Erotic Amusements (18 page)

She looked down at her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

“Yes,” she admitted. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Right. So we’ll go to the caravan park. You can buy clothes there too, albeit mainly sarongs and T-shirts with surfing logos. Needs must and all that. You can be stylish again when you’re safe.”

“This is kind of you,” Michelle said once the engine had revved and he was reversing out of the space.

“Kind? Eh, no. I need you—you’re my expert witness. Don’t worry. I won’t name you in the paper. But Cordwainer knows his maths. He’ll add two and two together. Is there anyone else he might suspect?”

Michelle considered. “Well, there are several people he’s working with. It could be any of them…but since they all stand to benefit from the casino plans, I suppose that wouldn’t make sense. Maybe Rocky. Rocky knows everything that’s going on.”

“Rocky. Yes. He does, doesn’t he?” Jeremy pondered this for a while, seeing a way to throw Cordwainer off the scent and please Laura into the bargain.

“Or Charles’s new piece. I wonder if she knows the score.”

“New piece? He has somebody else?”

“I’d be amazed if he hadn’t made his move by now. The new girl at the arcade—that’s who he’s had his eye on.”

“Flipp?”

“Whatever her name is. Blonde, young, punky-looking.”

“Rocky and Flipp. I’ve been meaning to pay them a visit,” murmured Jeremy, turning onto the coast road, high above the cobalt sea and sheep-dotted slopes, past the sign that said
Goldsands Thanks You for Your Careful Driving. Come Again Soon.

The Blue Bay Holiday Park lay in a dip between cliff faces, its caravans and tents ranked around a natural lake that flowed in from the sea. Michelle looked around at her new habitat, noting the flat-roofed, dilapidated entertainment complex, the windswept open-air pool and the knots of squabbling families trudging up the hill in flip-flops.
Shangri-La
, she thought with a sigh. But it was safe, at least.

Jeremy parked by Reception and took Michelle inside, where a woman sat giggling over a text message behind the desk.

“Jez.” she proclaimed, looking up and beaming. “Long time no see, bro.”

“I know, I’m a bad brother. Listen, Lucy, I’m really sorry but I need a favour.”

“So do I. I need some free advertising in that rag you work for.”

“It shall be done. Can you put a friend of mine up for a little while? I’ll pay you, of course. Strictly hush-hush, no questions asked?”

“Bloody hell, Jeremy,” his sister grumbled. “You’re a cheeky bastard, aren’t you?”

“Cheeky, yeah, but I think we have the same parents, according to the birth certificates. Please, Lucy? It’s important. You’ll be doing your bit for the human race and all that.”

“Ugh, all right. Schools haven’t broken up yet so we aren’t booked up. I’ve got a few vans spare. Is this your friend, yeah?”

She looked sharply at Michelle, rummaging in a drawer beneath the desk for a set of keys.

“Yep, this is…Charlene.”

“Hi, Charlene. 23D. It’s a nice van. Two bedrooms, shower, awning, microwave. Enjoy your stay.”

“Can you tell the supermarket people to give her a tab? I’ll pay it.”

“You bloody well will, bro.”

“Thanks. You’re a diamond, Luce. I’ll remember this when your birthday comes around.”

“Ha, right. Not a year’s subscription to your crappy newspaper this time, then?”

Jeremy grinned, giving her the thumbs-up and hustling Michelle out of the office.

Alone in the van, once Jeremy had hared off in the pursuit of news, Michelle lay on the narrow bed and gazed up at the spotlight on the ceiling.

Life was strange, she surmised. One minute you were a man’s slave, running his hotel and having no more pressing priority than shaving your nether regions for the next sex orgy. Days later, here you were, in a caravan, in fear of your life, with the future stretching out like a desert, devoid of certainty or reassurance.

What will become of Charles?
She hated herself immediately for the question. She should not care what happened to him.
He can look after himself.

But then she thought of all the plans she had had for the pair of them. Becoming his legitimate partner, then eventually his wife. Meals out. A shared house in the posh part of Goldsands. Exotic holidays. Perhaps even children, though the sex parties might have to take a backseat for a few years.

She shut her eyes, understanding at last that Charles would never have wanted any of that. She had wasted two years of her life, exchanged her self-respect for a bit of hot sex. Were all men like him? Would she ever find a place to be herself without fear or shame?

It seemed pointless to hold her breath.

The campsite was never quite silent until after midnight. Even then, a terrified bleat from the neighbouring field or the snorting of a horse might break the stillness. More usually, winds would sweep down from the cliffs to bend and stretch the guy ropes and make the canvas creak.

For this reason, among many others, Flipp found it difficult to sleep in the tent. To give him credit, Rocky did his level best to wear her out before they spooned against each other inside the double sleeping bag. She yawned and stretched pleasurably at the memory of their earlier trespass into the swimming pool, closed for the evening but still tepid from the day’s bright sunshine. All the lifeguards had gone home and the rest of the staff were in the entertainment complex, doing rubbish versions of Lady Gaga songs for the edification of the other campers and caravanners, while the moon shone down on the open waters.

“Come on,” Rocky had urged, pulling himself over the fence and extending an arm down to Flipp.

“We’ll get caught.” She giggled, letting his hand close over hers, scrabbling up the ridged wood.

“No, we won’t. Come on. Trust me.”

The faded plastic of the water chute looked more glamorous by moonlight, as did the lifeguard’s tall chair. The water lapped quietly against the sides of the pool, whispering invitations. Rocky shed his jacket first, turning to Flipp and gesturing her forward.

“Skinny-dip time. Last one in gets ducked.”

“No way.” objected Flipp, but her T-shirt dress lay on the grass already, and she was bending over to unlace her boots.

By the time the boots and knickers were off, Rocky was in the pool, his broad chest and shoulders rising from the water like a sexier Triton, his face beaded with droplets, teeth bright white in the grey-washed light.

“You need a conch shell,” Flipp told him, sitting down on the edge and splashing at him with her toes.

“A conch shell? Why?” Rocky laughed, making lunges at her ankles, which she skilfully avoided.

“And a trident. Then you could really look like Triton.”

“Who’s Triton? Should I be jealous?”

“Oh, you know. Son of Poseidon. He could calm the waves of the sea.”

“I’ve seen
The Poseidon Adventure.
Is it something to do with that?”

Flipp snorted. “Didn’t you do Greek myths and all that at school? Jason and the Argonauts. The labyrinth. The Odyssey.”

“Odyssey used to be a nightclub in Marine Street. I didn’t pay a lot of attention at school. I wasn’t geeky about Greeks.”

“Well, perhaps you should have been,” said Flipp primly, but her schoolmistressish tone soon mutated into a shriek as Rocky found his target, took a firm hold of her left calf and pulled her off the ledge.

Her screams were drowned by the water swirling overhead. She thrashed and fought Rocky’s hold on her, but he was far too strong, and he held her under the surface for half a minute before seizing her around the waist and bringing her up, sealing her panting, gasping mouth with a hot, wet kiss.

Their legs floated and rubbed against each other under the water until Rocky launched off, swimming to the other side of the pool with Flipp on his back as if she were riding a dolphin. At the end of the journey, Rocky flipped onto his back, floating with his passenger horizontal on top of him, a human air mattress.

“You aren’t cold, are you?” He rippled the water with his hands so that the stars and moon made glints on the ripples of the pool around him.

“A little bit,” Flipp confessed, shivering.

“We can’t have that.” Rocky moved to a vertical position again and he held her up in his arms, close and warm, kissing her again until she forgot all about temperatures and chills and other sensible things.

“Ever done it on a waterslide?” he muttered into her ear.

“What? Are you mad? That’s not even possible.”

“Oh, that’s the wrong thing to say to me.”

Chuckling devilishly, Rocky lifted Flipp out of the water and carried her over to the steps of the waterslide.

“Up you go,” he said, nudging her bare bottom.

“This is insane,” she said, but she began to climb, scampering up quickly when she noticed Rocky chasing behind her.

From the top of the slide, she could see the coloured neon lights of the entertainment complex, the dots of dark people milling about on the pathways, the quiet fields heading down to the sea.

“People will be able to see me,” she fussed.

“Not if you get down behind the screens.”

The top of the waterslide had painted wooden boards at either side to prevent falls. Flipp ducked, hoping Rocky was right.

He knelt behind her at the top of the ladder, edging her towards the blue plastic spiral that curled down to the pool.

“This can’t work.” She was giggling nervously now, hoping that Rocky was joking after all. But Rocky never joked about sex. If he said he was going to do something, he did it.

His arm clamped her about the waist, preventing untimely slippage, and he eased himself into a position in which she sat between his thighs, ready to slide. Instinctively, she leaned back, thinking that he was simply going to hurtle down to the water like that, the pair of them splashing mightily into the glassy calm. She felt his hard ridged cock prod the crease of her backside, but she presumed that would be dealt with later on in the tent.

“Ohh no,” she whimpered, finding herself firmly rotated by the hips until she knelt between Rocky’s legs facing him, grabbing his shoulders in panic at the thought of falling backwards down the chute.

He gave her a crooked grin and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Have a bit of faith in me, love,” he reproached. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You mean you’ve done this before?”

“No. I just know what I’m doing. Come on, now. That’s it.”

He held her by the cheeks of her arse, pulling her up and over his fat cock tip, letting her sink down until she was filled and impaled. She shifted her knees either side of his thighs, having only a little space for them between the powerful legs and the flat side boards. It wasn’t the most comfortable place she had ever shagged, and it was probably the most precarious, but that heady moment of being filled chased away her cautious reservations. She laid her head on Rocky’s shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of surrender, of absolution from responsibility he brought her. She was in his hands and she had nothing to think about but the satisfaction of their senses.

His first slow movements inside her made her sigh with relief as well as arousal. His long fingers were splayed across her backside, holding her tight, keeping her close and captive, with nowhere to run from his demanding cock. She had to concentrate hard on maintaining her balance and keeping below the obscuring boards that surrounded the slide, but once she found her stride, she was able to melt into the primal contact, their wet bodies slapping against each other while Rocky searched for the perfect angle inside Flipp’s warm and willing cunt.

“Anyone could be looking,” he growled into her ear. “Anyone could see your arse at the top of the slide and my cock pushing into you.”

Actually, this was not strictly true. The slide was a tube. The only way a glimpse of the lovers could be caught would have been from its foot, and as the pool area was deserted, this was unlikely to happen. But the idea excited Flipp, as it always did, and she began to rock a little harder, jiggling and pushing down so that her knees stuck to the damp plastic and the slide began to wobble just a little.

“Fuck,” gasped Rocky. “I can’t hold on much…” He spread Flipp’s bum cheeks apart, digging urgent fingertips into the soft inner flesh of the cheeks, opening her wider and wider. “When we get back to the tent, I’m having your arse,” he promised in a menacing whisper. Flipp’s G-spot scored a direct hit, and she began to whimper out a helpless climax.

“Hold tight, sweetheart.” Rocky’s heels gripped the plastic slope, yanking the pair of them forward. Flipp, connected at her most intimate spot to Rocky, found her orgasm take a startling turn as she was forced to crouch down on her lover’s supine form so as not to bang her head on the chute’s roof. Slowly at first, then with incremental whoosh, their bodies slid and rushed down into the blue dark while Flipp bit into Rocky’s shoulders to curb her screams, still experiencing the dying waves of her climax.

They shot out into the water, which foamed and crashed about them, then there was desperate struggling and spluttering while Flipp and Rocky fell momentarily beneath the surface, linked in an embrace that seemed destined never to end.

When they came up, Flipp and Rocky were disentangled at the crotch, though not at the chest or legs, coughing and laughing like lunatics, enraptured with each other all over again.

“You fucking maniac.” Flipp cackled into Rocky’s hair. “I thought that might be the end then.”

“O ye of little faith,” he reminded her. “I told you I knew what I was doing.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think you’ll be doing anything else in here. I’m starting to look like a prune. And it’s bloody freezing now. Must be nearly eleven. The show’ll be over soon in there. Better get out.”

“Yes ma’am,” Rocky said, pulling her over to the edge. “But if you don’t want to have to run back to the tent in the nip, you’ll have to get to your clothes before I do.”

Flipp stirred in the sleeping bag, craning her neck back to look at the sleeping Rocky. In the 2 a.m. darkness she could see little apart from his eyelashes, fluttering in a dream, and the tumble of black hair contrasting with his pale skin.

She had retrieved her T-shirt dress and his jacket but had had to concede the knickers, running back to the tent in the soaked cotton, grateful for the cover of night that obscured the fairly obvious fact that her dress was clinging to bare wet buttocks.

He had chased her giggling, fleet-footed figure all the way along the path, demanding his jacket back, vowing twenty kinds of revenge.

She leaped back into the tent and pulled down the zip in the nick of time, hanging on to the tag for dear life while he yanked and flapped at the other side.

“Open up,” he said in a low warning voice, not wanting to waken any of their canvas-bound neighbours.

“Or what?”

“You don’t want to know. But you’ll be sorry.”

“Oooh, I’m
so
scared.”

“You should be. Now open up and I might be persuaded to go easy on you.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to go easy on me.”

“Oh really?” The tone of dark seduction changed abruptly to one of anxiety. “Fuck. Flipp. Open up. Quick.”

Alarmed, Flipp unzipped the flysheet, peering out nervously to catch a glimpse of whatever had alarmed Rocky. But he pushed her triumphantly backwards onto the pile of sleeping bags, zipping back up with a flourish and holding her down with one hand on her collarbone.

“You’re easily fooled, aren’t you?” He grinned. “Which is just the way I like it.”

“Oh, you bastard.” moaned Flipp, sprawling helplessly on the nylon covers, kicking her legs to no avail. Despite her protestations, she was already anticipating her second orgasm of the night, and she hoped that this one might be a little less hair-raising. Rocky loomed over her, grabbing his jacket and shaking it next to her face.

“You never touch the threads,” he said solemnly. “Do you know what happens to girls who touch the threads?”

“No,” breathed Flipp, very much wanting to find out.

He threw the jacket aside, grasped Flipp by the shoulders and rolled her firmly onto her stomach.

The soaked dress was still suctioned to her buttocks, but he managed to unpeel it from her skin and reveal her cold, wet bottom, which she tried to wriggle out of his reach, but to no avail. One hand squeezed the generous flesh of a cheek, kneading and warming it while the other held Flipp down by the small of her back, keeping her flat on the ground. She kicked her legs, more for effect than any serious protest, clenched her teeth and waited.

“I want you to guess,” Rocky said, patting the slopes of her bum.

“I’m guessing there’s a clue in what you’re doing right now.”

“Well deduced, Sherlock. So…?”

“Not too hard,” she pleaded.

“Not too hard? What do you think I’m going to do?”

Flipp giggled coyly, unwilling to say the word he wanted to hear. “That thing you did before…in my bedsit that time.”

“That thing I did before in your bedsit? What, listen to music? Make a brew?”

“
No.
Don’t be so…you know. That time. Over your knee on the bed.”

“Ohhhh,
that
time.” The love pats began to increase in force and speed, the light slap-slap filling the tent. “That time you were a bad girl, you mean? Well,
one
of the times you were a bad girl,” he amended, landing a slap on the top of Flipp’s right thigh.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You still haven’t said what you mean, though, Flipp. I’m waiting. Tell me what’s going to happen to you, or there will be trouble.”

“There’s trouble already,” Flipp pointed out.

“Worse trouble,” growled Rocky, and the smacks were starting to sting now.

Flipp squirmed on her stomach. Worse trouble didn’t bear thinking about. Her skin was beginning to heat up, pleasant prickles of sensation moving around her bottom and down to her crotch, reawakening the desire that had been assuaged on the waterslide.

“What’s worse than getting spanked?” she squeaked, her fingers curling into claws around the soft fabric of the sleeping bag.

“Aha. You said it. Now I can give you what you deserve, Miss.” He kept the pace slow, landing blows that were not too hard, but just hard enough to create slight discomfort. Flipp wondered how deep the shade of pink might be on the flesh jiggling under his hand.

Flipp mewled and wriggled, but she had no earnest desire to remove herself from his range, enjoying the growing burn and the corresponding excitement in her pussy.

“What’s worse than getting spanked?” Rocky mused on the question as his hand kept up its punishing rhythm. “Let me see. How about getting strapped?”

Flipp’s kicking legs froze and her buttocks clenched.