Neill’s fingers tangoed down his tie every few seconds as though checking it was still there. He cleared his throat three times instead of the usual one, just before his holler to the hall to ‘pipe down now, pipe down!’ with a furrowed brow like he’d forgotten for a moment what Assembly even was.
‘You’ve bewitched my balls. They’ve gone into some kind of shock,’ he’d said with the same frown this morning through the windscreen as he pulled up, absent-mindedly, right at her bus stop, forgetting he was supposed to drop her 200 yards before. ‘My god, you are definitely my girlfriend,’ whilst she, silently glowing, giggled for the fifteenth time that morning, and breathed a sigh of relief the Sminty Scarecrow wasn’t right there to see Dad plant a sloppy smacker on his daughter’s forehead that led down to a twenty-second French kiss, or then lip-read him saying, ‘have a good day, you sexy little fuck,’ and watch with a face as wistful as a crack addict, her bag bouncing against her bottom as she bounded out.
‘Only ten school days till we break for Easter,’ the Headmaster’s face lifted now, as though caring only for getting out of this place himself. ‘Ten days! Spring is springing, the birds are singing and soon we will be entering the summer term! Yes, Patrick…?’
‘Is the school getting a million quid Neill?’
‘Yeah yeah I heard it is!’ added someone else.
‘I saw a new drinks machine!’
The hall resounded in oohs and ahhhs; stifled snorts and shushes from the teachers.
‘Quiet!’ Neill’s stern face, softened for a moment, vaguely nodded. ‘Thank you Patrick. Well, as you have seen the brand new Ofsted sign outside, things are on the up for Thornwood. We’re in the last stages of securing a funding boon which, should everything go through, will see a number of improvements taking place—’
The hall murmured.
‘…And as I may have hinted to a few of the lads in the gym yesterday, I can confirm we have approval to host Thornwood’s Sports’ Day this year up at Elland Road.’
Cue thunderous cheers from almost all the boys in the school, whilst Neill smirked his lips onto a glass of water from the podium.
‘Does this mean we’ll actually get balls that don’t burst with one kicking now sir?’
Neill’s eyes bulged as he leant forward, shot and spluttered his water straight onto the front row of Year 7s.
The Hall rang out in laughter as teachers frowned and Natalia watched with baited breath.
‘Sorry, Dean?’ Neill blinked.
‘All the footballs we’ve got are knackered,’ whined Dean. ‘Even the goal posts. Everything’s knackered in this school!’
A chorus of adolescent grunts concurred.
Neill rapped the podium. ‘Yes, yes. We’ll have new gear for every sport going, which includes, er… footballs. More will be announced in due course.’ His eyes roamed the hall, landed briefly on Natalia as he licked his lip and resumed. ‘I believe Dinkey has Year 8 certificates to dish out - whilst I take a curtain call. Right, everyone! Heads down for the last day of the week.’
19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡByqmtjQj0h
*
There was something about what he did to her last night, she thought, as she floated along in the queue out of Assembly and sat down at RSE; the twinge she still felt in her shoulders from the tight bonds on her arms, when he’d fingered her in places whilst she was helpless, and then inserted himself as naturally as if he owned her, flesh on flesh, that disturbed her on some deep level she didn’t understand. Like a fuzzy TV channel, it was that same place that fizzled with white noise when the root of her tongue stretched to taste his balls, as though the grace of her act somehow mitigated the aggression he showed, like they were both one and the same. She’d discovered a party trick of sorts, seizing him from seizing her, allowing her soreness a chance to calm, like a balm to the gall of a rabid Rottweiler - but also what she sensed deep down was fuel to it.
Her smile at that last thought was cut short by Williams.
‘Natalia. Can I have a word.’
‘Yes, Miss?’
‘I’ve just been talking to Mr Khan about your Science grades.’ She ushered her into the corner.
‘Why mine?’
‘Your French homework has been late twice. Clayton said you forgot your ingredients the other week. This is unlike what I have seen from you in five years! Neill tells me you haven’t been well, but you are ok now, or are you…?’
‘Am I what?’ she blinked.
‘Are you ok.’
‘Yes, Miss, I’m fine. I’m sorry, it’s coming up to my period, and sometimes I get er, heavy ones, you know.’
Williams adjusted her spectacles. ‘Your coat smells rather smoky, Natalia.’
‘Blame the friends my mum brings round.’
‘Oh. Well, Natalia, you’re one of our top pupils, and there’s only a few weeks of high school left. If there’s anything we can do to help you with exams and coursework, you’ll let us know, won’t you?’
When the bell went for break, a maelstrom of pupils and staff hit the ground floor, swirling around Neill, man of the moment. His glance picked her out. Would that glance of his ever not coyly raise the corner of her lips, dip her head south, then raise her eyes to him a second after? Weaving his way through a bunch of bellowing lads, delivering them courteous smiles and cheekier high fives, he swooped to the double doors just as Natalia was wrenching them open.
‘Let me help you with that—’
‘Oh, thank you sir.’
‘Are you on your way to the beverages dispenser, young lady?’
‘So the rumours are true!’
He lowered his voice as they strolled through. ‘Depends what rumours you’re referring to, you rascal.’
‘That your balls feel like a million dollars,’ she giggled.
He glanced around as they reached the machine queue just outside the canteen. ‘I’m glad you find this a laughing matter, Molova. There’s a phantom tongue down there that won’t go away.’
‘Oh? Is that a side effect of being part of the adult world of brown nosers, or an ‘Arabic Kermit the Frog’ grasping your gonads?’
He grunted as he drew a steaming beaker of coffee to his lips. ‘I need you down there. Only you can fix it. Don’t take tea from this machine, it’s lukewarm piss. I’d rather you came up to my office and poured me some of your own.’
Mrs Coleman flashed around the corner, her hair in ringlets bouncing over a rose pink suit.
‘Ah, Neill!’ She seemed to breathe vanilla right over them. ‘My, a drinks vendor!’
‘Paid for this myself from a sale that was ending this week. With the taste of the burnt cappuccino I know why it was on sale.’
‘Pour me one, I’m sure it’s fine! I’ve just shot round for the staff ideas forms you wanted, shall I bring them up?’
‘Oh! Er - certainly.’
Natalia grinned and slunk away.
Heading to RE, she got a text:
‘Come up in your next lesson.’
- ‘I’d rather miss Science than RE’
‘Excuse me?’
Five minutes in, Miss Prior’s phone rang out. ‘Yes? …Natalia! Neill says you left your French oral notes downstairs and he has them for you now.’
Natalia went to the toilet, waited five minutes, then went back to RE.
Text:
‘Where are you?!’
She smiled. When the bell went, she diverted enroute to the Science block and headed for Neill’s office.
As she knocked, there were sounds of staff laughing inside. Neill hollered:
‘Five minutes! Just five! FIVE, ok!’
She slipped away. Shortly from down the corridor, she heard Neill’s door opening hurriedly and someone talkative being bustled out.
‘So long! Farewell! Auf wiedersehen, goodbye! …Adieu, adieu! To yieu, and yieu and yieu!’ Neill rang out, followed by a long throat clear and his door flapping closed. Natalia skulked up to the handle, pushed it down to see Neill’s rather hangdog face at his desk like a man with the weight of the world hanging between his legs.
She closed and locked the door.
‘Well hello, girlfiend. And since when you do disobey your Head, boyfriend and daddy all in the same day?’
She screwed her nose. ‘Smells like Coleman in here.’
‘Exactly. And calling you up here is like administering a revitalising spray of delinquent cunt to drown out her eau de toilette that’s viler than I am. Put your stuff down and come here—’
She stepped next to his chair as he looked up decidedly at her.
He flicked his computer screen to check the outside corridor, opened his drawer, drew out a tie - her tie, that he’d demanded she removed back in November - and held it up like a sad snakeskin.
‘Remind me, why did I get rid of these?’
‘Ties are for businessmen?’
‘Indeed.’ He held it out. ‘Put it on.’
‘Oh-kk..’
She weaved it on, as he watched her as scrutinously as she watched him do his own in the mornings, till she tucked it neatly back under her jumper and he blinked down at it.
He reached and grabbed her by it, yanking her half-choking face down into his lap as he pulled down the seat of her tights at a right angle to his thigh.
She buried a gurgling cough into his plaid trousers as he, still grasping her by the tie swung taut round her shoulder, whispered sternly:
‘Don’t make a sound when I do this. Not a fucking sound.’
Knotting her mouth in anticipation, she felt his body tense in the run-up - then pause on the sound of someone down the corridor - re-grasp the tie taut like a dog leash, the sound of his low waiting breath making her tingle… the stealth of the school predator who doesn’t want to be caught on this prey. Then, a brisk strike of his palm reigns down on her right buttock, sending an involuntary yelp muffled into his trouser pocket.
Her eye waters, she stiffens, and he stiffens - waiting, listening out again.
‘Neill,’ she croaks, ‘Did anyone hear—’
‘Shush, no. One more—’
She squeezes her eyes shut, and waits for the resounding slap on her left buttock that sends another muffled squeal into the outline of his wallet against his trouser pocket now migrating into her mouth. His palm rubbed and squeezed so tight right at the flogged spots that it sent her other eye watering.
‘There, there. There’s a smart arse.’
His leather belt tinkles, his trousers were slipping from her face and in its place, firm skin of thigh as her head is pushed into his naked crotch.
‘Now get your fucking tongue back where it was this morning.’
‘Ok, ok…’ she shuffled her bottom, wincing, ‘pull these down more, Neill—’
Pushing his belt off the cliff of his knees, so the triangle of his thighs could open for her, to where she nosedived into the expanded ski slope of man flesh, as he, hand on one shoulder and the other gripping one naked buttock - steered together like two dodgems nose on nose, as she inhales the familiar nether-Neill-land, with that same magnetic pull to those warm hairy hills of which she felt an earnest thrill to be the explorer.
Her mouth and nostrils rest on that one tight hill, a hill that is alive, and every few seconds tightens and shrinks like quicksand pulling her in, and she amuses herself with this delightful feeling, wondering how long till he would jostle her to lick - when his phone rang.
The hand on her head stalls, half-engaged talking to vile-vanilla Kate Coleman, and how good it feels to stall too, for it feels as if something is happening; something wants to appear on that fuzzy TV channel, and she doesn’t quite know what.
How could the texture of his testicles, at once gnarled and salty, soft and sweet, be so mesmerising as to lay here looking like a schoolgirl planted absurdly upside down sniffing the Headmaster’s crack? For the word crack was apt, mutually - now the smooth flesh of his cock is growing underneath her cheek… shifting, lengthening like a snake from the quicksand, and pulsing, like chimes from a silent, slithering clock announcing she is here, she has arrived… The Bewitcher.
‘Well, she would, wouldn’t she?’ Neill sighed as the hill shrunk, expanded and shrunk again. ‘Anne hates everything I do. A bit of caffeine never hurt anyone! Good for the heart and it’ll keep the kids awake as far as I’m concerned. There’s far worse in those Monster drinks—’
Oh Neill, you are so right, let me lick you with love for the drinks machine and everything you do… The phone is down and she is licking hypnotically at the base of those round, firm, hairy things as though the hair wasn’t there at all - a wisp caught in her mouth was nothing at all - and he is moaning as she plants her mouth over them and sucks, drops and licks them all over again.
She lifts her head to free the snake that is fully flexed now, as his hand creeps in to take hold of it, and she glances up to see Neill’s head lolled back on the chair, the phone left off the hook… eyes closed, masturbating his cock slower than the frisky bastard has probably has ever done in his life, like a blind man reading Braille, who stumbles on the lewdest line he’s read, and with a cracking groan, thrusts up his shirt to catch a shooting basketball of white, where it hangs in the hairy hoop of his belly button. She finds herself gazing at it, wondering what the fuck her mum would remark as it blobbed like a telephone wire across to his helmet that sinks down as depleted as its owner.
She’d make mum baulk with what she does next. From Neill’s wallet now hanging out from his pocket, she plucks the orange edge of a tenner.
‘Lunch money,’ she says. ‘Good timing!’
She rolls it up, points it like a short straw and with much air-slurping and grinning, hoovers the gloop before leaning in to lick the rest. He lays looking at her like someone fallen at the foot of a mountain would look at a rescue helicopter, whose fear of death is usurped by instantly in love with the first paramedic to cradle his body out from the rocks.
She unrolled the tenner as they gazed at Jane Austen crying spunk from her forehead.
‘Goodness. Talk about Northanger Abbey.’
Kissing his sweaty forehead and laughing as she fingered his dishevelled hair, his hand swiped off her tie.
‘I’ve opened a shopping account on Ocado and a delivery for 5pm,’ as he sat up like a man from a coma, stuffing her tie back in his drawer and putting his phone back on the hook. ‘We have two hours to add anything you want to the basket.’
‘On here?’ His emails came up as she knocked his mouse. ‘Dearest Sylvi-aaa!’ she read. ‘Is she delivering it?’
‘Hey! No peeking,’ as he minimised the window. ‘That’s… a surprise. Ocado’s on the app, I’ll send you the log in.’
‘Can I really add anything I want? Even sweets?’
‘Anything to keep that mouth of yours well exercised.’
‘Crisps? Chocolates?’
‘Yes, yes, fine. Fuck—’ He snapped up his ringing phone. ‘Yes, Becky, ok… Right, baby, shoo. Big Tits’s coming up in five. Coast is clear, do our shopping.’
She smoothed over the back of her hair. ‘How do I look?’
‘Oh, you’re licking absolutely fine.’
‘See you then. Go back to sexting Sylvia!’
19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFnq5kEn51m
Peeping into Science debating whether to go in for the last twenty minutes, she plunged down the handle - just as a tap came on her shoulder.
It was Mr Khan.
‘Natalia, why aren’t you in lesson? I saw you at Assembly this morning?’
‘Sorry sir, I was running an… errand. For Becky.’
‘I need to have a word with anyone using Year 11 pupils for errands. I’ve never heard something so ridiculous.’ His voice lowered, ‘you know that your grade for the Physics paper last week was almost down at Set 3’s level? You’re normally B minimum.’
‘Yes, I know, I’ve spoken to Williams about it, and—’
‘Get into class,’ as he opened the door. ‘Everybody! Back in your seats once you’ve returned your tools. Natalia - you’re sitting down here with me at my desk.’
There was a turning of heads and sprinkle of laughter as stone-faced Natalia lowered herself at Khan’s desk.
Once the bell went for lunch, Sam came up beside her on the stairs.
‘Period again is it?’
‘Not for a week or summat.’
‘Gotta be better in your life than mine. Mum’s lost her job now. Jack can’t even get money for the school trip next week.’
‘Oh, to Flamingo Land?’
‘He wishes! It’s only Lotherton Hall. Are you coming to the canteen? Cheese pasties are back by popular demand, Noble said.’
A little later, tapping her virtual groceries whilst sitting in the corner of the IT suite, she suddenly remembered - condoms! Regular? Ribbed? Extended pleasure? Which of these would Neill deign to wear? Only ‘Real Feel’ was in stock. Cat food! Cat litter! Do they sell litter trays? Baking ingredients! She need never be told off by Clayton again. In afternoon Food Tech, sitting planning practicals for Tuesday, Natalia proudly ticked off every ingredient she’d already ordered on the now passed Ocado deadline.
‘I finished our shopping…:)’
- ‘Ahhh, what a good little gorgeous GF x’
Oh, sweet vicious Neill. Lightness fell into her body like her own pair of balls was contracting between her legs.
‘Thank you ;) What time will you be home…? X’
- ‘In time to receive it! 5 latest! X’
‘I look forward to seeing you…:( Can’t wait for day to end :( X’
…Was that too much? Too girly? Too saccharine from his teenage GF?
‘Why, what happened darling? X’
Oh fire away then.
‘Oh, nothing… just Mr Khan made me sit with him. All class laughed at me…:(’
- ‘Are you kidding?’
‘No… well anyway TFI friday :)’
- ‘Did you buy enough sweets to drown our sorrows?’
‘Plenty!!! ;))’
19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJNcHgk8scm
*
Arms and feet criss-crossing this way and that, unloading ten bags of shopping, Ras mewed and rubbed at Natalia’s ankle - then jumped away with a howl as Neill knelt down to the lower cupboard.
‘Crumbs, I think I trod on his tail!’
‘Ras, come here!’ Natalia tore open a packet of Felix. ‘Gourmet Tuna & Salmon for you, over here!’
‘God that stuff stinks. Open the door hatch.’
‘Do you think the Ocado man believed I’m your daughter? He looked me up and down at least twice.’
‘In that red dress, any male would,’ as he watched her bending over, squeezing the wet pouch into a bowl. ‘He had the particularly gawky look of someone who might actually come straight in his pants if you all but collided your little finger with his grubby paws upon signing the receipt.’
She laughed. ‘He did not fancy me.’
‘Only because the look Miss Scarlet’s father gave him on the way out sent his weiner wilting smaller than these outdoor bred chipolatas,’ Neill rustled out the last items from another bag. ‘Good Lord, Pot Noodle? Such a teenager.’
‘Sometimes I’m hungry when you come in after school and you say not to use the hob…’
‘I see you added steaks too. Rump. Quite thin, hardly any marbling. That’s the problem with online shopping.’
‘So what did you get, Monsieur Ponce,’ she rifled into a bag. ‘Finest Duck Liver Pâté, gross! That stuff stinks worse than cat food!’
‘Well you weren’t joking about a sweet haul,’ he turned to where a mass of confectionary was building on the dining table. ‘Double Dip? I remember these. ‘Just dip the Swizzels stick and lick.’’ He glanced down at her crotch. ‘Hmm. Inspiration is everywhere.’
‘Oh I had the time of my life online shopping,’ she wrapped her arm around his waist. ‘Thank you thank you thank you! I’ll do dinner for us! Let’s have this…’
She held up a Charlie Bigham Thai Green Curry.
‘Yes, you may put that all the way into the oven for us. I’m shattered and in no fit mood to peel spuds for those steaks tonight. …What did the total come to in the end?’ He squinted at the receipt. ‘Blimey! I said not to go over two hundred or I’ll spank you over the sink. Did you do that on purpose?’
‘Oops,’ she smiled.
‘Fortunately for Little Red, the wolf is feeling more like Grandma at the moment,’ as he trailed into the lounge, heaving a sigh onto the sofa. ‘Stuff all the bags inside the cupboard! Then come and stick yourself into my lap like you should have done in the Grotto.’
Upon screwing up the bags she felt the condom box at the bottom of one that she’d forgotten about. She glanced into the lounge at Neill wearily rubbing his face, unravelling and tossing his tie, then reaching to tug off his shoes with a huge deep groan like his ejaculation.
She wrapped the condom box back in the bag and and squirrelled it on the kitchen shelf. Scooping her sweets into her arms, she went and tumbled them out onto the polished coffee table.
‘The cleaner might have put my jigsaw away but here’s a nice new mess.’
‘Sweet. Pass me my Marlboro lollies.’
She straddled his lap, placing a cigarette in his lips as she unwrapped and mouthed a Swizzels lolly, lighting his fag and bringing the ashtray to the armrest.
‘So what were your woes today darling?’
‘Well, Williams a bit. But mainly just that freak of nature, Mr Khan-ty Bollock Head.’
‘Mr Khan is not just a freak,’ as he blew smoke up to the ceiling. ‘He’s a health freak. And now he’s just, well, freaked.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Next time he takes the piss, just remember he’s well and truly taken yours.’
She paused. ‘You didn’t?’
‘He did.’
‘He drank our urine-spunk mixer from Wednesday?!’
‘The whole lot.’
She laughed out her lolly. ‘But it would have tasted awful!’
‘Not when I transferred it to a Kombucha bottle. Semen looked just like the mother.’
‘Kombucha? The funny tasting fermented drink?’
‘Precisely. He positively beamed. Urine consumption is supposedly healthful. Add in protein, triggered by the first poke of the most beautiful virgin in the school, and it’s gold, wasted on him really.’
‘I fucking love it!’ she squealed, leaning to plant kisses all down his neck as it reverberated with deep chuckles. ‘You’re the fucking best Head ever!’
‘Says the girl who paid poor old Janet with cumcash. But you’ll never believe what happened with Becky,’ he sighed as he dragged.
‘Did you actually just call her by her name?’
‘That’s how sobering it was. Did you know she has two freckles perfectly symmetrical either side of the bridge of her nose?’
‘I’m surprised you’ve noticed she has a face at all. What happened?’
‘I almost shat myself, that’s what happened. She says to me these words: ‘I saw the CCTV. I know what you did. Why would you go and do that, Neill?’ …Yes, my eyes went as wide as yours right now. I said to her, ‘I was just helping her out. She’s having a rough time.’’
Natalia had slouched limp in his lap, lips fallen apart.
‘Neill,’ she stared. Now you’re really freaking me out. So she did see the CCTV of when I went home in your car?’
‘Stay, stay right in my lap… it’s fine,’ as he pulled her hips toward him. ‘Here, swap—’
He plucked her lolly and handed her his fag. Then he tapped at her exposed white knicker gusset where her dress had risen to her hips.
‘I need somewhere to dip this. Take these off.’
She stood up wobble-legged at the couch spot between his legs, as four hands saw her knickers pulled and tossed to the rug before she landed her denuded groin.
He smooshed the lolly head around her labia and brought it to his mouth.
‘Well?’ she blinked.
‘Well I have to do it again to find out what a Double Dip’s really like.’ He repeated the rub and licked. ‘Oh, I see what you mean now. They’re delicious.’
‘Big Tits!’
‘I’ve always loved conversations with you but these days, my God.’
‘Tell me what she said,’ she laughed, sucking on the fag with a nervous blink.
‘She said, ‘I know you and her have been a bit close for comfort, so when she came in the next day telling everyone what someone had done to her, I couldn’t help but giggle.’ I said, ‘done to her?’ And she replies ‘about being slashed!’
Natalia’s mouth fell open again.
‘And there I am seeing undrunk thimbles of red wine and my name up in lights on the sex offender registry,’ as he leaned to tap her neglected fag ash, ‘she leans to me and says, ‘I’ve never liked muscular women. For whatever reason you stuck a nail in her Audi TT, I’m happy she got a taste of what it’s like to be run off her feet.’
‘Miss Barnes!’
‘Seems like I’ve stumbled across some catty politics at Thornwood.’
‘But it’s still something she could use against you?’ she blinked down as he pushed the lolly back at her vulva.
‘No. I managed to squeeze out a tear, claiming Emma had broken my heart at Christmas. Becky was putting a tissue so close to my eye that I discovered another two freckles symmetrical right down her cleavage. I was imagining dunking my cock right down them before ejaculating right at the two on her face, just as she finished her own heartbreak story of some chap who used her for sex when she was 19 or something. I slipped her twenty quid for drinks tonight whilst I went off to destroy the footage.’
‘What an artful dodger. Jammy, too!’
‘Jammy Dodgers, both you and I. Takes Bonnie & Clyde to a whole new high! And I saw you bought a packet of the biscuit variety - go fetch the red, Red, once you light me another fag.’
‘Since when do you do biscuits before dinner?’ as she climbed off.
‘Since a sixteen year old moved into my house.’
She bounded back in with the packet. ‘Tea?’
‘No, just give me one of those—’
He leaned to the table, ripped open and broke off four squares of Fruit & Nut.
‘Hey!’ She watched him grin and break off another four. ‘So you do have a sweet tooth! I knew that Haworth haul wasn’t a one-off.’
‘I’ll have you know I haven’t had dental work in years,’ as he sat back munching all eight.
‘You said you bought ice lollies for an abscess?’ She called, as she brought in two glasses of water.
‘Hm? Oh, yes. It was a false alarm. No work needed,’ as he took two biscuits from the Dodgers packet.
‘So you bought the lollies for another reason? Did you have Joan round and daren’t tell me? Look, I really don’t mind if you had her round…’
‘No. I’ll admit it, I was bluffing about the abscess. I bought the lollies for the steady line of schoolgirls I have visiting my cottage. One pack feeds half a dozen and you were only fifth in line.’
‘Rr-ight…’
‘Or maybe I just have a sweet tooth.’
She grinned.
‘Sit,’ he nodded, reaching for the water. ‘Because it’s not the end of the Big Tits story. You have to hear what’s next.’
‘Oh?’
‘Well, when I dug out the car park footage, I took two tapes from the first half of February and got a little confused, forgetting that the CCTV had been triggered on the weekend of the Valentine’s Fair. I found myself fast-forwarding through hours of the toilets by the exit, stopping on the moment I stuck up the gender neutral sign to follow you in, fantasising of fucking you in that green dress and clanging your head against the toilet pipes. Almost had a wank just watching it.’
‘You’re so sweet.’
‘I’m practically diabetic now. Anyhow, a few seconds later, who goes in? Unmistakeable busty receptionist with her hand joined to some lad with pronounced textneck. A few seconds later, the lanky bastard hops out, followed by her.’
‘Who? Who?’
‘Looked like Alex.’
Neill pulled out his phone and swiped through three screenshots.
Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my god! That’s definitely Alex!’ She burst into laughter. ‘So much for shagging Alana! I knew Sam was talking shit!’
‘It’s of a little more concern, Natalia, that a member of staff is fornicating with a pupil.’
‘Don’t like the competition?’ She prised open a bag of Skittles.
‘Young lady, what’s between you and I is not obscenely run-of-the-mill pederasty as this.’ He poised the screen, zoomed into Alex’s blurred smirk. ‘Does that look like love to you?’
‘Well, at least you have something on her now!’
‘Granted not as much as catching the Headmaster at it. But with her being so desperate to settle a loan she took out for her new kitchen, and insists on describing in detail to me every time I merely say good morning, she’d probably keep shtum to keep her job. I could deep throat you on every camera in the school and she’d go on clackety-clack on her keyboard, bosoms twitching.’
‘Another bullet dodged then.’ She held the red packet out to him.
‘Skittles,’ as he thrust in his hand, rolled a purple Skittle between his fingers before tossing it into his mouth and plunging in again. ‘Not phallic at all. What’s the point in that?’
‘Well they’re round like something else.’
‘Like that is?’ He nodded at her pulsing bottom over the table. ‘Put that dress back up to where it was.’
‘You.’
Both smacking and chewing away on sweets, he got up and came behind her. Her elbows shifted forward into the table, hair dangling as he pushed her dress right up to her shoulder blades and groped both buttocks, now mmming over both her and his mouthful as he did the same back, giggling.
‘Funny enough, you made me feel like a ball yesterday in Kiss Chase.’
‘I trussed you up like one.’
‘No, you had your fingers up inside me like a bowling ball.’
‘Ohh, what, like this?’
His fingers were side-slipping down her buttery crack, his thumb at the dark pucker of her anus where it took a sudden lunge.
‘Oo-ooh! Not so quick,’ she laughed and clenched, as he resumed his fingers’ dip in her vagina, spreading her wetness till his thumb joined in, and once moistened, her legs relaxing, it resumed a slow push into her anus, millimetre by millimetre as she moaned and softly panted, her face bobbing into her sweet packet in her hands.
‘Pour that entire bag into your mouth. Ready, you little bowling ball? Let’s see how many Skittles I can knock down - or rather out of you…’
His thumb and fingers in her holes back and forth like he was taking a swipe down the alley, her mouth stuffed with sugar, the tempo increased until she was riding the table like a donkey, and thrusting her buttocks like Buckaroo, she came, hard and fast with that curious, unfamiliar leaning into her anal walls, spluttering at least four white, shrunken saliva-strewn Skittles onto the table.
‘Not bad. Lick them all back up if you want to play again.’
She pecked them up like a pigeon, just in time for the second surge of pleasure that was brewing deeper, harder than the first, and it’s like she is injected with energy to shoot right over the table and though the French windows with the sugar rush and orgasm combined, as she aahs and ums her lips closed again to hold in the sweets that are falling like hailstones.
‘What a strike. Dirty, sweet, and definitely my girl.’ He tilted her face back, snogged her mouth of the remaining sweets as she melts into laughter, of how gross and sweet and beautiful this is, as two thick palms now press her face onto his cool belt buckle that is loosening and falling.
‘Now lick this skittle and bowling balls. Everywhere at once.’
His upward helmet was at her nostrils, then lips, then tonsils, then out again, before he pulled the flat smooth plain beneath his balls taut for her; fist-grabbed her hair and applied her like a ball of cotton wool right where he wanted her tongue to dab next, as if he was the one who invented the magic of ball-licking all along… then his sac droops like warm velvet over her lips, her tongue dips out to wet it and then his cock is back at her tonsils, a kaleidoscope of genitals flashing like a slideshow at all points of contact till she pants:
‘Sit back on the couch, please. Let me go slow…’
‘Too late. Open your throat—’
He pushes up his cock as they collide into her molars, exploding like a champagne bottle as she gags rainbow-colour spunk down her chin, which drips down to lace the rug, merging with a strand of her own juices along the way.
‘Wow. We made another mixer.’
‘Is that one for Williams?’
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*
She rang her mum for a quick hello, in the bathroom where he’d told her to ‘go, do that no. 2 that I could feel up there,’ and as she sat letting out the wind that she wasn’t sure had accumulated from his probing or from too many sweets, she knew would hardly be alleviated by the green curry they were now sitting down to in their dressing gowns.
‘Natalia, you’d put the grill on, not the oven,’ as he cracked open a beer.
‘Oh, shit, sorry!’
‘How’s mum?’
‘Fine. You can tell she’s not worried if she’s half watching Emmerdale whilst talking to me.’
‘I was thinking you should drop in to see her this weekend.’
‘Yes, there’s a few things I could collect,’ she casually sipped her juice, thinking of her diaries under her mattress that she’d forgotten last time. ‘Oh, also Alana just texted. She wants to know if I’m coming out tomorrow. So is it a yes?’
‘What are you going to be doing with her? Going bowling?’
She grinned. ‘Just shopping.’ He eyed her as she paused. ‘They said they want to go out for drinks with fake IDs but I said I’m not doing any of that.’
He raised his eyebrow cynically.
‘I really will not be doing any of that.’
‘I’ll leave you some pocket money in the fruit bowl. Now put your phone away and eat.’
She slid it up on the shelf.
‘What’s in that bag next to it?’
‘Oh - this is, er…’ She unravelled the bag and the box of Durex slapped face-down on the table. ‘Part of the shopping.’
‘Condoms amongst a sweet stash? Are you taking after Jack Pollock?’
‘Oh, Sam told me he doesn’t have money to go to Lotherton Hall…’
‘I’ll pay for him. Still cracks me up to think of Miss Doris’s face.’
‘But you said Year 8 are going to Flamingo Land.’
‘That’s health and safety for you these days. ‘And health and safety,’ he nodded askance at the box as he picked up his beer, ‘I get enough of at work, unless the cleaner wants to use those as marigolds.’
She moved the box aside with the tip of her fork. ‘Didn’t you wear them with Ms Rawley?’
‘She was a different kettle of fish.’
He saw her bite her lip and added: ‘Leave them by the bed.’
‘Hasn’t she been trying to ring you after you blocked her?’ She resumed eating.
‘Had to unblock her because she was just coming through on the school phone.’
‘Oh. So she thinks you’re still with her?’
‘For now. I guess. Till the signing’s done tomorrow.’
‘Do you… treat her like your girlfriend still?’
‘No, I haven’t met up with her and don’t intend to again,’ as he set down his fork and knife on his empty plate.
‘But you talked to her?’
‘Briefly, about Saturday. I still have to get everything ironed out. I’m going out for a fag and to call her now.’
He arose to the door, taking up his phone and cigarettes. ‘Eat up, then plate into the dishwasher. I’ll be back in ten. Brr, it’s nippy out here, even in this dressing gown. Sure to be frost tomorrow…’
‘Wait, wait—’
She scrambled the last forkfuls into her mouth.
‘That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen you eat. What’s up?’
‘Call her in the living room. I’ll put the fire on and make you tea and light your cigarette.’
‘Hmm. Ok,’ as he shivered, shut up the door and rubbed his hands. ‘But make it a glass of wine instead. The Merlot I put in the—’
‘I know.’
Natalia scampered from kettle to drinks cabinet, and finished lighting the logs just as he was tapping on his phone on the sofa.
She slid into his lap, wrapping her arms round his fleece waist and head into his chest.
He blinked down on her. ‘Well I did once fantasise about a threeway with you and Joan, but it fast became just the two of us…’
‘Same thing I’m about to witness,’ she nodded. ‘Ring her up then.’
He sighed and tapped his phone. He looked down at her, grinning at his collarbone.
‘Natalia, now you really are like Shaf with your hand on my balls.’
‘But I want to peck you like a hungry budgerigar, Habibi,’ as her lips dry-hoovered his jawline.
‘Darling you’re going to have to keep quiet if you’re going to be right there—’
‘Do you still call Joan darling?’
He paused. ‘No, Natalia. I don’t.’
‘But you call all women darling. You even called Miss Doris it yesterday.’
‘Mm. Well if I call Joan darling by accident it doesn’t mean anything,’ as he raised the phone.
‘Actually you say it differently to Joan and other women. More like dah-ling. Like you can’t get the word off your tongue quick enough.’
‘Rr-ight,’ as his phone hung mid-air, ‘very perceptive. And if I’m not seeing her again, and she’s having trouble getting in touch with me, calling her darling is probably reassuring her everything is ok, is it not?’
‘One. One for fun.’
‘Kettle’s boiled. For your tea,’ he nodded.
‘Fuck t’tea. I’m not moving from yer knob.’
He sighed as he clamped the phone to his ear. ‘…Hi Joan! Yes, yes, sorry, network troubles again. No darling I didn’t want them to think that I wasn’t…’
His eyes met down on Natalia’s.
‘Did you tell them I’ll make Saturday?’ A deep laugh reverberated through them both, then his grunting along to Joan’s chiming pitch at the other end, as Natalia savoured the peremptory prang of countdown in his voice for the soon-to-be-extinguished Joan of Arse, in front of the fire that Natalia herself had lit, illuminating their hands conjoined at her thigh, the thigh of the triumphant schoolgirl installed in his house closer to him than his pillowcase.
‘He wants me to go to Hell? Hool? Huull? Oh, Hahll! I don’t speak Northern!’
Natalia stifled a laugh into his shoulder.
‘So we’re golfing in Hell Golf Club. Fine. How far is it?’
She spied his tie over on his desk just behind the couch, scooped it round his neck and twisted it, as he blinked at her, shaking his head.
‘Ok, I’ll let them know tomorrow, darh—’
She gathered the tie tight in her fist.
‘…Duhck!’ The word expulsed from him as she yanked him forward. ‘Is that Yorkshire enough? Ok, have a good night! Bye Joan.’ He slid the phone down his neck and tossed it.
‘I’ve no idea how you managed more than two words of Yorkshire accent to my mum,’ she remarked.
‘I’m just exhausted and I have you at my throat. Pass me my tea and fags and pour me another red please. Bed, once these logs burn out. I could really do with fucking you senseless but I’m senseless myself. Tomorrow I have to be on best form.’
For the next hour he lay staring through a cloud of smoke at the TV, reaching for yet another fag and glass of wine until Natalia pushed them away, and urged, come on, sir, no more… let’s get you to bed… best form remember? She dragged the grate over the fire and hugged his head into her stomach - his distant expression looked to her wistfully, gratefully like that hungover morning, as he let himself be trotted upstairs by her hand. ‘Teeth!’ she laughed, as he collapsed on the bed - ‘you go first’ - then she came back to find him snoring, and thought she’d take this moment to nip down and stick those condoms by the bed as he’d said, then lay awake thinking about her girl date tomorrow, how she now has fashionable friends, a boyfriend with his mouth hanging open, a cat scratching downstairs, and a key to a house now with the most stocked fridge she’s ever seen, and oh my, how did this happen?
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*
Natalia woke up in hospital. Her mum was beside her, lines of worry etched across her forehead.
‘You’ve had pneumonia, love. You’ve been in a coma for a week.’
‘What?’ she croaked.
‘We all thought it were a cold. You were coughin’ and din’t stop. Oh love, you must have been so rundown. So unhappy skiving off school, and I ignored you for so long. Even your dad’s coming down.’
‘Coming down with pneumonia?’
‘Coming down ‘ere.’
‘What after eleven years? Oh my god—’ Natalia tried to sit up.
‘No no love, you need to rest.’
‘How much school have I missed? Where’s my report card?’
‘Mr Neary was on the phone asking about ya. Says you inspired him to get rid of report cards altogether. That you and some visitor last week helped convince him.’
‘The visitor? Mr Neill?’
‘I don’t who it was love…’
Mary’s voice was now Mr Neary’s. Natalia is in his office, and everything is as it was before: his name on the door; a fagless, fresh, soulless scent. She stands on her usual perimeter uttering hi, sir; her vagina dry as a bone.
‘What do you mean you don’t know?’
‘Neil Hammonds it was. A prospective parent. From London. He was thinking about bringing his wife and family up north. Decided against it in the end.
‘Parent?’
‘Yeah, a bit of a cheeky one. Wanted a complete tour and to smoke everywhere. When he heard your little spiel before you fell ill, poor lass, he didn’t stop talking about it. He laughed and said he’d take you down South and superglue you onto a plinth at his daughter’s school.’
‘Do you have his number?’
‘Nah, sorry love. He’s a writer. Neil Hammonds. Look him up.’
The room changes to her bedroom as she starts googling Neil with one L. It spells funny, like a man with one arm. She finds his picture: yes that’s him. God, he’s so gorgeous. God, he’s so married. And God, she’s gorgeous too. Is she called Joan?
She finds his website and his email.
‘Dear Neil,
‘I met you two weeks ago at Thornwood High where you came to visit. I told you the horrors of the school before I got pneumonia and scared Mr Neary so much that he banned report cards. I think you helped. I just want to say thanks and would you have tea with me? During my coma I fell into a dream that I lived with you and you spanked me and it was the loveliest book I could imagine.’
A Mailer Daemon reply flashed up. The email wasn’t in her Sent items. She tried to retype it and the letters kept deleting. Her phone dissolved. She let out a huge scream, and tears poured from every hole in her body. Then her eyes opened to a white ceiling. Was she back in hospital? There was a hum of machines. It was a pretty, quaint room.
She blinked around to the brown cottage beams; the machine hum melting into roosting wood pigeons.
And there was Neil, or Neill - worried lines across his forehead swimming like a kaleidoscope through her tears.
‘Natalia?’
‘Oh, fuck!’
‘Morning to you too!’
‘What, what…’
His hand was on her head. ‘Darling, do we need an ambulance?’
‘Where am I…’
‘You’re safe at home with me, silly,’ wiping the back of his finger at her tears. He pulled off the covers as an unpleasant draft hit her clammy body. ‘Hey, hey,’ as he kissed her forehead. ‘I know you’re always wet but this is ridiculous…’
‘I, I dreamt you… weren’t real.’
‘I’m this real.’ He squeezed her bottom.
‘Ow!— I was back in the office, it didn’t smell of fags at all…’
‘Frightening.’
‘Mr Neary was there, taking credit for everything…’
‘Now that’s outrageous.’
‘My dad was on his way down to see me…’
‘Oh, darling.’
‘You were an author, married, and your name only had one L!’
‘Oh no, not one L!’
‘I got an error message, and cried a pool of tears… which carried me awake…’
‘Look Alice, this dream is making about as much sense as the Lobster Quadrille. But I’m just glad you’re cooling down.’
‘Are you going soon?’
‘It’s only 5am. I’m not going anywhere till I know you’re firmly back in the land of reality. Do you want to go take a shower?’
‘No, hug me, please,’ as she hauled up the duvet.
He pulled her into him as she sobs into his chest, as he strokes her head repeatedly, feeling her now trembling. ‘Oh darling, I don’t know whether to squeeze you or squeeze out a cold cloth. Did a dream really upset you this much?’
‘It’s just… everything. Everything at school this week. Mr Khan made me sit with him is because I’m falling behind… Williams, too… she was asking why my coat smells of smoke. I know I’m falling behind, but I didn’t want to tell you…’
‘Oh sweetheart, you know you can tell me anything. And really, you ought to.’
‘What, so you can call us off again…’
‘Why would I? You’ve moved in with me darling. Do you think I’m going to move you out again? All because Fat Cunt ticks you off for smelling like most teenage girls do?’
She whimpered as he draws his fingertips over her lips and eyebrows and nose and earlobes as he flows in rhetorical questions, that ‘you know that I love you?’ that I ‘adore you, little sweaty-heart?’ that make her melt a bit more, and a bit more, with strokes and shushes and kisses, and that ‘I will make it all right for you, I always do, don’t I?’ till her sobs ebb into judders and taper off, falling asleep gaping at his chest hair, and he with his mouth at her crown.
She awoke to the sound of the hairdryer through the wall, then Neill shuffling around the room in jeans, t-shirt and suit jacket.
‘Wow, you look sexy casual,’ she slurred.
‘Right, I’ve got to get off. Not on you, unfortunately. I’ll save you for later. Blast, I can’t find my phone charger anywhere…’
‘Car charger?’
‘Broken.’ Leaning to seize her face between his fingers he delivered a full-on toothpaste-scented snog. ‘You don’t taste bad for the morning. Like a sweet sleepy musky thing. Take it easy, I’m off.’
‘Oh, am I allowed to… you know?’
‘I warned you before, you young hoyden.’
‘But you said I can ask permission?’
‘Yes.’
‘So can I?’
‘No.’
Her face dropped. ‘But it’s self-help right now! What do I do?’
He shrugged. ‘Wriggle around helplessly like the wank-banned horny teenager that you are.’
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*
She’d arranged to meet Alana in the Corn Exchange at 12. Walking across town at 11.50, she googled to remind herself what the Corn Exchange actually was. Fashion and lifestyle stores in a Victorian domed building on Call Lane. Yes, she knew that - as she strode as fast as she could from the wrong end of town. £300 he’d left her in the fruitbowl, rolled between two bananas. ‘Home before dark or I’ll bowl you with both of these,’ he’d attached the note.
There was Alana, holding hands with some lad - a lanky bastard with pronounced textneck. Oh god…
‘Sorry I’m late Alana… oh, hi, Alex!’
They were holding Costa coffees, arms round each other.
‘Oh, hey, no worries. Aisha’s in Mint just there, decided to get her nails done as it’s 40% off - we’ve been waiting forever for her, and then this guy’ - she nuzzled Alex’s ear - ‘decides to turn up!’
Natalia pushed a smile.
‘Are you ok?’
‘Yeah yeah! Just didn’t know you were together! …You know, at the fair when er, Sam joked about you two in the toilet. I mean—’
Alana laughed. ‘Yeah. She saw us holding hands outside the loos.’
‘Right.’
Natalia’s eyes shifted to Alex who was gazing into air.
‘We were keeping it secret, but then Ryan Welsh of all people made a pass at me the other day, and Alex nearly lamped him! Besides, we’re too smitten,’ she giggled into his ear as Alex gave a dozey grin.
Aisha appeared holding up ten gleaming sunflower-yellow falsies, sticking out her tongue.
‘Yas Queen! …Hey, Nat!’
‘My BFF is looking hot!’ swooned Alana. ‘Don’t you think, honey?’
‘I wun’t know,’ chuckled Alex.
‘Ask Ashton! Is he coming, Aish?’
‘Painfully, if she’s not careful,’ grunted Alex.
The three laughed.
‘Alex, don’t be gross! Sorry, Nat…’
Alex had his hand planted somewhere down Alana’s backside as she caved in laughter and Alex began to plaster his gormless mouth over hers. Natalia blinked away.
‘What a pair of freakin’ lovebirds,’ Aisha rolled her eyes. ‘My boy is working, Nat, so you got one less to stomach.’
‘Have you got a boyfriend, Natalia?’ Alana detached from Alex’s gob. ‘She still won’t tell me!’
‘Erm…’
‘Oh, she does! That face gives it all away! Same age? Older?’
‘Or younger?’
They broke into peels of laughter.
‘Older,’ Natalia said decidedly.
‘Ohhhh!’ Aisha high-fived Natalia. ‘Two against one! Older wins!’
‘So you’ve definitely done it,’ Alex grinned.
She bit her lip.
‘Leave her alone,’ cooed Aisha. ‘She doesn’t want to spill all in front of you, Alex.’
Natalia coughed. ‘Shall we get on shopping?’
‘I’ll leave you to it, yeah,’ as Alex arose. ‘You don’t want a spliff outside with me babe?’
‘No hun, I’m keeping clean.’
They waited for a long kiss to end.
‘Laters.’
‘Well, I have to be honest,’ Aisha began as they watched Alex ambling off, pants falling down his backside, ‘I never thought he’d be Alana’s type. But it must a badboy thing.’
‘Oh, badboy in only the good ways! I’ve liked him since Year 7.’
‘Really?’ Aisha returned a humongous gape, as they began to edge a stop-start potter along the boutique windows, all the while sustaining a low conversation about Piña Coladas, cleanse diets and hair straighteners, peppered with high-pitched hoots and overly exaggerated sighs at whatever caught their fancy on the mannequins and would lure them in to twitter even louder in the changing rooms.
‘Well I can’t see a coat anywhere like Nat’s. But I’m all for those LBDs!’
‘LB what?’ laughed Natalia.
‘Little Black Dress. That one’s for you Natalia, to show off those Yoga thighs—’
‘I’m so out of practice on the headstand,’ grinned Natalia. ‘But in that dress, you’ll see just as much of arse…’ prompting a chorus of laughter, till their long gazes of vanity in the mirrors soon had Natalia doing the same, in a scalloped lace and velvet midi that padded her breasts into what she could actually call a cleavage.
‘Babe you look gorgeous. Your boyfriend’s gonna love you.’
‘Do you think? I never wear black…’
‘You do now!’
‘Your boobs look as huge as…’ Aisha began.
‘Becky’s!’ Alana cawed.
They were in hysterics as Natalia bit her lip. ‘This dress is a total false advertisement for my boobs,’ she laughed, ‘although they always get a bit big before my period…’
‘Hers are huge since she went on the pill,’ Alana nodded at Aisha - as Natalia tried not to stare at Aisha standing in her olive green bra, two rivers of brown flesh rippling as she bounced up and down zipping a mini skirt.
‘So you don’t use condoms?’ Natalia asked curiously.
‘She does…’ she nodded at Alana.
‘Only sustainable ones,’ as Alana fiddled to unbuckle a tiny strap on a pair of black heels. ‘Hanx, vegan, all natural. Right, here, get this on you!’
‘Is that what you say to Alex?’ Natalia retorted as Alana grabbed her foot. Aisha tittered.
‘These aren’t even high. You can’t wear anything else tonight, Cinders!’
‘Tonight? Sorry, I can’t. I’m going out with my boyfriend, you know.’
‘Ooh! Bring him!’
‘No way,’ she laughed. ‘We’re driving out somewhere.’
‘He drives, he drives! What car?’
‘Just… an Audi TT.’
‘Isn’t that like a girl’s car?’
‘Not TT. Something else. Silver Audi something.’
They bought and bagged up their wares, and from the next hour’s meandering talk of sex, Yoga, miniskirts, then back to sex again, Natalia collected a fair selection of soundbites that mostly struck her into contemplative, lip-chewing silence as she obliged to hold out her wrist to sample a bracelet, or test-dangle an earring at their lobes.
‘I couldn’t do doggie for ages…’
‘I can not swallow his come… it’s like ewww!’
‘He wanted me to lick his balls.’
Natalia found her tongue. ‘Oh, I like that.’
They laughed.
‘Are you kidding!’
‘She might have a point though,’ mused Alana. ‘It’s under the foreskin that honks.’
‘Hanx for honks?’ Natalia couldn’t resist, as Aisha shrieked with laughter, ‘I am not looking at your Alex in the eye later!’ and Alana joke-slapped Natalia’s bum, as they approached a Pret.
‘I’m buying!…’ Natalia drew out two twenties to coos of thanks.
‘You see the thing about older guys,’ Aisha reflected, as they chowed through three bulging trays of Pret paninis, coffees, soups and baguettes, ‘is they have much better personal hygiene.’
‘Babe you might like the older guys but I think love at the same age is div-ine.’
‘Such a hypocrite! You totally fancied Neill, you told me!’
Natalia slowed chewing on her panini.
‘Shut up, he’s like 40 and looks like Rik Mayall.’
‘You didn’t mind that when he pinched your bum in Haworth!’
Natalia’s mouth halted completely on a mush of cheese that she wanted to spit out. She hurriedly swallowed. ‘Did he?’
Alana looked sheepish.
‘I was telling her she should report it for gross misconduct,’ Aisha continued, ‘but she won’t when she still carries a torch for him.’
‘He didn’t really do it,’ Alana said casually.
‘Oh, everyone knows he’s a rogue! But no-one’s going to talk against free cappuccinos and having Sports Day at Elland Road. Actually I think he likes you—’ Aisha turned on Natalia. ‘She’s always getting called out of lesson to him.’
‘Really?’ Alana asked. ‘What does he want you for?’
‘Ha, oh! No, he—’
‘I remember in Haworth, he stuck up for you when Adam dissed you,’ chirped Alana, ‘I’d take being called skinny as a compliment, but Neill was like, rage in his eyes! I thought he just had it in for Adam but then I saw him glued to your stall at the Valentine Fair!’
‘I reckon he’s got the hots for Natalia!’
Natalia stared, till they both laughed.
Natalia hurriedly joined in. ‘Soft spot for the loner girl!’ she sighed loudly, steadying her mouth on the tea beaker hole. ‘After I fell down the stairs last month he’s nervous that I’m gonna flunk Thornwood’s league tables last minute after being a prize spoff for five years.’
More laughter, as Natalia’s chest lightened.
‘Yeah, I saw Mr Khan making you sit with him yesterday. What a knob!’
‘Hun, you fell down the stairs?’
‘Oh, I’m fine now. Anyway, it was really nice seeing you today, but I’ve gotta get off.’
‘Aww! Thanks for lunch!’
It was nearly 3pm. Neill had texted two hours ago:
‘Made it for brunch… on our way to golf now… battery about to die! Back around 7/8 x’
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*
It was drizzling as awaited the bus back to the house of the Alana bottom-pincher. But he didn’t really do it. Who knows. The main thing right now was that his cottage door opened with her own key, the heating pipes cranked up for her, the rain pattered louder as her teaspoon clinked and Ras - who she’d let out for the first time this morning - had returned home safe and sound, rubbing cold spikes of raindrop-smattered fur on her ankle.
It was only 4pm and she had at least another 3 hours to shed her clothes that carried the day’s adrenalin, of hanging out with friends of an ilk she once only dreamed of reaching, and hang out with herself. As she reached into the vase for that white golf ball, to roll it across the floor and get Ras out from under her feet, she went ahead of him to pick it up herself, rub it against her lips as she went upstairs, thinking back to Alana’s horsey gob that recoiled ‘he wanted me to lick his balls’… The balls of Alex, who likes Big Tits, and Big Tits who Neill wants to spunk all over, then even Jane Austen drips in it, oh, it’s one big mental orgy here under Neill’s bedcovers, and by the time he’d get back, there would be no trace left but a genital air about her - oh, after a good shower - genial, she meant, genial, air about her.
The warm weight of Ras came up on the bed.
‘Ras, you’re not supposed to be in here,’ she laughed, tossing the ball over the duvet for him to pounce on, letting out a belch from her tea and then flopping back down to indulge herself over again.
Her eyes shortly flashed open to a creak on the stair.
Her heart pounded and legs went like jelly. She pulled the duvet up to her neck. She looked round for a weapon. The lamp?
‘Natalia?’
Her head shot up. What the fuck was he doing home? In that monster breathy orgasm she just had imagining Clarkey and Neill double-fucking Alana over the canteen trolley growling ‘do you like older guys now?’ she had not even heard the front door.
Now came the creak of the landing and a nervous smile breaking out on her face as Neill’s face appeared at the door, stepping in just as Ras leapt up and bolted, and Natalia tossing the golf ball after him as Neill stared down in surprise.
‘What’s the cat doing in here?’ His eyes went to the duvet. ‘Why are you in bed? Have you been up today?’
‘Yes…’
She realised she could have lied and said she wasn’t well from this morning.
‘Ah yes. There’s your shopping bags,’ he glanced to the side of the bed.
Maybe not then.
‘How come you’re home?’ she pushed a smile.
‘Family emergency,’ he frowned, stepping up to her side of the bed. ‘Oh there’s my charger—’
He plucked it from the floor, took his phone from his pocket and plugged in next to the lamp.
‘We had breakfast, headed to the pitch, just got started on a game then Joan’s brothers got a call,’ he twiddled to turn on his phone. ‘Something to do with their mum. Shaf and I played till we got rained off but I made damn sure that contract was signed.’
‘Ohh! Well done.’
‘Yes. Relief as great as that thunder cloud over the pitch is now descending through my body. And you’re…?’
She blinked up. ‘Taking a nap.’
‘Taking a nap,’ he repeated drolly. ‘With Rasputin and a golf ball for company?’
‘He was keeping me company and er, playing with it…’
He stared at her, and she stared back, pulling the duvet to her nostrils.
He leaned down, lips brushing her earlobe as a hollow feeling shone in her belly like a flashlight.
‘Oh, Natalia. I think I’m going to enjoy this.’
He walked two sarcastic fingers to the duvet parked at the corner of her growing grin, and with one pinch, swiped off the whole cover to the end of the bed.
She squealed and curled up into a ball.
‘Goodness. You look just like that Lilliputian doe-eyed Kate Moss in the perfume advert I ripped from your lush friend’s magazine that time.’
His hand plucks out her chin, where her gasp was caught with a smile of remembrance at the English lesson where he’d first held her wrist at the end of the lesson, so perfectly, so impertinently. Now he tilts her face up to him in the same way and says:
‘Obey the boss, Moss. Open your legs.’
She slowly spread her thighs, as his hand descends, still cool from the outdoors, and two fingers stroked softly down her vulva. She shuddered.
He clicked his fingers.
‘Up.’
She crouched up onto her soles, hair dangling into her ankles.
‘See these wet stains right here where your cunt was? Are those from your clammy little dream this morning?’
‘N-no…’
‘I think you should be courteous and talk to me properly.’
‘No, sir.’
‘Now look at the stains on the sheets and I’ll ask you again. Have you been wanking?’
‘Y-yes… Neill.’
‘So you lied to me as well as disobeyed me?’
‘Er, a little bit,’ she looked up with a hopeful smirk.
In a flash he had one denim leg up on the bed, yanked her by the neck over it, his other hand pushing her bottom to the ceiling, her hair cascading forward, so she was gasping almost upside down, and in the friction of his leg bend, a red golf ball popped from his pocket and rolled down onto the bed in front of her face.
‘Oh! How on par!’
He took and palmed it straight in her mouth, with a firm tap to hold it there, as her vagina beat like a drum and a wibbling moan was already coming from her gobstopped face hanging down at his shin.
‘Now I want you tell me, well…in mmmgh!-morse code. How many times did you make yourself come whilst you were wanking when I told you not to?’
‘Mmmgh.’
‘Just one?’ he said cynically.
‘Mmm-mgh.’
‘Two?’
She paused. ‘Mmmgh. Mmm. Mmm.’
‘Guess I’ll have to show you again how real I am.’
A vigorous whack was delivered from the heel of his hand from a long run-up, as she let out an almighty muffled shriek that would have shot her off his thigh without the friction of the denim.
She was horsey-gobbed Alana now alright, girl alive from her own Vogue pages, Moss getting her athletic Yoga arse punched more than pinched. He steadied her by the neck, pulled her bottom back centre, as she scrambled her hands at his shins below, trying to push herself up from her stomach to stop being winded by his knee.
Gripping her like a rag doll he smacked hard again, then a third time which made her gasp so hard, the golf ball shot from her mouth.
‘Mmmgh-AAHHH!’
It ran off the bed across the carpet where they heard it chink with the white ball.
‘Well, you really hit a shot into the rough there, my little birdie! Although now I don’t know if we’re playing golf or bowls!’
She collapsed off his knee with a gasp, bottom stinging like fire.
‘Go fetch them, ball girl. Bring them both here, and fast.’
She slid off the bed, blinked round on the floor, and wiping the hair from her face, grabbed one in each hand.
‘Here, Neill—’
‘So pop it back in.’
‘Er…’ She wavered each hand.
‘What are you, a juggler? Or can’t you decide which ball you want to suck?’
She blinked down at them.
‘Do you think it’s Mr White’s turn? But red is good camouflage for you, yes, to match all four of your blazing cheeks?’
It was smaller than a banana, simpler than a bag of Skittles, and less weird than the end of an Impulse deodorant but somehow, being ordered to gag herself, by O’Neill in full patronising mode whilst standing striped buttocked with her pubic hair fluffed up, was a level of cringe that froze her blood like a waiting bully at the bus stop.
‘Neill,’ she blinked, ‘Erm—’
He grabbed the red ball, braced her cheek and pushed it into her mouth as she wobbled, the reflex of a smile threatening to pop it straight back out.
‘Uh-uh. Hold it there,’ his two fingertips braced it, as she clasped her quivering lips, his gaze boring into hers as her face burned scarlet.
‘Listen,’ he spoke in that voice, ‘when I put something into your mouth, you never take it out yourself. Keep these well away,’ he nudged her levitating hands. ‘Don’t even touch it. This—’ His fingertip played on the ball and she felt like she wanted a cup in the ground to swallow her up like a golf ball itself, ‘…from the moment it goes in, stays in until I remove it, you understand?’
She stared.
‘If it ever drops, you get it back within five seconds or it will go up somewhere else. You’ve been warned.’
Oh fuck. Is this what all older men did? Did Ashton make Aisha’s insides turn to a mush of chewed Pret panini? Or was it just headteachers, this one whose audacity, uttered with such an unflinching face, made her nod without thinking, her heart play erratic bongoes and her vagina like someone had pulled the flush.
‘What a good little golfer,’ he smiled. ‘Now I think we’ll have you eagle so to speak, and have a better look at you, lip out!’
His hand jostled between her thighs to separate her knees and lightly finger her pussy, as she stood, eyes circling, softly huffing.
‘Talk about a wetlie.Now lay down on your back and remind me who these holes belong to.’ He clicked his fingers again. ‘Spread.’
She lay down on the mattress with her arms at her side, like Banana Night except it wasn’t just the daylight of the window making this harsher spotlight, but this big red ball vacuum-sealed into her lips, holding her gape open as incredulous as she felt, or as dramatically as Aisha’s, as Neill spread her shins with his iron knees so her thigh muscles were jacked open just as taut, probing now as freely as a mechanic with a car engine, and clearly her opinion of how deep and fast his middle finger went in and out of her vagina wasn’t required in this game of never-touch-a-golf-ball-when-I place-it-in-your-mouth.
‘Oh, god,’ the mechanic sighed, as though he were now a deep sea diver who’d retrieved from the bottom of the sea, some rare, shy snail-like creature no-one had seen in millennia. ‘Unbelievable. It’s almost 48 hours since I’ve fucked this. All because of your ball-licking. Well here, hold Mr White in your hand so you’ve got company. Squeezing one ball and sucking the other, just how you like…’
Her eyes faltered.
‘But Natalia! All I’m doing is what you were doing. Playing with your pussy and a golf ball. Marvellous idea. Well don’t let me stop you. If you want to wank, wank. I’m here, I give you permission. Put your hand down now and wank that clit.’
Her hand slipped down to circulate there, just as she was used to… but with this rock-hard roundness between her tongue and palette that turned her on and mortified her equally, and as another shelf of the mortified part of her fell into the sea, the more he kept his finger - two, now - machinating at her walls like putting her into a trance, like this was nothing at all, no biggie, darling! - just lay spread-eagled sucking on a golf ball, and oh God, Ras has now jumped on the bed and is sniffing her forehead.
‘What a jealous pussy. Shoo! …You stay looking right at me, Natalia. I want to see you blushing redder than that. Don’t lose that ball. I warned you.’
Keeping her eyes latched onto his, her face was reddening with effort more now than shame, but then again, she couldn’t tell the line these days.
His phone began moo-vibrating on the bedside.
‘Oh! Look who it is. Been trying to get hold of him for days—’
He held up his phone screen where ‘Ed’ was flashing.
‘Mmmgh—’ Her hand went to her mouth.
He shook his head. She moved it away.
‘Make yourself come by the time I finish talking to him. Or I’ll bend you over and belt welts all over your bottom. Wank! Above the hole, if we’re talking golf. Hello Ed—’
Her finger is suffused in her clit whilst he is is writhing two fingers inside her, whilst her face strewn with humiliation and horniness all at once.
‘No, we didn’t get to play much today. Contingency. No, not Oulton. Up at Hull. We got to play the number one stroke hole, West Ella. Tricky one, have to keep the ball left. Doglegs not too bad—’
These words, uttered casually down between her own crocked doglegs opens another gate inside her, the firework fuse is lit and the friction of her clit gives way as she explodes, pops; her eyes squeeze closed and she climaxes silently, wildly, a sudden frisson whilst all supine, straining at the ball whilst splayed like a medical specimen on his fingers that hold fast inside her, as his voice to Ed tapers off, she opens her eyes, hoffing nose breaths over her gagged mouth, to see the forehead of her audience tinged with pink like he’d come with her.
‘Natalia? Oh, she’s fine. Being a very good little girl. She’s right here with me—’
He brought the phone forward, popped the ball from her mouth with cunt-scented fingers, calling: ‘Say hello to Uncle Ed! She’s been getting into playing golf with me actually—’
‘Hello Ed!—’ she halts her breath to utter.
‘How are you!’ came the tiny voice of Ed.
‘Yeahhh, good! I’mmh—’
Neill pushed the ball back into her mouth and drew back the phone. ‘Yeah, she’s moved in. So did you hear my message asking coming up?… Uh. Uh. Right ok, well let me know. Sooner rather than later.’
His fingers still inside her, she writhes upon them for the second orgasm already coming before he’d even chucked his phone, the fluidity of her vagina flowing now, and as she rubs, she is emitting a softer but longer, low gagged groan.
‘There we go.’ His voice is so soft she almost can’t take it. ‘Goodness your cunt feels like silk.’ He is drawing strands of her in and out. ‘God, look at that,’ as if he were still talking to Ed, then positions his own fingers at her clit and cunt, and another rubbing at her anus, to bring her to the third juddering, deep and violent, for which she needed the first two as a run-up to erode the inhibition for now looking like she is being electrocuted on a stretcher, a thunderbolt of epilepsy at her spine and grunts from her throat like her pelvis is a wild horse on his hand, ending in drugged, delirious gaze at him.
‘I could feel a little strain of the muscles in your cunt on that one. It’s screaming for cock,’ as his jeans drop and his red bobbing head is in his hand, and her mind goes straight to the condoms somewhere behind her.
‘I want you coming like you just did, right on my cock. It’s all your clit’s fault, you know that? But we can give it the slip. Get your hand back and wank it again.’
‘Mmgh. Mmmmh—’
‘Hmm?’ He looks at her enquiringly.
Oh jeez, she literally daren’t take out the ball he said never to take out, just for a second, to ask him to use the protection she bought.
‘Mmm…’ She raises her hand like she was in class, pointing up to the bedside.
‘What is it?’
She holds her ball at her teeth and salivates:
‘Cong-dong.’
‘I’ve no idea what you’re saying.’ He reached and popped the ball from her cheeks. ‘What?’
‘Neill, I have some condoms, remember—’
‘Oh of course, good girl!’
She paused. ‘Do you want one?’
‘No, I’m fine thanks.’ He pushed the ball back in her mouth, her forehead back down, stripped off his t-shirt and aimed his cock with his hands like a golf club.
‘I don’t have time to go pour a whisky but here’s the deal. If you make yourself come before I do then I’ll make sure I don’t come inside you. How about that?’
She felt what was like a spurt of wee from her cunt. How did he even know? Did he?
Now he is pushing inside her, throwing back his hair and licking his lip, exhaling in pleasure, then gripping her thighs up at his hips, looking right into her face as his cock draws in and out of her like a machine. She stares back, mouth jacked open like Munch’s The Scream, watching his chest lit by golden light thrusting forward and back like barebacking the wild horse, as her nasal moans reverberate, her hand spins another O, and its resultant throe goes in three directions… her whole body softening and hardening and she indulges in the challenge now of a monster orgasm right on Neill’s throbbing lump inside her.
‘That’s it. You fuck my cock and you give that orgasm right to it.’
Holding the ball like a performing seal with an aching jaw, after five minutes of this till he pulls out sharply, clambers on his knees over her, his face just as red and glistening as the ball he now points his tip at, and exerting great effort to shoot right on target, pools over it, coating the ball as it spills beyond her lips.
‘Clean it. Quick. Clean it completely.’
She loosens her mouth, rolls the ball around, swallowing and slapping her lips until it goes from white to clean red and shining again, he necks her cold tea from the side, nods to her as though permitting a good dog to drop the ball, holds out his hand, inspects it and puts it in the drawer.
‘Better keep that handy. Made you gush like the Cock Beck. So, what’s in the bags?’
She was sitting up, blinking and getting used to the feel of her mouth again.
‘Oh.’ She reaches and pulls out the black dress, along with lacey lingerie, the strappy heels and a hoard of various jewellery.
‘Bloody hell!’ He held up the black lacey dress.
‘Alana wanted me to go out with them. I said I can’t, because I’m going out with you,’ she laughed, frowning and adjusting her jaw.
‘What an idea. Go get showered and put all this on. Because we are going out.’
‘Out?!’
‘You have no balls anymore, girl? I’m taking you out to celebrate.’
‘Why, did you dump Joan?’
‘Oh, I’ll just let that fizzle out slowly. I’ll drop her a text in a week or so.’
‘What!’ she stared. ‘You fucking bullshitter! Talk about no balls!’
His mouth fell open. ‘I just wanted to give her the weekend at least, to deal with her mum’s arthritis—’
‘Fuck her mum! You’ve already treated the daughter badly enough. Put an end to her misery and fucking text her now.’
‘Alright, alright. Fuck it,’ he tossed his phone at her. ‘You type it.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because you’re more eloquent than I am.’
‘What? You’re just as much of a dastardly dickhead wordsmith as I am, if not worse. Plus it is - was - your girlfriend.’
‘Ok here goes. ‘Au revoir, Joan of Arse, which wasn’t even worth raping—’
‘Oh my god. Give it here and I’ll give you Joan’s Severance.’
‘Ha. That’s good.’
She typed and passed it back.
‘‘Sorry, but I can’t see you anymore. It’s just not working out, and I have so much on my hands. I wish you all the best.’ Are you kidding? Where’s the swear words?’
‘How bad a repercussion do you want?’
‘Then send it. In contacts under J…’
‘Yes, yes—’ She typed and tossed it down.
‘Done?’
‘Done. Sent to JR. I see she was demoted to initials again,’ she laughed.
He stared. ‘Fuck!’ He snatched up the phone.
‘What? JR in your Recents. I saw it flash up when we drove up from London?’
‘That’s… that’s her work phone,’ he groaned.
‘And?’
‘It’s just… I can’t have it coming up on there. Fuck! I can’t even unsend.’
‘Oh, balls!’
She watched him in flustered fiddling.
‘Right. Done. Get the fuck dressed. I’m taking you to the ball.’
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