The Bunk Up (The Village People Book 1) (8 page)

He stops moving and looks at me. “What are you doing, Daisy? ‘Cos it’s right putting me off.”

“Sorry. I was trying to look.”

“Oh, if that’s the case, I’ll do this then.”

He moves himself onto his knees and lifts up one of my legs. I have a direct view of the action as he pushes King Cock into me and back out again. In again, out again. Fuck it. I’ve seen it now. The friction has caused my eyes to close and I’m lost in the sensation. Just when I think it can’t get any better he strokes my clit with his finger. Tightness begins to gather in my pussy again and Frazer starts pumping faster and faster. I lose it at the same time as he stiffens and then lets out a huge satisfied groan. He pulls out of me and collapses at the side of the bed.

“Frazer?”

“Yeah.”

“You know that agreement thing?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Well don’t bother with alternate nights on the sofa. After we’ve just shagged it seems daft. We’ll share.”

He turns to face me. “You know this was for experience, right? A favour?”

“Yes, shithead,” I reply. “Good job I’m used to men letting me down without sensitivity.”

I see him wince a little at that, but I ignore him.

“While I’m here, we’ll bunk up,” I say.

“Huh?”

“A bunk-up. It means a helping hand and in the urban dictionary it means, like, hooking up. So while I’m here we can help each other out.” I wink. “Only if you want to, and you need to know, I’ll probably take at least one other lover from the village, to expand my experience. There’s no exclusivity but I will practice safe sex always.”

Frazer props his head on his arm and regards me with a curious expression. “You want friends with benefits sex from me? No commitment?”

“Yeah. What d’ya think?” For some stupid reason I’m nervous. I shouldn’t care less what Frazer thinks, but for some reason I’m hanging on for his answer. After what I’ve just sampled, it’s easy to realise I’ve been missing out – for a long time – and with a long dick. And I’m quite impressed, to be honest.

“Absolutely.” He responds quickly, adding. “Either dreams come true or that beer last night had some fucking drugs in it.”

“It’s real.”

“How do I know that for sure?” He closes his eyes. “Maybe I’m dreaming.”

“Well, if you look at the clock it’s ten forty-five, so by my reckoning, you’re thirty minutes late for work.”

“Shit!” he yells and bolts out of bed.

I run after him. “Hey! Where did you put my clothes?”

Chapter Ten

Frazer

I rush through the door of the pub. “I’m so sorry.”

Trevor, the landlord, takes one look at me and raises an eyebrow. “Like that, was it? Well, I know it’s difficult to leave a warm bed, but I need you on time.”

“Got it.”

He spends time with me going through how to use the cash register and make all the drinks. I pick it up quickly; it’s a lot like learning my lines. I figure I can do this, no problem. It’s a small village. I imagine myself like Tom Cruise in
Cocktail
, all the women of the village standing by the bar and shouting my name while I throw a cocktail shaker around.

What I’m not expecting is that my first day at work would be the day Tilly decides to audition for the role of barman. At least I’m already here. With the look on her face as she walks in, I expect she was hoping I’d miss it. Bitch.

Bodies are everywhere, squeezed in every corner, and there’s at least six people now huddled behind the small bar. The oxygen in the air is non-existent and the heat is overwhelming. Sweat beads on my brow instantly and I blow out a breath up my face in an effort to cool myself down.

Trevor, the landlord, looks horrified, and I’m sure there are actual tears in his eyes as he scopes out the mass of actors, directors, fill-ins, make-up, prop guys, and that’s just a portion of the throng of people taking over his pride and joy.

I hadn’t taken into consideration how many people would audition for the barman’s part. I’m a little downhearted because I know Tilly doesn’t like me, and knowing her, she’ll give any amateur the part just so she doesn’t have to give it to me. I walk out from behind the bar to put my name down for an audition.

A bloke sat at a table looks up at me when I approach.

“Name?” he barks.

“Frazer McNeil,” I answer, still scanning the room to see if there’s anyone I know.

I blink when a clipboard is shoved towards me. “Fill this in.” He sounds like the automated voice on my Sat-nav. So much so that I’m dying to ask him to say, ‘You have reached your destination’ just to see if it is.

Taking the pen he holds out towards me, I gawp at the length of his fingernails. They’re bloody feminine. Buffed to a shine, too. Pink would definitely be his colour - ooh or maybe a soft mauve. A couple of gems would look nice too, sparkling against the varnish….
What the fuck
,
Frazer? You’ve only lived with a girl one night!
Shaking away my thoughts, I chastise myself and plonk into one of the hard plastic chairs lined up on the back wall.

Forms make my balls ache, and I sigh as I press pen to paper and start to jot down all the information required. It’s a generic form, and quickly finishing, I hand the paperwork back to the guy and take the name badge he thrusts back at me, almost stabbing me to death with his talons in the process.

“You here for the barman’s part?”

I turn to see a guy around my age regarding me. He’s chewing on a giant strawberry lace, biting down on it and stretching it out in front of him. The smell of strawberries is rife and I have to step back a little.

“Yeah,” I answer. “You?”

He nods, scanning the room. “Few here. None I’ve come across before, though. Although I think Tilly wants someone non-descript for the part.”

“Really?” I may be in with a chance now.

“Mmm, she reckons those with lots of experience get a head on them. Divas, I think she called them…”

“Oh-my-fucking-God!”

I jump back when hands pinch the tops of my arms and I’m spun around. The whole room goes silent and I stare in shock at Daisy who’s now started screeching at the top of her voice.

“Frazer McNeil!” she squeals. “The sofa guy!”

“What are you doing?” I hiss under my breath.

“Fangirling.”

“Eh?” She’s gone mad. She must have. But then again, she did have great sex this morning. My cock’s enough to send anyone crazy.

Tilly strolls over to us. Colour spreads over Daisy’s cheeks and she stares in awe, her huge blue eyes growing ever larger the nearer Tilly gets to us.

“You know him?” Tilly asks Daisy.

I’m flapping my hand about behind Tilly, trying to gain Daisy’s attention, but she’s too star struck with Tilly.

Without speaking, Daisy thrusts her head up and down, her manic grin making Tilly step back slightly. “You’ve seen some of his acting?” Tilly asks. Her eyes are narrow, her expression suspicious.

Daisy appears to shake herself off and nods again as her eyes move back to me. “He’s the guy in that sofa advert. Me and all my friends adore him. He’s so perfect, so handsome, and he’s just so natural.”

“At selling sofas?”

Blinking at Tilly’s amused tone, Daisy appears a little hurt. I know what she’s trying to do, and while I’m mortified because of what I just learned from the guy still stood beside me, I’m also a little moved by her sweetness. She’s obviously trying to help me get the part, and even if she’s wrecked my chances, I still find myself smiling softly at her support.

“At acting,” Daisy counters, her simmering eyes blazing with resentment at Tilly’s attitude.

“Really?” Tilly rolls her lips, not even attempting to hide her rude reaction to Daisy. Her behaviour is unacceptable, especially towards one of her own fans. “And you’d know what good acting is would you?”

“Tilly…” I warn.

Daisy snatches my hand to shush me as she glares at Tilly. “For your information,” Daisy starts, thrusting her hands on her hips. I brace myself, biting on my bottom lip as I prepare for what’s going to come out of her mouth, “I do know. My uncle is a director, and I’ve listened to him now and again.”

Tilly blurts out a laugh.

Now, I’ve never not liked any –
any
– chick. In fact, I love them, all of them; every shape, every size, every colour, but damn, if I don’t wanna send Tilly on holiday with my mother for a month!

“A director.” Tilly laughs, nodding her head in humour. “Do tell us, dear. Has your uncle ever made the quality of film I’m accustomed to?” Tilly is such a snob.

My lip curls at the size of her ego. God knows what I saw in her years back… Oh yeah, it was that bendy thing she does with her left leg.

“Well, I’m not sure about your level.” Daisy purses her lips, her eyes twitching. I just want her to shut up before she sinks any further.

“Hmm,” Tilly scoffs. “Yeah, I thought so. He’s probably never made a Hollywood blockbuster… like me.”

Daisy nods. “Oh, yeah, he’s had a few of those.”

I narrow my eyes on her. “Daisy, who’s your uncle?”

And so blasé, she quips, “Steven Spielberg. You know him?”

I swear everyone in the room hears my breath leave me in a sudden rush. Barking out a laugh, I turn to Tilly. “Touché.”

Her teeth snap together and a sickly sweet grin curves the edges of her lips when she turns back to Daisy. “Oh, darling. Then you’re in luck. I was just about to give your boyfriend the part. You came just in time.”

My mouth falls open and I stare at Tilly. “I got the part?”

“Of course you did. If Daisy here is your biggest fan, then it’s all yours. I’d be honoured to have you.” The excitement in her eyes is blinding. The sneaky bitch.

Tilly flaps about, the elation at having a link to
the
Steven Spielberg making her jump up and down in her bright pink jumpsuit as she waves towards Joe, her husband, and runs off in his direction to spill the gossip.

“Wow,” I say.

Daisy turns from studying the room to give me a smile.

“I can’t believe Steven Spielberg is your uncle,” I mutter, my eyes wide in shock.

She laughs, shaking her head.

“What?”

Giving me a sly wink, she turns and shoots over her shoulder. “Congratulations. You got the part. I’ll see you back at the cottage. You owe me a bottle of wine.”

“You…”

“Oh,” she mouths. “And I’ll take another go of what you did to my vagina with your tongue. I really liked that. It was very nice. Very, very nice.”

I can hear her happy sigh even from the other side of the room as she slips back out of the door. Sly. So sly. But I owe her one, or two, or bloody ten.

Chuckling to myself, I can’t hide my smile all day. I even enjoy working. The part I wanted is in the can. Tilly thinks I’m now the best thing since sliced bread. And Daisy apparently wants to be best friends with my cock for the foreseeable.

Life is good.

Chapter Eleven

Daisy

The village square is quiet. The sun is out, and spotting a few tables outside the café, I meander over and take a seat.

Frank is sitting at his spot on the bench, and lifting a hand in greeting to me, he shouts out, “Morning, sugar tits.”

Sucking on my lips at his choice of words, I stifle a giggle and wave back. “Morning, Frank.”

“Can I… Oh, hi, Daisy.” Sam is stood over me with a little apron around her waist and a small notepad in her hand. Her smile is as wide as it was yesterday.

“Hi, Sam. Can I just get a latte, please?”

She nods, jotting down my order. “How are you settling in?”

“Okay. Although it seems I’m sharing the cottage with Mrs Haversham’s son.”

Sam appears confused for a moment. “Nigel is here?”

“No. Her other son, Frazer.”

Her mouth forms a perfect ‘O’. “Ohhh.”

“Ohhh?”

Her cheeks flush and I narrow my eyes on her. “You two have a past?”

She giggles and nods. “Long time ago, but yeah, I think everyone in the village has a past with Frazer.”

Something inside my chest tightens and I force a smile. “Ahh, I see.”

“Yeah, watch him, Daisy.” She laughs but I can see the heat of memories in her eyes. “He’s quite the charmer.”

Yeah, so it would appear. Actually I’m being hard on him. Seems as though it was me that had come on to him yesterday, but still, the feeling in the pit of my stomach is both unwanted and unwarranted.

Sam disappears back into the café to fix my drink and I lean back into the chair and take a look around the square. The pub is bustling, the noise from inside spilling into the square, but apart from that, it’s creepily quiet. Although it’s midmorning, no one is about – well, apart from Frank. I have to wonder what they do for fun around here.