Pisstory Pt. 04: City of Night

"My God!" gasped Therese, and she squirted first over the bottle then over my face.

"What the fuck happened there?" Jean-Luc said in the silence that followed, zipping up his jeans and leaning back against the sofa.

Natacha sat between his knees, legs splayed, a damp stain across the crotch of her knickers. She reached forward and dabbled her fingers in the puddle of Therese's pee and cum then licked them thoughtfully.

"A menage a quatre?" I suggested.

"It's only that if each of us has fucked all the others" Therese said, rubbing her own cum-soaked hand across my mouth. "That includes you two boys. What is it about blokes, having the same girl at the same time so they can fuck without their cocks actually touching each other? Seems pretty gay to me anyway. How did it feel to be a human condom, bitch?"

She was really getting into her new dominatrix persona.

"You can tell me. It's your turn next."

"Oh no" Jean-Luc groaned. "Not now. It's three in the morning. The bakery downstairs opens in an hour. I'm going to clean up and sleep."

"Next time I'm having you first, slut" Therese gestured with the bottle at Natacha.

We showered, and she slept with me perfectly demurely, a few gentle caresses and deep kisses the only connection to what had gone before.

There never was a next time. Natacha disappeared. She went home to change and prepare for work the following morning, phoned into the restaurant sick that night, and stayed away for the next three days. When Jean-Luc called her parents' house he was always told she was out. Eventually, she called Jean Senior at the Etoile du Nord and resigned, saying she had another job lined up. In Tours.

"She can't have hated it that much, surely?" I said to Therese. "I mean, Jean-Luc seemed more embarrassed than her at the time, and he's not in hiding."

"Good Catholic girl" she said "Or something like that. Shame. She was a good mate -- and I was looking forward to pissing on her myself."

With one of two waitresses down, every night was hectic in the restaurant. Jean-Luc took on some of the waiting duties, I took over some of his more basic food preparation jobs. Therese and I had no time to feel each other up or do anything else unprofessional during working hours, and we were usually to tired to fuck even if we did go back to Jean-Luc's flat.

Also, that would have appeared insensitive. Though I knew my friend had worked his way through any number of waitresses over the years, it was he who had introduced me to Therese and now he was, at least temporarily, girlfriendless.

But I'd also decided it was time to move on. I'd been there for six weeks now, and although it was comfortable, it wasn't the life on the road I'd envisaged. I told Jean Senior that I'd stay until he'd recruited a new waitress and a replacement for me. That only took a week. The new waitress was a middle-aged lady who was very unlikely to be added to Jean-Luc's list of conquests, the potwasher her son, a shifty-eyed thug who looked like he'd do my friend serious damage if he tried, rugby player or no. However, he and Therese seemed to be developing a certain rapport around the serving hatch, and that suited me.

One Saturday morning toward the end of February I carried my canvas bag out of Jean-Luc's flat and headed for Blois railway station. I was on the move again, to Paris this time.

I'd almost forgotten Alana, though that wouldn't last.