After Hours: Black Lace Classics Read online

  Enhancing the feeling was the linked set of two squashy loveballs, studded with stimulating little protrusions, which she had inserted into herself before leaving home. As she walked into the bank, the love-balls wobbled inside her, rubbing her G-spot so that she felt wild stabs of desire. The urge to press her thighs together was strong. She suppressed it. The denial was a pleasure in itself.

  After announcing her arrival to one of the female tellers, she sat down upon a low couch, as requested. The cool silk cord from the loveballs caught between her thighs, tugging hard inside her. She felt the soft lining of her raincoat rubbing her nipples into aroused peaks.

  Venny also felt the eyes of several of the young male bank-tellers upon her in a speculative fashion; two of them were good-looking. She smiled at them, and slowly crossed her legs.

  Their eyes widened, their pupils dilating sharply, and Venny almost laughed aloud in amusement at their surprise.

  She could imagine the view they’d been treated to as she’d moved; the whole long nude length of her leg, then the tops of her thighs, and then – shock, horror! – the fuller curve of her buttock as she lifted her leg, the full and totally naked curve, and in that instant a glimpse, a mere tantalising glimpse, of her neatly trimmed bush and, beneath it, the moist slit into which vanished the thin ribbon of silk holding the loveballs in place.

  Sadly she could not see their erections because of the security-glassed counter behind which they sat; but then one of them stood up and, by craning a little past the bodies of customers passing through the bank, Venny was able to see the huge bulge at the front of his trousers a moment before he concealed his excitement behind the file he carried.

  Hm, she thought, assessing the dark-haired young man.

  Perhaps that was her file.

  She watched as he came to a door at the end of the line of booths. He unlocked it and stepped through and looked at her with dark-brown eyes.

  He was flushed.

  She was amused to see that he still clutched the file in front of his embarrassingly aroused genitals.

  ‘Miss Halliday?’ he asked.

  Venny rose slowly to her feet, gathering up her things. The other young man was watching this one with envy. ‘Yes, I’m Venny Halliday,’ she said.

  ‘I’m David Thelwell, the manager,’ he said, and it was Venny’s turn to be surprised.

  ‘I thought the manager was Mr Mustek,’ she said, remembering a very handsome and vigorous Asian guy in his forties who had often listened to her business ideas, backed them wholeheartedly, and then, when business was concluded, fucked her with magnificent abandon.

  Dear, kind, wonderfully endowed Mr Mustek.

  ‘Mr Mustek has taken early retirement.’ David Thelwell held out his hand. His other hand still held the file in front of the unruly bulge of his penis.

  She shook hands with him. His hands were large and firm – hopefully like his cock.

  And if Mr Mustek had disported himself with other female clients as he had with her, then he had earned his retirement. But the news of his going was a blow to her confidence. Mr Mustek never failed to be charmed by her ideas or her body, but who knew whether this new man was going to be even half so easy to impress?

  ‘That’s a shame,’ she said, following him over to the door he indicated. She suppressed the gnawing worry that his statement had caused her. She would just have to give it her very best shot, and hope things worked out well. ‘He was a great asset to the bank.’

  ‘He was,’ said David, holding the door into his office open for her. ‘The female clients in particular liked him very much.’

  I bet they did, thought Venny.

  She moved past him into the neat little room.

  She deliberately allowed the front of her body to come close to his as she passed him – although the file got in the way somewhat. Gratifyingly she heard the sharp intake of his breath.

  She looked around the office as he closed the door and walked around the keyhole desk, showing her to a chair.

  Nothing, she was pleased to see, had changed in this office. It was still redolent of Mr Mustek and his ripe Kama Sutra sensuality.

  ‘I like this office,’ she said as he placed the file on the desk.

  It was her file, she now saw. And, even better, she could now get an unhindered view of his only lightly concealed erection. She stared openly until he sat down, shifting uncomfortably, behind the desk.

  Venny opened her briefcase. She took out her papers and started to explain to him why she wanted to extend and enlarge her loan. David Thelwell listened attentively, although he did seem to be loosening his collar a lot, and fidgeting. She paused, smiling at him.

  ‘It is a bit hot in here, isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘Slightly,’ he agreed. ‘Shall I take your coat?’

  ‘Yes, perhaps you’d better,’ said Venny.

  She stood up as he did and unbelted the pastel-blue raincoat. Unhurriedly she let the belt fall onto its retaining loops, then she opened it so that the two sides fell away from the front of her body.

  David’s mouth opened but no sound came out. He stared at her naked breasts, her belly, her pubes with the sleek little runway of dark blonde hair, and her shapely legs.

  ‘That feels better,’ said Venny, enjoying his eyes on her. With a little jiggling motion that set her breasts swinging, she slid the coatsleeves down over her arms and held it out to him as she stood there wearing nothing but a pair of blue velvet gloves and matching sandals.

  David Thelwell numbly took the raincoat and hung it on the coat-hook behind the door.

  Venny sat down again, feeling the nubby material of the seat rubbing at her naked flesh in a very enjoyable way. She wriggled slightly in the seat, agitating the loveballs that were still lodged inside her, and shivered. Her clitoris was stiff, ready to be caressed and enjoyed. The little ribbon that was attached to the balls was becoming moist with her juices.

  ‘So, as you can see, I would like to enlarge the loan,’ said Venny, placing her folded, blue-gloved hands on her thighs. Her eyes held his as he walked around the desk and sat down again.

  Blast, she thought. Mr Mustek would have jumped her by now. But this one was obviously shyer than Mr Mustek, more hesitant. Maybe he was intimidated by in-your-face girls: who knew?

  ‘I … see,’ said Mr Thelwell, his eyes glued to her perky coral-tipped breasts.

  Having come this far, what else could she do but vamp him?

  Venny reached up and unfastened the clips that were holding up her hair. Her naked breasts moved heavily as she pulled the clips free. She shook out her hair, and it fell onto her shoulders. She sat back in her chair and casually crossed her legs. The sensation was so sharp, so delicious that she had to bite her lip.

  ‘Are you a breast man or a leg man, Mr Thelwell?’ asked Venny, trying not to pant.

  He was loosening his collar again.

  He didn’t answer the question; he just stared.

  ‘I think you like breasts,’ said Venny, and gave a little shimmy that set hers swinging. Then she cupped her gloved hands up under them, lifting them, enhancing their curves. ‘Don’t you?’ she said.

  ‘They’re terrific,’ said David Thelwell, as if hypnotised.

  ‘I like cocks,’ said Venny. ‘Big, aroused cocks. Like yours.’

  ‘Miss Halliday …’ he began desperately.

  ‘Are you trying to tell me it’s not aroused?’ Venny smiled. ‘Last time I looked, it was trying to beat its way out of your trousers.’

  Venny pushed back her chair and slipped through the keyhole opening under his desk. As she passed by the wastebin that was hidden to one side under there, she grasped the silky string of the loveballs and tugged them gently out of her. Then she dropped them into the bin.

  After all, if he wanted to get inside her, best not to hold him up. He was clearly shy, and needed encouragement, and she intended to give him plenty of that.

  Venny’s head emerged from the other side of the
desk, coming up between his legs. His high-backed leather chair was on castors, so she eased it back a little from the desk to give herself more room.

  She unfastened his belt with her blue-velvet-gloved hands. He drew in a sharp breath, but made no move to stop her. She could see the huge bulge of his penis pushing against the crotch of his trousers.

  She slid his fly down. She could see nothing yet – just the tails of his shirt, and a pair of dark green silk boxers. She eased her hands up underneath his shirt to caress his hard, flat stomach. David sighed and leaned back.

  Venny pushed her hands up further, letting the velvet smooth over his hard little nipples. She tweaked them.

  He liked that.

  He writhed a little in his seat and so she did it again, harder. This time he groaned.

  Encouraged, Venny eased her hands back down until they were at the waistband of his boxer shorts.

  His skin was lightly tanned and the muscles beneath it were very firm, she noted. He worked out; he was fit. She liked that in a man. She eased the tails of his shirt back out of the way.

  ‘Lift up,’ she instructed. He lifted his buttocks and, as he did so, Venny pulled his trousers down to his knees. Now her only obstacle was the dark-green boxers. Through the silk she could now see the whole outline of his stiff penis. She stroked her velvet-covered hands up over his thighs, which were well muscled and covered in dark hairs, and the legs of the boxers were loose enough for her to insert the gloves into them.

  David Thelwell let out a moan of pleasure as the velvet touched his balls. Venny’s hands squeezed them, caressed them, while David Thelwell leaned back in his chair and moaned aloud.

  Now she saw that his shyness was leaving him.

  His eyes were open, fixed to her breasts as she knelt before him. He reached out and cupped them hungrily now, his thumbs pushing against her nipples.

  ‘Oh, that’s nice.’ She removed her hands from the legs of his boxer shorts. ‘Lift up,’ she said once again.

  Venny slid the boxer shorts down to his knees and he settled his naked buttocks back into his chair. His cock was very big and white, like the strip of skin around his hips. The cautious Mr Thelwell didn’t sunbathe nude, although she smelled a holiday whiff of coconut oil on him. The luscious organ was bedded in a thick thatch of reddish pubic hair, and his balls were magnificent.

  Gently pushing his hands aside, Venny eased forwards and enfolded his penis in her velvet-covered hands, stroking deftly up and down his shaft. With the shaft enclosed by velvet, she lowered her head to the very tip of his cock and nibbled upon it as if it were a lollipop.

  Venny heard a moan from above her and his hands tangled into her mane of blonde hair. She smiled and then tongued his tip, relishing the feeling of total control she had over the situation now. He was hers. Utterly and completely in her power.

  She proceeded to insert her tongue into the tiny open slit at the top of his cock, encouraging his juices to flow – and then someone knocked at the door.

  David Thelwell gasped.

  Venny froze.

  The door opened and a female voice said: ‘Your eleven-thirty appointment’s arrived, David.’

  Hidden and stifling laughter beneath his desk, Venny admired the calm way he replied, despite the fact that one of his customers was under his desk, fellating him.

  ‘Thanks, Carol,’ he said.

  The door closed, and Venny’s mouth closed hotly upon David Thelwell’s still fiercely erect cock. Her velvet-gloved hands smoothed and stroked and inflamed him, and then she pushed his chair back and rose up in front of him, naked and hot and ready.

  Quickly Venny straddled her bank manager and, in fumbling urgency, somehow between the two of them, panting and gasping and whispering obscenities, they got his cock into her, Venny pushing madly down, David thrusting madly up.

  With true bank manager-like presence of mind he kept his hand on her clit, stimulating her as she rode him like a bucking bronco, biting his neck, nibbling his ears, while he caressed her buttocks, her breasts, the point where they were joined, working it in and out all sticky and slippery and good. Thrusting and heaving, together.

  Their climax came at the same moment, David crying out and pushing up harder, Venny bearing down like crazy, groaning, ‘Yes, oh, yes.’

  And then it was over, and they came back down to earth, and it was a hot wet London Monday morning, and this was a bank, and she had asked him to extend and enlarge her loan just before she had begun extending and enlarging his penis.

  They both remembered, abruptly, why they were here.

  Venny said: ‘That was good,’ and meant it.

  David said: ‘It was. But I have to say no to extending the loan. Or enlarging it. Sorry.’

  And he meant that, too.

  Venny left the bank and went back to her car. Her hair had frizzed in the damp air and lay lank on her shoulders. She was sore between the legs, sticky with sweat and sick to her stomach, so she sat in the car stuffing in M&M’s, and now she knew that yes, she was comfort eating with a vengeance.

  In short, she was losing it.

  Maybe the time had come to talk to her rich pal Dani. After that, she would ring the agency. And she decided to dig out the file containing the names and addresses of the people she had interviewed two months ago for the chef’s job. She had in mind those blue eyes and that spiked hairdo, and she knew she was just asking for trouble even entertaining the idea – but the truth was, she was desperate.

  She started the engine, belted up and began to pull out. The windows had steamed like a sauna so she wound hers down. Behind her hovered a four-wheel-drive, waiting to fill the space she was vacating and blocking her view of the cars coming up from behind. Waiting quite impatiently, too; the driver honked a horn that blasted her nerve-endings like the QE2’s coming into dock.

  ‘All right, all right,’ she muttered irritably, and eased out. A Merc shot past, honking viciously as she careered out of her space, and she slammed on the brakes to avoid a collision. At the same instant she felt an impact, a crunch, and thought she’d hit the Merc, or the car parked in front of her. She checked both out and quickly found she hadn’t. Then she glanced back and realised that the four-wheel-drive had been so keen to get into her space that he’d come in way too fast. When she’d braked, he’d gone slap up her arse.

  Oh, perfect.

  She unbelted, switched off the engine, got out of the car and went and looked at her rear fender. Actually, she couldn’t even see her rear fender; the four-wheel’s front was hitched up over it. The cars appeared to be mating.

  The shadowy figure behind the wheel of the bigger car reversed perilously out into the traffic flow again. A multitudinous wail of horns greeted this action. Venny watched dismally as the four-wheel detached itself from her little car. The four-wheel was barely scratched, but one of her rear lights was in bits. Its remains tinkled onto the road.

  ‘Why does no one have any patience?’ Venny wondered aloud in fury. ‘I mean, couldn’t the prick have waited thirty seconds while I got out of the space, instead of barging in?’

  ‘Hi,’ said a voice by her shoulder as she stood glaring at the damage.

  ‘And don’t “hi” me, pal,’ she went on. ‘Look at that. What, seventy, eighty quid’s worth of damage?’

  ‘You braked.’

  ‘I had to brake.’

  ‘If you hadn’t hesitated—’

  ‘If I hadn’t hesitated, that Merc would have squashed me flat.’

  ‘You’d have been out in front of him.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Yes, you would.’

  Venny looked at him. Properly looked. He was tall and angular. He was wearing a slouch-cut suit, a shirt and tie, and his blue eyes were watching her with impudent amusement. His mouth was tilted up in a half-smile. His dark hair, cut razor-short at the sides, was longer on top and gelled up into spikes.

  Her heart did a little impromptu pitty-pat dance routine in her chest.
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  Didn’t this guy look familiar?

  Nah, she thought, turning her head away. Couldn’t be. He just looked like the man who’d been hogging her dreams and her fantasies for a while now, that was all. It wasn’t him.

  ‘I’m Micky Quinn,’ he said, and a large well-shaped hand entered her line of vision. ‘I’m very sorry,’ he offered like an olive branch.

  Quinn, thought Venny. What had that dangerous-looking chef’s name been? Finn? Or had it been Quinn? She looked at the hand until he withdrew it.

  ‘Um … don’t I know you?’ he asked. ‘You look sort of familiar.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Venny chillingly. ‘Look, who’s going to pay for all this damage?’

  God, she was prickly, thought Micky. But she was also cute as hell. He found himself watching this fractious little frizzy-headed blonde with fascination, taking in all the details. Her legs were gorgeous. She was going to break her neck prancing around in those spike-heeled shoes. And what the hell was she wearing? The sun was now beating down like a hammer, and she had on a PVC raincoat-type thing – a person could sweat to death in that – and gloves. She smelled faintly of Chanel No. 5, and strongly of sex. There was a ring of chocolate all around her pout-lipped mouth, and he wanted to kiss it off her with an urgency that surprised him.

  ‘I’ll pay for the damage,’ he said, surprising himself again. He didn’t need more bills at the moment. But he didn’t want to break off contact with her, either.

  She did look familiar. She looked rather like that besuited uptight woman who’d interviewed him two months ago over Camden way for a job. He hadn’t got it. But he’d remembered her in lust-filled dreams for weeks afterwards, indulged in fantasies about breaking down that icy reserve she had, making her pant and scream in his arms.

  ‘Give me your address, I’ll post a cheque on. Would a hundred cover it?’ he asked.

  ‘Probably,’ admitted Venny grudgingly. ‘You’d better give me your address too, though.’

  ‘In case the cheque bounces?’ he grinned.

  ‘It might.’

  ‘It won’t.’ He was sure of that, at least. Sure of very little else, just at the moment, and that was why he was off to the bank right now.