After Hours: Black Lace Classics (25 page)

The Viking was only a little way behind Micky, clutching at her head as her mouth sucked him voraciously now, urging him on towards his goal. With a wild cry that made a few heads turn across the park, the Viking came, spilling salty juices into Venny’s mouth. She swallowed quickly and then, when he was done, slipped her mouth off the end of his prick and gave his glans one last hungry lick. Her head went back as she swept her tongue around her lips to savour the taste of cock. She smiled up at the panting Viking.

‘Good?’ she asked.

‘Great,’ he said, awestruck at his own unexpected luck. He glanced down at his drained and drooping penis, and as if suddenly coming back to himself, he tucked it almost pruriently back into his jeans, and buttoned them up. ‘Thanks,’ he said bashfully.

‘That’s OK,’ said Venny sweetly, and Micky chuckled as the Viking quickly walked away and out of the park. Able to concentrate more fully upon her lover now, Venny put her arms around Micky’s neck and kissed him warmly. The Viking’s salty come was still on her lips. Micky licked them lasciviously, and their kisses deepened and grew passionate while he hardened again inside her.

This time the pleasure was Venny’s; Micky was careful to caress her clit beneath the folds of her skirt with one hand while he held her up a little with the other. By doing this, he could move inside her to their mutual satisfaction, and the intensity of their orgasms shook them both.

Panting, gasping, wrapped together on the bench, a warm feeling of familiarity and closeness enveloped them both. At last Venny was able to say the words she’d been longing to say all day.

‘I’m sorry you had to sell the hut,’ she murmured against his spiky dark hair. ‘I know how much you loved it, and I blame myself.’

Micky looked at her in surprise. ‘Well, don’t,’ he said huskily as his cock once again diminished inside her.

‘But I do,’ Venny fretted.

‘No really, don’t.’ Micky looked at her quite seriously. ‘What you obviously haven’t been told is that Caspar bought it off me.’

Venny drew her head back and stared at him in surprise. ‘No, I didn’t know that.’

‘Well, he did. So I’ve still got the use of it more or
less whenever I want. Caspar’s such a workaholic that he hardly ever goes down there.’

‘Oh.’ Venny smiled with relief. ‘I’m so pleased.’

‘Yeah, well, since we’re spilling secrets, there’s one I’ve got that might not please you. But I think it’s fair you know.’

Venny nodded complacently. Nothing would seriously discountenance her at this moment. She had Micky’s penis wilting inside her, his arms around her, he was back in her life and he had not lost the hut. Nothing else mattered. Well, not much else. Except of course the Blue Ribbon.

‘Go ahead then,’ she said jovially. ‘Shock me.’

And Micky did.

‘Did you realise,’ said Venny to Jamie when she arrived at his studio in Shepherd’s Bush two days later, ‘that Dani has not only been fucking both Flora and Caspar? She’s also been balling Micky.’

‘What, Caspar’s brother Micky? The chef with the place just round the corner from here?’ Jamie looked suitably perturbed by her news.

‘The very same.’ Venny wondered why she felt so angry about that – and still so shocked.

She had been so shocked in fact that she had told Micky that she needed time to take his confession in, to think it over. To come to terms with it. She knew very well that Dani would fuck anything with a dick, and of course Dani had had a perfectly good excuse for muscling in on Venny’s man.

‘Dear heart,’ she’d said to Venny when Venny confronted her with it. ‘Sure I slept with Micky. Well, maybe not slept. We kept rather too busy for that, as I recall. But I thought you two had split. Correction, you
had
split. So I thought, why not? And I took advantage of the guy. What sane woman wouldn’t?’

It was all very reasonable, Venny knew that. It all made perfect sense, when Dani explained it to her. And Micky had confessed, had come clean, after all. He hadn’t made any sordid attempts to cover up their affair, however brief it had been. And there was always the nagging thought at the back of her brain that she had very nearly succumbed to Dani’s seductive powers herself. But still, she felt betrayed. And angry. And so the very first thing she did – after she had dismissed Micky from the flat and spoken to Dani – was to phone Jamie, Dani’s Glaswegian sculptor protégé, who was very possessive of Dani. She supposed she was looking for a shoulder to cry on, or maybe even just a chat with someone who would feel about the situation as she felt – betrayed, and angry.

Or at least that was how she’d felt a couple of days ago. Since then she’d cooled off a bit. Now that she stood in the middle of Jamie’s midden of a studio with its weird metal mobiles hanging from the ceiling, its paint-splattered wooden floor, its stacks of oils, watercolours and bare charcoal sketches leaning against the walls, its overwhelming smells of turps and linseed oil, she was beginning to wish she’d kept her grievances to herself. But it was too late for second thoughts now.

‘I knew she was playing around with other guys,’ said Jamie, frowning heavily.

And girls, thought Venny, but didn’t say it. She was sorry she’d come here now. It might mean more trouble with the temperamental Scot for Dani. She tried to backpedal frantically.

‘Well, I suppose it’s a free country,’ she said lightly. ‘After all, you two aren’t in what you would call a committed relationship, are you? I mean, it’s pretty open, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Not to me, it isn’t,’ said Jamie broodingly.

He looked pretty damned handsome when he was petulant, thought Venny. He had straight dirty-blond hair that he wore flopping over his grey eyes. He had a trim, tanned body although he wasn’t particularly tall. He looked as if he had just tumbled out of the unmade bed in the corner alcove, thrown on combat trousers and an open shirt – between the sides of which she could see his very tasty torso – and answered the door to her. He looked like he should be home where his mother could keep an eye on him.

And that was the point, she supposed. Jamie was only – what? – nineteen? And when love, or something very like it, hit at that age, it hit very hard.

To distract him, she looked around the studio, slipping off her fuschia-pink cardi as she did so to reveal a paler pink shift dress beneath. She could feel his eyes following the movement, following the heavy sway of her breasts in their push-up balconette bra as her arms moved, and thought, ha! One rule for the
boys and one for the girls, as usual. He could look at her tits and want to touch them, but Dani had to be virgin pure, repelling advances from other males as if her life depended on it.

‘You know, you’ve got some very interesting work here,’ she said, although if she was honest the work wasn’t really to her taste. It was, frankly, weird. Otherworldly and a touch sinister. Jamie’s stuff reminded her of Dali’s melting clocks, of Van Gogh’s madly intense use of primary colours, of that strange picture by the other chap of a crazy, screaming face. Frankly, it gave her the shivers, but she was trying to put Jamie in a good mood and repair some of the damage she’d just done, so she was prepared to apply a little bullshit, like a poultice to his wounded male pride, if it helped.

‘Thanks,’ he said guardedly, but his face did brighten.

She spotted a sordid-looking sink in the corner, where a kettle and several dirty chipped mugs were laid out on an old wooden draining board beside a leaking bag of sugar and a catering-sized can of instant coffee.

‘Hey, I’ll make us a coffee,’ she offered, and headed right over there.

It certainly was a day for wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, she thought as she peered with distaste into the sink’s begrimed depths. Gingerly she picked up the mugs and gave them a vigorous sluicing under the tap. In the absence of hot water, she used cold. There was no tea towel in view, so she opened the small cupboard under the sink. She found herself looking at several bottles of washing-up liquid, a single bottle of
bleach, and a small diamond-gripped blowtorch. The blowtorch had MQ marked on the grip.

Venny’s lips thinned as she looked at what was obviously Micky’s chef’s blowtorch. That would come in pretty handy for making metal mobiles, she thought. And she’d be willing to bet that Micky’s knife was here too – probably being used to smear paint onto canvas, if she knew Jamie. The light-fingered little toad.

She shook the mugs out over the sink, negotiated the horrors of the semi-solidified bag of sugar and the sticky-rimmed coffee can, boiled the kettle, filled the mugs, and returned to Jamie.

He was sitting on a beanbag in the centre of the studio now, holding a poster-sized block of good quality artists’ paper. He was scribbling away on the top right-hand corner of the block with a stick of charcoal.

‘Thanks.’ He looked up at her as she put his mug on the floor beside the beanbag. ‘You know, I’d appreciate some help here,’ he said.

‘Help?’ Venny looked puzzled. She sipped at her coffee. It was just as dire as she’d expected but, what the hell, it was coffee. And what could he mean, ‘help’? The only help he needed was from a shrink, to thrash out the reasons for his obsessive personality and his kleptomania. ‘Like what?’ she asked cautiously.

‘You know Dani’s commissioned an ice sculpture from me for the Blue Ribbon awards bash next week?’

Venny nodded. Of course she knew. Dani was talking about little else at the moment. It was all the awards menus, the seating plans, the sculpture for
the centrepiece, and what about the flowers? What colourway should she be going for? Blue seemed too obvious and anyway it was too awkward to get truly blue flowers in the types she wanted. How about peach? Peach and purple – or lime and purple, how about that?

Yes, Venny knew all about Dani’s plans for the catering, down to the last boring detail. What with Dani’s constant wittering and her own rapidly escalating nerves, she felt she knew more about the Blue Ribbon award night than she actually wanted to know, right now.

‘Well, you’ve got a good body, haven’t you? I’ve been looking around for suitable models for the ice sculpture. I thought an embracing couple, melting together in passion like Rodin’s
Kiss
and melting together for real as the evening passes – what do you think?’

What Venny thought was that, in typical Jamie style, he was leaving it all rather late. The melting in passion bit sounded quite lyrical and poetic, for him. But then he was an artist, and she supposed all artists were a touch on the mad side, really. And she was flattered that he should ask her.

‘I’ve got someone in mind for the male part, but I’ve been having trouble with the female.’ Jamie looked down at his doodles, and for a moment he looked like a bashful twelve-year-old. Then he looked up at her and gave her both barrels from those cute baby-grey eyes of his. ‘So would you sit for me? Today? Um – now?’

Venny shrugged and put her mug aside on a shelf. It was still half empty. ‘Well, if you like,’ she said.

Jamie grinned. ‘Yes, please, Venny.’

‘So – where do I pose?’ She looked around. Every surface in the little room was covered with junk, or dirt, or both.

‘On the stool there.’ Jamie jumped up and dusted down the tired-looking wooden stool that was placed by the north-facing window to catch the best of the light.

‘All right then.’ Venny walked over.

‘But you need to get changed first.’

Venny stopped and looked at him in surprise. ‘Into what?’

‘Well. Into nothing.’ Jamie looked bashful again. ‘I thought you understood what I meant. The couple melting in a passionate embrace. They’d have to be naked, wouldn’t they? It wouldn’t make sense otherwise.’

‘Oh! I see.’

Venny hesitated. Was she really happy about stripping off with Jamie? She thought he was about as stable as Semtex. On the other hand, he was very sexy. And she quite enjoyed the idea of sitting there in the buff while he sketched her. It was titillating.

‘Have you got somewhere I could change?’ asked Venny. ‘That’s the drill, isn’t it? The artist provides a wrap or something, so the model can preserve her modesty?’

Jamie looked perplexed. ‘Well, no. There’s only this room. And anyway, surely you don’t care about stripping off for me? It’ll be fun. For us both,’ he added, and Venny could certainly see that he was getting in the
mood for fun already. She could see his cock standing up beneath the loose-fitting combat pants.

‘I don’t know,’ said Venny uncertainly, although she could feel her crotch growing moist at the thought of it. Propped up by her sexy new balconette bra, her breasts felt suddenly sensitised, her nipples tingly.

‘Hey, I’ll strip too, if it makes you feel any happier,’ offered Jamie.

‘Well, I guess that might make me feel a little less conspicuous,’ allowed Venny doubtfully. And it would enable me to get a better look at that trim young bod of yours, she thought privately. She liked that idea very much.

‘Great!’ said Jamie enthusiastically, and reached for his fly.

Venny stood frozen in fascination as Jamie shucked off his combat pants. There was no hint of shyness about Jamie. No vestige of underwear, either. His erect cock was waggling around like a bowsprit as he bent and kicked the pants to a corner of the room. He shrugged off the shirt, too, and looked her straight in the eye, spreading his arms wide.

‘How about that?’ Jamie asked her. ‘Look, I’m nude, too.’

Venny was smiling down at his looming penis. ‘The state you’re in, that’s hardly a reassurance,’ she pointed out.

Jamie looked down at his twitching appendage regretfully. ‘What can I say? It’s got a mind of it’s own. Sorry.’ He snatched up a paint-covered rag. ‘How about this?’ He draped the rag over his lusty protrusion and looked at her hopefully.

‘That just looks ridiculous,’ said Venny, trying hard
not to laugh out loud. She had this gorgeous, hard-bodied, hot-headed young man standing naked in front of her, except for a little square of fabric that actually seemed to flaunt rather than conceal the fact that he was erect. The fabric didn’t even completely cover his balls, she noted. And she wasn’t particularly sorry about that; he had very nice balls. He was looking at her so pleadingly that she felt her resolve melting. Well, what could it hurt? It was quite flattering, really. She had never been sketched before, not even wearing all her clothes. And being sketched naked might be exciting.