Butter Wouldn't Melt (22 page)

The next day I felt refreshed and ready for anything, even Mr Prufrock. Now that I was going to the party anyway there was no longer quite such a hurry, but I wanted to be able to pay Melody on the day, both to wipe the smile off her face and to make sure she didn't attempt to take unfair advantage of me. I had even worked out how to get around the problem of the key, which meant enlisting Clive's help, and I didn't dare risk being seen talking to him at work.

He was at lunch in Champagne Charlie's, but I ignored him completely and flirted with Steve and Mark, until by the end both of them were distinctly hot under the collar and obviously hoping for more.
I avoided them for the afternoon by going down to the cellar and making sure they saw me descend the stairs, which I knew would fit in when I was caught with Mr Prufrock.

Once I was stripped down and working bare bottom among the stacks, I took a moment to text Clive, suggesting we meet after work, then AJ to say that I had to stay late and would catch up with her at Whispers. It all seemed to be working out, and despite a little guilt for AJ, there was no denying I was enjoying my little conspiracy. I even decided the time had come to suck Mr Prufrock's cock, and put the question to him as I sat on his knee in my normal rude pose, my bare bum in his hand and his cock in mine.

‘Would you mind if I did something rather dirty?' I asked, putting a deliberate giggle into my voice.

‘What did you have in mind, my dear?' he asked.

‘I'll show you,' I said, and rose from his lap.

I was smiling as I got down on my knees in front of him, and if it was a little forced, then there was genuine anticipation too. His cock was already as hard as I'd ever got it, a fat pillar of heavy meat, and it was impossible not to enjoy the sheer humiliation of having put myself in a situation where I was obliged to take him in my mouth. He realised what I was going to do, inevitably, and gave a pleased sigh as I made myself comfortable.

‘Ah, ha,' he said, ‘so you wish to entertain me in your mouth. What a good little girl you are.'

As I opened wide I wanted to tell him that I wasn't a good girl at all, but a dirty little tart, only he loved to think of me as rude but innocent. A moment later I couldn't tell him anything, because I was sucking his cock, which filled my mouth to capacity. I tried to take him deep, but as his knob touched the back of
my throat I immediately began to gag and was forced to pull back, licking at his shaft as he stared down at me in amusement and pleasure.

I continued to lick, holding his cock up and wanking him at the same time as I judged the angle anybody coming in at the door would get on my dirty little floor show. Technically it was perfect, a full view of Mr Prufrock, my bare bum and the junction between his cock and my mouth. Nobody who saw could be in any doubt whatsoever that I was giving a blow-job. The thought of being caught as I was had begun to bring out feelings of shame, but he wasn't getting any harder, so I began to lick the underside of his foreskin, which Clive had told me felt nice, only to have him give his dirty little chuckle and speak up.

‘That's no way to suck a cock, popsy. What do you think it is, a lollipop?'

‘Sorry,' I said, ‘but you're so big you make me gag if I try to take you all in.'

‘Sometimes a lady has to put up with a little discomfort in order to please her gentleman,' he told me. ‘So in we go, Pippa, right in your mouth.'

I did try, but the moment I took him deep my throat tightened in revulsion and I was forced to pull back, sucking on the bulbous tip instead and rubbing my tongue under his foreskin. Now he'd begun to swell again, and for a moment he was content, only to take me by the hair and push himself deep once more, gently but firmly. The moment I felt his knob start to press into my throat I began to gag, but he wasn't having any of it, holding himself in until I was pop-eyed and breathless. When he did release me I was nearly sick, with my mouth full of spittle which I had to swallow hurriedly before it went down my front.

‘Please,' I gasped. ‘That's not very nice, Mr Prufrock.'

‘I thought you wanted to do it?' he asked, not unkindly.

‘I . . . I like you in my mouth,' I managed, ‘and licking you, but . . .'

‘Girls who suck cock should suck cock properly,' he said, ‘and that means taking it in your throat. Imagine if I was some strapping young lad, with a big hard erection. Do you think he'd put up with any nonsense?'

I shook my head.

‘No,' he said reprovingly, ‘he wouldn't, would he, so it's best to learn from an older man who's prepared to be patient with you. Now try again.'

He seemed to be enjoying toying with me almost as much as he was enjoying having me suck his cock, but I tried again anyway, and again began to gag as soon as the head of his cock touched the back of my throat. Once more he held me down, longer this time, until my eyes had begun to water and when he did let me go I had to swallow hurriedly to stop myself throwing up on his cock and down my tits.

‘Enough,' I gasped. ‘I'm sorry . . . I would like to, really, but I can't.'

‘We'll have another lesson tomorrow then,' he said happily. ‘For now, come back on my lap, and you can rub me with your panties.'

I nodded and got up, retrieving my knickers from where I'd hung them on the peg and wrapping them around his cock as I sat my bare bottom down on his knee once more. He gave a contented sigh and began to fondle me, stroking my bottom meat and teasing between my cheeks as his cock moved in my panties, the head poking up and down under the cotton where it usually covered my bum. Soon he was going to masturbate me, and the sense of erotic humiliation was rising with the urge to push my bottom out and
let him touch my pussy. To make it worse, my mouth still tasted of cock, and I was looking forward to a good climax when his telephone rang.

The same thing had happened a few times before, but he had always been content to let me wank him and to continue fondling my bum while he talked to the caller. This time he spoke only a couple of sentences before putting the phone down and giving me a purposeful smack under my cheeks.

‘We had better make ourselves decent, my dear,' he said. ‘Mr Montague is coming down.'

I hurriedly replaced my knickers and pulled my skirt on over them, allowing him to open the door moments before old Mr Montague appeared on the stairs. He spoke briefly to Mr Prufrock, then addressed me.

‘I trust your talents aren't being wasted down here, Pippa?'

‘Not at all,' I assured him. ‘Mr Prufrock has taught me a great deal.'

‘No doubt,' he said, ‘but I'm sure you can be spared for the time being at least. I am attending court for the summary of the Calstock Securities fraud trial tomorrow, which I feel sure would be of interest to you.'

‘Thank you, yes,' I answered, sincerely enough.

‘Splendid,' he said, and disappeared in among the archives.

There was nothing for it but to go back to my filing, and Mr Montague stayed with us until it was almost time for me to meet Clive. I managed to get away punctually, and enjoyed myself for a few minutes eluding an entirely imaginary pursuit before starting towards St Katharine. It was also fun to imagine the spanking Mr Montague would have given me if he'd caught me wanking Mr Prufrock in
my knickers, which showed just how horny the whole experience had left me, and as I pressed on Clive's bell I was chiding myself for being such a slut.

He came down to let me in, glancing around nervously as I passed him.

‘I made sure nobody followed me,' I assured him.

‘Come upstairs,' he said, and didn't speak again until we were safely in his flat.

‘You've done brilliantly, Pippa. The odds on Steve are down to evens, with Mark himself on 4–1 and Den and Andy 25–1 with no takers. He's put me down to 100–1.'

‘But Mr Prufrock's still 500–1?'

‘Yes. Everyone knows you're working with him, obviously, but it hasn't made any difference. Nobody could believe you'd be that dirty.'

I made a face.

‘Sorry,' he said quickly, ‘I didn't . . .'

‘Don't worry, that's all right. The only problem is the door, and I think I know how to get round it. First, is there a spare key?'

‘I don't know. If so, Maggie would have it.'

‘Never mind that then. He always keeps the key in his jacket pocket, even when the door's locked, but he sometimes takes his jacket off, especially if he's getting a bit flustered over me. You can come down and ask for some obscure document, which would give me a chance to pinch the key and get a spare cut, just as long as you can distract him for long enough. Then all you need to do is unlock the door, very quietly, after I've sent the text to say I'll be playing with him, and then find your excuse to have somebody else come down. What do you think?'

‘It's a bit complicated.'

‘It just takes good timing, and there's a place you can get keys cut in Tower Hill station.'

‘We can try, and it might work, as long as I'm not seen opening the door, or heard coming down the stairs.'

‘You'll just have to be careful. Come on, Clive, say you'll try?'

He gave me an embarrassed grin, nodding, then was silent for a while before he spoke again.

‘Do you have time for a drink? A glass of cold Sauvignon, perhaps?'

‘Yes, thanks.'

He fetched the wine and sat down, leaving me sipping my own as I looked out across St Katharine Dock. The plan was a bit fiddly, but I couldn't see any alternative. I remembered about Mr Montague, and turned to tell Clive, to catch him staring at my bottom. He immediately went bright red, but I gave him a reassuring smile.

‘Look all you like,' I told him. ‘Everybody else seems to.'

His look of embarrassment faded to a nervous grin, and after a moment he spoke again, struggling to get the words out.

‘Pippa, I know . . . I know we agreed about last time, and I respect that, but there is one thing I would very much like to have done; just a little thing for you, but it would mean the world to me.'

‘What's that?'

He took a long time to reply, looking more embarrassed than ever and shifty too, but when he did speak, his words came in a rush.

‘Would you . . . would you show me your bottom. You have the most beautiful bottom in the world, Pippa, like a little round apple, so small and so sweet, but so wonderfully chubby, the way your hips swell and your lower back curves out, and . . . and the way your pretty little cheeks tuck under, and . . .'

‘OK, OK, I get the message, Clive. You like my bum.'

He went quiet, his round face sunrise-red as he waited for my response, the desperation showing in his eyes. I'd dropped my knickers for Mr Mulligan, why not Clive? At least he'd been nice to me. I smiled and shrugged.

‘OK.'

‘You will?'

‘Yes, if it means that much to you.'

‘Oh, you little angel!'

Anyone would have thought I'd saved him from certain death, not just offered a flash of my bum, and I was smiling to myself as I rucked up my skirt and tucked the tails of my jacket and blouse up so he had a full show of my knickers. I'd put on patterned ones, white with pink and blue polka dots, which Mr Prufrock preferred to plain white, although I didn't see the fuss when he expected me straight out of them every morning. They were a little tight, hugging my bum and showing a little meat around each leg hole, which had Clive wide-eyed with desire. I couldn't help but laugh for his expression, and pulled them up tighter still, deliberately showing off, then put my thumbs in the waistband, looking back over my shoulder as I spoke.

‘Shall I take them down, Clive?'

He returned a weak nod and made a quick adjustment to his cock beneath his trousers, then went red as I returned a smile.

‘Shall I take my knickers down?' I teased. ‘Shall I, Clive? Would you like to see my bare apple bottom?'

‘Yes,' he answered, gulping. ‘Please, Pippa . . . please.'

‘OK,' I told him, ‘in a moment.'

Instead of baring myself I pulled my knickers tight up, spilling my cheeks out to either side. I saw him
swallow, and again as I stuck my bum out and gave him a little wiggle to make my meat shake. The way he was looking at me was close to worship, making me want to laugh and encouraging me to show off at the same time, while just having my knickers on show was bringing back all my arousal from before.

‘Here goes,' I told him, ‘one bare-bottom Pippa coming right up.'

I'd put my thumbs in my waistband and began to push, deliberately slowly, exposing myself inch by inch and keeping my bum stuck well out in the full knowledge that once my knickers were properly down my anus and pussy would be on show as well as my cheeks. Clive looked ready to faint, and I saw his eyes pop as my bumhole came on view, then his tongue flick out to moisten his lips as I completed my little strip, turning my knickers down around my thighs to leave every last intimate detail available to his gaze.

‘Is that what you wanted?' I asked.

‘God yes,' he answered. ‘You are so lovely Pippa. Would you . . . would you mind if I touched myself . . . no, of course, that's a stupid thing to . . .'

‘Sh!' I interrupted. ‘You do what you feel you have to, Clive.'

‘And you'll stay like that?'

‘If you're quick.'

He was tearing at his fly immediately, wrenching his cock free, already stiff. As soon as I saw it I wanted him in my mouth, an instinctive, dirty reaction I'd have denied even being capable of just days before. Not that I had much time, because he was masturbating furiously, with his eyes locked to my bare bum.

‘Let me,' I said quickly.

‘Oh God, would you?' he asked. ‘Do you mind?'

‘Oh come on, Clive, of course I don't mind. If I do it for Mr Prufrock I can do it for you!'