The Boss Read Online Free Page B

the edge of orgasm, but I took a last moment to strip myself, pushing down my knickers under my skirt and hauling my blouse and bra high to bare my breasts. That felt good, and as I began to touch again my mind focused on how he’d look in a similar dishevelled state, with his smart business suit still on, but with his cock and balls sticking out from his fly, huge and virile, ready for my mouth as I was ordered onto my knees to suck him.
    I held the image as I came, my eyes tight shut, my body locked in ecstasy, clinging onto the moment for as long as I possibly could before slumping back on the bed with my mouth set in a wry smile for my own dirty behaviour.

2
    STEVE BEGAN TO pick up speed as he pulled the van onto the M11, finding a gap in the traffic and drawing out into the middle lane before he spoke again.
    â€˜Remember, we’re getting married and we need the booze for our wedding.’
    â€˜Yeah, yeah, yeah.’
    â€˜Fizz, get serious, will you? I’ve got a lot of money in this.’
    â€˜Yes, but, Steve, what if we get the same officer as last time, or the time before? Isn’t he going to think it’s a bit weird us getting married so often?’
    â€˜Nah, they get thousands of people coming over every day. They won’t remember us. Anyway, you look well different. What did you go and do that to your hair for?’
    â€˜Mum made me change it, so I’d look respectable for a job interview.’
    â€˜A job interview? What d’you want a job for? I pay you something, don’t I, and what with your social and Rubber Dollies.’
    â€˜That’s not a lot, Steve, especially as the Dog and Duck are refusing to pay us because the council are on their backs. They’ve banned us too. I don’t want the job anyway. I only went along to keep Mum happy.’
    â€˜Do you reckon you’ll get it?’
    â€˜No. We’re going to have to watch it though. They were these new people on the Hereward Trading Estateand they’re trying to sell this security system to the council, hi-tech cameras, the works, and this program that records people’s faces.’
    â€˜Nosy bastards! Still, I’ve got nothing to worry about.’
    â€˜No? What about when you make deliveries?’
    â€˜How do they know the stuff doesn’t all come from the cash and carry?’
    â€˜Maybe, but keep an eye out anyway.’
    â€˜I will, thanks for the heads up.’
    He’d pulled out to overtake a pair of lorries and I didn’t answer, but settled down in my seat to watch the traffic and the fields beyond, with the perspective on a line of pylons slowly shifting as we moved beside and then beneath them. I always like to get out of town. It makes me feel free, or at least less trapped. I thought of how it would be working in an office, the same routine each day, the same places and the same faces, deadly dull, and obviously Stephen English wouldn’t prove to be the dirty bastard of my fantasy but just another boring suit. I was best off out of it.
    I began to flick through Steve’s CDs, choosing Radio-head as the best of his somewhat motley and mainly 90s collection. He immediately began to sing along, his cement-mixer voice destroying all chance of my losing myself in the song. I didn’t say anything, knowing that to let him realise he was being annoying would only make him worse. Finally he broke off to voice his opinion of an old blue Ford doing sixty in the middle lane and didn’t start up again, leaving me to enjoy the journey.
    Booze cruises are fun, especially if it’s not your money that’s at stake. I love the thrill of getting one over on the bastards, and that’s what they are. Imagine taking a job where the main thing you do is make lifeunpleasant for other people? It’s the same with traffic wardens and wheel-clamping firms and all the other little Hitlers. I don’t know how they live with themselves.
    The law