Eleanor smiled at me, handed over the envelope. I didn't open it, just slipped it in the rack on the wall behind me. Hugh pulled down the shutters as he went, leaving us bathed in the hard glow of strip lighting. I locked up behind them, and Buck turned off the radio.
Eleanor had hitched her ass onto the tool trolley and her legs were spread by the time I'd done with the lock, her skirt already high up her thighs, fancy-done nails rubbing her clit through a tiny pair of creamy lace knickers.
"I meant it," she said. "All morning, Trent. It's all I could think about. You guys drive me wild." Buck moved to the back of her, grabbed hold of the tool trolley and wheeled her in my direction as she squealed. She threw her arms back, grabbed hold of his shoulders and pulled him close. "Fuck me, big boy," she hissed. "I need to be fucked by real fucking men."
His hands found her big tits, gripped them through the slinky fabric of her dress, and she arched her back, her fingers darting back to the wet lace between her legs. I made for the sink to clean up, call it common courtesy, but she let out a groan.
"No," she said. "No, please don't wash it all off, Trent. I want you … dirty … I want you to leave filth all over me … I want to show it to Ted … I want him to see where you touched me … "
The shit some people pay for, but I didn't care. My dick was hard, and Eleanor was a classy piece of pussy. She was horny and experienced, a woman in her prime who could easily handle both me and Buck. She'd taken all five of us earlier that summer, a couple of mega splurges while Ted was at some US conference or some shit. She'd taken all five and ridden us like a fucking train the whole night through, and she was on form right now. A horny, wriggling slut, just fucking desperate to be fucked.
I shrugged my way out of the top half of my overalls, let them fall loose around my waist, and Eleanor's greedy hands tugged my t-shirt, helped me pull it over my head. She ran her palms over my bare chest, moaning as Buck slipped his dirty fingers inside her dress. He pinched her nipples and she let out a hiss.
I took her knees, shunted her further back on the trolley, unbalanced her enough that she wrapped her legs around my waist to hold herself steady. It felt good. She felt good.
"Fuck," she hissed. "Just fuck me, Trent."
Her fingers slipped inside my boxers and took hold of my cock. I watched the delight in her eyes as she worked it up and down.
"Hey," Buck grunted, and his overalls were hanging loose, too. He took out his dick and yanked her backwards, laying her flat on the trolley with her pretty blonde curls picking up grease from oily tools. He slapped his cock against her cheek and the dirty slut opened wide, gave a moan as she sucked him in. I rubbed my thumb along the slip of her knickers, left a dirty black smear. She squirmed, her head bobbing in rhythm as Buck fucked her slutty little mouth. Her lips were wet, they smacked with every fucking thrust, eyes already tearing up as he pushed in deep.
"Swallow me down," Buck grunted. "All the fucking way!"
I circled her clit, nice and steady, pressing tight. She stared up at me, her hand still gripping my dick, working my shaft nice and firm. Her throat gurgled and Buck swore, told her how fucking dirty she was.
I pulled her dress down over her big ripe tits, watched them bounce. Her nipples were hard, dark and stiff as fuck. My mouth fucking watered for them. I lowered myself over her and sucked, fighting the urge to shoot my load as she picked up pace with my cock.
Buck pulled out of her mouth, left a big stream of spit dribbling from her lips. She raised her head and her dirty eyes met mine, my mouth full of her tit.
"Kiss me," she whispered.
Fuck.
"Please, Trent," she whimpered. "Kiss me."
Kiss me where Buck's dick has been.
I can't say tasting some other guy's dick gets me horny, but we were long past being creeped out by that shit. I took her face in my hands, held her tight in position while I kissed her. Her tongue was really fucking demanding.
I felt Buck press a wrapper into my hand, and I pulled away enough to watch him roll a johnny onto his cock. He was the biggest of the five of us; they don't call him Big Buck for nothing.
I took her hands from my cock, guided them between her legs while I tore the wrapper and slipped a johnny on mine, too. "Show me your cunt," I grunted. "Open it."
She moaned and spread herself open. It was a fucking delight.
I dropped to my knees and buried my face in her, licking that snatch like a man fucking possessed, and she grabbed at my hair, rubbed her sweet-tasting pussy all over my fucking mouth.
Her sighs almost blocked out the rattle of a fist against the shutters.
Someone coming for their car. Someone coming with a new one. Someone delivering some fucking part or other.
That someone would have to fucking wait.
Another rattle. That someone was persistent.
"Hurry," Buck growled. "Need to fuck her. I'm ready for it."
"Suck my clit!" she hissed, and her fingers were harsh, scratching at my scalp. "Suck my fucking clit, Trent! Make me come!"
She was so wet and hot. I closed my eyes and sucked on that hard little nub until she gasped, ignoring another round of rapping at the door.
"Yes!" she cried. "Fuck, yes!"
Eleanor's whole fucking body tensed up, her legs thrashing as she came. She flooded me, cut off my air until she was done, finally setting me free in order to take Buck's big dick inside her.
I watched him push his way in, and her pussy ate him right up.
"Hard!" she demanded. "Fuck me! Fuck me!"
The tools rattled as he rammed her, fucked her hard until his breath was short and his beard was glistening with spit from sloppy wet kisses. "Swap," he grunted.
My fucking pleasure.
Poised close, so fucking close, about to spear that sweet fucking snatch and pound her good, until the shutters shook again. Rattled fucking hard by the idiot outside, the impatient dick who wouldn't back the fuck off.
And then the dick's voice.
Only it wasn't a dick.
Not even close.
"Darren! What the hell?! I know you're in there! I need to talk to you!" Jodie's voice paused, and my mouth dried up. Guilt. Even though I had no reason to feel guilty and hadn't done for a long bastard time.
Buck stared at me, raised his eyebrows. Giving it all the ignore her shit he usually gives me. She's just an ex, Trent. Leave her fucking be.
But Buck hasn't loved Jodie Symmonds since he was a kid.
Buck didn't watch Jodie Symmonds bring two of his fucking kids into this world, hasn't loved her with every single fucking bone in his body and believed it'd last for fucking ever.
The shutters rattled again. "Darren! It's about the girls!"
Buck sighed.
Game over.
Mere hours earlier.
World War Three didn't start over nuclear weapons, or oil, or violation of civil liberties. It didn't start over who pissed on someone else's prayer spot, either.
No. World War Three started at Number Two, Oak Crescent, Pontrilas.
World War Three started over standard-issue black school socks, and the eight-year-old diva who refused to wear them.
I gritted my teeth and prayed to the God of Monday mornings for a change in fortune.
"Ruby, please! Just. Put. The. Socks. On!"
"But Mummmmm! Black socks are the worst ever. I never ever ever wear black socks! I won't be Ruby Trent in boring socks! Urghhhhhh!"
I held up the offending items. Just socks. Just fucking socks.
"And who do you suppose you will be? Huh?" I tossed them over to her. "Ruby Trent doesn't have any other clean socks! Not since the washing machine went psycho-crazy last night!" My delightful daughter held up a truly heinous combination of odds. Green stripy and purple plain. Just no. No. The perfect-mother-brigade would never forgive such a crime against humanity. "Matching socks, Ruby. Matching."
She let out a groan, threw herself on the bed, arms flailing. "Who cares about matching?!"
The entire snooty populous of the local village. Your teachers. My peers. Your peers. Cynthia Blackthorne and her pigtail-wearing twins. Georgie Graham and her child prodigy mathematics genius pre-schooler. I could give her the whole bloody directory.
Her cute little freckled face pouted up at me, and I almost let sock-gate slide in her favour. Almost.
Until she said the words. The words.
"Dad would let me wear them! Dad wouldn't make me wear disgusting boring socks!"
Oh yeah. She just shit right out of luck with that line.