Chapter 8

It was dark by the time Charlotte pulled into the staff car park behind Charlotte’s Secret. The security lamp next to the door came on and, by its light, she found the key. She threw her coat on one of the storage boxes and slowly slipped off her shoes.

“Ohhhh, that’s better. If I ever meet the man who invented stilettos, I swear, I’ll stab him in the eye with one.”

She fired up the computer and switched on the small television next to the desk. She made herself a cup of hot chocolate while she waited for the computer to start up. An American talk show was on the TV. A trailer-trash mother was confessing that she didn’t know which of her boyfriends was the father of her unborn child. The host, a greying middle-aged man, offered them a paternity test.

Charlotte sipped her chocolate and wondered why she hadn’t brought up Ben’s parentage with David. He was planning to wrestle custody from Susie. Not being his father wouldn’t just throw a spanner in the works, but a screwdriver, hammer and the rest of the toolbox too. He had to know, and she had to tell him. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. He cared about Ben too much—finding out he wasn’t his father would devastate him. Just like it devastated him when he found out she wasn’t pregnant.

Eight months before that fateful night of her thirtieth birthday, Charlotte’s period was a few days late. She confided in David and together they brought and used a pregnancy test. The result was positive. But when they went to the doctor, she insisted on another test to confirm the result. The second test was negative, and Charlotte’s period followed a few days later. It had all happened so fast. They’d both been so excited, but it had been torn from them. The doctor never even offered an explanation. It was the most difficult period their relationship had been through—apart from when Susie announced she was having David’s baby. That had been pretty difficult too.

There wasn’t anything of interest on any of the other channels, so Charlotte switched off the TV—she’d get more work done without its distraction anyway. It was the end of the shop’s financial year in a week’s time and she needed to check that the books were in order before her accountant audited them and prepared the tax return. Her accountant was a delightful lady with a blue-rinse haircut rapidly approaching retirement. David had recommended her after Susie had made it clear he couldn’t act for her anymore.

“We’ve had a good year. A very good year.” She said as she pursued the figures. She set to work but having never been one for figures, her mind soon wandered. She was back in the clearing, only this time she was on her knees in front of Mike instead of her sister.

“Oh, Mike. You have such a wonderful cock. A cock like this deserves to be worshipped. Let me worship it for you.”

She peeled back his foreskin. His cock leaked semen and she licked it way. Mike closed his eyes and moaned. Charlotte sucked the end of his cock into her mouth and wanked him with her hand. He moaned again. Her free hand found its way into her panties and searched out her clit. She wasn’t in control anymore.

Mike pushed her away and she fell onto her back. “You wanna talk about worship? I’ll show you what worship means.”

He bent down and licked her pussy through her panties. Charlotte moaned. “Oh, Mike. That’s so nice. Do it again.”

“Nice, huh?” He tore her panties apart at the gusset. Charlotte gasped—more expensive underwear ruined. She was completely exposed to him and Mike made the most of it. He attacked her pussy. He was as brutal with his tongue as Charlotte had seen him be with his cock. He licked and bit, sucked and blew. Charlotte squirmed beneath him but his strong hands held her tightly.

She could feel her orgasm build. It was close. So damn close. Then Mike stopped. He changed his position and rubbed his steely cock against her twat. She squirmed again, this time trying to get him inside her.

“You want it, then? After all you’ve said about me? What was it you called me? Moron, wasn’t it? I’ll show you who’s a moron.” He slammed into her hard and kept on slamming as Charlotte’s orgasm built again.

“Oh, yes. Harder! Faster! Give it to me, you bastard!” She screamed as her orgasm hit. How long it lasted, she didn’t know. She didn’t even know if Mike came or not.

When her orgasm subsided and she regained her senses, she was sitting at her desk with her skirt around her waist. She decided she had to learn to be less easily distracted. She looked at the clock on the computer and realised how late it was. The figures could wait. She needed to get home.