Pamela Ch. 08: Two Titless Fuckers

They say a week is a long time in politics. Well, that may be but a week with Pamela chasing other women can seem a lifetime! It's Thursday, the day we had considered stopping off at Crumpets Café in Fucton to seek out Charlotte Ellis, the slim, blonde manageress. Read on, dear reader, and see if it was worth it ...

Thank you again for your scoring -- it gives me enthusiasm to continue. Comments would be good too as long as they are honest.

Enjoy!

*****

Somewhat unusually, I awoke before the alarm with the morning sunshine flooding the bedroom despite the curtains being closed. Working it out that it was Thursday, I rose and killed the alarm before getting back into bed where Pamela slept on, her back to me. I crossed my arms and looked up to the ceiling, shaking my head in disbelief as recollections of the previous day struck home.

Did Pamela and I actually share her new Asian playmaids, sucking them off over the dining table? And did I fuck her as soon as they had left, sucking my hot cum from her hot cunt afterwards to share it with her? But not only that. I pictured a fantasy image of my potential new recruit, Hayley Francis, dressed in her school uniform at her desk in the office with her stocking tops showing below her short skirt and her black bra just visible as a result of the top buttons of her blouse being undone. Then an image of Gail Lawrence took over, her fabulously long white ringlets flowing in the breeze, her curvaceous body in the pinafore dress she wore, struggling to contain her enormous breasts, not to mention that arse of hers that was just made for spanking, all of which prompted another shudder. And yes, by now, I was hard.

Suddenly, Pamela rolled over onto her back and pushed the duvet down to her waist, revealing her tiny tits with her nipples hard. She was asleep as far as I could judge. I looked at her face, relaxed with her gorgeous platinum blonde hair falling over her shoulders. Was she dreaming? Was she also turned on as I was? Perhaps she had Gail Lawrence's white ringlets in her mind's eye? Was she picturing herself with her face between Gail's enormous tits or her tongue between Gail's thighs? I know that I was becoming obsessed with the redoubtable Ms Lawrence, despite knowing expectations can so easily come crashing down.

"Good morning," she greeted with a smile without opening her eyes. "I can feel your eyes on my nipples. Feel free to touch them."

I smiled, rolling closer to her, trying to keep my hips far enough from her body to avoid her knowing I was hard, and leaned over to kiss her mouth before moving my head down to take her left nipple between my lips to suck it.

"Mmmmm!" she moaned. "That's so good!"

Releasing her left nipple, I moved over to repeat the same with her right one, prompting the same reaction before returning to her left.

"I don't suppose you realise that you're almost as good as a woman at doing that?" she purred, her eyes still closed. "You must have had a lot of practice."

"You're a good one to practice on," I replied evasively, using my fingertips instead of my lips as I lowered my head onto the pillow. "More of an art than a science."

She hooted with laughter.

"You mean because my tits are so small!" she cried, opening her eyes and turning her head to look me in the eye. "Anyway, I would have thought you would prefer sucking big tits. I know I do, for a start."

"So why are women better at sucking tits?" I asked, intrigued, releasing her nipple, prompting her to pull up the duvet. "Or at least better than I am."

"Because they take their time," she observed, logically. "For a guy it's a step towards an end, not an end in itself. Guys want to get their rocks off and tit sucking serves to turn a woman on along the way so they do it. For a woman, there's not the same rush. The fact that I like sucking big tits is probably because subliminally I wish I had them myself, not because they turn me on more."

"So I was right," I mused. "It's an art, not a science."

"If you say so," she observed, reaching for her iPhone from the bedside table after it beeped for an incoming message or email. "What's this? I hope it's not Gemma Woodbourne cancelling tomorrow night."

I waited as she looked.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed, her face aghast. "Oh fuck!"

"What the hell's the matter?" I urged as Pamela closed her eyes and shook her head wildly.

She stared at me.

"It's Nico," she said. "She wants to know what time we are arriving ... tomorrow night."

I tried to get my head around what she was saying.

"I must have arranged it with her for tomorrow, Friday, not Saturday," she explained, exhaling loudly in frustration. "I must have done as otherwise why would she have chased me? Can you remember?"

At the time, as I was bemused about going to meet with Pamela's first lover, I couldn't swear to when she told me what she had arranged. I shook my head.

"I remember you saying we could stay over if we liked to," I replied, "but that could have easily been Friday or Saturday night. Oh hell, we're double-booked!"

Pamela went quiet while she thought about what to do.

"The thing is, Gemma will have had to work hard to rearrange things at the hotel so she can be absent for Friday night and most of Saturday morning," she mused. "It isn't fair to ask her to change it and, in any case, Saturday is their big night of the week so she's unlikely to be able to in any case, but then again, Nico will have been preparing for our visit ... oh what a fucking shambles!"

I lay back in silence, trying to think of a solution as Pamela looked up at the ceiling, her head shaking continuously. Suddenly she turned her head towards me.

"Right, there's only one way out of this," she announced. I'll have to cancel Nico and hope she won't mind too much."

"OK," I replied, "but why Nico and not Gemma?"

"Because I've got it all wrong," she retorted, sitting up and dragging the duvet to cover herself. "When I told you about my sexual past, last Friday it was, and you asked me exactly how were we going to go about attracting other women into our bed, one idea I'd had which I knew that you would go crazy at the thought of, were our ex-partners, especially mine."

"Yeah, I remember," I replied. "It did too."

"The mistake I made," she went on, "was assuming that all my ex-lovers were bisexual. As it was, I knew Nico was a confirmed lesbian and that should have warned me off as how in the world could I have expected her to join in with the two of us if guys did nothing for her? Then again, if we made a play for your ex-lovers, why should they be interested in me?"

"Well they may be lesbian-curious," I ventured without much conviction.

"Did any of them offer any indications?" she pressed. "I mean, you started fantasising about me being with other women on our second date! I knew you would be up for it, but why should they?"

"I see what you mean," I mused, glumly.

"I mean, think about it," she railed. "Suppose we turned up at Nico's place. Sure, she and I would have been happy to see each other after all this time but what did I expect to happen? That she would invite the pair of us into her bed? Why? She's a lesbian, always has been, always will be. And it could be the same the other way round with your ex-lovers and we're seeing one of them next Wednesday."

"Ah, now we may be alright there," I rebutted. "Sheila Harrison was suspected of having an affair with one of the secretaries in the office before we got together."

"Yes, but we don't know for certain, do we?" she replied. "I mean, when we made a play for Gemma I made it clear from the start that we wanted a threesome with her. She was under no illusion. The same thing goes with your Gail Lawrence from what you told me. Yes, she wanted you but you made it clear to her it was both of us or nothing and she went along with it and that's fine."

"You also made it clear to Maya and Yuma too," I added. "Lilac Hunt was under no illusions either, and we paid Jeanette Bell. So where does that leave us?"

"Well, apart from being in the shit it leaves us that I need to speak to Nico and explain I double-booked," she replied, her tone certain once again. "I'll apologise and ask if we can rearrange but on the understanding between you and me that it would be a purely social visit. In fact, I could even invite her here."

She reached for her iPhone.

"You're not ringing her now, I hope," I objected. "It's only just after six in the morning."

"Oh yes," she acknowledged with a laugh, "but I'll email her back to ask when it would be good to call because we have a problem."

She hit the send button and exhaled in some relief.

"I'm sure Nico will be alright about it," she observed. "Hopefully, anyway."

"Then we'll be able to look forward to Gemma tomorrow night," I encouraged. "Without fretting anyway."

"Oh yes, speaking of Gemma, that reminds me," she said, "what time are you going to be able to pick me up from the office after work tomorrow night?"

"Well, normal time, as far as I know," I replied. "Why?"

"Well, when I spoke with Gemma the other day about uniforms for Maya and Yuma," she explained, "I asked her whether she could make it earlier than what we had arranged as we're planning to play tennis. She's managed to rearrange things and can be free from four o'clock. It just occurred to me if we picked her up, as she's staying the night, we could run her home so she doesn't have to drive. It was just an idea."

The thought of spending longer in the company of Ms Woodbourne wasn't something to be sniffed at.

"OK, how about I leave the office at three-thirty, pick you up twenty minutes later and we can be at the Grand for four," I suggested. "If she's not quite ready we could have a pint in the bar too."

"That's great," she agreed. "I'll give her a call later. Right, I'd better hit the shower or you'll be complaining about getting to the office late."

Thirty minutes later I was in the kitchen having made some toast and tea when Pamela walked in, holding her iPhone up and waving it as if in triumph.

"Three more regrets but definitely the third one for interview," she announced, taking a seat at the breakfast bar, reaching for a slice.

"Aha!" I replied, understanding she had had four more applicants to be her lady's maid as I sat down opposite. "Tell me."

"OK," she replied, taking a bite before replacing her toast on the plate. "It's from a Solita Lynn ..."

"Go on," I encouraged as she stopped to chew, earning me an old-fashioned look.

"Dear Miss Hatch," she read, once composed, "I would like to apply for the position of lady's maid as advertised in ... yeah, yeah, yeah. I am forty-one, having been born and raised in Lithuania, speaking German and Polish in addition to my mother tongue Russian. After school I went up to Vilnius University to read art before moving to the UK after graduation working for an insurance company and as a maid for a professional family in order to improve my English of which I am fluent. At the time I supplemented my income giving private tuition to wealthy students ..."

"I wonder what sort of 'private tuition' she gave," I interjected with a smile. "On her knees, perhaps?"

"Miaow!" cried Pamela, raising a finger at me. "Maybe she's just good at setting fires as part of her housemaid duties?"

"Maybe," I repeated, noting the reference to an insurance company. "Go on."

"She says she is married but separated," she read on. "Enjoys dancing in her spare time ..."

"She's a stripper," I put in. "I told you she was good on her knees!"

"Takes an interest in local history, reading and likes to socialise with friends," she read on, ignoring me, "and that she would like to be considered for the position etc. etc. and looks forward to hearing from me as soon as possible. Available immediately."

"Sounds good," I commented. "Did she let you have a ..."

"A photograph?" she interjected, turning around her iPhone and handing it over.

Solita was gorgeous, just gorgeous, and sexy as hell with long dark hair and glasses with an unsmiling face that dripped with eroticism.

"Wow!" I said, somewhat lost for words, handing her iPhone back.

"That's what I thought you would say," she retorted. "She's forty-one and the limit was forty five, I think, but like the others, what the hell."

"So there's one more to go," I observed, recalling the names of the previous applicants. "Jessica Redmond, that big-titted redhead, Lianna Poznan, that broody brunette, and now Solita Lynn. With a fourth, you'll be able to set up the house party for the weekend after next."

"If I don't get a fourth who is interesting, I'll just go with the three I have," she said, reaching for another slice of toast. "Come on, let's hit the road. By the way, would you mind if we took my car today?"

"No problem," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "It means I can have a drink at lunchtime if anyone offers to buy me one. Let's go."

I climbed into the passenger seat as Pamela threw her usual bag and another one, slightly larger, onto the back seat, slipping into the driver's seat with a little difficulty due to her tight skirt. We set off and, fifteen minutes later, we drove past 'Crumpets', the café in Fucton, run by the lady who reminded me so much of Pamela.

"We said we might pop in there on the way home tonight," I observed. "Would you still like to?"

"I'm not sure," she replied evasively. "Can we see how the day goes first? I need to sort out Nico and contact Gemma, let alone get some work done."

"Sure, just let me know when you pick me up," I suggested. "I'm easy."

"So I've heard," she quipped as she pulled up outside my office a few minutes later. "See you later."

Arriving in the office it was obvious that Boz, my partner, wasn't there for some reason but I just assumed he was out seeing a client. I made myself some tea and recalled the story Pamela had related on the way home the previous day about how, allegedly, Boz had tried to avoid settling a club invoice by overlooking it. I wasn't convinced but it was strange that he wasn't in the office and hadn't told me about it in advance. Returning to my desk, I logged on to the system to see if he had left me an email to let me know. He hadn't but, with a smile, I saw there was an email from Hayley Francis. She was gushing with thanks and appreciation of the job offer I had sent her the previous evening and asked if there was a time she could call me. I returned her email with the response: "Now?" and settled down to deal with the other emails that had come in. It was fully sixty seconds before my mobile rang.

"Frank McMahon," I answered, as standard.

"Mr McMahon, it's Hayley, Hayley Francis," replied the caller, her voice excited and breathless.

"Hi Hayley, the name is Frank remember," I greeted, laughing. "Good to hear from you. I gather you are thinking of joining us?"

"Can I drop my signed acceptance into your office at lunchtime?" she replied. "I don't want to waste a day by using the postal system."

"So you are happy with the terms of your offer?" I asked. "To be honest, you were obviously the best applicant so I wanted to be sure you would accept, and it appears you will."

"Thank you," she replied. "It was better than I was expecting."

I didn't mention that she was the only applicant, and neither that a vision of her dressed as a schoolgirl helped her cause somewhat. That said, as Boz had said, she was perfectly experienced and would have probably got the job even if we had interviewed a hundred applicants.

"That's great," I said. "Now about a starting date ..."

"Yes," she interjected excitedly. "I've spoken with my manager who is happy I'm leaving -- he's a real sexist -- and, well, cutting a long story short, I can leave at the end of this week."

"You mean you're leaving your current job tomorrow?" I asked, amazed.

"Yes," she confirmed, "so if you want me to start on Monday I can do."

"That's fantastic," I replied. "Look, if you're dropping your acceptance in at lunchtime, why don't we have a spot of lunch? How about 12.30?"

"That would be great," she confirmed. "I'll see you then. Thanks ever so much. Bye."

I signed off and smiled. Hayley Francis was going to be a breath of fresh air.

Over the next couple of hours the time seemed to fly but I cleared the inbox and started to review my planned trip for the following Tuesday, returning the following day when Pamela and I were due to see Sheila Harrison at the Rampant Boner. Suddenly my phone gave off a distinctive ring-tone.

"Hi baby," I greeted. "Everything OK?"

"Yes, sort of," replied Pamela, her voice sounding uncertain. "I spoke with Nico and she understood it was just a simple mistake and didn't sound too upset about it at all."

"That sounds like a result," I retorted. "How did you leave it?"

"Well," she replied, hesitating, "she said she was going to be in the area on Tuesday and Wednesday next week, I mean around here, you know, and asked if we could get together to catch up."

"Next Tuesday?" I queried. "That's when I'm away with clients, so why not? You'll enjoy it."

"I know," she commented, "It's just that, well, I've asked her to come round and stay the night but then I wondered if you would be alright with it but she jumped at the chance and it's too now late to get out of it so ..."

"It's fine by me," I interjected, shrugging my shoulders. "Why shouldn't it be?"

"Because we were lovers," she replied quietly, "and there's a chance ..."

The thought of what was in her mind flashed through my own, prompting an instant awakening in my trousers.

"I'll tell you what," I interjected again, an idea forming instantly, "I'm perfectly happy about it on one condition."

"What's that?" she asked.

"If you end up in bed with Nico, I'll be in bed in my hotel room from ten o'clock, so when she's got her tongue between your legs so you call me on my mobile and tell me all about it," I explained breathlessly. "Deal?"

She laughed, I assumed mainly through relief.

"And if I don't?" she asked. "Get her into bed, I mean."

"Then we'll have phone sex about what it might have been like," I replied before adding, "but knowing you, I suspect that you will be. Deal?"

"So you mean you don't mind?" she asked tentatively.

"Look, it's like you said this morning," I observed. "She's a lesbian so there's no chance we would have got her into our bed for a threesome. This is the best we might do and the thought of it drives me just crazy!"

She went quiet for a moment.

"That's OK, then," I added. "We're you able to get in contact with Gemma?"

"Yes, she's fine, she's looking forward to tomorrow," she replied, her voice lifting back to her usual exuberance. "She says she'll be ready by four-fifteen so we can go with the revised plan and give her a lift. Oh yes, and I have a surprise for you."

"Really?" I asked. "What's that?"

"I asked her whether Maya and Yuma were working tomorrow night at the hotel while she was away with us," she explained. "They aren't, not until Saturday, so I asked her if she would mind it if I asked the girls whether they could be our serving maids on Friday. Gemma was fine about it."

"Just serving maids?" I pressed with a smile.

"Well, I didn't go into any detail with Gemma about our arrangement with Maya and Yuma for obvious reasons," she replied, "but she did ask me how our interview with the girls had gone. My laugh probably gave the game away."

"So you called Maya?" I presumed. "And?"

"And they will be at our place by five o'clock," replied Pamela, "and they are going to bring their tennis kit with them so we can have ladies' doubles with you as umpire."

"Fantastic," I replied, erotic imagery flashing through my mind's eye. "That's great, well done."

"Thank you," she accepted. "Now, having sorted out all that I've another surprise for you."