Dirty Bad Strangers(22)

I go for blondes. Tall, skinny blondes with implants and barely enough ass to grab hold of. I’d never really fancied a bigger girl, never been given the opportunity. The Premier League is littered with wannabes — models craving a chance to get their tits in the tabloids. Not so many milky white redheads with fleshy thighs come calling, and I hadn’t missed them. That’s what I’d have told you.

I was wrong.

Lucy came closer, oblivious to my presence. I couldn’t stop looking at her, eyes drawn from her smile, to her sweet, bouncy chest, to the way her thighs mashed together under the satin. I wondered how they’d feel around my face, wondered what she’d look like naked, how soft and wet her pussy would be for me. Her arse would be more than a handful, so much fucking more. Fuck how I wanted to play with her. My mouth was dry, cock fucking hard in Steve’s tatty old jeans. I’d forgotten he was even alongside me, consumed by dirty thoughts as Lucy paced alongside his window, the flesh of her breasts bouncing with every step.

That’s when I heard her laugh; a beautiful dirty giggle in response to some whispered joke or other. It was my Lucy, alright.

And then she was gone, leaving me craning my neck for a view of her arse, my fingers on the door latch as I fought the urge to go charging after her. How could I? She’d have no idea who I was, other than some creepy weirdo waiting in the shadows.

I took a breath as she disappeared from view, waiting for the onslaught from Steve.

“That her?”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

He started up the engine. “We can go now, then?”

“Yeah, show’s over.”

He was quiet as he drove, but so was I, lost in a million seedy fantasies about my dirty girl and her milky white breasts. I hardly even noticed we’d pulled into my driveway.

I grabbed the crumpled mess of my suit from the backseat.

“Thanks, Steve. I really fucking appreciate all this.”

“No bother, mate.”

I opened the door, patting him on the shoulder before I made my exit. I was almost out when he grabbed my arm.

“Jase, about what you said.”

“What I said?”

“Back at the workshop... about changing my mind.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I’ve changed my fucking mind, mate...” he smiled.







Gemma



I was drunk and happy as I stumbled through my empty apartment, casting off clothes as I went. My slimming underwear had been too tight, and my feet were bloody killing in heels, but none of that really mattered. I’d met the best people ever. Cara and Missy and Cat and Trixie and Raven... they were awesome, beautiful people. So funny, so dirty, so honest. I’d told them every bloody thing, drunk and motor-mouthed, but it didn’t matter now.

They got it. Got me.

Shit, it felt so good.

Burlesque night was amazing, performers who didn’t give a toss for convention, lighting up the show with fire and nails and feathers and neon body paint, not to mention the numerous perky breasts and swinging dicks. I’d expected a replica Cara to take the stage for the dance act, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Princess Tallulah was twice the size of me, stripping down to her knickers without a care in the world. She’d danced like a showgirl, twirling her nipple tassels as the crowd went wild. They weren’t laughing, either. People loved her, loved her for being real. I wished it was me up there, baring my body for the world to see.

Maybe one day.

Maybe one day I’d even be in Club Explicit on a weekend, on stage for a different kind of show.

Maybe with Jason.

It was late, approaching two a.m. The magic number two. Again, I’d told him I’d be out, but surely it was worth a shot.

I logged into messenger, appearing offline until I saw Sheena sign off for the evening. I logged into the main system without updating my timesheet, there for one reason only.

Please call. Please, please call.

I held my breath as the handset started bleeping, praying for the familiar voice on the other end.

“Did you fuck your friend, dirty girl?”

He was already well on his way, I could hear the tremor in his voice.

“My pole instructor? Would you want me to?”

“Maybe one day, when we’ve found the limit of how much dick you can take. I’d like to watch you eat sweet gothic pussy.”

“She is a goth, actually. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” he rasped. “Guess she just sounds like one…”

“The club was hot,” I gushed. “It was amazing... you ought to see the shit they’ve got there...”

“Did you play?”

“It wasn’t that kind of event. I would play, though, if I went there again... if you were with me.”