Dirty Bad Strangers (7 page)

“I... I can’t...”

“Last two digits.”

My chest fluttered, fighting the truth in his words.

Yes, I really want this. Yes, I really want him. I want him to fuck me, just like we talk about. I want him to watch other people fuck me, too. Lots of other people…

“I shouldn’t...”

“Two digits, Lucy, otherwise I’m starting at zero-zero and working my way up until I find you.”

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

I took a breath.

This was crazy. Really. Fucking. Crazy.

“Zero seven,” I said. “The last two digits are zero seven.”

The line went dead in a heartbeat.

And my mobile started up.

***

Jason

The line rang for an age, a slow drone of torment as my heart thumped in my ears.
A wrong number? A sham? A big fat game?

Silence as the call connected, then my Lucy’s soft greeting, the faintest hint of nerves.

“Hi...”

Hi.
Just like that.

“It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“It’s good to hear yours, too.” She took a deep breath. “Hi, Jason. Is Jason your real name?”

“Yes,” I said. “Your name isn’t Lucy, though, is it?”

“No. It’s Gemma. I
am
in London, though, and I
am
a redhead...”

“I’m really from Surrey, too.” I fisted a hand in my hair. “I’ve been so looking forward to this.”

A soft sigh. “You don’t know me, Jason... I’m not like you imagine... I’m not... um...”

A moose?
“Not what?”

“I don’t look anything like the girl on those photos... I’m not... thin...”

“It’s
you
I want, not the girl on those crappy photos.”

“Maybe I should send you a picture...” The trepidation in her voice was intoxicating.
She
was intoxicating. Nervous, and excited and
real
. So real.

“I don’t need a picture, dirty girl. I need
you
.” Months of tension bubbled over. “When can I see you? I need to see you, Gemma.”

“Not tonight...I’m still working.” I heard her padding across a hard floor, rustling some papers. “I have a flatmate, just checking her timetable.”

“You want me to come to you?”

Her answer was instant. “Yes. It’s what I always imagined...”

“And you really want to be blindfolded?”

“My name was a lie, but that was all. Everything else is real... they are all
my
fantasies...” I listened to her pacing. “This is so crazy...”

My mouth was dry as sandpaper. “It’s not crazy.”

“Please don’t be a bloody psycho,” she groaned. “That would seriously, seriously suck.”

“You know I’m not.”

She resumed the rustling. “...Bloody Tessa and her scrawly writing... how about, um... Thursday... or Tuesday... or... tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

My perfect Lucy,
Gemma
, laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound. “Ok, Mr Keen. She’s working from midday... how about 1pm?”

“I’ll be there. How long do I have?”

“Tess is working til late, but I have pole fitness at six.”

“I’ll be out by four... that should do us fine, this first time.”

“First time? You seem pretty sure we’ll be doing it again,” she teased.

“We’ll be doing it again.” I let my words hang in the air. “I meant what I said, Gemma, I want you on your knees waiting for me, blindfolded and ready.”

A hitch of her breath. “
Yes
.”

“Nothing crazy first time. Just you, and me.”

“I’ll be ready.” She paused, but I didn’t fill the silence. “What do you look like? I mean, I’ll never see you... I just wondered... just so I know... I know it’s silly, I just...”

“I’m just over six foot, athletic, dark hair... longish...”

“Big cock?”
A nervous giggle.

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed...”

Her laughter was contagious. “Tall, dark, athletic with a twelve inch cock... just like every other one of my callers.”

“Please tell me you’re joking? They don’t really come out with that twelve inch shit?”

“All the time. I’m practically a counselling service for guys too huge to get a girlfriend,” she giggled again. “So, in real life you’re a cuddly, blonde trucker?”

“With a tiny dick, yeah,” I laughed. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“You have sat nav?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll text you my postcode. It’s easier to drive here than get the tube, we’re right out on the edge of Blackfriars, in Bay Street, there are two flats above a sandwich shop, ours is the first, number ten. The shop has parking behind and it’ll be empty on a Sunday, you can come in the back way.”

“I like the back way,” I smirked.

I heard the trill of another phone. “Shit, I have to go, callers to jack off.”

The thought made me strangely jealous. “I’ll see you tomorrow, dirty girl.”

“More than I’ll see of you,” she said. “Goodnight, Jason.”

It would be now.

***

Gemma

Crazy, crazy, crazy. Not just crazy. Insane. Certifiable. Stark raving bloody mad.

Still I text him my postcode, still I wandered through my bedroom and browsed the contents of my wardrobe between calls, and still I brought myself off over and over again until I was a tired mess. Sleep didn’t find me easy, though — not even when the calls died down at four a.m.

Practicalities bashed around my head. Practicalities and nerves. What if he turned up with an axe and hacked me into tiny pieces in my own living room? What if he didn’t show up at all? What if he turned up, took one look at me and let himself out again?

Tessa took an age to get ready for work, sluggish from her double shift the day before. I followed her around, dithering on the edge of telling her I had a date. A blind date. A blind kinky date in our apartment. Just so she knew, just in case.

Finally, she called me out.

“What’s with the ants in your pants?”

I shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Is this about Chelsea? I definitely can’t go with her to that stupid club, I told her that already. If you aren’t up for it, she’ll just have to find some other mug to take along.”

“Haven’t even thought about it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then you’d better start thinking about it, she’ll be on your case soon enough. I’ll see you later.”

Shit.
I hoped so.

I showered and shaved, and tried to straighten my hair — which didn’t do an awful lot to tame the curls. I painted my toes and my fingers, like he’d even probably notice, and tidied the flat until it was presentable. I bundled my clothes back into my wardrobe and cleared my bedside table, using it as a display of every sex toy in my possession. Vibrators and dildos and lubes and lotions, condoms, too. I decided against the handcuffs, stuffing them back in a drawer, along with a couple of floggers I’d bought but never yet used. Maybe another day.

With trembling fingers and a thudding heart I fired off a couple of texts, and he was right off the bat in his responses.

I practice safe sex. Condoms please.

Of course.

Please help yourself to drinks and all that.

Thank you.

I’m really going to be blindfolded, so please let me know it’s you when you arrive.

Stop worrying, dirty girl. One hour to go.

One hour to go.

I slipped into a babydoll and pair of matching white panties. The mirror told me it did little to hide my wobbly bits, maintaining the podge of my belly even when I was sucking it in. My chubby thighs too. At least my tits looked good, squeezed together in an impressive display of cleavage and held precariously with the cutest white ribbon.

I kept my make-up minimal, just a touch of mascara and a dab of lip gloss. Then I put the door on the latch and watched the clock tick down.

I was in position on the living room floor, kneeling with my knees spread wide and my eyes screwed shut under a sleep mask when the panic finally kicked in. In a mad burst of nerves I fired off a text to Tessa that I knew she wouldn’t see til much later.

Don’t go mad. I’ve got a blind date at the flat. He’s from chatline and his name is Jason. He’s from Surrey and his number is on my phone. I’ll text you when I’m done - if you haven’t had another message by the time you finish work please call the police as he’s probably a psycho killer. Hopefully not. xx

I put my phone on silent and hid it under the sofa.

Then I slipped the mask back on, spread my knees, and waited for my dirty bad stranger.

Like a good little dirty bad girl.

***

Jason

Steve’s old Land Rover was a noisy bastard compared to my Range. I put my foot down, chugging my way down country roads until the city loomed. Nobody gave me a second look in this thing, and even if they had, the cap and shades would’ve fooled all but the most beady-eyed photographer.

Sat nav barked out orders, taking me right onto Bay Street without any trouble. This wasn’t the best part of London, but it certainly wasn’t the worst. I passed by a row of small retail units before the sandwich shop came into view. Sat nav confirmed my destination. It was 12.55. The driveway beyond opened up into the promised car park, little more than a yard with space for a couple of vehicles. I pulled up, pleased to discover the arrow for ‘Flats 10 and 11’ in plain view. I contemplated the need to buzz the intercom, but a quick nudge of the door negated the need.

It was already open. 12.57.

The stairwell was basic but clean, leading me straight up to flat 10 on the first floor. I checked my watch again. 12.59.

I turned off my phone and shoved it in my pocket.

With a breath I turned the handle.

The softest voice called out, cracking with nerves.

“
Jason?
”

A small hallway opened into a decent-sized living room, and there, on the floor just as promised, was my Gemma.

And she was beautiful. Red hair. Freckles. Voluptuous. My cock twitched at the sight of her. 

She shifted on her knees, hands unsteady as they maintained position behind her head.

“
Jason?
”

“Relax,” I said. “It’s me.”

I cast aside my cap and sunglasses, taking a moment to soak her in. Her little nightdress was straining at her chest, milky white tits spilling over creamy lace. She was bigger than she’d looked outside the club, but all the better for it. Her waist tapered in before blooming into full, wide hips and a cute podge of a belly, and her thighs were chunky and pale and absolutely fucking gorgeous, with a dusting of freckles right the way up to the tiny white scrap of her knickers.

“Shit...” she breathed. “I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t be.” I kicked off my shoes, stripping down to my jeans as I eyed her up.

Her blindfold was a snug fit, thick pink satin covered in black lace. She was true to her word, she really did want anonymous. I closed the distance between us, dropping to my knees behind her and she gasped. I took her hands from behind her head and lowered them to her sides. She shivered as my fingers grazed her shoulders, tracing gentle patterns down her arms as my lips tickled the shell of her ear. Her hair smelled of apples and vanilla, wild red curls dancing like fire around her shoulders. Slowly, she calmed, her hands reaching back for me, coming to rest on my thighs.

“That’s it, dirty girl,” I whispered, teasing down the straps of her nightdress. “You’re gorgeous, Gemma.”

She shivered again as I slipped my fingers inside the cups of her nightdress, soft flesh submitting to my hungry fingers. Her nipples were hard little bullets. She moaned as I gently squeezed them, pressing back against me, her head resting against my shoulder.

“Good girl.” I gripped harder, kneading her tits in my hands as she squirmed.

“Y
es
.”

She sucked in her breath as my hands travelled down her stomach, then shifted her thighs further apart, arching her back as I skimmed a finger over her panties. “
Please...”

“All in good time...” My tongue traced her ear, teeth nipping ever so softly, and she was putty in my hands, writhing against my chest as my fingers teased her clammy thighs. “I’m going to fuck you, Gemma.”

“
Yes...
”

I hovered at the edge of her knickers until she was panting, her skin goose-pimpled to the touch. Then I moved, skirting around to the front of her and pulling her forward until her knees were touching mine. I pulled at the ribbon at her chest, freeing her tits for my pleasure. They were even more fucking gorgeous than I expected, pale brown nipples so pretty against freckled white skin. Her tits bounced against her ribs, low but perky, perfect toys for prying fingers.

Her hands reached out, sweeping over my shoulders and down the hard ridges of my chest, her mouth hanging open. She traced the edges of tattoos she’d never see... never know existed.

“Fuck, Jason, you’re really not so cuddly...”

“No.”

“I still think you’re blonde, though.” She reached up, dithering in mid-air until I took her hands in mine and guided her to my face. I kissed her fingertips before they landed, enjoying the smile that crept across her lips as she traced the outline of my jaw. She ran her thumb across my mouth to find I was smiling, too. “This is so weird.”