
He shrugged his shoulders, then continued,
“I don't know; how long were they upstairs with her?”
Gerry replied,
“About twenty minutes at most.”
“The pair of them were cock-a-hoop about getting to do the double. They'd only thought it would be an arse fuck; one at a time.”
“Ok so they conned me, how was I to know what had been said before they got here?”
"That's my point; not only are you not in the right circles to know who will pay what amount, but you don't even know the value of the goods you're selling."
I spoke up, feeling more than a little used in their conversation,
“So that's all I am? Something to be sold to the highest bidder.”
“It was your choice. Nobody was holding a gun to your head, or a knife to your throat. It wasn't even Graham using his blackmail to back you into a corner.”
He paused for a second and then broke the silence,
“Don't feel bad about it. It's done, and you're none the worse for it. But think, you could have been five grand richer. Never mind about other people's opinions, it's yours, and you know how to use it; if you want to make a living from it, then that's your decision.”
“So what are you saying, she should do this all the time, and I don't even need to go to work?”
“I'm not saying she should. But I'm saying if she wants to, then she has the natural talent. And if she gets handled properly, she'll only need to do it until she's around thirty, and by then you'll have so much money invested, neither of you will need to work for the rest of your lives.”
“Bull-shit.”
“I'm not kidding you. But it will only workout that way if you spend carefully, and invest every spare penny. It has to be managed and planned.”
“Ah. Now I get it. She fucks all your mates, we get a pittance to live on, and you fuck-off with all the money. Fuck you! Do I look that stupid?”
“Well from where I'm sitting, if you're not stupid, you're a good actor.”
Gerry again sprang to his feet, and Peter again countered him, holding him as they danced around the room.
“Pack it up. It's my life you pair are talking about. Don't I get to have an opinion?”
As Gerry begrudgingly returned to his seat I said,
“It's no good Peter; I couldn't do that for a living.”
“Please Mary. Think about it. If I'd arranged those men this morning, you'd now have earned Gerry's normal weekly wage, and been able to put four-thousand four-hundred pounds into a high interest no tax investment account. And it took you twenty minutes! If I only find you say five or ten tricks a week, you'll be on the same kind of money as a premiere league footballer. Now I'm sure that's putting it in terms even Gerry can understand.”
I thought that remark would again antagonise Gerry, but when I looked across to where he was sitting, it clearly hadn't; I think the penny had now dropped, and Peter's ideas must have sunk in, because instead of anger, there was an excited enthusiasm in his voice,
“Are you sure she could earn that kind of money?”
“Maybe not for the first few months, but it one of those things, the newer she is and the less people know about her, the juicer the pretence, and the higher the price per session. But of course, if not many people know about her, then she won't get many customers. Then come the glory days, when she gets a hot reputation, and everyone wants to have a slice of the action; during that time the price is high, and I can get as many as she's willing to take. That's where she can make the bulk of her money. But we have to be careful how we play that; otherwise she'll loose the fresh appeal. Once that happens it's up to you whether you want to call it quits, or just move into another part of the market to boost your bank balance before calling it a day.”
Gerry was on the edge of his seat listening intently, now obviously taken by the idea, and then he asked,
“How come you think you know so much about this kind of thing?”
“I'm in the hiring end of advertising. And in our business, the money to be earned by the, so called actors and actresses is good. But most runs of an advert are not repeated. I know there have been some that keep using the same old face, but they're the exception. Usually we don't want any particular face to become associated with the product, so it's very much a one shoot and goodbye. If they're lucky we'll use the same face again for a few more different customers' lines, but very soon the work dries up. With the men I don't even get involved, and never see most of them again. But a girl whose face is appearing regularly on TV, even if it is only five seconds of loading a dishwasher or selling insurance; she has a short but lucrative earning window. And as I say, by the time their adverts are out in the public eye, most of them are struggling to find work. I can always find a customer to keep them in the luxury to which they've become accustomed. And once their glory days run out, if they still want work, there is lots of low-end porn. So being as I said to Mary, 'it's no good her pretending she's something she's not'. Then neither will I, as far as these girls are concerned, I'm their pimp.”
“How many girls do you look after?”
“Difficult to put a number on. There's about ten or fifteen high-end girls, ones whose adverts are still in peoples minds. About twenty or so who get the odd good earner, but rely mostly on porno, either film or club acts. Then I've got twenty girls in a block of flats, but they're just straight pay-for-fuck at fifty quid a go.”
“So this is your real job, and that rubbish about advertising is just a cover?”
“No, this is the sideline. Call it a hobby.”
“But one that pays good money?”
“I'm not short of a bob or two, but then I wouldn't be destitute if I only had my advertising, that's good for seventy-five grand a year. So like I said, this is just something I enjoy, that also pays well.”
“So if I let you look after Mary, what's your cut?”
“I'm not sure how much you know about running whores, but I think you'll probably know the normal split doesn't favour the girl.”
“So what's normal?”
“The fifty quid a go girls get a fiver a fuck.”
“So you take forty-five quid for doing nothing?”
“Not nothing. They get a place to operate from, with built-in security. If they could do better elsewhere, they'd leave.”
“Well don't think you're getting that cut from my wife.”
I broke up their cosy chat,
“I think you're both getting the cart before the horse.”
As they turned and looked quizzically, I continued,
“I'm not doing it.”
Peter added,
“She's right, we haven't reached the point where we discus who gets what cut. Lets just workout how to get Graham off your backs. All the rest can wait.”
Gerry responded first,
“Have you any ideas on that score?”
He asked looking at Peter. But before Peter replied, I spoke up,
“I'm wondering if our best idea would be to just find ourselves a solicitor.”
Peter took up the conversation,
“I can see why you would say that, and of course, it is your choice. After all you're the driver, and even if Gerry is your husband, in this respect, we're both passengers along for the ride. So if that's what you want to do its fine by me, and I won't try to talk you out of it. But before you go off half cocked, let me just run through what you'd be letting yourself into.”
I interrupted,
“Oh I know all that stuff about being dragged through the courts and our friends and family finding out. But at least it would be over one way or the other.”
Gerry butted in,
“That's the problem. It might be over for you, but think about me. At best, like you just said everyone will know, I'll loose my job and have difficulty finding another, and even if they don't send me down it'll be a hefty fine. But if it goes the other way, and you've already said about the way my lucks running, they'll send me down for twenty to thirty years.”
Peter again continued,
“You're both right to some extent, but let me just explain something else. You go to a solicitor first; he then has to employ a barrister. Now to get a good brief, costs real money. I'd guess if you want to keep Gerry out of prison, you'd be paying the best part of thirty grand just for the legal team. From what Graham says, the total cost of the false insurance claims are very substantial, so the fine won't be lower than ten grand, and could be a lot higher. So unless you have rich relatives or money stashed away I don't know about, I can only think of one way you can get that kind of money. But there is another way. We could just persuade Graham to sign a disclaimer.”
I answered,
“No. I know you think you have all the answers, but blackmailers don't give up. And all that stuff about legal costs is just you trying to frighten me. I know we could get free legal aid, that way it won't cost a penny.”
Peter laughed,
“Ha ha ha. Legal aid! How do you know so much about these matters?"
"I've seen programs on TV."
"Well unlike TV, blackmailers are just people who think they've got the upper hand, you just need to outwit them. And yes you can get legal aid, but I guarantee if you go down that route, Gerry will be middle-aged before you see him again. But I've said my piece. And if that's your choice, it's nothing to do with me. If you have a change of heart, Gerry's got my card.”
At that he rose to his feet, but before he'd moved Gerry said,
“Hey, don't go just yet.”
“I'm sorry lad, but it's not my place to push your little lady into a life she isn't happy with.”
“But you said we could get Mr Spencer off our backs another way; what did you mean?”
Still standing he replied,
“Mary knows what Graham's first proposal was.”
With that he looked at me.
I blushed, but said nothing. Gerry said,
“Well come on, am I the only one who doesn't know what's going on?”
“But you do lad, she refused him the first time. And then he brought you into the game to win her around.”
“What, not that thing about modelling the knickers from your catalogue?”
“That was it.”
“For fucks sake Mary. You'd send me to prison, rather than flash your fanny in his kinky knickers.”
“You don't understand. I've done that and more already, and we're still no nearer getting your situation over with. What ever I do that man will just keep asking for more and more.”
At this point I actually broke down and began to sob. Not hysterically, but I just felt so sad and helpless, as if I was on a never ending spiral downwards. Now you might think Gerry would be the one to sit alongside me, wrap his arm around my shoulder and say,
“Come-on love. I know it's been hard for you. But I promise I'll make sure that bastard doesn't control you again.”
But no, it was Peter whose neck I now buried my head into and sobbed.
Gerry asked,
“So what's your plan to get Mr Spencer off our backs?”
Peter replied in a soft voice,
“Not now lad. Let her have a little cry. Once she's got it out of her system, they'll be plenty time to discuss tactics.”
So that was it, Gerry sat there silently as I sobbed on the chest of what to all intents was a perfect stranger. How long we would have stopped there like that I'm not sure, but after about ten minutes the phone started ringing, and Gerry got up and answered it.
“Hello.”
”Ah Gerry lad.”
“Oh. Hi Mr Spencer.”
“I was just calling to make sure you were in. I'm coming around to see you about tonight.”
“Tonight? Why what's happening tonight?”
“I'm going to meet some friends, and I want your little lady to accompany me. I need to give her the details, and make sure she's ready for the hairdresser and beautician when they arrive later. Anyway, I'll be there in about thirty minutes and I'll explain everything.”
We of course, didn't hear Graham's end of the conversation, but even while he was on the phone, I'd sat up and was waiting to find out what Graham wanted. So as soon as he'd put the phone down, I asked,
“What's he on about tonight?”
“He's coming around now, to tell you all about it.”
“About what?”
“He wants you to go with him tonight to meet some of his friends, and he's arranged for a hairdresser and beautician to come here this afternoon.”
“Oh my god!”
And as I let out my cry of desperation I again started to sob as I buried my head back into Peter's chest.
He gently eased me from his chest, and using one hand to wipe the hair from my tear soaked face, he said softly,
“Come on. Let's not let him get the upper hand. We haven't got long, have you got a PC.”
Gerry answered,
“Yes, and it's got the latest graphics card, so it can handle just about any of the latest games.”
“So long as you've got word or some other kind of word processor, I don't think we've got time for games.”
I looked up at Peter and through my tears mumbled,
“What are you going to do?”
He helped me to my feet and we followed Gerry into the back room, by the time we got there, he had already fired up the PC. As we waited for it to boot, Peter said to me,
“Now you can't let Graham know I'm involved. And he already knows Gerry's capabilities, so when he arrives, this will all have been your idea. Ok, just give me a few minutes, and I'll see what I can come up with.”
Gerry and I stood silently behind Peter as he tapped away on the keyboard. After a few minutes, he'd finished the document, and the printer burst into life. This was the text he'd written.
To whom it may concern.
I G.W.Spencer do affirm that G.Kendal, being my employee was working under my instructions in the testing of a comprehensive security installation. This work involved a simulation of warehouse stock damage. Looting or, and stealing of the same. Filling in false insurance claim forms for the same. Distribution of the same amongst other employees. And loading of the same stolen goods into his own private transport.
Therefore any recorded material, audio or video, on whatever format, purporting to show this kind of activity, is not to be taken as evidence of any crime or misdemeanour.
Mr G.Kendal, is a trusted employee, who has my full confidence.
I am sorry that he has decided to move on to a new position with another company, but I wish him well in his new endeavour, and can assure any new employer that he will be getting a first class worker who can be trusted implicitly.
G.W.Spencer
As he handed the paper to me he said,
“Right now once that's signed by Graham, put it somewhere safe until you see me, and I'll get my legal boys to ratify it, and file it away.”
I could feel such an overwhelming surge of appreciation building as I read the words and began to think this would maybe secure my freedom. And as Peter handed the paper to me, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and smothered him with kisses. As I kissed like a silly child showing gratitude for a Christmas present, I could feel Peter's hands gradually applying more pressure, trying to prise me from himself. Then when he managed to get his face out of reach of mine, he said,
“Come-on. I appreciate your gratitude, but we really haven't got time for this.”
As I realised how silly my behaviour was, I blushed and as I backed away, said shyly,
“Sorry.”
“That's ok, and maybe some time soon, if you still feel that way, you can show me properly. But right now, you have to decide what you want to offer Graham to get him to sign, and how we can manoeuvre him into doing what you want. Now our starting point has to be the two options he has already given you, but that's not to say he'll go for them now.”
Gerry asked,
“Two options, I thought there was only one.”
“Well I'm afraid that before he involved you, he'd already been trying to get your little lady to come across with her goodies, still using your prison stretch as the stick. But your little lady refused him, and told him to get lost. It was then he threatened you directly, and it was you who persuaded her to cooperate.”
“So if posing in your sexy knickers was one option, what was the other?”
“He said if she'd fuck both him and me; that would be debt paid.”
Gerry's face was at first a scowl, and then suddenly it changed into a big smile,
“That's it!”
“What's it?”
“Don't you see? She's already let you and Graham do it the other night, remember you phoned me from that hotel room.”
“It's not something I'm likely to forget. But that's been and gone. If you'd had the sense to write out something before then, he'd have signed that night to get her to fuck. But now, it's water under the bridge.”
“I see, so either she poses in your stuff, or you get to fuck her again. Seems like you win all around.”
“Stop getting distracted from who your real threat is. If you don't decide on your strategy soon, it will be too late. If he knows I'm helping you, he won't go for it at all.”
I could see Peter was right,
“Come on Gerry, it doesn't matter if he gets something out of it. All we want is to get that prison threat lifted. And as far as I'm concerned, as soon as possible.”
“Ok, but why don't you just do the modelling of his undies, at least that way it doesn't involve having sex with anyone?”
“No, but Graham wanted me to do ten different sessions of that. And even if I do one every night, that still means ten days of being under his threat.”
“So are you saying you want Mr Spencer and this guy to fuck you again?”
“If you want to put it that way; then yes. I'd rather have them do it and get it over with, and then we can get back to our normal life.”
At this point Peter spoke up,
“I think she's got a point Gerry, Graham wouldn't sign anything until she's done all ten parties, and until then, he can keep coming back and manipulating her into doing other things.”
“You're biased. All you want is to get back into her knickers.”
“Well we're running out of time, if I don't move my car soon, he'll be here and then this scam won't work whichever route we follow. Hang on."
He paused for a split second,
"He's just been talking with those two earlier, and so I'll bet he's all fired-up and wanting to try you out with a double fuck.”
Gerry burst out,
“Well he's out of luck.”
“No don't be so hasty. What if I can somehow persuade him to double fuck her, but with you and him being the two men.”
“What you won't get involved at all?”
“Hang on I haven't got this clear in my mind yet.”
There was a pause, and then Peter said,
“Right Mary, you know what he's like, if he thinks you want something, that's the last thing he'll go for. So you need to keep pushing for the ten panty parties. I'll go now, and then I'll phone him, and ask him if there's any chance he can set you up for a double penetration session. But I'll tell him I can't make it until tomorrow. When he tells me he's too horny to wait until then, and that he's already either here, or on his way. I'll suggest he double fucks you with Gerry. That will really appeal to his warped sense of humour.”
He looked at Gerry,
“If you show your disgust at the suggestion; that will make him all the more determined.”
Gerry asked sarcastically,
“So what do you get out of it?”
“I told you, I'm not your enemy; concentrate on getting Graham off your back."
Then he looked at me,
"Will you be able to do this cold, or do you want one of these?"
He was holding out a little yellow pill. I took it from him, and immediately slipped it in my mouth, and picking up the remains of a cold cup of coffee from the table, swigged it down, making sure the pill was gone.
Gerry stammered,
"What in gods name was that?"
I answered,
"Mothers little helper."
He looked at Peter,
"What was it?"
"Nothing to worry about. But it'll help her relax. Now I'd better go. And the form for him to sign, don't even mention it until his already stripping off, and at the point where you know he isn't about to stop. But for gods sake make sure he signs before his fucked you. Right I'm gone.”
As he got to his feet I again went over to him, and reaching up as high as I could, I put my hand around his neck, pulled myself up, and planted a big juicy wet kiss. Not just on his lips, but I pushed my tongue deep into his mouth. During those few moments as I hung from his neck, with our bodies pressed tightly together, I not only felt his cock stiffen as it pressed against my tummy, I also felt a turmoil in there, one I now recognise as a prelude to my arousal. Gerry was stood at my side watching, and I guess his tolerance ran out. He reached up behind Peter's neck, pulled my hands loose and as I dropped back to the floor, he said,
“Enough of that, I thought you were in a hurry.”
Peter replied,
“He's right; just do your best to make it work.”
With that he turned and was on his way. Gerry went on about the pill I'd taken, but I told him we hadn't got time right now, so he let it drop. We put the paper Peter had printed out of sight, and waited. As it was Peter and I could have continued that kiss for at least another ten minutes, as it was a good fifteen minutes before Graham knocked at our door. Mind you, its maybe a good thing Gerry interrupted us when he did, otherwise, left to my own devices, I'd have probably have been riding his cock at this moment. But day-dreaming aside; back to Graham's arrival.
As he waltzed in our front room, with all the swagger of someone who feels in control, he said,
“Are Gerry lad, I've been hearing good things about you.”
“Me? What have I done?”
“This morning. My two business partners.”
Then he winked and nodded towards me,
“Your little lady.”
Gerry's response even took me by surprise,
“Those bastards! If they come here again, I'll fucking kill them.”
Graham looked shocked,
“Why Gerry lad. What did they do?”
“Did you really send them?”
“Well yes. But I thought you might appreciate the money.”
“Money! They came in, saying you'd told them to tell me I had to let both of them have sex with Mary. I said no, but they said you'd hand over your evidence to the police if I didn't cooperate. I said I would phone you to make sure it was really your orders. They again said, no, saying if I did, you'd shop me to the police.”
“So what happened?"
"They took Mary upstairs, both of them at the same time.”
“You went with them?”
“No they wouldn't let me. When they came down, they each threw me five twenty pound notes. And one of them also chucked two tickets to the football match, saying. ‘Here, they're no good to me now the blues are out of the running'.”
“So you're angry with them for only paying two hundred?”
“No. It isn't just that, it was what they did to Mary. They forced her to... oh shit, I can't even say it.”
His acting almost convinced me, and I knew the truth. But as he hesitated and covered his face with his hands, I continued,
“One of them held me while the other took me from behind, and once he was in me, he held me tight, while the first man took me from the front.”
Now it was Graham, who started acting,
“You mean they both fucked you at the same time?”
Gerry answered, and not in his usual submissive tone,
“YES! And there's no need to be crude about it.”
“Now now Gerry lad; lets not forget about your warehouse activities.”
“How can I, but I'd have thought with all Mary's been through, that debt would have been settled by now.”
“I'm not sure it's her who has been through anything; it's more the other way around."
"The other way around? What do you mean?"
"I thought it was more a case of all the men who've been through Mary."
And as he said this he gave a dirty laugh,
"Ha ha,"
"You dirty sod."
"Less of that my boy, I still have the evidence to get you put away."
"That's my point. You've just said in your crude way, she's already done it for you with more than one man. She must have paid off the debt?"
"Well now lad, she hasn't done any of the lingerie parties yet.”
Just as he was speaking his mobile phone started ringing in his pocket.
“Hang on; I'll just see who this is.”
As he looked at the screen on his phone a smile appeared on his face, and the phone went up to his ear,
“Hi Pete old mate. I was just thinking about you.”
“I was just ringing to ask a favour.”
“Course mate, just name it.”
“That bit of skirt you've got jumping through hoops, I've been thinking about what Larry and James did with her this morning, and I can't get it out of my head. I was thinking that maybe instead of getting her to do those undies demos for me, how about arranging a double fuck for some time tomorrow?”
“I'm with her right now; can't you get straight over here?”
“No can do today.”
“Are you sure you can't make it, now you've sown the idea in my head, I quite fancy doing it now.”
“Well go for it.”
“But who with, I've already got a stiffy and its getting worse as we speak.”
“What about that creep of a husband. I would have thought getting him to partner you would have appealed to your warped sense of humour.”
“Shit yes. That's it. Thanks for the idea, call you later once I've done the dirty.”
We obviously didn't hear Peter's end of the conversation, but we assumed he was trying to steer Graham towards what we'd already talked about. As Graham folded his phone and slipped it in his pocket, he said,
“That was Peter.”
Gerry asked,
“The advertising man from the knickers firm?”
“That's him.”
“So did you make arrangements for Mary to model his stuff, so we can call it debt paid?”
“Not that simple.”
“Why, she's agreed to do it for him.”
“Maybe, but he's not sure he wants it modelled anymore.”
I then pleaded,
“Look I know you've got me over a barrel, but I can't take this day after day. If he doesn't want the modelling doing, isn't there any other way we can get this sorted?”
“Well maybe.”
He looked at me as he asked,
“I take it you didn't like the idea of two men fucking you at the same time?”
“No."
And then using the most sarcastic tone I could muster,
"Why, do you think that's some sort of treat?”
He then looked at Gerry,
“And you, have you ever fucked her up the arse?”
“Of course not.”
Graham looked at Gerry,
“Ok I've got a proposition for you. We all go up to your bedroom, and me and your little lady will get comfortable. Once I've got her all juiced-up, I want you on your back on the bed. If you ain't hard, it'll be up to her to get you there. And then once you're ready for action, I want her to drop her snatch onto your dick, and I'll give her the arse fucking of a lifetime.”
“You might as well go now.”
“What are you telling me you'd rather go to jail?”
“You know I don't want jail, but there are some things I won't do.”
“You'll regret it.”
I could see what Gerry was doing, but I thought it was now about time to let Graham think he was calling the shots,
“Look Mr Spencer. Gerry isn't trying to be difficult, but it seems we keep doing what ever you say, and we're no nearer getting this debt to you paid. If. I'm not saying I will, but if we do let you do as you've just said, and Gerry does... you know, join in with you. Will that completely settle our debt?”
“Maybe.”
Gerry took over,
“This is pointless. If you're just going to keep stringing us along, then it might as well end here. Go to the police and get it over with.”
“Don't be so hasty. I said maybe.”
I asked,
“So what is it that will make it a definite?”
“Now let me see. What about if once we get upstairs, Gerry takes your clothes off for me, and then he holds your legs open as I get on the bed and start fucking you. And then once I get you going, we'll just follow the plan I laid out a minute a go.”
Gerry spoke up,
“No way am I preparing my own wife for you to fuck. And I don't care what you say; I'm not having sex with her at the same time as you.”
“But Gerry, if he agrees this is the last thing we need to do, and all your problems are over.”
I then looked up to Graham,
“That is what you're saying; if we do this it is all over?”
“I guess so.”
“Please Gerry, I know you don't want to, and god knows neither do I, but if Graham rights-off the debt, slate clean, then please let's just do it.”
“Ok, but this is the last time.”
Graham had a smug little smile on his face as he said,
“Come on then get your little lady up those stairs, I want to see you preparing her for me.”
We all trouped up to the bedroom, and Graham took the seat by my dressing table whilst Gerry began to remove my clothing. As he released the clip on my bra, Graham said,
“That's it Gerry lad let's see her tits hanging free.”
Gerry continued without comment, and then put his fingers into the waist band of my panties. As he started to peel them down my legs, Graham again goaded,
“Good lad, now we can see that little bald snatch.”
Once I was naked I stepped back and as I sat onto the bed, swung my legs around and lay down full stretch on my back. As Gerry lifted my legs open, Graham came up behind him,
“Ok lad, get your face down there and juice it up ready for my dick.”
Gerry buried his face into my crotch, and his tongue began to lick and flick around my pussy slit, and he gave my mound the occasional chew. Over this last hour, the little yellow pill had been slowly taking effect, so my body had been gradually preparing itself for an inevitable sex session. And not being totally sure of what that session would entail, only served to heighten this arousal. So as Gerry's mouth worked my pussy, and my eyes trained on Graham who was by now naked, and working his cock up ready for action, my hips began their self propelled heaving motion.
By now Graham was stood there with a proud look on his face and his stiff cock in his hand,
“Ok lad, lift her legs up, and hold them as wide as you can. She's got to make room for this little beauty of mine.”
Gerry followed instructions, and up went my ankles, and with him stood at the side of the bed, he lent over the top of me and stretched my legs open wide. As Graham positioned himself in between my legs and lowered his cock into line with my pussy, I looked up to Gerry to see if he was coping with the situation. To my surprise, his eyes were not weepy or diverted from the action. But instead, they were out on stalks, watching Graham's cock as it pushed up into my pussy. I then diverted my gaze to Gerry's pants, and his cock was so aroused, it was sticking out like a centre pole holding up a circus tent.
So as Graham got into his stride, and I started to give in to my arousal, I suddenly remembered the document graham was supposed to sign. I knew I wanted to stop him, to make sure we got his signature, but on my first attempt, no words left my lips. I remember thrashing my arms about trying to get Gerry's attention. But this was fruitless. Then I tried kicking to see if I could break my legs free. This was also to no avail. I swallowed and tried to cry out again, and still all I got was a pathetic sigh, like a dying person's last breath.
But just then Gerry looked my way and said,
“Stop kicking you silly bitch.”
My head reeled, and I couldn't believe my ears. He was deeper into a trance than I was, and it was as if it was some kind of game or roll play. But what ever it was, it was his oblivion to my plight, which brought my voice back under my control. As I let fly this time, I was that loud, I almost scared myself,
“GERRY. STOP HIM.”
Graham didn't flinch; he just kept pumping his stiff shaft deep up inside my pussy. But Gerry shook, and then reality must have kicked-in.
“What? What's wrong?”
“Stop him. Put my legs down. He hasn't signed the form.”
The next few minutes were almost a comedy situation, me thrashing around, Gerry trying to pull Graham free, and Graham just steaming ahead as if on auto-pilot. But eventually, maybe after a minute or so, grahams cock slipped out, more I think due to my thrashing around than Gerry's tugging. But between us, the fuck was actually halted. Graham looked none to pleased, and snarled.
“What the fucks going on?”
I said to Gerry,
"Get that piece of paper from my dresser.”
Gerry brought the paper and gave it to Graham.
“What the fucks this? Couldn't it have waited to we'd finished?”
I replied,
“No it couldn't. You said this would be the last time, and I want you to sign that to make sure it is.”
He read it and then said,
“Where did you get this shit from?”
“I wrote it.”
He threw it on the floor,
“It's all crap. It isn't worth the paper it's written on. Now get her legs back up. Before I do it myself.”
I pulled myself up to the head of the bed and said,
“If it's all crap, it won't hurt you to sign it.”
“Stop fucking me around. Get back down here before I get rough.”
Gerry had stepped back, taken hold of my dresser chair, and he held it over his head as he said,
“You move towards her and I'll break this over your head.”
“Put that down you stupid fool. Where do you think you are in some western saloon?”
“I'm warning you, if you so much as lean towards her, I'll fucking do it.”
He looked down at the paper on the floor where he'd thrown it,
“Ok, I'm just going to pick this up.”
He took hold of the paper and read it again.
“It's like I said, pure shit. Even if I sign it; it wouldn't stand up in a court of law.”
I again spoke,
“So sign it and you can have your fuck.”
As I said the last bit, still well out of his reach, I spread my knees open and flashed my wet and juicy pussy at him.
“Where's the pen?”
“Get him a pen Gerry.”
“I can't put this chair down until he's signed.”
“I think you can, I don't think he'd like you to break it over his back while he is busy ramming my pussy. I think he knows a normal household chair would hurt more than the stunt chairs in his western movies.”
Gerry slowly put down his chair, and graham didn't try to make any advances. So when Gerry handed him the pen he signed it.
“Ok, now are you happy?”
“Oh yes.”
At this I pushed myself down the bed towards him, lifted my legs high in the air, and let them fall wide open. As graham looked down at my glistening pussy, I said to Gerry,
“Make sure you put that somewhere safe, I don't want him getting any ideas about destroying it.”
Then looking down at Graham through the 'V' formed by my legs, I said,
“Come on then, let's see how well you and my Gerry can work as a team.”
I could see my eagerness wasn't the reaction Graham wanted, but even if his gut reaction would have been to try some other route to humiliate me, his ardour got the better of him. He was back on top of me, and thrusting his cock for all he was worth. Not I hasten to add at a mad pace, but never the less, his purposeful long strokes were delivered with an almost vengeful force. But if this action was in any way designed to intimidate or worry me, he couldn't have been wider of the mark. As each thrust neared the end of its stroke, my hips would lift, bringing my crotch into contact with his groin in a squelchy collision. He rammed me in this manner for a good five to ten minutes, and I began to think he'd forgotten about his original intention involving Gerry.
While this thought was milling through my head, I felt him grip me tightly to his body, and with his cock firmly deep up inside me, he rolled over on the bed, settling on his back, with me above him. Then as he released his grip, I took my weight with my knees either side of him, and continued the fuck, keeping to his long and deliberate strokes, and ending each one with my whole weight forcing myself down onto his cock. His attention however seemed momentarily distracted, and there wasn't any deliberate attempt on his part to deliver a simultaneous push.
As I opened my eyes I could see his gaze was also diverted, and I looked in the direction of his attention. Gerry was just at the point of stepping from his boxer-shorts, and his cock was as big, if not bigger than I'd ever seen it. To say he was aroused would be an understatement. Graham called across to him,
“Come on then. I'll hold her while you work it up her arse.”
Gerry couldn't wait, and in seconds he was on the bed behind me, and his cock began to push at my bottom.
Now I know I was well and truly arouse, but Gerry didn't even rub the end of his cock around in the surplus amount of my sticky juices. He just pushed. Even though I was well worked up and willing to take it, it didn't even enter. I felt the pain as he about ripped my flesh, and instinctively let out a yell,
“CHRIST! Gerry.”
Graham must have instantly known what was wrong; I guess you can put that down to his experience in these things. He said to Gerry,
“For gods sake lad, wet it up a bit. If you rip her arse she won't be worth fucking.”
And then Graham did something I didn't expect. He withdrew his cock completely from my pussy, and then said,
“Go on lad, get it in there and juice it up a bit.”
Gerry was instantly up in my pussy, and bashing like a mad dog with only seconds to live. Graham spoke again,
“Take your time, and while you're wetting your dick, use your fingers to get some of her snatch juices into her arse.”
I never thought I'd be grateful to Graham, especially for him giving sex instructions to my own husband.
But Gerry followed instructions, and when he next pushed his cock at my bottom, I got that wonderful surge of exhilaration that I'd come to expect from this experience. But then Graham re-entered my pussy, and with the addition of this extra cock, and the stretching this caused, it took the stimulation onto a higher plain. Now all the anxiety of getting Graham to sign or question over Gerry's willingness to take part, was over, I just let myself drift off into the land of lust. Between them ramming my body from different direction and at different paces, and my own uncontrollable humping motion, the very essence of my being was aflame with passion.
They fucked me in this manner for maybe five minutes, before, at Graham's command, it was all change. I now had Gerry underneath me, and he just resumed his fucking of my pussy, but with an eagerness I'd not felt from him for a very long time. Graham was on his knees, and pushing his cock at my bottom. Once it entered, he didn't just ram it up hard, but started with his slow strokes, and then gradually increased the pace. So now as they both resumed their individual rhythms, we set forth on the next, and as it was to be final stage of this session. I have to say at this point, the fact that my husband was one of my two partners didn't in anyway influence my behaviour or even my pleasure. At this stage of the action, it could have been any two men; not that I'd admit that to Gerry.
Although I guess over time it must have become obvious to Gerry, that this method of having sex, (two men), would become my favourite. It didn't matter whether they took turns at my pussy or use my bottom or throat. Over time, I've come to believe, once there are more than two men involved, they loose that personal touch and tenderness which is so important to put you at your ease. And one man by himself can rarely give the overall stimulation. These statements are like any generalisation, not cast in stone, and you never know at the outset of any encounter, just how good it will be.
But back to these two, Graham and my husband. I felt Graham was still attempting to make his action as aggressive as possible, but as my body was in full fuck mode, the harder he pounded the more I liked it. Whereas my Gerry was fucking deeper and harder than I'd ever known, and I don't think it was deliberate, I just think he was so turned on. I even think he had forgotten it was his own wife he was fucking. As they both fucked, neither of them diverted any of their attention towards simultaneously fondling or exciting any other part of my body. Gerry's hands were on my waist as I rode on top of him. And Graham had one arm down by my side taking his weight, whilst gripping a handful of my hair with the other.
I was surprised that Gerry managed to keep up this action for so long without shooting his cum, but in the event, after maybe five minutes of this last position, he was the first to cum. As I detected his jerky movements, my own orgasm just erupted, not as the result of a conscious decision, just an automatic response to the feeling in my pussy. Once my pussy actions started, I assume either my bottom had also started to pulse, or the reverberation from my pussy must have reached Graham in my bottom. But what ever was the cause, my pussy had only just started to pulse, when Graham about ripped the handful of hair from my head as he rammed so hard, shooting his cum deep up inside my bottom.
From that point I just went to dream land while they finished delivering there cum. Once they'd finished, they left me on the bed still moaning and writhing around. Gerry said it took a good five minutes before I came to my senses, but that it appears is now normal for me. When I got downstairs after my shower, Graham had left, and Gerry asked,
“Are you ok?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“I guess so. But I don't want to talk about it.”
“Fine by me. Have you got that paper he signed put away somewhere safe?”
“Yes for all the good it is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mr Spencer said we might as well rip it up and burn it. He says if he calls the police, they'll laugh if we show them that. He recons it has no legal standing at all.”
“I'll bet he does. But I hope you didn't fall for that and let him get hold of it?”
“No. I knew you'd blow-up if I did that. But he says you need to stop in this afternoon, he's got a hairdresser and beautician coming here to give you the once over ready for tonight.”
“What. And you didn't tell him to go and get stuffed?”
“No way. I don't think he's kidding about that stupid paper, and it isn't worth risking him going to the police.”
“What so you're expecting me to go with him tonight.”
“We have to. It's not worth risking everything; all he wants you to do, is go to some dinner function as his guest. It's not like he wants you to do sex or anything.”
“You're so gullible. Where's that card Peter gave you?”
He reached into his inside pocket and gave me the card he pulled from it. I went to the phone and rang Peter's number.
“Hello. Is that you Peter?”
“Yes. Is that Mary?”
“Yes, Graham's just left.”
“Did he sign the paper?”
“Yes. But he said...”
Peter interrupted,
“Never mind what he said, you've got the signed paper there?”
“Yes.”
“I'll be right over. See you in about twenty minutes.”
As soon as I put the phone down Gerry asked,
“Well what did he say?”
“He's coming straight over; he'll be here in twenty minutes.”
“But what did he say when you were going to tell him what Mr Spencer said?”
“He just said, never mind, so long as he's signed it.”
“Well I guess we'll just have to see what he says when he gets here. Oh, isn't there anything you need to do to make sure you're ready for when the hairdresser gets here?”
“Only be ready to tell her to piss-off. I told you, Graham can go fuck himself.”
“Please Mary. Lets not be too hasty about this, I know you think a lot about this Peter fella, but don't get your hopes up. I'm not sure he isn't just trying something on to get into your knickers himself.”
I gave him an evil look, and said,
“If that's all you can say, I think it would be better if you kept quiet.”
“I'm only...”
“Only fuck-all! I don't want to hear it.”
And with that I stormed out into the kitchen. Whilst out there I made us both some sandwiches and then returned to the lounge where we sat silently eating them. Then the knocker on the front door broke the silence, and I went to see who it was. I was pleased to see it was Peter, and I hurriedly ushered him in.
I handed him the paper, and he immediately put his name under Graham's, and then signed it as a witness.
“Ok I'll get this to my legal boys, and make sure it's kosher. As soon as I know it's watertight, I'll ring you back.”
“But what should we do until then?”
“About what?”
“He's sending some girls here to doll me up, and he wants me to go with him tonight to some function.”
“Have you accepted?”
“I haven't, but I think Gerry gave him the impression I'd go.”
“Ring him back now and stall him. Tell him you've already got something arranged, don't tell him you won't do it, just make excuses about tonight. I don't want you pissing him off until we are sure this is going to do the trick.”
“What shall I tell him I'm doing?”
“Well I think after these last few days, you could do with a night out. What is your favourite type of evening entertainment?”
“I don't know, maybe a film or going out to a pub for a meal.”
“A meal? Don't forget I saw you eating the other night. You hardly eat enough to keep a sparrow alive. I don't think eating is your first love, otherwise you wouldn't have a waist like yours.”
“Well I used to like ballroom dancing, but Gerry isn't keen on it, so I haven't been for years.”
"I wasn't asking what Gerry liked; it's you who needs the treat."
“That's it. Can I use your phone?”
He dialled a number, and then,
“Hello, this is Mr Harris. Can you tell me, is the ballroom open tonight?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well I have two guests of mine who will be arriving around eight. I'd like you to let them have my table. My membership number is 876954. Ok have you got that?”
“Yes sir.”
“Thank you. Bye.”
He put the phone down, and said,
“That's it sorted, it's the Marriott Hotel in town, so it's not too far to go. All you have to do is book a cab, and make sure your good lady has a wonderful time.”
Gerry didn't look that impressed,
“You tell us to go out and enjoy ourselves, and you arrange for us to go to a dance? And ballroom dancing at that. My god, I'll be bored out of my brain.”
“The idea was to give your wife a treat. She's the one whose been carrying the strain these last few days.”
“Her, what about me? I'm the one being threatened with prison.”
“Yes but you were the one who committed the crime. The only thing she's done wrong was to marry you. Now are you going to take her, or do you want me to do it for you?”
“You? So that's your game. I knew you were after another fuck.”
“For your information, some of us can appreciate what we've already been given, and feel we ought to do something to pay back our debts. And yes I'd love to take your wife out, it would make me proud to been seen out with a girl as gorgeous as her on my arm. But if I did, she'd be treated like a lady, and the only way the night would end up with personal contact, would be if she initiated it. So are you taking her out or not?”
“But it'll cost a bomb.”
“Don't talk silly. You've got four hundred quid from those two men this morning. And I think you'll agree you owe your Mary a treat. It'll cost you no more than a tenner each way for the cab. The entrance and my table will be free. The meal and drinks won't come to more than eighty. So for just one hundred, you can show your little lady how much she means to you.”
Gerry's answer wasn't a resounding confirmation,
“I Guess so.”
Then Peter looked at me,
“Tonight is your night. I'll try my best to get this paper sorted by my legal men, and if possible let you know before you go out. But whether you know or not, just forget about the problems and have a good time.”
Then as he walked to the door he said to Gerry,
“Make sure she knows how much she's appreciated.”
Gerry flicked his hand up to his head in a mock salute, as he sarcastically said,
“Yes sir.”
Then as Peter walked down the path, and was just about out of earshot, he added,
“Fuck you!”
“Gerry! There was no need for that.”
“Who the fuck does he think he is. Telling me what I should or shouldn't do. You're my fucking wife.”
“But you will ring Graham and tell him I can't go with him tonight?”
“I'm not sure we should upset him.”
My last request to Gerry have been just that, a request, asked in an imploring tone. But his answer didn't please me, and I snapped back,
“I don't care what you think. Either you ring that dirty sod or I will. And if I ring him, I'll get him so wound up, he'll fucking explode.”
“Keep your hair on. I'll ring him; you go and clear away those plates and things from our lunch.”
I stormed out into the kitchen, and began to clear away and wash-up all the stuff from our lunch-time snack. I guess it was about fifteen minutes later while I was still busy in the kitchen, I heard a knock on the front door. Gerry answered it, and I could hear female voices coming into the house. As I left the kitchen, and made eye contact with the first of the three girls, she said,
“Hi Mary, where do you want us to put our gear?”
It took me by surprise; it was the girls who'd prepared me for that first photo shoot at graham's place. I hastily answered,
“Err. Can you just pile it all in the hall for a moment, and then you can all wait in the front room while I have a word with my husband.”
They looked a little put-out by my request, but they followed my instructions, and while they went into the front room I dragged Gerry into the kitchen to find out what was going on.
“I thought I told you to cancel those girls?”
“Don't get all het-up, I phoned Mr Spencer, and he said it was too late to cancel, he'd have to pay them anyway. So he said being as we are going out tonight, you could have the beauty treatment on him.”
“But he knows I'm not going out with him tonight?”
“Yes. He understands we've got our own lives. He says he'll give us a call in the morning to re-arrange the thing he'd got planned for tonight.”
“Well ok. Hopefully by then Peter will have got that statement sorted, and we can tell Graham to go get fucked.”
“Maybe. We'll see.”
So I went up to my room with the three girls, and between them they worked on every part of my body. It was somewhere around five in the afternoon when I heard the phone down stairs, and I could hear Gerry answering it, but not what was being said. Gerry called up to me,
“It's Mr Harris, he's got good news for you; can you come to the phone?”
We have a phone in the bedroom, so with my hair still embroiled in clips and twirled rags, I picked it up. As I spoke, I could tell by the sound in the ear-piece, Gerry must still be listening down stairs.
“Hello, is that you Peter?”
“Yes, and I've got real good news. As far as Gerry is concerned, he can forget all about Graham's threats.”
“Oh Peter, you don't know how much that means to us.”
“Well it doesn't end there. Because Graham has, in effect, taken the responsibility for Gerry's actions, he has now made himself responsible for the insurance fraud. And no matter what he signed on that paper, that is a real fraud, and it has taken place.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, my lawyers have sent him an instruction, telling him to return all photos, videos and any kind of recorded material that he has, with you or Gerry. If he doesn't comply, he is under threat of his confession being brought to the attention of the authorities.”
“Do you think he'll comply?”
“Well he'll have to at least hand over some of what he's taken, but no matter how much he keeps, he won't dare to show any of it to anyone else in case it finds its way into the public domain. He knows if that happens, he will end up serving the same sentence he forecast for Gerry. So all the stuff he took of you in compromising situations, is now safe. Gerry says your getting ready for your night out, you go and enjoy yourself, and do it knowing things are now sorted.”
“Oh Peter, I know I'll never be able to pay you back for what you've done for us, but please come to see us tomorrow, and I'll at least try to show you how much we owe you.”
“I'll come, but I won't hold you to promises of that sort. When tomorrow arrives, if you're still of a mind, and your Gerry is in agreement, maybe then I will take up your offer. But for now, go and let your hair down. Bye for now.”
With that I dropped the receiver back, knowing Gerry had heard every word about Graham's videoing of my sexual antics, and my offer to Peter. I spent the rest of the afternoon being pampered and preened, and by seven in the evening, even if this does sound boastful, I looked absolutely stunning. I stood there looking at myself in the mirror, in the new underwear one of these girls had brought with her, and just like a couple of days previous, I had difficulty believing this was really me. From drab everyday housewife to drop dead gorgeous, and it had only taken just a few short hours. Then as I was looking in the mirror, the girl appeared behind me, holding up a dress. This was not an everyday going out dress, or even a going out to dinner sexy number; no, this was straight off ‘Come Dancing', or some stage musical.
Flamboyant in style, and showy to the point of being blatantly erotic. The underwear I was already wearing must have been chosen with this kind of dress in mind, as the dress did little to cover it up, and it was only the underwear that provided any real flesh cover. My first reaction was; no way, and that was also my first words to the girl who was holding it up for me to see,
“No way. I can't go out in something like that.”
“But I was told you were going to a high class ballroom function.”
“Well I guess we are.”
“Well in that case, everyone else will be wearing something along these lines, not necessarily as expensive as this, but just as revealing.”
“Surely not? This is more like a stage costume for a chorus line dancer.”
“I'm not being funny, but how long is it since you went to one of these dances.”
“A while ago, I guess.”
“Well I'm not kidding, this is normal these days, especially since the TV and films have made this kind of dancing popular. In fact, I was worried you might think this dress a little understated.”
“My god no. I guess I can try it on and see what my husband thinks.”
So dressed in this ‘understated' dress I made my way down stairs, and into the front room where Gerry was waiting. I think the reaction from us both was the same; I know the initial comment was,
“My god!”
Was spoke as one, so overlapping were our voices, it was closer than an echo. I'd never before seen him in a tuxedo, complete with bow-tie, and when I said it was hard to believe the girl in the mirror was me; it was hard to believe the man in my front room was Gerry, he looked so smart and handsome. So I guess it wasn't surprising Gerry found my appearance difficult to take in.
You can imagine the kind of remarks we made about each other, and eventually, we both came to terms with ourselves, and each others appearances. I had thought going on past experience, he wouldn't have wanted to be seen out with me looking like this, but to my surprise, he was very complimentary. The three girls left, and at around seven-thirty, someone was knocking at our door. I said,
“The taxis early.”
“It isn't a taxi; we're going in Mr Spencer's limo.”
My heart dropped,
“Gerry, don't tell me he's waiting out there?”
“No. He's lent us his car. He said as you weren't going with him tonight, he had no use for it.”
“I don't like being beholden to him.”
“Relax, it's saving us money.”
I decided to let the subject drop, and out we went to the limo. It did feel grand; both dressed to the nines, and being driven in this big car. We even got a voice-over from the driver telling us there was champagne on ice in the drinks cabinet, and we were to help ourselves. Gerry was soon pouring out the glasses, and we drank as the car carried us effortlessly to the ball. When the car pulled up in the reception courtyard, and we stepped out, I looked up at the big illuminated sign. ‘CLUB EXOTIQUE'
I turned to Gerry,
“This isn't the right place. We're supposed to be going to the Marriott Hotel.”
“It is right. Mr Spencer said they hold ballroom dancing here, and being as he's a member, we not only get in free and get a free table, but he also said our meals and all our drinks will be free.”
“You tight fisted sod. You've brought us here, just to get out of paying one hundred measly quid.”
“But this place is better than the one Mr Harris suggested, he says here they have professional dancers to act as dance partners, you know I hate dancing.”
I reluctantly let him lead me in, and as we walked into what I can't deny was a sumptuous ballroom, I asked him,
“So am I going to find Graham appearing at some point during the evening?”
“No. We're here on our own.”
“Well I might as well be on my own, I guess you'll be sitting at the bar drinking while I dance with a perfect stranger.”
“But I did it for you.”
“That's rich. So how do you make that out?”
“You like dancing, you know you do. I'm useless at it, and I always end-up either tripping you up or treading on your toes.”
Now I hate to admit it, but there was more than a hint of truth in his statement. But for all his clumsiness on the dance floor, I'd much rather have spent this night with him than a stranger.
By now we were being shown to a table at the edge of the dance floor, and as a waiter handed us the menu, I could see Gerry's eyes were on stalks, looking at what looked like professional dancers as they stepped out across the floor. These dancers didn't look like girls out to have a good time, but more like competitors warming up for a dance competition. And their dresses, were as my dresser earlier had predicted, every bit as revealing if not more so than mine.
We ordered our meal, and again, I can't complain about anything to do with that part of the evening. The food and wine were wonderful, and we were treated like some kind of royalty. Then after we'd finished, and the table was cleared, up came a well dressed man, but he didn't look quite like one of the waiters.
“Excuse me sir, madam. I believe you would like to make use of our dance partner service?”
Gerry began to answer before I could stop him,
“Ah, yes, my wife would...”
I interrupted him,
“Please Gerry. Before you go to the bar, at least come on the floor for one dance.”
Gerry looked at me, and then turning back to this man,
“It looks like we won't need you just yet, but once I've tripped over her dress a few times and she gets fed-up with my two left feet; then you can come back.”
So the man left us, and we went out onto the floor. With Gerry, it wasn't really a case of dancing around, he'd just shuffle his feet, and no matter what dance was being played, we'd just slowly edge our way around the floor. But although I could tell he was hating every second, it felt so good to lay my head on his chest, knowing all the worries of the past week were now gone. I guess I was in a kind of dream as we slowly moved around the floor, with all these real dancers gliding past. Then my trance was broken as Gerry said,
“This is where I get off.”
I opened my eyes, and lifted my head,
“What. Oh. We're back to our table.”
“That's it girl, once around the floor is one too many times for me. As soon as that guy finds you a partner, I'm off to the bar.”
Before I'd hardly re-seated myself, the man was back at our table, and asking Gerry,
“Do you require our partner service now sir?”
This time Gerry looked at me, as if to ask if I was ready, and I nodded.
“Yes, I think my wife is ready now.”
The man now turned to face me,
“Would madam like me to bring the book, or would you prefer to come with me, and make your selection in person?”
Before I answered, Gerry quipped,
“My god, they've even got a menu for choosing the right man. I bet it's called a manu.”
“Ignore my husband; he thinks he's a comedian. I'll come with you, its more important the partner is the right height, and I can judge that better by standing in front of him, rather than seeing him in a book and reading his measurement.”
The man bowed his head, as he replied,
“As you wish madam, this way.”
I walked in the direction he'd ushered, and he followed, just half a pace behind me. Gerry, of course, immediately turned and headed for the bar. We proceeded from the dance floor, and along various corridors. If it was necessary to make a turn, the man would just lean forwards, and give directions with his arm, and then as we arrived at a door, he lent forwards and opened it, allowing me to go in first. In the room were about ten men all sat around either reading or watching the TV in the corner of the room. As soon as they saw me entering, the TV was switched off, and all men put down their books and magazines, and began to form an orderly line across the room. They stood there to attention, like soldiers on parade. I was ushered to walk along the line, and it felt so surreal, as if I was the queen inspecting the guard of honour. But from the ten men, I found three that I'd say were the right height for me.
I don't think I've mentioned it, but dancing is a long standing love of mine, and I'd originally started my dancing at around ten years old. Like lots of girls of this age, it was just somewhere for mom to send me on a Saturday morning to keep me amused. I guess at around fifteen, I'd moved into the ballroom training, and by seventeen, there was talk of me making it my profession. But again, like lots of seventeen year old girls, I discovered boys. Well dating boys and regular training sessions don't mix, and as one had to go, the dancing took the back seat. I still went to regular dances on Saturday nights, but all thoughts of becoming a pro just disintegrated. (Funny how that word, ‘pro' can mean different things depending on what context it is used) But back to the present, and the reason for me mentioning my past experience. I was always told, 'to enter a dance competition, it is most important to get the correct match of heights between the partners. The girl should turn her head slightly to her left and lean it forwards. That is to say, towards her right ear, this should then rest against the shoulder of her partner.' If you had been partnering someone for a few years, especially in your teens, it was often the case one of the partners would grow out of this symmetry. In these cases, special shoes would have to be made to rectify the height.
But I'm drifting again. Back to my choice of three. One looked too smug, I'm sure he thought he was god's gift to women, but not the man for me. Then there was a man around forty to fifty, very distinguished, and handsome; but somehow, not my type. And the man I opted for, I'd guess aged in his late twenties, big broad shoulders, and in some ways, he looked very like my brother. I turned and looked at the man who'd escorted me to the room,
“Can I choose this one?”
“Certainly madam. His name is Gregory. So you can call him Greg if you wish.”
I looked back to the man I'd chosen,
“What do you prefer?”
He didn't answer, but the other man did,
“It's your choice madam; he isn't allowed to have an opinion.”
“Ok, Greg it is. Will you take my arm Greg?”
As he stepped forwards and slipped his arm through mine, the other man asked,
“And how should he address you, Madam, Mrs Kendal or would you like him to use your first name?”
“Well Mary is my name, so I think that would be just fine.”
“Ok Greg, can you escort Mrs Kendal to the dance floor.”
He then made eye contact with me as he said,
“I hope you have a wonderful evening. If there is anything else you need just get Greg to contact me.”
As he escorted me back along the corridors, I said,
“Now old sour puss has gone, what name do you really want me to call you?”
“I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to get personal. If they found out, I'd get the sack.”
“Oh come on. I can't enjoy myself if you're going to be a stuffed shirt.”
“Well providing you don't let on; my mates call me Trav.”
“Trav, how on earth did you get that from Gregory, or is that your middle name?”
“No it's nothing to do with my name; it was just a name from my teens. When I was going to dance classes, my mates all used to take the pi... Oh I'm sorry. I mean the used to kid me, saying I was like John Travolta. And I guess the name stuck.”
“So you like dancing?”
“My god yes, if I was better at it, I'd have been a pro. But although I try, I'll never make it big time. And you? Are you just here to enjoy yourself, or are you here to compete?”
“To have a good time and relax. Why is there a competition on tonight?”
“Yes, it's the Latin American sessions tonight. I thought with your dress, maybe you were going to enter.”
“No, the dress was... oh maybe that's a story for another time. But no, I didn't even know there would be a competition on tonight.”
“But do you dance?”
“Yes.”
“I mean competition style?”
“Well I trained, but that was years ago, and I haven't even been on the floor for ages.”
At this point we were back in the ballroom and just walking onto the floor,
“Ok, let's see how much you remember.”
He started cautiously, and although it had been so long since I last danced, real dancing that is, it was, as they say, like riding a bike. From the moment I felt him pulling my body up against his, and I felt that guiding push from his hip, the steps just seemed to come without even thinking about it. Within just the first few steps, it was like going back all those years, and it felt so wonderful gliding around the floor. By the time the first dance had finished, which by the way had been a waltz, it was almost as though we'd been partners for months. And then as the band struck up again, and as the Foxtrot started, we were off. During this dance he tentatively tried one or two of the more flamboyant movements, and I instinctively responded as he threw me into a spin at the end of each movement.
As I glanced around, it became obvious people seated around the dance floor were beginning to take notice of us, as were one or two of the other dancers. As the dance ended, Trav said,
“Well you certainly haven't forgotten how to dance. Now would you like to enter for the competition later?”
“Don't be silly. I'm just enjoying myself, it's been so long, and I hadn't realised just how much I'd missed the feeling of floating around like that. You're such a good lead; I don't think I've ever had a partner as experienced as you.”
“Don't sell yourself short. You don't need me to lead you, you're a natural dancer.”
“Thank you. But as I said, I'm only here to enjoy myself tonight.”
“No reason why you can't do that, and at the same time make some money.”
“What money?”
“This is a preliminary for next years dance show on TV, and this is big business. The prise money for just this one section, the Latin American; is worth five hundred.”
“You have to be kidding?”
“No. And I think there's an outside chance we could take that prise.”
“No way. I'm so out of practice.”
“But I can tell you're a real dancer. All you need is some advice on the flashy stuff.”
“What do you mean?”
“Most of this lot are new to the game, and they are nearly all relying on the glitz and glamour to impress the judges. You already know how to dance; now you just need a few flashy moves.”
“But we wouldn't have time to practice.”
“Hang on, if you wait here for just a few minutes, I'll go and make some inquiries.”
With that he was gone, and I sat alone at my table. I was only alone for a few minutes, before Trav returned with another man.
“This is William, he runs a dance class.”
“Hi, Mary isn't it?”
“Yes, I don't know what Trav has told you, but I never was that good, and I'm way out of practice.”
“Well if you'd like to take to the floor, I'll only need to see you do a couple of circuits, and then I'll tell you what I think.”
Trav took my hand,
“Come on; let's show him what you can do.”
So off we went, and even though in my own mind I didn't believe I was that good, I knew, good or not, this was something that really gave me pleasure. So I just let myself be guided by Trav, and didn't attempt to inhibit the normally hidden extrovert side of my nature.
When we arrived back at the table, William was full of praise, and he hurriedly ushered us off along the corridors, and into a small dance studio. It had three walls lined with mirrors, two of which had a dance support bar running along their length. We three were the only ones in the room, and he didn't waste any time in explaining the situation to me.
“What you lack is the ‘New style', but it is obvious, you already have the dancing itself well and truly mastered. But what you'll be mostly up against out there is girls who can't really dance, but have been practicing the style, and flamboyant movements. Now I can show you quickly a few of the modern movements, which are all based upon the principle of using sexually provocative poses to wow the judges, and of course, once you appear on TV, the viewer. I could see from that brief step around the floor you are not afraid to use your body, and if you put out the poses with enough unashamed daring, I'm sure you are in with a chance of getting at least into the top three.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes; but as with all these things, it is the connection between you and the judges that makes the final deciding factor. Don't eye them directly, but surreptitious glances, and coy flirting usually wins votes.”
“I'm not sure I can do that.”
“Well that's up to you, of course. Now let's show you how to display yourself, without making it look too blatant.”
We spent only about fifteen minutes, but in that time he got Trav to throw me in slow motion into various positions. And as I'd roll or twist from Trav's arms, William would manoeuvre my body and even legs into a pose he wanted me to take. Then he said,
“Ok, I think you've got enough ideas there, just go out and dance your socks off, using which ever of the poses I've shown you that you feel comfortable with. But remember, look happy, try to look natural, and if you catch the eye of a judge, flirt. Now go and have fun.”
We were soon out on the floor and even with these new poses, I just let myself go, exposing my assets, such as they were, for all to see. Not that our dancing was any more extrovert than the other professional dancers, but just more than I was used to. I guess we had almost thirty minutes on the floor before the announcement came over the speakers,
“Ladies and gentlemen. We are pleased to announce the first section of our Latin American dance competition. So if you can all return to your tables, we will then get our competition couples on the floor and the show can begin. Oh and if there are any couples out there who have not yet registered, and want to compete, please make sure you do so before taking to the floor. Thank you, and now we will have the first dance.”
As the floor cleared, and the band struck up with the first dance, Trav said,
“Ok Mary; lets show them what we can do.”
“But we haven't registered.”
“That's been taken care of, come on.”
So without any further talking we were off. He danced so effortlessly, and his confident manner somehow began to influence me and my ability. By the time the first round had been judged, they whittled the initial thirty plus couples down to just six; and we were one of that six. This in itself was way beyond what I could have expected, and even this achievement helped to boost my confidence.
So now as each dance began the judges only had six couples to follow, and this, of course, meant their appraisal could be a lot more critical. Throughout this session, I did make a conscious effort to engage either of the two male judges in fleeting eye contact. And although I say it myself, I felt I was successful in this undertaking on several occasions with both men individually. But then as we got towards the end of the round, I think the not knowing how well we were doing, coupled with my lack of experience, began to show. At one point as Trav span me around, I missed my footing, and in the resultant trip, my hand slipped from his grip. I sprawled across the floor, and came to rest only a few feet from the platform where the judges were seated, so there wasn't even a chance I'd gotten away with my blunder without being seen.
Trav was instantly down by my side, and his expert movements as he lifted me back to my feet could in a normal dance, have almost led onlookers to think this was part of a deliberate movement. But it was obvious to the judges, that I'd made a gaffe. As I was being helped to my feet, my eyes met up with one of these judges; and although it is impossible to be sure. The look he gave me, didn't convey ‘You stupid girl', but more ‘I want to have sex with you'. As I say, that is just my interpretation, and I could have been wild of the Mark.
The round ended, and there was the usual build-up to the announcement of the two couples who would go on to the grand finale later in the evening. I guess you won't be surprised to find out, Trav and I were chosen as one of these two. But I for one was absolutely flabbergasted, and I even came over in a mild faint, requiring Trav to slip his arm around my back, and take my weight as he helped me back to our table. Even the judge who was doing the announcements noticed, and asked over the microphone if I was alright. This I can tell you didn't help my situation, and only served to make me blush bright red as the spot light picked me out for all to see.
But once the dance floor was returned to normal dancing, and I was again alone with Trav, I soon regained my composure, and had just settled down to drink the glass of wine he'd ordered for me, when Gerry arrived at the table.
“So. Was I right to bring you here or do you still think we should have gone to the Marriott?”
I'd been having such a wonderful time, I'd forgotten about the earlier argument about our venue for the night. But I reluctantly replied,
“Yes, you were right. We can go out for a romantic evening on our own any night.”
Then Gerry asked, while looking at Trav,
“So are you two going to win the big prize tonight?”
“Well sir, I'll do my best, and if I don't let your wife down, then she has every chance of going home a winner.”
Just then the man who'd arrived at our table earlier asking if I required a dancing partner, re-appeared at our table. We later found out this was the ballroom manager. He walked directly up to Gerry, and taking him to one side, they began to talk. With the volume of the music, I couldn't hear what was being said, but Gerry turned and as he held his hand out towards me, he said,
“Come on, looks like you've attracted the attention of some kind of big-wig.”
Still seated, I asked,
“Who? And what does he want?”
“Don't look so suspicious. He's a Japanese business man. Very rich, he owns one of the biggest manufacturing companies in Japan.”
“So what? Why would he want to meet us?”
Gerry lent across and whispered in my ear,
“He owns this place. And he just wants to meet you.”
“But I don't want to meet him. I'm happy where I am.”
Gerry again whispered in my ear,
“He can fix the result of the dance competition.”
“So what does he want in return?”
Again in a whisper,
“Keep your voice down. Don't be so silly, if he can fix it for you to win, if we don't go, he could also fix it so you to loose.”
“So?”
“It's five hundred quid. Since when did you get so rich you could turn your nose up at that sort of money?”
“That depends on what he expects in return.”
“Don't be silly. In a place like this? You've been watching too many films.”
Then as he gave my hand a tug,
“Now come on.”
I let myself be led to my feet, and off we went following in the managers footsteps. We entered a lift, and then as the doors opened on the first floor, we walked out into the most sumptuous of apartments. All around we men dressed in traditional Japanese male attire, some even had swords. It was almost like Gerry had just said, a film set. But for some reason, the sight of these men dressed this way felt threatening. Nothing you could put your finger on, but never the less, I felt a shiver of fear go down my spine.
We were ushered across to one side of the room where there was a glass window running the full length of this wall, and seated looking outwards was a tiny man, also dressed in traditional Japanese clothes. But his robes were obviously very expensive cloth, and they shimmered with gold and silver threads inlaid into the material. As we arrived at his side, his seat turned, and his eyes looked me up and down. This in itself reinforced my apprehension, as his gaze was one of a lecher invading every inch as he scanned. I instantly turned my head to avoid he eyes as they reached my face. In that few seconds, I was staring out of the window, and from this vantage point had a panoramic view of the whole dance floor.
My trance was broken by the little man's sharp and shrill voice as he snapped out something in Japanese. The manager then spoke, translating for the little man, but in a manner that led me to think he was almost afraid of him.
“Quickly! Turn and bow to Mr Aioka. He thinks you're being discourteous.”
I turned to face him, and lowered my head in a half-hearted show of servitude. The manager then said,
“No. Like this, and lower your eyes; it's not your place to look him in the face.”
As he spoke he had placed both his hands together in front of his chest, as if praying, as he bowed his body low. I looked at Gerry, and then as I began to turn towards the door I said,
“He can go take a running jump. I'm off.”
The manager's face was horror struck, and Gerry just looked confused. But before I'd moved one step, four of the men who'd up until this moment, been just standing near the outside of the room; made a dash towards Gerry and I. I'd only moved a few feet before a man at each side of me had taken hold of an arm apiece, and returned me back in front of Mr Aioka. Gerry was also being held, and he was now in a position just to my side. The manager then said,
“They'll release you if you promise to do as you're told.”
I was furious, and I looked at Gerry to see what his reaction was. But he just said,
“Come on, all you have to do is bow to him, it's just their way.”
So reluctantly, I said,
“Ok tell his goons to let me go.”
The manager didn't need to pass the message on; both men instantly released my arms. I put my hands together, and gave him a low bow, remembering not to look him in the eye. A smile appeared on Mr Aioka's face, and then he again spoke. But I had no idea what he'd said. The manager translated,
“He would like you to slip your dress off your shoulders.”
“I'll bet he would. Tell him to go f... Tell him no.”
The manager spoke to Gerry,
“Please, tell her to do as he asks. If she doesn't, you'll both end up regretting it.”
Gerry looked perplexed, but before just passing the instruction on to me, he asked,
“If I get her to do that? How much further is he going to expect her to go?”
“It doesn't matter how far. If he wants her dead. By tomorrow morning, she'll be lying dead and naked in a ditch somewhere. I don't think you understand who you're dealing with.”
Gerry obviously didn't like what he heard,
“Hang on; we didn't come up here for this sod to just do as he pleases with us.”
“You still don't get it. If Mr Aioka wants something, no matter whom or what it is; he gets it. Don't make it hard for yourselves.”
“So if we don't cooperate, what does he think he's gonna do?”
Gerry had hardly finished his sentence, before the men holding him, pulled his arms out into a crucifix stance, and while they held him, another man came and lowered his trousers and pants. Then a fourth man appeared with a knife similar to a cut-throat razor, but this knife wasn't a foldable type, and had a fixed wooden handle. As the shiny steel blade caught the light and flashed, my heart dropped. The man had taken hold of Gerry's penis, and was now holding the blade against the flesh. Gerry was, of course, trying to struggle, but avoiding any lower body movements.
I didn't hesitate, and as I began to peel my dress from my shoulders, I begged,
“Tell him to take his knife off Gerry.”
“You just concentrate on pleasing Mr Aioka, and your husband won't get hurt.”
I'd dropped the top of my dress, and it now hung open down either side of my hips, the top of my body being covered by the bodice, come bra. Mr Aioka again gave a smug grin, and then again spoke out some instruction. Assuming it was an instruction for me to remove more clothing, I asked,
“Ok what's the little pig want now?”
My heart leapt into my mouth as the man who was holding the knife against Gerry's penis, slashed out, drawing his blade across the top of Gerry's naked leg. The blood just poured down Gerry's leg, and I realised these men understood English, and were reacting to my remark about their boss. My first thought on seeing his hand movement, and the blood that followed, was that he had indeed sliced off Gerry's penis, but as I looked across, although serious enough, it was obvious this was just a warning. I clasped my hands together, and as I bowed low and humbly, I pleaded,
“Please forgive me. Please don't hurt my Gerry. I'll do what ever you want.”
The manager now spoke,
“That was foolish of you. Now remove your dress, and use it to stop the bleeding.”
I hurriedly ripped off my dress, and struggled to tear it into strips to use as bandages. The material wouldn't rip, and I had to hold it out towards the man with the knife, and ask,
“Can you cut it please?”
This he did, and once he'd made a short cut, I was then able to tear it. I repeated this a couple more times, each time asking for it to be cut. And then on my knees, I first cleaned the wound, and then bandaged it.
Luckily, it wasn't deep, and although it had looked like a lot of blood loss, as soon as I'd wrapped the bandage around it, it reduced to a slight trickle, and very soon it stopped altogether. But as soon as I'd completed my rudimentary first aid, the manager said.
“Ok, now thank Mr Aioka for allowing you to do that.”
I followed instructions, again clasping my hands together, and pleading,
“Please forgive me. I'm sorry if I caused offence.”
His face again turned into a smile, but the kind of smile that doesn't encourage a feeling of safety. Then he spoke, and as before the manager passed on his orders.
“He would like to see your tits.”
I put my hands to the bottom of the bodice, and lifted it allowing my breasts to fall free, and held it there so he could look at them.
“No. He wants you to take it off.”
I lifted it higher, and stretched it up over first one shoulder, then the next, and finally lifted it off, dropping it on the floor at my side. I stood there as Mr Aioka got to his feet, and began to fondle them.
He spent maybe a minute or so working from one to the other, just using his hands, but this was sufficient to produce two hard protruding nipples. This obviously delighted him, and after making sure everyone in the room knew he'd aroused me, he again spoke, but this time, he appeared to be addressing his men at the side of the room.
Three men appeared, two of them carrying a long plank. Not a rough builder's variety, but a wooden type board all the same, even if it did have strategically positioned leather straps and cushioning attached. The men lifted the plank up to my shoulder height, and as they placed the centre of it on the back of my neck, the third man reached up from in front of me, and fastened a leather strap around my neck. The other two men had each taken a wrist apiece, and were restraining them to straps at each end of the plank.
So now I'm stood there like Jesus on the cross, almost naked, just my pants, which thank god, gave me full protection, being designed to be on show beneath the ball gown. Again Mr Aioka spoke, and the manager turned to Gerry and said,
“Pull her knickers off.”
Both men instantly released Gerry, but he first looked at me, and then turning back to the manager, shook his head as he said,
“You can't do this. We'll report you to the police.”
The men instantly grabbed him, and the man with the knife again held it as if threatening to cut off his penis.
“Don't be silly. If you do as you're told, you will be rewarded. But if not, you'll be disposed of, and after she's been raped, she'll join you in a cold wet ditch. Now just be a good boy.”
As Gerry was released and looked my way, I nodded, as if to tell him to do as he had been instructed. At this point I didn't doubt their intention or ability to carry out their threats. So Gerry was now on his knees, as he lowered my pants, and I stepped out of them. The men either side turned me around so I faced away from Mr Aioka, and then as they guided me, the manager said,
“On your knees. That's it. Now lean forwards.”
As I leant, my hands, still restrained on the board, rested on a small padded table or stool placed either side of me. This took my weight, the board giving my arms the strength to hold myself in this position.
“Open your knees. Mr Aioka wants to see your cunt.”
I immediately complied, and waited for the dirty little Jap to mount me. I couldn't see what he was doing, or in truth, who it was. But I felt hot breath on the top of my legs, and instinctively knew someone had their head deep up into my crotch. Then as Mr Aioka spoke, I felt his words as they caused a hot wind on my pussy. The manager translated,
“He wants you to come and lick the sweat off her cunt and arse.”
As I saw Gerry's feet walk past my head, I realised the instructions were for him; and I guessed Mr Aioka must have now moved clear to allow him access to do the licking. A tongue touched my pussy lips, and even if I hadn't seen Gerry's feet or heard Mr Aioka's instruction, I'd have known this was my Gerry. Even with, or maybe more so, because of all these men watching, my reaction was spontaneous.
I began humping, as Gerry licked. His licking started as you might expect, awkward, and unwilling. But as I humped and pushed my pussy into his face, he, like me, just began to get aroused. So much so, as the manager called,
“Ok, that's enough.”
Gerry carried on oblivious to any voices. But on the second telling, two men took hold of his shoulders, and as soon as Gerry realised, he was on his feet and out of the way.
I expected Mr Aioka to make his presence known by ramming his cock into my pussy, and this was by now in my state of arousal, I'm ashamed to say, what I actually needed to happen. But it seems just when you think you know what will happen next; something new comes up to surprise you.
“WHACK!”
A pain stung its way from my pussy lips, and as I let out a yell, my body automatically recoiled. I guess I must have closed my legs, because the next thing, there were hands pulling at each knee, spreading me open again. Then,
“WHACK!”
Again I yelled, but the hands held my legs tightly.
I heard Gerry's voice,
“What's he hitting her for?”
“He wants to.”
“But she's doing what she's been told to do?”
“So? If Mr Aioka wants to slap her around a bit, he'll slap her. Think yourself lucky he isn't using a stick.”
The slapping went on for what seemed like an age, but I guess was only maybe five or so minutes. I'd already given up my yelling as each slap had landed, it was as though now my body was expecting the pain, although not immune to it, it just couldn't see the point in wasting even more energy shouting about it.
But never the less, I was glad when he stopped, and as I waited for my next surprise, I was so glad to feel his cock as it pushed up into my wet pussy lips. I heaved myself back onto him, and although he rammed me in a violent manner, his cock wasn't as big as Gerry's, in either length or thickness, and for all his violent ramming, I thought he would have difficulty in bringing me to what I now consider to be an orgasm. But he'd only been fucking less than a minute before he was giving more instructions.
The manager then said,
“Get down there and fuck her face.”
In seconds, I could see it was Gerry who was on his knees in front of me, and he was more than just aroused, his cock was rampant. I can't say I was any less eager than Gerry, and as he presented his cock, I first sucked, and then rolled my head back, allowing him full access to my throat. So with Gerry fucking one end, and the little Jap at the other, they did take me to a gusher, even if not a wild out of body type. Once the Jap had spent his ardour, he pulled out, and Gerry was instantly pulled up to his feet, before he had time to shoot his cum. They dragged Gerry off in one direction, and I was carried in another direction, my pussy still in spasm, and oozing cum.
When they put me down on the floor of this room, I realised I was in a bath/shower room, and they just walked out leaving me there. I gradually recovered my senses, and proceeded to shower. Making sure I didn't get my hair wet, and trying not to make my already somewhat spoilt make-up any worse. Then as I stepped out from the shower and began to dry myself, two girls appeared and immediately began to make sure I was once again presentable to be seen in public. But, of course, I hadn't got any clothes to wear; I'd torn my dress up to make bandages.
This was not a problem, as the girls had also brought with them a new, and even more glamorous ball gown than the one I'd been wearing. And, thankfully, the underwear to go with it. Once I was dressed and ready, they opened the door and I was shown out into a hallway. To my delight, Gerry was already out there waiting, and he was also in new clothes. A man who we'd never before met, ushered us to the lift, and then guided us back to the ballroom, and pointed our way to our table.
As he turned and left us standing there, Gerry asked,
“Are you alright?”
“Yes. What about you? How's your leg?”
“They got a doctor to dress it for me, its nothing really.”
“Oh my god Gerry. I thought they were going to cut it off.”
“Yeh. So did I. I think we got out of there lightly, they looked like they would have actually killed us.”
“Let's go straight home.”
“Oh my god Mary! We've just gone through all that, and now its time to make a bit of money out of it, you want to go home.”
“But this place frightens me.”
“Well I'll admit, they frightened me while we were up there, but we're down here now, and they can hardly do anything with all these people around. Anyway, now we've done what that dirty sod wanted, he won't be interested in us any more, and we'd be silly to miss out on the five hundred quid. That manager said it's yours for the taking.”
“I couldn't dance now. My legs are like jelly.”
“Let's go to the bar and get a stiff drink, that'll make you feel better.”
“No I couldn't. You go to the bar; I'll go back to the table and wait for you.”
I didn't expect him to take me up on my offer, I thought he'd just take me home, but I guess men are men, and although I love my Gerry, he isn't even a good example of what a man should be. So as he turned and headed for the bar, he said,
“I won't be long; I'll just have a swift double.”
I made my way back to the table, and I'd only been seated for a few seconds, when,
“Hi, can I sit down?”
There was Trav, and for some reason I just felt I wanted to be in his arms. I knew I couldn't do that, not here on the edge of the dance floor, but as the next best thing was to have him sitting next to me, I said,
“Oh yes please.”
As he sat, he asked,
“Are you alright? You look frightened.”
“Oh take no notice. I guess its just nerves.”
“You look fabulous in that dress, were gonna knock 'em dead when we get on the floor.”
“Oh Trav, I'm sorry, but I can't get up there again.”
“Why ever not? You can't be that nervous. Think about the money.”
“I'm sorry. I know I'm letting you down.”
“You're not letting me down, all the money goes to you. It's just such a shame if you don't go through with it. Everybody's talking about you. They all want to know if you've come from abroad. They know you're not off the UK dance circuit.”
Just then the announcer came over the speakers,
“Ladies and gentlemen. Were pleased to announce it's time for the grand finale of tonight's Latin American dance competition. As you all know, we're down to two finalists.”
At this point the spotlight illuminated our table,
“We have couple number twelve.”
He paused, and Trav said,
“They're waiting for us to stand and take a bow.”
He got to his feet and offered me his hand, I took it, and as I stood next to him, we both bowed.
The spotlight then left us, and as it picked out the other couple, and the announcer carried on his introductions, Trav said,
“You're up now, come on, just give it a try.”
“I don't think I can, my feet feel like lead.”
I'd hardly got the words from my mouth, when the spotlight again illuminated us.
“So without more ado. Let's have couple number twelve on the floor.”
The band started, and Trav took hold of me. Then as he led, our bodies pressed closely to each other, my leg just stepped back, and we were off. It was a bizarre experience, I don't think I was even conscious of what dance we were doing, but as if on auto-pilot, I just stepped my way around the floor. I think our session was some ten or more minutes, but it seemed to me we'd hardly been once around the room before we were taking our bows, and I was being walked back to our table to the sound of deafening applause.
As we sat at our table, the other couple were gliding their way around, and Gerry arrived back from the bar.
“You'd have beaten them with or without that dirty little Jap's help.”
Gerry had obviously had more than just the one double he'd said he was going to have, and I didn't want what had happened up stairs to be public knowledge, or even someone like Trav to know about it.
“Gerry! Shut up! Don't go telling everyone.”
He put his finger up to his lips, and in a slurred voice said,
“Shorry.”
I took hold of his wrist and pulled him towards the seat next to me.
“Come and sit down, you're drunk.”
“I suppose you'll be wanting to take this one home to show him your gratitude.”
For a second I wondered what he meant, then I remembered Olaf, and for some reason I blushed bright red. By now the other couple had also finished their session, and right at this point with me all red faced and feeling very flustered, the spotlight again illuminated our table.
“And our winners tonight are couple number twelve. Its Mrs Mary Kendal, and its all the more of an achievement as she was dancing, not with a regular partner, but a house stand-in. So come on Mary, and collect your prize. Both Gerry and Trav helped me to my feet, and they almost had to push me to get me started across the floor. I collected my envelope, and hurriedly made my way back to the table. But before I'd arrived, the announcer was saying,
“Now one more time, can we see the winning couple show us all how it's done.”
Trav met me half way, and again he took over, guiding me around, and me just dancing on auto-pilot. As soon as that dance was finished, and the spot light that had followed us back to our table had gone, I said to Trav,
“I'm sorry about this, and I hope you don't think me rude, but I have to leave right now.”
“Oh that is a shame. I was hoping we could maybe dance the rest of the evening away. But real dancing, none of that flashy stuff.”
“Believe me, there is nothing I'd like better, but I have to go.”
I could see he was disappointed, and I also felt I owed him something for the way he'd looked after me all evening, but he got to his feet and in a cold business like tone said.
“Well thank you for a pleasant evening. And I hope madam has enjoyed herself.”
With that he gave me a little bow, turned to Gerry and did the same, and then turned and left.
As he walked away, I said,
“Oh shit! Now I've offended him. And I owe him so much.”
It was supposed to be a secret thought going through my mind, but I'd spoken the words, and even with the band still playing for the dancers, Gerry had heard me.
“I'm surprised you didn't take him home to fuck him.”
I ignored his crude remark, and as I rose to my feet, snapped,
“I'm going.”
Then I just began to walk out towards the exit; expecting him to follow. I didn't look behind me, until I'd reached the foyer. But when I did, there was no sign of Gerry following. Then one of the doormen approached, and I asked him to get our driver to bring the car round to pick me up. I had wondered how I'd describe which was our car and driver, as I had no idea what either of them looked like. But in the event, the doorman didn't need this information, and by the time I'd collected my coat from the cloak-room, my driver was standing in the foyer waiting for me.
As I climbed into the car, he asked,
“Are we waiting for Mr Kendal?”
“No. If he wants to stop there getting drunk, that's his choice. Please take me home now.”
So off we went, and I arrived home around one in the morning, and went to bed by myself. For some reason, I cried myself to sleep; my head full of the events, good and bad, spinning around until I dosed off.
I dreamt that night, and I'm sure you won't be surprised if I tell you Trav featured very strongly in my dreams. It wasn't, however, a dream of sex and lust, but more a romantic journey with him at my side, protecting and guiding me through some magical garden. The details are long since faded from my memory, and even at the time I first recalled them the next morning, didn't actually make sense. But I know I thought a lot about Trav in those next few days.
I think it is again time to make an intermission here. And as always, I will wait for any emails to see if you the reader would like to know what happens next. Thanks for reading, and please feel free to email me at Lord_John_Thomas@hotmail.com
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