Getting Back Ch. 03

"You're not jealous are you?"

"No."

"Then be happy for them. She'll learn the truth of what he's like the hard way, and because you've already told her about it the first time will be enough. Leave them to punish each other, you've got your own life to live. And it doesn't last as long as you think. Get back in and enjoy it."

"That's what I intend to do. But I need somewhere to live and a job. That's not going to be that easy."

"Well don't worry about it tonight. Do you want another drink?"

"Are you having one?"

"No, I've had enough for one evening. I fancy feet up and telly now with a cup of coffee. I'm an old man and I've got work in the morning."

They made their way back to the hotel.

"Come for a coffee before you turn in." Roger suggested.

Georgina nodded and followed him to the room. He switched on the kettle. "Make yourself comfy." Georgina sat on the edge of the bed. "Fancy a brandy? I always have one last thing at night, for purely medicinal purposes."

He didn't wait for a reply, just got two glasses and poured brandy into them. "I always carry my own, the mini-bars are a rip off." He gave her the brandy and went back to making the coffee.

Georgina sipped.

"You'll have no trouble getting a job, or another man for that matter. Don't be in too much of a rush to replace the one you just got rid of. Play the field for a while. How do you like your coffee?"

"White, no sugar please."

He put the cup on the bedside table. "Hope you don't mind an old fart giving you advice. You're under no compulsion to take it."

She shrugged. "It's easy to say I'll have no trouble getting a job, but I still have to get one. And the same is true of another man."

"There must be other men around who are interested in you. You're quite a looker. You picked me up easily enough."

She laughed.

"You wear that dress I saw and they'll be round you like wasps round a jam-jar."

She stopped laughing.

"What have I said wrong now?"

"Nothing," she said bitterly. "You're right about the dress. When I bought it I picked up three men in a half an hour."

Roger laughed again. "That's no reason for a sour face. Weren't they much fun?"

"They were fine." Georgina knocked back her brandy and changed her glass for the cup.

"Then don't look so miserable about being attractive. Or didn't you enjoy being admired by three men."

The memory of three naked men staring at her body filled her mind, closely followed by the memory of sixty pounds for services rendered.

"They thought I was a prostitute."

Roger stared. "I don't understand."

"They thought I was a prostitute."

"Did they think you were an attractive prostitute?" He smiled at her. "I don't mean to shock you, but prostitutes don't look any different from other women. What made them think you were a prostitute?"

"I was flirting."

"And?"

"They said they were celebrating a birthday and asked if my friend was coming back and when I said there was only me, one of them said that was enough for him, and I said I was enough for all of them."

Roger chuckled.

"Then one of them talked about my dress and shopping, and another one asked how much. I told him how much the dress cost. Only he thought I meant how much I cost."

Roger laughed. "When did they realise their mistake?"

"They didn't."

"And when did you realise the mistake?"

Georgina began to cry.

"It was just a misunderstanding, nothing to be upset about. You were chatted up because you are attractive, you were propositioned because of a misunderstanding. What's the problem?"

"They gave me the money," Georgina wailed.

"They gave you the money?" Roger had stopped laughing. He sounded concerned. "You needed the money. That's understandable."

"No. When I went with them I didn't know they thought I was a prostitute. They gave me the money afterwards."

This time the laugh burst out in guffaws.

"Don't." Georgina said.

"I can't help it. They paid you for what you were giving for free. That's a priceless story. All three of them? Together? And then they paid you. And you're upset because they thought you were a prostitute! Oh, Georgina. That deserves another brandy."

"It's not funny."

"It's wonderfully funny." He refilled the glasses with brandy and passed her one. "Here, it'll make you feel better." He sat down on the chair by the side of the bed and grinned at her.

Georgina sipped at the brandy and looked at him. She was sniffing.

"Did these three men enjoy themselves?"

She nodded.

"Then they got their money's worth and left happy. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"That's a stupid question."

"No it isn't. If you didn't enjoy yourself, was the money worth it? Was it less enjoyable than say, twelve hours factory work?"

She stared at him.

"And if you did enjoy it, then wasn't it nice to get a bonus? For three years you skivvied for your husband, let him screw you and allowed him to beat you. All for board and lodging. Who gave you most pleasure? If it was your husband you should go back to him. If it was the three strangers then you should stop feeling upset."

"It's not the same." Georgina sniffed.

"Of course it's not the same. One you did for love until you didn't love him any more. The other for fun. One left you bruised and broke, the others left you with money."

"I think I should go." She felt to upset to listen to his stupid theory.

"I'm sorry I laughed. You don't have to go."

"I do." Georgina sniffed again.

"OK. But get things in perspective. A misunderstanding is a misunderstanding, a tragedy is a tragedy. I wish I'd seen you in that dress, you must look stunning in it. I'd be happy to pay for a girl as lovely as you."

Georgina moved to the door, she felt so angry she couldn't speak.

"A piece of advice, Georgina. Don't take things so seriously. Be thoughtful, be careful, and take you pleasures where you find them, life's short."

Georgina left, slamming the door behind her. She felt humiliated. She told him what had happened and he had taken it all so stupidly. She needed sympathy for her mistake, not to be laughed at.

In her room she cleaned her teeth, removed her make up and undressed for bed. As she took off her bra she looked at her breasts. She remembered honey on her nipples. She pulled off the rest of her clothing and switched off the light. Cuddled up in bed, she remembered six eyes staring at her breasts, watching her hands, honey between her legs. She remembered sperm in her mouth, George's groan as he came, Wolf's hard cock thrusting into her.

"You're the best," Denzil had said when they paid her.

Shame swept over her body at the memory. Six eyes staring at her. A cock in each hand and a hot tongue between her legs. Playing with herself while they watched.

Her hands held her breasts. She realised with horror that her nipples were hard. She moved her hands and turned on her back.

"I'm a slut," she thought. "I'm depraved." But another feeling was fighting with her shame. She moved a hand between her legs and found that she was wet, dripping wet, and open. Her clitoris was aching.

As she rubbed her fingers gently over her swollen clitoris she began to weep. She wept for the Wayne she had loved, the smiling, cocky handsome youth who wanted to marry her. She wept for the hours in the fish and chip shop and the smell of burnt fat in her clothes. She wept for her sister's rejection. She wept for her new dress and for three men watching it slip to the floor. She wept for the juddering orgasms and the sixty pounds of shame.

Suddenly aware of what her fingers were doing, Georgina threw off the covers and climbed off the bed. She stood for a moment, still weeping, then went to the bathroom. She switched on the light and turned on the shower. The water ran warm. She adjusted it and stood under a jet of water cold enough to take her breath away. She turned slowly, cooling her body, trying to change her desires.

In the mirror she saw herself, her firm breasts with jutting nipples. She tipped back her head and directed the jet of cold water on her breasts till they ached. But her belly still felt hot.

She had stopped weeping now. She turned off the shower and reached for a towel. She rubbed herself dry, then went back to the bedroom. She switched on the bedroom light and saw herself in the wardrobe mirror. Her belly was flat, the dark triangle of pubic hair seemed more prominent than usual. She closed her eyes and saw her body lying on a bed open, willing, wanting.

When she looked in the mirror again it was her face that she saw staring back. She could see that she had taken the decision, but was not aware of taking it. She picked up the dress and slipped it on. She stared in the mirror again.

"Now we'll find out," she said.

She picked up her key and left the room.

The impetus for action almost deserted her as she knocked on Roger's door. She was ready to turn and run when the door opened.

"Hello again," he said. The television was on behind him. "I didn't expect to see you back again tonight."

"You said you wanted to see the dress," she answered.

Roger stood aside and motioned her in, closing the door behind her. "It looks as stunning as I thought it would." His eyebrows were raised, asking why she had returned.

"Twenty pounds," she snapped. "You said you'd pay. Give me twenty pounds first, then you can do what you want."

Roger smiled at her. "You are in a state. What's brought this on."

"You said you'd pay. Well it's twenty pounds," she was attacking him with her words.

"Don't be angry." He grinned. "Can I deduct what I spent on you for dinner and drinks? That was about fifteen. Seems fair to me."

She stared at him. This was not how he was supposed to respond.

"I haven't much cash left. Unless you take credit cards?"

"No, I.." Her anger dissipated and left her confused.

He checked his pockets. "Sorry, only got three pounds twenty two pence. Here." He held out his hand. "Well take it then."

Georgina opened her hand and accepted the money.

"Does this make you a willing prostitute, or just a mixed up girl who's so angry with herself that she wants to be punished?"

Georgina stared at him.

"You really do look good in that dress. You are a very attractive woman. But are you here to humiliate yourself, to earn money, or to have fun?"

"I don't know." There were tears streaming down her face. "It's all too much. Leaving Wayne, and my sister, and what I did."

"Maybe you're just feeling lonely and need a cuddle."

"I don't know." But she knew she needed something.

"We'll start with a cuddle," Roger said. He turned off the television and began to undress. "Slip out of the dress and get in bed. You need some TLC."

Georgina was still crying. She undid the dress and let it slip to the floor. Roger had his back to her, taking off his trousers. She slid into the bed. Roger turned. She saw his cock, small and soft, as he turned off the light. He got into the bed beside her.

When his arms went round her she didn't react. He pulled her to him and held her close. One of his hands stroked her back softly. She snuggled against him.

"You're cold," he said.

She didn't answer. The warmth of his body and the security of his arms relaxed her. The turmoil in her head dissipated. She sighed.

"Feeling a bit better?"

"Yes, thank you." It seemed very formal.

"Do you want me to make love to you?"

She didn't answer. The hand stroking her back moved round to slide over one of her breasts. "You're feeling a bit warmer." She still didn't answer. He moved so that she rolled onto her back. She felt that she was a rag doll, with no control over her body. "You have lovely silky skin." The hand stroked over her other breast and then down to her belly. When he kissed her she did not react, merely lay passive. When his hand pushed her legs apart she did not resist. When his fingers rubbed between her legs she lay passive. She was a rag doll. When his finger pressed against her clitoris she moaned. The rag doll was shaken.

She began to cry again. She wanted him to fuck her. She wanted him inside her. He wasn't Wayne. Wayne was fucking her sister.

"Would you like me to stop?" He was aware of her tears. His fingers curled and slid into her. "You are wonderfully wet. I don't think your body wants me to stop." She didn't reply.

He moved, she guessed he was putting on a condom. As the weight of his body rolled onto her she made her mind go blank. She couldn't think about what she was doing or what she had done. It was too much. She was lost and could not think.

He pushed into her and she moaned again.

"Your cunt likes cock, Georgina. You are built for love."

She felt the pressure of his pelvis on her clitoris and the thrust of his cock inside her. He began to move, gently at first, she felt as if he was slowly pumping life into her body. Her skin began to tingle. Her legs opened wider. Her hips began to respond. Her arms found their muscles and curved round his back, pulling him closer to her.

She was doing it again. Fucking a man who was almost a stranger. She was a slut. She was a whore. Her body told her that by the way it reacted.

Roger was riding her harder now, picking up pace. His hands gripped her shoulders and his body ground against hers. And her body was encouraging him, thrusting up against him, her response matching his actions and encouraging more.

Her confusion was forgotten, there was only the pleasure of the moment, the all consuming concentration on her sensations. She was aware of Roger's approaching climax and squirmed against him to hasten her own. As Roger came she held him tightly, gyrating her hips, grinding herself against him, not allowing him to stop until she her own orgasm was over.

Roger rolled off her panting. "You're a fantastic lover," he said. "Your body really knows what it's doing. You're built for love."

"You mean I should be a whore full time," she said.

He laughed. "Yes. Or be my mistress. I'd rather have that. I'll be back in two weeks. Will you still be here?"

"I don't know."

"I'd like to see you again."

She stared at him. He was waiting for her reply. "You mean you want me to leave now because you've finished with me?"

He laughed again. "You really have a problem. Stop being so negative. You're a beautiful attractive woman. Enjoy yourself."

"Thanks for the advice, I'll maybe see you in two weeks." She got out of bed and found her dress.

"You don't have to go, but I do have to be up early in the morning."

"I'll go. I won't see you in the morning I'm having a lie in. Good night."

Georgina made her way back to her room. She didn't switch on her light, just slipped out of the dress and into bed. She was tired and fell asleep immediately.





The man was dressed in black trousers, black polo neck jumper and black leather jacket. His small body was hunched behind the wheel of the metallic blue BMW. His dark eyes were fixed on the dark street. His fingers, in black leather driving gloves, drummed on the leather covered steering wheel. Other than his fingers he had barely moved for the hour he had been waiting. A still shadow, unnoticed in the shadows of the car’s interior.

A small van pulled up in front of the block of flats. The words in white showed boldly on the side of the van, Wayne Wright, Painter and Decorator.

The small man waited until Wayne had locked the driver's door, then he slid out of his car and moved almost silently to join Wayne as he entered the block of flats.

"Wayne," he spoke quietly, "I was beginning to wonder where you'd got to."

Wayne was startled by the sudden materialisation of voice and body in a street he had thought deserted. He stared at the man for a moment before answering. "I've been out. What do you want, Felix."

"Your missus is out too. I went and knocked."

Wayne frowned, "What of it?" he said tersely.

"We were supposed to meet tonight. You didn't come."

"Things happened. I couldn't get there. I was going to find you tomorrow."

"No need now, I've found you. Have you time for a quick word?"

Wayne shrugged and led the way inside. He was a little unsteady on his feet and was giving off a strong smell of beer. After Georgina had seen him looking through the bedroom window he'd dressed quickly. Harriet was furious with both him and Georgina. He'd left as soon as he could and gone straight to the nearest pub. He'd downed five pints while nursing his anger at the way things had turned out. He was still angry. He also felt unwell, he'd had a pickled egg with his beer and it was sitting heavily in his stomach. He felt like being sick but couldn't throw up while the little man was there.

He fumbled with the key before finally opening the door of the flat.

"What's been happenin' here then?" asked the quiet voice.

Wayne looked at the broken coffee table, the large coffee stain and remains of photographs on the floor. "We had a party and it got a bit out of hand."

"Looks like world war three." The man's mouth moved to form a smile, but the expression on the rest of his face remained impassive.

"I got things to do. What do you want?" Wayne did not try to keep the sound of impatience out of his voice. He had never liked like Felix Lightfoot and was in no mood to hide his feeling.

"The last place you gave me. I lost the notes. Don't worry about it, they aren't lying round anywhere, I was destroying some stuff and they got mixed in. Can't be too careful. I need the info again."

"I'm not a fucking secretarial service." Wayne slurred his words.

"Take it easy, Wayne boy, I'm happy to pay again. You get double bubble for my mistake. It sounded like a good one." He pulled a wad of notes from his pocket. A hundred. Here you go."

Wayne shrugged and reached out for the money.

"The notes first."

"OK, I'll see what I can do."

"I want them now," Felix said.

Wayne walked to his desk. His wallet was on it, opened. He looked at the wallet. His cash card was gone. "The bitch," he gasped. That meant she did have money. She wasn't walking the streets. She'd be in some hotel spending his cash.

"The notes," Felix reminded him.

The bedroom door was open. From where he was standing Wayne could see the empty drawer lying on the bed. "The fucking bitch," he grunted. He charged into the bedroom. Felix followed Wayne silently, sneering at the drunken waddle. He saw Wayne's anger directed at the empty drawer lying on the bed.

"Problem?"

"The bitch." Wayne snatched the empty drawer from the bed and threw it into the corner of the room. He went to the other side of the bed, eyes searching. He picked up the bin and emptied it on the floor. "The fucking bitch."

"What's wrong."

"Nothing. I'll get the notes to you, fuck off I've things to do."

"You haven't lost them have you?" There was a hint of menace in the quiet voice.

Wayne was angry. "I haven't lost anything. You just fuck off. I can't do with you now."

"Looks to me like you've lost a lot. You two had a bust up?"

"Mind your own fucking business."

"It is my fuckin' business, Wayne boy. Has your missus walked off with your notes? Your notes are about my business. It's not good to keep that stuff around. How much does she know about me? You're making me feel like a worried man." The voice was just as quiet, but it had a harder edge. The small man moved round the bed and closer to Wayne.

Wayne ignored the tone. "I don't give a fuck how you feel. I have worries of my own. The notes are safe. And she knows fuck all about you."

"I want the notes, Wayne."

"I don't give a fuck what you want. The fucking bitch. He kicked the bin viciously. "I'll fucking sort you out when I'm ready. I got my own problems."

"She left you then, Wayne boy? She gone off with some other man?" Felix was irritated by the drunken lout and was intentionally trying to rile him.