Michael Ch. 06

Amanda groaned as she sat on the restroom floor. Her second time that day. Shock had numbed her system. Closing her eyes, she drifted back to the last time she had seen Michael.

Michael. Michelle. It had been in front of her the whole time.

****

The course had ended, with a few drinks afterwards to say goodbyes. The girls were a little tearful, even Faith, despite her reservations over Michael, had been sorry to see it end.

Amanda's own concerns had largely disappeared. She was still wary of Michael, but she had grown to admire the woman. There was a fearlessness about her which Amanda found seductive. Jalsa was hanging onto Michael, their relationship for all to see, and Amanda felt a pang of jealousy. Annie too was listening raptly as Michael held court.

"I would love to see your house, Michael, you should invite us all round for dinner," said Charley.

"Well, perhaps we should, what do you think, Jalsa?"

Looking as if this was the worst idea she had ever heard, Jalsa mumbled something about time and schedules.

"Oh, nonsense, dear, it will be fun. Saturday evening? A proper dinner party with a sit-down meal, give Tilly time to prepare."

"Sounds great, look forward to it," said Amanda. Like everyone else, she was dying to see Michael's place.

Michael stipulated 'posh frocks' for dinner. Even Annie was happy to go along with it, although she had to buy one. It was a medium-length black number.

"What do you think?" Annie asked as they were getting ready.

"Are you wearing stockings, babe?" Amanda was faintly incredulous.

Reddening, Annie nodded, then shyly, "want me to flash them?"

"If you do I will be overcome with lust! Seriously, you look great."

"Thanks," Annie looped her arms around her friend and kissed her.

"You just want to impress, Michael, don't you?"

"Yeah, a little. Sorry, hun."

"No worries," Amanda replied and meant it.

They arrived at the address. "It's a fucking mansion! No wonder Jalsa kept us away," said Amanda, walking up the long drive.

The door opened just as they got to the porch. A busty redhead in a classic maid's outfit greeted them warmly. "Everyone is having drinks in the reception room. Can I take your bags and jackets?"

"Reception room?" muttered Annie, who came from a modest background. Amanda had been raised in a large townhouse, so was less taken aback.

"Amanda and Annie," announced the maid.

Everyone was there, apart from Faith. Another maid, a black woman, was serving drinks. It took Amanda a few moments to recognise her.

"Harriet isn't it?" Amanda took a glass of wine.

"Yes, Miss Amanda. I am working full time for Miss Jalsa as her personal maid."

Annie's jaw dropped in astonishment. "Your fucking kidding me!"

"No, Miss Annie." Harriet moved away with the empty tray.

"What the fuck?" Amanda shook her head as Sophia and Charley came over.

"You met Jalsa's 'personal maid' then?" asked Charley, her eyes alive with scandalised amusement.

"Lucky cow, wish I had a personal servant to wait on me hand and foot. Feed me grapes, girl and be quick about it!" giggled Sophia.

"Would Miss like grapes?" The redhead appeared as if out of thin air.

"What? No! Sorry just messing around."

"Actually I will have some grapes, thank you," said Charley.

"Of course Miss, I will fetch some at once."

The maid disappeared, and all four girls dissolved into giggles.

"What's the joke?" asked Jalsa as she joined them.

"Oh nothing, just chatting," replied Charly.

"Pretty fucking funny nothing! Why don't you get it out in the open so we can all have a laugh?"

"It's okay, Jalsa we're just being silly," said Amanda as the maid appeared with the grapes.

"I forgot to enquire whether you wanted white or red, Miss so I brought both."

Sophia and Charley erupted into shrieks of laughter while Jalsa darkened with fury. Amanda tried hard to contain her laughter, but the twins were infectious.

"Hey, isn't that the woman from the restaurant?" Faith had arrived, looking in puzzlement at the girls who were now clinging helplessly to each other.

"Oh, god, I think I'm going to wet myself," moaned Annie, wiping her eyes.

"I can provide clean laundry if you do, Miss," said the maid, her earnest expression provoking even more laughter. Faith was laughing, too, although not sure why.

"They don't want any fucking laundry, Tilly, nor any grapes, get back in the kitchen!" yelled Jalsa. "Both of you back to the kitchen!"

"Yes, Miss Jalsa," Tilly curtsied and bobbed her way back to the kitchen along with Harriet just as Michael appeared.

"The meal looks and tastes fantastic. Vegetarian Spag Bol, with lashings of rough red chianti to accompany it!" Michael licked her fingers. "Glad to see you are all enjoying yourselves."

"They're taking the piss out of me," sulked Jalsa.

"No we aren't, we just found the whole maid thing funny that's all, and the way she just appeared offering grapes," explained Amanda before dissolving into giggles again.

"Sounds hilarious," said Michael.

"You had to be there," added Sophia.

"There is nothing wrong with having a personal maid or servants," snapped Jalsa.

"Hey, not saying it is, it's just a bit unexpected." Charley gave Jalsa a hug. "No one is trying to upset you."

"Jalsa is a bit embarrassed by it that's all," said Michael. "I've had a personal servant for such a long time and no matter my circumstances that I forget most are not used to it. My apologies, especially as I was dismissive of Jalsa's concerns."

"And we're sorry for laughing, Jalsa," assured Sophia. "We're all a bit jealous, a lovely home, a rich lover, personal servants. Seriously, I could scratch your eyes out."

The beginnings of a smile appeared on Jalsa's face. "Well, I'm sorry for getting moody. I'm not used to it and do find it a bit embarrassing, especially as I kind of like it."

That settled, the rest of the evening was a hit. Fine food was eaten, much wine was drunk, and the girls did go over the top with being waited on hand and foot.

A tour afterwards, at Jalsa's insistence, revealed the gym, the sauna and the fact there was a separate indoor pool house. All received gasps of admiration and envy.

"What happens when Michael sets up shop somewhere else though?" Faith asked the question everyone wanted to know.

"I'll stay here with Harriet and Michael will come back at weekends. She says it's okay for you guys to come over and keep me company. If you want to that is."

There was noisy enthusiasm for the idea. Jalsa aside, the use of a pool, sauna and gym was incentive enough.

Amanda detached herself, heading for the bathroom. She heard clanking noises down the end of a corridor. Curious, she followed the noise. It was a small utility room with another door that led to a garage. Amanda could see a car through the gap. A large man was standing at a workbench. He was heavily built, sandy hair, around fifty, she judged. He turned and stared at her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to spy on you, I just heard a noise." Slightly embarrassed, Amanda introduced herself.

He nodded. "Max. Pleased to meet you."

"Do you work here too?"

"Yes, I'm Lady's driver."

"Driver?" It was like living in a Victorian melodrama.

"Yes, Miss."

Amanda peered into the garage and saw two parked Mercedes'. "Sweet!"

"You like cars, Miss?"

"Yeah, I like motor racing."

Max perked up, rattling off some specs until interrupted by Michael.

"I wondered where you had wandered off too. You've met Max I see."

"Yes, we were just talking about your cars, impressive."

"Really? They're just cars," shrugged Michael, who then laughed. "It always upsets Max when I say that."

"And rightly so," smiled Amanda. "I'd love to try the sports model."

"By all means. Take it."

"What? You mean have a drive?"

"No, I meant take it. It's yours."

"Don't be silly, I couldn't!"

"Why? What do you think, Max? Should Amanda have the car? Is it the zippy one?"

Max shuddered at the description. "Yes, Lady. If Miss Amanda wants the car then she should have the car."

"You are crazy, you know that?" snapped Amanda.

"It's been said, that's why I have Max to look after me."

"Oh, are you?"

"No, just dear friends. Max has his own life. Time you went home, Max." It had the sound of a command.

"Yes, Lady." He took his flat cap off the wall hook. "Night."

A memory stirred in Amanda as she watched the heavy figure with his cap leave. "He reminds me of the guy who bust up the group that was hassling us a few months back."

"Really? What a coincidence. I am serious about the car."

"Then you are mad, and I'm not taking absurdly expensive gifts off a woman I barely know." A sudden suspicion hit Amanda. "What are you after? Sex? Shower me with gifts and I'll put out? Well, you've got the wrong girl!"

Putting her hands on Amanda's shoulders, Michael's amusement deepened. "Sometimes a gift is just a gift, but you are right to be wary. I withdraw the offer. It was a rash impulse. Oh, and for the record, I do not want to have sex with you. Far from it."

Irrationally, Amanda was annoyed by this. "Well, thanks," she mocked, half tempted to flirt just to prove something to herself. "Don't you find me attractive?"

"One minute you accuse me of hitting on you and when I say I'm not you hit on me. You are an extraordinarily attractive woman, bright and accomplished. It's been a pleasure getting to know you, but I have no interest in you sexually. Okay?"

"So why are you offering me a car? You must want something?"

"Yes. For you to be happy and have everything you want."

"Oh." Amanda was taken aback by the calmness and certainty of the statement. "Thank you. That's nice of you. It really is."

That had been the last real conversation with Michael. Michelle. Her mother. Who she had accused of wanting sex with her and then made a half-hearted attempt at flirting with her.

"I should have taken the car." Amanda began to laugh. It came out as a hysterical giggle.

"Are you okay, dear?" asked Megan anxiously. Annie had briefly filled her in on Michael.

"Yeah, tell me, does my mother have any distinguishing marks?"

"Well, no, sort of--I understand she has a facial scar. She got a baton to the mouth from a prison guard--Amanda?"

Amanda descended into full-blown hysterics.

****

Peter turned to the woman in the back. "Went pretty much as you said it would. Pushed all the right buttons and had her eating out of my hand. Heavily submissive."

Michelle listened in silence.

"I have the recording of the video calls. Got her talking filth about her daughter. She didn't really want to go there, but she did anyway. Kind of hot. Love to fuck them both. Daughter is bit of a lez," he chuckled.

Wrapping her scarf around Peter's neck, Michelle tightened and slowly throttled the life out of him, his feet drumming against the dashboard. A sense of satisfaction swept over her as his eyes clouded, his face puce.

"Lady?" It was Max.

Michelle blinked away the scene playing in her head. Peter's concerned face swam into focus. "You okay?" he asked.

Not trusting herself to speak, Michelle nodded and held out her hand for the drive. Taking it, she signalled to Max, who handed over payment.

"From now on, what you do with Megan you do on your own dime. Don't bring her daughter into your play scenes again. If I hear otherwise I will cut out your fucking heart. Are we clear?" Michelle finally said.

"Sure, whatever, you're the boss."

A large arm pressed across Peter's chest. "Listen to Lady, because if she doesn't I will," growled Max.

An ashen-faced Peter nodded. "Look guys I'll drop her okay? I'm not looking for trouble." He scrambled from the car and hastily made his way to his vehicle.

Max turned to Michelle. "You taken your meds?"

She scowled. "No, I'm not taking them anymore."

"Okay." He took out a vial, emptied two pills into a plastic cup and handed it to her.

"Why do you hate me?"

Max said nothing. This was their ritual.

Taking the cup, Michelle knocked back the pills and showed him her empty mouth. "Satisfied?"

Again, Max just looked at her. Sighing, Michelle showed under her tongue. "Arsehole."

Grinning, Max turned on the engine. "Yep."

****

They had got back home after dropping Annie at her bedsit. Megan made tea and joined her daughter at the kitchen table.

"I've never seen you lose it like that, Megan."

"My sister has that effect on me." Megan had exploded into an expletive-fuelled rant about her 'cunting sister' while pacing the restroom. Annie had waited by the door and kept quiet.

"So what now? I feel like I can't trust anything anymore. Why do that? Why not just say, 'Hi, I'm your mum, do you fancy a coffee?" No. She has to pretend to be someone else, shag one of my friends in the bog and con me into taking her dumb fucking class!"

"I thought you liked it."

"I did, I liked her, even if she was a bit weird."

"I should have guessed, I had a bad feeling about it all. I should have known Michelle wouldn't stay away, I allowed hope to override common sense."

"Hope?"

"I didn't want her to come back, I knew it would disrupt everything, the money was bad enough, but her? Fuck no. Everything would come out, you would hear what happened, about me." Megan rubbed her face. She was drained, emotionally and physically.

"Maybe it's time for you to let go. It can't have been easy for you, I have been difficult at times."

"True," said Megan with feeling.

"Thanks! But I know you were doing your best and your best was great. Time to let me fly."

"Maybe. But flying isn't easy and you'll hear things that will shock you."

"So, why don't you tell me? The truth, about you, my mother, my father."

Megan gazed at her daughter for a minute. "Okay, but not here. Not in this house."

"Where?"

"A hotel. Grab a room and some drink. Then we talk, woman to woman. I'll let Richard know. He'll understand."

Amanda nodded. "Lets do it."

****

Michelle picked up the guy in a sex club in Hull. She had been admiring the city centre architecture and then, to kill time, hit the club at lunch.

Sitting at the stained bar with its sticky floor, Michelle looked out of place. The place stank of the venal and the desperate. The older women looked as depressed as the decor, and the younger girls too hopped on substances to care.

She counted lots of 'Bill's' and 'Keith's'. Truthfully, Michelle had no idea what she was going to do; she just knew she needed to play.

An older woman sitting with a fat mean-looking guy caught her eye. A brief smile flashed between her and Michelle. The woman looked in her forties but could be a decade younger. Not unattractive. Plump, too much makeup, with straight, dusty brown hair brushing her shoulders. Picking up her drink, Michelle wandered over. The woman looked pleased.

"Hi, I'm Michael," Michelle introduced herself, sitting next to the guy.

"I'm Connie, this is Mark."

The bruises on Connie's arms were noticeable close-up. An abusive relationship. Smiling, Michelle reached over and kissed Connie. The woman was surprised, then returned the kiss with desperation and relief.

"Posh, bird," grinned Mark. Like Connie, he spoke with a distinctive local accent.

"Very. You like doing a posh bird?"

"Yeah," he gripped Michelle's thigh, squeezing tightly. "Do I get a kiss?"

"Sure." Bending to him, Michelle drank in his stale maleness, his tongue hard and demanding. She acquiesced to the artless pawing between her legs. Connie watched with feverish eyes, conditioned to respond to Mark's behaviour.

"No panties, Connie. Real posh slut." Mark smacked his lips with relish as he rummaged inside Michelle's jeans.

Two guys at the next table were watching as intently as Connie.

"You taking her to the hole, Mark?" One of them asked.

"Yeah." Mark pushed his finger into Michelle's face. She duly licked.

Standing, he took Michelle by the elbow and propelled her to the back of the pub and down a corridor that opened into an open-panelled room with various sized partitions. Two were occupied, with a small knot of men around a concealed figure in each.

In the corner, a young black girl was sucking a guy off, likely a pro giving out cheap blow jobs. Mark pushed Michelle face first against the back panel, his hands tugging at her jeans and then pawing her cunt.

"Christ, you're wet as hell!"

"Yeah, use a rubber."

Mark looked at Connie. "Babe?"

"Oh, sure, sorry." Connie fished a condom out of her bag and handed it to him.

"What's her name." The two guys at the table had followed.

"Michael," replied Connie.

"That's a blokes name. Sure she's not a trannie, Mark?"

"Yeah, positive."Mark grunted as he stabbed and then penetrated her.

His cock felt good inside her. The place's desperate seediness and the indifference of the man fucking her were doing wonders for Michelle.

"That feels good, fuck me hard," she urged him.

Bracing himself, Mark began riding Michelle, one hand on her hip, the other groping her tits through her shirt. She had to squat slightly, he was shorter than her. A hand squeezed her arm.

"Her body is hard like a bloke's. Maybe she's had the op. Maybe she's a fucking fag."

"Shut the fuck up!" grimaced Mark, not really caring one way or the other.

"I reckon she's a fag tannie," the second man took up the theme.

"Always getting fucking fag queer boys in here, trying to look at cock," his friend spat on the floor.

"Fucking, fuck me!" Michelle blocked out the running commentary. She was enjoying the squalid sex. It took her back to her youth and simpler times.

"Fag boy wants it bad, Mark."

With a loud grunt, Mark shot his load, bundling Michelle against the wall, flattening her face against the grain. "Fucking, posh cunt!" He hissed in her ear.

"Fag trannie cunt more like!" Laughter this time.

Michelle eased herself off the wall as Mark disengaged. Connie seeing to the filled rubber dangling from his cock.

"Honestly, I would ease up on the gay slurs." Michelle held the men's gaze as she fastened her jeans.

"Fuck off, fag boy--" the words died in the man's throat as his head was slammed sideways into the wall.

"What the?" A billy club to the head ended his friend's contribution.

Glaring, Max stood over the two prone men.

"I did try and warn you," said Michelle, catching the spare baton Max tossed to her.

There was silence. Everyone stared, no one moved. Finally, Mark zipped his pants and blurted out: "What the fuck you do that for?"

"The gentleman took offence to the constant homophobic slurs." Michelle eyed him, her expression opaque.

"So what? You really a fag trannie then?"

The baton jabbed Mark hard in the gut. Unprepared, he doubled over with a loud "Ooff!" The next blow scrambled his brains, then Michelle went to work on his ribs.

"Oi!"

Michelle stopped and looked at the two new faces warily surveying the scene, baseball bats in hand.

"What the fuck is going on?" The older guy on the right demanded.

"This your place?"

"Yeah."

"These two insulted my friend, this one fucked then insulted me. The fucking was fine. The insulting wasn't."

"Well, next time register a complaint at the front desk and I'll deal with it, okay, lady?"

"Sounds fair." Michelle took Connie by the elbow and propelled her forward just as Mark had propelled her earlier. "If you gentlemen could lead the way, we'll follow."

"The name's Tom, this is Harry." The older guy said, leading them back into the pub.

"No, Dick?"

"Yeah, lady, everyones one's a fucking comedian."

Max brought up the rear. He didn't think anyone would follow. No one seemed keen to get involved.

The bright light outside was welcome after the dim interior. "Fuck me, that was fun!" Michelle announced as they headed for the car. "A seedy fuck and a fight!" She was bouncing with energy. "I appreciate you waiting until he had finished, Max."