Dirty Bad Strangers (9 page)

“Now...” he hissed. “Yes!”

His cum was salty, and thick, really fucking thick. It dribbled to the back of my throat, and I swallowed the whole lot down with a grateful smack of my lips.

It didn’t put him off kissing my salty mouth, tangling his tongue with mine in a horny-as-hell parting gesture.

My body was sad when he removed himself from my touch. I listened to him pull his jeans back on.

“Time’s up,” he said.

I sighed. “I’m not sure pole fitness is on the cards tonight.”

“You’ll be fine, dirty girl. You’re going to feel me when you’re rubbing against that pole, I like that.”

“I’ll be feeling you for a while,” I giggled. “A long while.”

He pressed his lips to my forehead, surprising me. “I’ll let myself out. Give me five minutes before you take the blindfold off.”

I listened to him in the living room, heart pounding until I heard the door slam closed behind him.

I relaxed, smiling to the empty room as I counted down the minutes.

And then I took my blindfold off.

***

Jason

I was grinning like a lunatic as I drove out of Blackfriars, searching through Steve’s crappy old tapes until I found a driving anthems soundtrack. I turned it up high as I chugged through the countryside.

She was everything I hoped for, and more. So much more.

Her ripe thighs, the soft white swell of her tits. Fuck. She was gorgeous. Gorgeous and dirty and horny as hell.

My phone vibrated in my pocket for the umpteenth time. I checked the mirrors before I pulled it out, making sure I kept my eyes on the road. My hands-free setting pinged on, reading my messages in a robotic voice that was only just audible over the music.

Message from April. 1.30 p.m. Where are you?

Message from April. 1.45 p.m. Call me, asshole. I want you to come to Oakleys with me. Press are out.

Message from April. 2.30 p.m. Screw you. I’ve gone alone. Dickhead.

Message from Steve. 4.05 p.m. Well? Was she a goer?

I turned down the stereo.

“Text message to Steve. Best lay I’ve ever fucking had. Send.”

I wasn’t fucking lying.

***

Gemma

What a bloody raucous.

It sounded like a crowd of people at my front door. Angry mobsters hammering the place down.

I pulled my robe tight around me, flinching as I made my way through to the hall. Pole fitness would be interesting.

“THE POLICE ARE ALREADY ON THEIR WAY! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR, RIGHT NOW!”

Shit! I knew the voice. It was emblazoned on my brain through years of screeching conversation.

“Chelsea?” I freed the catch. She was brandishing her handbag high above her head, teeth gritted and eyes wild. It took everything I had not to laugh, she was as threatening as a bloody hamster. She stormed past me in a typhoon of hair extensions, eyes darting about the place.

“Where is he?!”

I stared blankly. “Where’s who?”

“
Jason,
” she spat. “The psycho killer.”

“What the hell?” I began. “How do you know about Jason?”

“He’s not here?”

“He left ages ago. I’m just getting ready for pole fitness,” I said. “How do you know about Jason? What’s going on?”

“That’s what
you
should be telling
me
,” she spat. “We’ve been worried sick! Tessa got a message on her phone during her break, something about you meeting up with some crazy chatline weirdo who might kill you, and she tried to call you back fifteen billion times, only you didn’t fucking answer.”

My stomach lurched. Shit. I scurried to the living room, flinching again as I dropped to all fours to recover the phone from under the sofa. Sure enough there were fifteen billion calls or thereabouts. A few billion messages, too.

“Shit,” I said. “I had my phone on silent.”

“Looks like it!” she screeched. “You’d better call her, if I don’t call back within ten minutes she’s calling the police. We thought you were being raped, or killed, or abducted or some other crazy shit.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t think Tessa would get the message til later.”

“Yeah, well she did.” Chelsea dropped herself onto the sofa. “I risked my life for you, Gemma Taylor. I hope you appreciate that.”

It was strangely sweet. “You came in all guns blazing,” I smiled. “Like a real heroine.”

“I’m hardly gonna let some chatline freak kill my bestie, am I?”

“Clearly not,” I grinned. “Seriously, that’s really sweet. I’m sorry for stressing you out.”

“Tessa’s blowing a gasket, too,” she said. “You’d better call her.”

I dialled the number, bracing myself for the torrent. Luckily it rang to voicemail and I left a garbled and highly apologetic message.

“She must be with a patient,” Chelsea surmised. “Just as well for you.”

I flopped down beside her, teasing back my sweaty curls. “I really am sorry.”

Her blue eyes pierced mine. “You’d better start talking. Who is he? What happened?”

“He’s just a guy,” I lied. “It was just a date.”

She leant forward to sniff me. “Like fuck it was. This place stinks of sex, and so do you.”

“It was just a date...” I repeated. “A date with sex.”

Her face was a picture of horror. “You fucked a chatline weirdo?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Urgh, I bet he was a right munter.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I really don’t think he was.”

“You don’t
think
he was?!”

“I didn’t see that much of him...” I mumbled.

“So, you fucked the guy but you didn’t see that much of him?”

I shrugged and tried to bluster my way out of it, but she didn’t let it go until I relented. “I was blindfolded, ok? It was about the sex. A crazy kink. I shouldn’t have worried you, but he wasn’t a psycho killer, he was just a really hot guy.”

“You’re out of your mind!” she hissed. “Seriously bloody cuckoo!”

I couldn’t really argue with her, which made a change.

“What’s done is done,” I sighed. “I’m really sorry. I won’t worry you again.”

“But you
will
see the weirdo again?”

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face. “Probably.”

“Probably?!”

“Definitely,” I laughed. “I’ll definitely see him again. If he calls, that is.”

“Jesus Christ,” she scowled. “You’ve got serious issues, Gemma Taylor.”

I couldn’t really argue with her about that, either.

I checked the time. “I really do appreciate the rescue and all, but I’ve got pole at six.”

She stood to leave, jabbing an angry finger at me. “This isn’t the end of this. Not by a long stretch.”

I didn’t doubt it.

I thought I’d escaped lightly until she folded her arms by the front door. I died at the pout on her lips, the inevitable precursor to some unpleasant demand.

I should have seen this one coming.

“Now I risked my life to save yours, you
will
be coming with me to Kings on Saturday night, won’t you?”

Shit.

How could I possibly say no?

***

If I hadn’t wanted to see Cara so badly, I’d definitely have given pole a miss. I was practically limping, insides all mushed up from my epic fuck. I hoped they’d go back to normal, sooner rather than later.

The rest of the ladies gave it their all, while I did my best to smile and look like I was trying. I caught Cara’s eyeline throughout the class, her chocolate stare curious and quizzical.

She collared me when the room had cleared, just like I hoped.

“Something tells me you saw your mystery caller,” she smiled.

“That obvious?” I beamed.

“Either that or you’ve given birth recently,” she laughed. “My money’s on rough sex. I’d know the limp anywhere.”

“I’m really bloody limping,” I admitted, plonking myself down on a bench at the sidelines. “It was hardcore.”

“What on earth did he do to you? Bring a busload of mates along with him?”

“Not this time,” I joked. Only it wasn’t a joke. Not really. I tingled at the thought. “He managed to do a pretty good job on his own, in all fairness.”

Her eyes sparkled with something I couldn’t read. “Did he hit you? Spank you, I mean?”

“No. Just fucked me. Hard. With the help of big purple.”

“Big purple?”

“My vibrator.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ahh... double penetration. Was it your first time?”

“Kind of,” I admitted. “I hope it’s not my last.”

Her eyes were warm. “If he’s glowing half as much as you are, I seriously doubt it will be. You’re on fire, Firecracker. Whatever the guy did, he got you good.”

“It was crazy stupid. He could have been anyone.”

“Yes, he could. Luckily he wasn’t.”

“Luckily.”

“You escaped unscathed,” she giggled. “Well, largely unscathed. You’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

My mind whizzed back to Club Explicit and all the crazy things I’d seen. “Is that the kind of stuff you do? At that club?”

“We do BDSM at the club,” she said. “I’ve been known to enjoy a bit of double penetration. Raven will sometimes crack out a double strap-on, if I’ve been a very, very naughty girl.”

The image of Raven pegging Cara with a double strap-on brought a fresh rush of tingles and my clit pulsed hot. Jesus! “It’s so refreshing,” I admitted. “To be able to talk, you know? My friends would have me sectioned if they had half a chance.”

“Maybe you have the wrong friends.”

“They are my
only
friends.”

“Not anymore.” She squeezed my elbow. “I think you need an ear, Figi, let’s go.”

“Figi?” I laughed. “Firecracker Gem? I like it.”

“You’ll like the Devonshire Arms, as well,” she smiled. “It’s only round the corner.”

***

The Devonshire Arms was a goth bar, and a hardcore one at that. We met Raven in the entrance, looking as exotic as ever, pulling Cara into a tight squeeze and peppering her face with kisses.

“The lovely Gemma,” she exclaimed, warmly. “Nice to see you again so soon.”

“Gemma got laid,” Cara shared. “The chatline guy.”

“Hey, hot stuff,” Raven smiled. “That calls for a celebratory drink.”

I was inclined to agree with her. Cara went off for a round of snakebite and blacks while Raven led me to a theatrical-looking alcove in the corner. It was strung with fake cobwebs, its seats carved like big old thrones. Quite a place.

“Was he everything you hoped?” she quizzed.

“Everything and more,” I admitted. “I’ve never felt like that before.”

“What am I missing?” Cara asked, handing out the drinks. “I want in on all the gory details.”

“I was just telling Raven that Jason surpassed my expectations.”

“Take it from the top,” she said. “I want to know everything.”

I was glad, as I was just as keen to spill every sordid little detail.

They listened without interruptions, making all the right noises in all the right places, and allowing me to gush to my heart’s content about the crazy talents of the crazy mystery trucker from Surrey. For once I felt normal in my insanity, unhindered by disapproval. It felt nice.

Their verdict was unexpected, but welcome.

“Go for it,” Cara said. “If you think he’s for real.”

“Just make sure you’re safe,” Raven added. “Safe, sane and fully consensual. They’re the magic words.”

“I feel pretty safe,” I said. “And it’s entirely consensual. It’s the sane thing I’m not quite so sure about.”

“Why don’t you bring him to Explicit?” Cara asked. “You could become a member. You don’t have to do any of the BDSM stuff if you don’t want to, but at least we could keep an eye on things, make sure you’re ok. Could be fun.”

“I could ask him,” I said. “One day.”

“One day soon I hope,” Cara smiled. “It would be awesome.”

“And sensible,” Raven added. “Especially if he wants to get other people involved. Always helps to be part of a friendly crowd.”

It was certainly food for thought.

Tasty food, at that.

***

Jason

April’s face was like a slapped arse when I got through the door. She folded her arms and scowled at me, stalking me through to the kitchen.

“Well?” she spat. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“It’s my rest day. I was resting.”

“I sent you messages.”

“And I didn’t see them in time.” I made myself a coffee, and made the bitch one too. I didn’t even get a thanks.

“You’ve been off with that loser, Steve, again, haven’t you? Why do you insist on hanging around with him? He’s a nobody. Such a nobody that even his wife left him, and she was a frumpy old cow with no prospects.”

“Stop it,” I snapped. “Don’t start on Steve.”

“You should have been there. Those pictures are going in
Fame
magazine, a pull-out on that new musical.”

“So?”

“So, we’re the
Redferns
. We should have been there.
Both
of us.”

“At least they got you,” I sneered. “Brightening up their afternoon like a ray of golden sunshine.”