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I found him in one of his workshop barns with ear defenders on, none the wiser of the text announcing my impending visit.
“Jay, always nice to see you, stranger.” He slapped my elbow. “What you doing up these parts?”
“Thought the Range could do with a country run.”
“Liar,” he grinned. “What’s the problem? April bitch nipping at your pissing ankles again? I saw the pictures of that stuffy ball last night, very dapper.” He tousled my shower-damp hair. “This has fucking grown some. What you aiming for? Shampoo sponsorship, pretty boy?”
“Hardly.”
“Get your fucking agent onto it, make him earn his slice.”
I cut the crap. “I need to talk.”
Steve perched himself on a workbench and I took the one opposite. “Shit, man, sure.”
“Things are fucked up.”
“Aren’t they always? This about April or something else?”
“Something else.”
“Does this something else have a pussy?”
I smiled. “Sure fucking hope so. Her name’s Lucy. I think.”
“You think?” he raised a brow. “Jesus, man. You got some chick knocked up or some shit?”
I braced myself for ridicule, preparing to say the words out loud. “Fuck no. I’ve never even seen her. She’s a chatline girl.”
Steve laughed, an easy, good-natured one. “She’s probably a moose, you do know that, right? The fit ones do webcam, more money in it.”
“This girl’s different. She’s my kind of dirty. She’s bad. I don’t think I’d even fucking care if she’s a moose, I’d fuck her anyway.”
I don’t know who was more surprised, Steve or me, but at least I had his attention.
He switched his sander off at the mains.
“I think you’d better take this from the top…”
***
Jason
I confessed all. Everything from the sorry night it started, when April had hit the town in the hope of getting her face in the papers with the other Cherry Electric girls, and I’d found myself home alone with gape porn on the TV; my cock in one hand, phone in the other. I told him how I’d been just another desperate caller, and she’d been just a voice, another girl pretending to finger her snatch until I shot my load. But there was something different about her. She listened to all the filthy things I wanted, all the filthy ways I’d watch other men fuck her up, and then she’d played for real. I could hear it in her breath, in the low little moans she made as she came for me. There were no dramatics; no wailing, shrieking, porno-style orgasms, only a confession of her own. Lucy wants to be taken by men she doesn’t know, men who’ll fuck her until she’s an aching wreck, until she can’t take any more, until they’ve used every hole and left her wide and gaping and stretched fucking raw. Lucy told me her dirty little secret, and she became mine. Every. Fucking. Night.
Steve nodded all the while I spoke, no judgement, no surprise.
“So, where’s this going? You gonna fuck this chick, or what?”
I leaned back against the workbench. “Hope so.”
“Dangerous game you’re playing, mate. If the papers get a sniff...”
“She’ll be blindfolded, won’t even see me.”
“Even so,” he said. “Hope you remember the last time. Weren’t pretty.”
“Like I could forget.” My insides crawled at the thought, the weeks holed up at home, phone off the hook while the media bayed for blood. The humiliating meetings with the PR execs and the big-arsed cheques leaving my bank account for the pleasure. “Lucy isn’t like that bitch, Steve. Lucy thinks I’m a guy with a haulage company or some shit, just some regular guy who wants to fuck. It’s all about the fantasy, but she’sreal.”
