Neighbourhood Watch (18 page)

He flinched, turned, and stared up at her. Although his face was masked she could see the nervousness in his eyes. The fact that he was intimidated by her made Jane’s pussy drip with new arousal. She saw the puddle of semen he had released with his climax, a thick white dollop lying on top of her patterned cotton quilt cover.

‘You spurted on my bed,’ Jane told him. Her voice was hard and deliberately free from emotion. She pointed to the puddle of semen and said, ‘Lick that clean.’ Immediately he turned to lap up his own spend.

Jane’s wetness grew warmer as she watched his grovelling response to her instructions. She contemplated playing with herself but doubted that there was sufficient time to satisfy herself properly again. Hearing Joanne shout again from outside, amazed the woman could be so brazen as to call for her gimp on a semi-lit street in suburbia, Jane realised she had to return her new friend to Ted and Linda’s quickly and discreetly. She waited until the gimp had finished licking the bedspread clean before slapping his arse again.

‘Come with me.’

‘Where are we going, Goddess?’

Jane shivered when he called her by that name. It felt so good to be appreciated. Properly appreciated. ‘We’re going back to the party,’ she told him. ‘But I’m going to use you one last time before we have to separate for the evening. Do you understand that?’

Standing up, staring at her with a directness that was almost daunting, the gimp said, ‘You can use me whenever you want, Goddess. I’m yours to command.’

Sixteen

5 Cedar View

HEARING FOOTSTEPS IN
the shadows, Joanne whirled. She reached out for the large figure and, with vicious speed and natural strength, grasped at the person that had been trying to sneak past her. Her anger, already incensed by the gimp’s insurrection, transformed into pure outrage when she discovered she held Tanya Maxwell.

‘Where’s my gimp?’

Tanya tried to pull away. Joanne’s grip was firm and unrelenting. Her left hand held Tanya’s right shoulder, her right a fistful of hair. Shorter and surprised by the attack, Tanya could only struggle weakly in Joanne’s grasp.

‘I haven’t touched your pictures.’

Joanne frowned, not sure what that meant. How stupid could Tanya Maxwell be, hearing ‘gimp’ and thinking it meant ‘pictures’? ‘My gimp,’ Joanne bellowed. ‘Where is he? What have you done with him?’

‘How the fuck should I know where he is?’

If anyone had been watching them grapple in the centre of the midnight street, Joanne thought, it would have looked like the strangest standoff imaginable: a fat peroxide blonde in the clutches of a leather-clad dominatrix, both infuriated and neither prepared to relent.

‘You know everything that happens on this damned street,’ Joanne hissed. ‘You must know where my gimp is.’

‘I don’t know nothing,’ Tanya squealed.

Her voice rose an octave as Joanne tugged hard on her hair. The two women moved as if in a slow dance. Tanya’s expression was contorted into a grimace of pure loathing. Joanne tried to quell her disobedience with an expression of commanding authority. When that failed, she resorted to pulling harder on Tanya’s hair.

‘You know every damned thing,’ Joanne sneered. ‘And you were in my house earlier.’ She grinned when she revealed that nugget of information, delighted to see Tanya blushing. Discovering her fridge was missing one of the four cans of lager she kept for guests, Joanne had suspected Tanya of the theft, although she had no real proof. The woman’s embarrassment was as good as an admission of guilt.

‘I didn’t take nothing.’

‘Liar!’

Joanne pulled Tanya’s hair even harder, and Tanya shrieked. The two women continued their embarrassing dance, Joanne spitting vitriol and Tanya cursing and fuming with impotent outrage.

‘You took a can of beer,’ Joanne snorted. ‘Admit it. You took a can of beer.’

‘That’s all I took,’ Tanya hissed. ‘And I haven’t seen your damned gimp since I saw you walk him across the road to Ted and Linda’s party. For all I know he’s still there.’

‘He’s not there,’ Joanne scowled.

‘Maybe he went back to your place?’

Joanne yanked at Tanya’s hair again.

‘We both know he’s not there. He wasn’t there when you went searching through my house and he’s not there now.’

She thought of forcing the woman to her knees and then properly dominating her. If Tanya had aroused any sort of sexual response, Joanne would have bullied her into submission in the middle of Cedar View’s midnight darkness. But, because Tanya only inspired feelings of nuisance and revulsion, she curbed that thought and continued to hold the woman’s head in an uncompromising lock. It was satisfying to spank Tanya’s backside after she had cleaned her house, but that was the only time Joanne got any pleasure from dominating her. Forcing her to sexually surrender now would be counter-productive and it wasn’t what Joanne wanted. She only wanted her gimp.

‘He’s not at the party and he’s not at my house,’ she hissed. ‘So where is he, Tanya? Where the hell has he gone?’

‘How the hell should I know?’

‘I’ve told you the answer to that one before. You know everything that happens on this street.’

‘But I don’t know where your gimp is,’ Tanya sobbed. ‘Maybe he went home?’

Joanne paused and cast a doubtful glance in the direction of number three. Her eyes flickered in that direction for only an instant, but it was enough to show that there was a light in an upstairs room. She dismissed Tanya’s suggestion as if it was the most ludicrous thing she had yet heard.

‘He wouldn’t have the balls to go home without changing,’ she snapped. ‘And he wouldn’t dare leave without my permission. He knows I’ve got Polaroids that his wife would never want to see. And he knows she’ll see them if he ever crosses me.’

Tanya staggered backwards, wrenching herself from Joanne’s grasp. She lost a few hairs, and almost tumbled over with the effort, but Joanne could see that
the
woman had escaped her clutches and wouldn’t let herself be caught so easily a second time.

‘I don’t know where your damned gimp is,’ Tanya growled, pulling her tracksuit jacket back into shape. ‘And I don’t like demented lunatics jumping out at me from the shadows and pulling my hair and –’

‘Find him,’ Joanne broke in.

‘What?’

‘Find him. Find my gimp for me. If you find him, I might not press charges for you illegally entering my house this evening.’

Tanya stood dumbstruck. Her mouth hung open and she looked as though she had been slapped across the face. Eventually she spluttered, ‘How could it be illegal? I’m your cleaner, aren’t I?’

‘Not any more. I won’t employ a cleaner I can’t trust.’

‘But –’

‘Find my gimp,’ Joanne demanded. ‘Find my gimp and I won’t press charges. But if I’m not reunited with him by the end of this evening, the police will be on your doorstep in the morning asking why you took a midnight stroll through my property.’

The moment dragged out. Chill and empty, the night street was like a still photograph. From the brightly lit exterior of number six they could hear the sounds of Ted and Linda’s party. Music thumped at a deafening volume, underscored by shrieks of laughter and cries of festive delight.

‘Find my gimp,’ Joanne insisted, ‘and you might come out of this evening only losing your job as my cleaner.’

‘What makes you think I can find him?’

‘You seem to have access to every house on this street. If you’re sufficiently motivated, I think you’ll find him.’

‘I’ve only got access to some houses on this street. He might not be here any more.’

Joanne shook her head. ‘He won’t have left this street.’

Tanya glowered for a moment. Joanne watched her in silence, confident that she had won the battle of wills and sure she was only waiting for Tanya to acknowledge it.

‘Where will you be if I do find him?’ Tanya asked.

Joanne nodded towards number six. ‘When you find him, take him to Ted and Linda’s. I’ll be there.’ Joanne waited until Tanya had grudgingly started in the direction of number seven, then headed back to the party.

Seventeen

7 Cedar View

MEGAN STEPPED INTO
the kitchen wearing only hold-up stockings, ankle boots and a broad smile. Not for the first time in her life, she was grateful for the sunglasses that hid her eyes. If either Charlie or Rhona Grafton had seen the expression of contempt in her eyes they would have realised that she knew they had deceived her. But because she was naked neither of them was particularly concerned about her eyes or the sincerity of her smile and she re-entered the room apparently in the same playful spirit with which she had left.

Her image stared back at her from the opaque mirror of the kitchen window. With Charlie Grafton on one side of the room and Rhona on the other, Megan’s reflection was framed between the couple. Her bare body, slender and lithe, seemed almost androgynous, the breasts small and pert, the thin line of pubic curls above her sex a smudged shadow in the reflection. The stark contrast of the black stockings and huge sunglasses against her pallid flesh made Megan look like a comic-book drawing of cheap and tawdry sexuality. It was an effect she had always been proud to cultivate.

‘Don’t you look lovely?’ Charlie muttered.

‘Beautiful,’ Rhona agreed.

Megan stepped between the pair, first giving Rhona a kiss, then turning to place her freshly painted lips against Charlie’s. ‘I feel lovely and beautiful,’ she murmured. Stroking the bulge at the front of Charlie’s trousers, mildly surprised that he had put the thick, meaty erection back inside his pants, she lowered her voice to a suggestive drawl. ‘And I hope I’m going to be feeling a lot more before the night’s over.’

Being honest with herself, she wasn’t entirely sure what she felt. She was still angry that the pair had orchestrated events so she would be coerced into having sex with them. Their plot to engineer her consent was devious and underhand. But acknowledging those faults in her hosts did nothing to lessen Megan’s arousal. She remained excited by the idea of having both Charlie and Rhona. It had taken a long time in the bathroom, playing with Rhona’s extensive and exclusive make-up collection, for her to reconcile her conflicting feelings. Once she accepted that the pair could be classified as both desirable and despicable, she realised her reaction could be framed in equally simple terms: the Graftons could be fucked – and then screwed.

‘You’re expecting me to undress you, aren’t you?’ she said with a grin, remembering Charlie had made the suggestion earlier. She didn’t wait for his response, but placed her mouth over his and savoured a long, penetrating kiss. With their mouths joined, their tongues sliding and twisting together, she reached for his groin and pulled his zipper slowly down. Behind her, she heard Rhona’s gasp of encouragement.

Megan remained focused on her task of exciting and enjoying Charlie. Even when Rhona’s hands began to caress her buttocks, stroking appreciative circles on the bare cheeks and then gently pushing them apart, Megan concentrated on kissing Charlie and releasing his cock from the open fly of his trousers.

He was warm, thick and hard. He was also sticky against her palm and she guessed he had been playing with Rhona recently. Very recently. The feral scent of his excitement filled the kitchen. Behind her, Rhona still teased her rear, but now she was exacerbating the sensation with the heat of her breath. With her mouth still locked against Charlie’s and her fingers encircling his cock, Megan realised that Rhona was kneeling on the kitchen floor and preparing to add kisses to her sensual massage.

‘Do you two ever stop working as a team?’ she giggled.

Charlie placed an arm around her back and used his free hand to cup one small breast. Urging her to bend forward so that her buttocks were more accessible to his wife, he asked innocently, ‘What do you mean?’

The warm, wet muscle of Rhona’s tongue brushed against the wrinkled flesh of Megan’s sphincter. The intimate kiss added fresh fuel to the fire of her arousal. Her nipples were taut and receptive to Charlie’s inquisitive fingers. Her body tingled with the adrenalin need that the Graftons inspired. She would have to concentrate if she wanted to have any hope of besting the couple. She shivered before she spoke again.

‘What I’m asking is: are you two like this with every girl you get your hands on?’

‘Like what?’ Charlie asked, still feigning innocence.

If Rhona said anything it was lost as a slurping gurgle between the cheeks of Megan’s buttocks. Her tongue delved deeper, forcing its way through the tight ring of muscle and making Megan quiver. Charlie pressed another kiss upon Megan’s lips as his fingers lightly squeezed the stiff tips of her nipples. His erection was thick, hard and irresistible.

‘It’s like being in one of those wildlife documentaries,’ Megan began. The words came out in a breathless
whisper
. She had thought she might have to pretend to be excited when she returned to the kitchen but, because the couple were so adept, attractive and insatiable, it was easy to give into the pleasure they inspired.

‘I feel like a helpless gazelle,’ she explained, ‘and you two are like a pair of predatory lions, closing in, bringing me down and gobbling me up.’

The couple chuckled. ‘I’ve got no problem bringing you down,’ Rhona murmured behind her. Each word tickled Megan’s buttocks. ‘I’ve got no problem doing that at all.’

With a salacious laugh Charlie added, ‘I thought you were the one who’d be gobbling me up.’ Megan knew he wasn’t just joking and she took the initiative. She urged him to sit down in one of the kitchen’s comfortable captain’s chairs, knelt in front of his exposed shaft and licked her lips. His erection was large enough to present a challenge. The thought of how wide she would have to open her mouth to accommodate him, and how exciting it was going to be when his monstrous cock finally pushed into her sex, was sufficiently powerful to make her pussy tingle. She kept her backside raised so Rhona could continue to lick at her rear. The three of them were briefly joined together, Megan sucking Charlie’s shaft while Rhona’s tongue slid through the forbidden ring of Megan’s anus. To Megan it was like a milder version of the spit-roasting she occasionally enjoyed with Max and his friend Daniel. But, she reminded herself, there was nothing mild about Charlie and Rhona and she cautioned herself against underestimating the pair.