The Boss (11 page)

‘He's very nice.'

‘I'm sure he is. Now, we have a representative from the local police coming over this morning, so you're to be on best behaviour.'

‘I'll be sure to be, Mr English.'

His words had sent a little involuntary shiver through me, as had my response, which had come out before I could stop myself, leaving me feeling excited and ashamed of myself as usual. I was even half hoping he might apply his hand to my bottom as I turned from his desk, but he restrained himself.

The rest of the morning was busy, first with the policeman, who had an endless string of questions and wanted to examine the entire system in detail, then with the owner of one of the other industrial units on the estate, who was considering protection for his premises. Shortly before twelve o'clock, I answered the phone to Mr Phelps. He had called to give the go-ahead for the pilot scheme and had quickly agreed to the installation of a system along the river path subject to plans being submitted.

There was an immediate frenzy of activity, Paul dealing with what technical details remained while Stephen had me ringing around to find a company who could supply techies to help with surveillance at the council offices. By the time I'd succeeded Stephen had the full plans printed out, a detailed map of the river path showing where each camera would be placed. It was on the computer as well, and once he'd gone to show it to Mr Phelps and the others at the council offices I was left to examine it.

They were going to have the entire length of the path covered, from the edge of Grim's Fen to Sariton, about five miles in all. It was sneaky too. The larger, highest quality cameras were to be mounted in obvious places, set on poles or walls, where they could record people's faces, but the smaller, simpler ones were hidden and it was those that would catch anybody up to
no good. Everybody would get recorded, even those merely passing by, but they wouldn't know it. Then, when they thought they were safe to indulge in whatever skulduggery took their fancy, they'd be caught and recognised by one of the hidden cameras. The only thing the police and council would need would be the names of the local scallies, most of which they had.

It was a huge file, much too big for a floppy, so I burnt it onto CD, all the while with my heart in my mouth and praying Stephen wouldn't return unexpectedly or Paul emerge from the back. Neither did, and I'd soon slipped the CD into my jacket pocket, feeling both guilty and triumphant. Nicking it was crucial to my plan, and the least scary part of it.

I'd barely sorted myself out when my phone went, which made me jump. It was Martin, who was off duty in the evening and wanted to see me. I agreed, accepting his suggestion of the Blue Boar, which I knew was popular with American servicemen. It was also easiest to reach by following the river path, which I wanted to do in order to get a look at it before the cameras went up.

Stephen didn't get back until very nearly five and needed me to sort out various bits of paperwork he'd picked up at the council offices, so it was half an hour after my normal knocking-off time that I found myself outside the unit, wondering if I had time to change before meeting Martin. He was going to get a shock anyway, so I decided against it and walked straight up to the river.

It was a beautiful evening, very warm and still, with the water barely moving and everything sleepy. Any painter would have loved it, and was a place I'd known since childhood, but it now seemed sinister and I
continually found myself glancing from side to side, trying to work out where the cameras were likely to be installed and who they might catch. For a start there was the graffiti under Town Bridge, which always got moaned about but was more colourful than anything. They'd catch the younger boys that way, landing them with criminal records before they'd had a chance to grow up. Then there was the long stretch beside Foulds' sawmill where the elderberry bushes pushed out and made ideal places for snogging. I could clearly remember the thrill as I let Ed Gorton slip a hand down the front of my knickers and put a finger inside me for the first time in my life, and a dozen other incidents, most of them a lot steamier. All of that would be gone, leaving the world a greyer, duller place.

We'd never hurt anybody, beyond shocking the occasional old granny, perhaps, and just about everybody I knew had got up to something at one time or another, but I didn't know anyone who'd had a nasty experience. Perhaps in a city, it might have been a dangerous place, but not in Hockford. The only really nasty things I knew about had all happened behind closed doors.

It was hard to shake my mood as I walked on, despite the beautiful weather and the prospect of seeing Martin. Everywhere I looked brought back memories, and while I had to admit that I'd been a right little brat as a child and a bad girl among bad girls as a teenager, I still felt a sense of injustice. Only when I got to the Blue Boar did I brighten up at the sight of Martin sitting outside, a bottle of beer in one hand and his face painted in a big, sloppy grin.

‘You look different.'

‘Work clothes, I'm afraid, sorry.'

‘That's OK. What are you drinking?'

‘A vodka mix, lime if they've got it.'

‘Coming right up.'

He disappeared into the pub, allowing me to admire the breadth of his shoulders and the easy power of his walk. I remembered how casually he'd lifted me, with just one hand curled under my bum as if I weighed nothing at all, and how dirty he'd been with me. I like men to be that way, to get a real kick out of me and not be embarrassed about it, and he'd done it beautifully, not even caring that other people were watching.

By the time he came back with the drinks I'd already decided that I wanted him again, and where. I let him talk for a while, content to listen as he described his home in Arizona, showing a touch of homesickness. He wouldn't let me buy the next round, which I accepted as a gesture of masculine pride. We ate there too, steaks topped with sauce and big fat chips before he bought me a huge chocolate dessert that left me feeling pretty full. I was more than a little drunk too, while the day was fading to a warm twilight.

I suggested we walk, taking his arm and steering him towards the river path. He didn't push, perhaps because he knew I'd be willing, and it was left to me to choose the time and the place, at the back of Foulds', the same place I'd first allowed a man to enter my body, only this time much more of a man, and much more in the way of entry.

He was wonderfully big, his cock full and meaty first in my hand and then in my mouth as I went down on him among the bushes. I was determined to get my own climax this time, but to fully enjoy him as well, and spent an age just paying court to his cock and balls with my lips and tongue and mouth, until his
breathing had begun to grow deep and his fingers were tangled in my hair to hold me in place.

I'd been going to take him all the way, and play with myself while I did it, but I'd no sooner eased my work skirt up than he'd taken me under my arms, lifting me without appreciable effort and, as before, holding me under my bum while he pulled my knickers aside and slid me down onto him. I clung on, our mouths open together as he fucked me, both hands now on my bottom, holding me wide to the night with one fingertip tickling the tight little hole between my cheeks.

We were well in between two bushes, in deep gloom, but anyone who came by and peered in was going to get a full view of my open bottom with his cock moving inside me as he lifted me up and down. That alone felt wonderful, helping my excitement rise higher as I wriggled myself onto him and begged him to pump me faster and harder between passionate kisses. He obliged, and I'd been reduced to panting breathlessness a second later, only to be lifted free once more and set back down on the ground.

He just manipulated me, so strong I barely had time to react as I was spun around and bent over, now with my bottom pushed out to him. I just had time to brace myself against the wall before my knickers had been pulled down and his cock eased back inside me, now from behind with the hard muscle of his belly pushed to my cheeks as he began to fuck me. Again he was hard, setting me gasping and clutching at the rough brick of the wall, and again his massive hands were on my bottom, holding me and spreading me wide.

I really thought he would come in me, but at what must have been the last moment he pulled out,
grunting a demand to suck him as I had before. Down I went, but this time I wasn't letting him get there first. My hand was already between my thighs as I squatted down, snuggling my face against his cock and balls, so hot and so virile against my skin. It was an act almost of worship, yet more for my pleasure than his, as all the while I was rubbing at myself harder and faster. He gave a soft grunt of complaint and took me by the hair, forcing me to take him deep in my mouth once more, but that gesture was enough to tip me over the edge. I was coming, my body locked tight in orgasm even as he gave me everything he had full in my open mouth with perfect timing.

It had been my last opportunity. Stephen now had full permission to install the ZX system, and the next day we began to put the cameras in place. The area where Martin and I had been was one of the first to be covered, with a big ZX-5 mounted high on the wall to scan the river bank and three of the sneaky little ZX-1 models across the water so that there was nowhere left to hide.

I spent the entire day running backwards and forwards between the river path and the warehouse, carrying gear and generally helping to seal my own fate as well as that of so many of my friends. Inevitably what we were doing was noticed, and I even had a chance to exchange a few shamefaced words with Pete, apologising for my involvement but promising I'd be doing my best to make sure the installation wasn't permanent.

By the evening we'd covered nearly half the river path, and two days later the system was complete with
all the cameras in place and feeding data back to the council offices. That meant Paul had to be there to keep an eye on the equipment and train various techies in the operation of the system, and so on the Friday morning I found myself alone in the office with Stephen. He was whistling one of his classical airs, clearly well pleased with himself and for once didn't demand coffee the moment I'd come in.

‘Ah, Felicity, there you are. We're up and running as of now, but I want to make a quick test if you wouldn't mind walking down to the river path with me to make sure the system recognises us.'

‘Of course.'

‘Splendid.'

He actually smacked his hands together in glee and was going over the details as we walked up towards the river, all of which I knew already. There were twin ZX-4s positioned on poles to either side of Town Bridge, big and obvious, their lenses moving back and forth to cover the movement of people as they came down to the path or climbed up to the roadway. Stephen chuckled.

‘There we are. Now that should make the naughty boys and girls think twice, shouldn't it? There, it will have us both now, so just as well you're not one of the naughty ones, isn't it?'

He laughed and I found myself returning a nervous smile, only to have him push the point, as if he wanted an answer.

‘You wouldn't be naughty, would you, Felicity?'

I hesitated, not about to admit to anything but wanting to see if he had any loyalty to me.

‘I might be. OK, I'm not, but let's say I was. Let's say
the cameras caught me doing something wrong and you saw the image before the council had got to it. What would you do?'

He laughed.

‘Well, unless you were actually murdering somebody, I'd delete the image and then smack your naughty bottom.'

It took a moment for what he'd said to sink in, and then the blood was rushing to my cheeks from a sense of embarrassment beyond anything I could remember, only not so much for the appallingly inappropriate suggestion but because it had given me that same involuntary thrill his domineering words always did, only far stronger. For a moment I was dumbstruck, contemplating the idea of surrendering myself to him and having my bottom smacked as if I was a baby. He meant it too, I was sure, completing my outrage as I managed to croak a reply.

‘What, really?'

‘Oh, I think a little spanking would do you the world of good, if you were a naughty girl, that is.'

He chuckled, a sound at once so dirty and so authoritative it left me blushing hotter than ever and thoroughly confused. What he was saying was utterly outrageous, the sort of thing only the grubbiest of dirty old men would want to do to a girl. Yet with his cool authority it came across as the most natural thing in the world, for me, younger than him and his junior in the office, to have my bottom smacked as a punishment for being naughty. No, not me, not Fizz, I would never submit to such an appalling degradation, but on the other hand, Miss Felicity Cotton just might . . .

‘We should certainly catch these graffiti artists,
that's for sure. Would you mind going in under the bridge and we'll see how the ZX-2 picks you up.'

My head had been full of hideously embarrassing yet highly erotic images of me across his knee with my bum stuck up for a spanking, and it took me a moment to adjust to the change in the topic of conversation.

‘Um . . . of course, although it would probably be dark if they were doing it.'

‘That's not a problem. The ZX-2 can pick up infrared.'

‘Oh, yes . . . I remember you saying.'

I went in under the bridge, to where some blocky letters almost as tall as me spelt out the word ‘
WILD
' in vivid orange and black. Wild was Dave's little brother's tag, which he'd left all over Hockford, but this was his masterpiece, the one he always repainted if anyone went over it. I faced the wall, then turned around slowly, trying to pick out the lens of the hidden ZX-2. I knew where it was, hidden in an angle of the big cast-iron beams supporting the bridge, actually over the water and almost impossible to get at. It was also almost impossible to see, let alone recognise for what it was. Stephen spoke again.