Butter Wouldn't Melt by Penny Birch Read Free Book Online

the four men as animals, which made the thought of handling their cocks easier to cope with. Andy was a rat; small, aggressive, with filthy habits and a bad attitude. Steve was a wolf, or maybe a hyena; sly, cunning, impressive in a way but thoroughly untrustworthy. Den was a dog, an urban mongrel; handsome enough but potentially vicious and utterly ignoble. Clive was a panda; fat and soft and a bit silly, but still powerful physically.
    There was really only one choice: Clive. The others simply couldn’t be trusted, but he seemed honourable, and he’d been the least brash when they were discussing who was going to have me. His comments on my body hadn’t been too bad either, because if AJ had told me I had an apple bottom I’d have been flattered. He also had the best odds, at 50–1, so perhaps I could even make a straight bargain with him and suck his cock. At three-quarter odds, and assuming I got him to put a hundred on and he let me keep the money, that would be £3,750, almost enough.
    I was still trying to work out just how much of my pride I’d be prepared to sacrifice when I heard the stairs creak. A moment later Mark James poked his head around the door.
    â€˜Hello. How are you getting on?’
    â€˜OK, thanks,’ I answered, ignoring my desire to throw something at his head.
    â€˜Fancy some lunch?’
    â€˜It’s only just after eleven o’clock.’
    â€˜Oh don’t worry about that. Only just now Maggie was saying what a fast little worker you are, and she won’t notice at all if we nip out of the back.’
    â€˜I didn’t even know there was a back way out.’
    â€˜There’s a lot you don’t know about this office,’ he said, and winked.
    That was as much as he knew, and I very nearly turned him down flat, only to reconsider. I didn’t want to do anything to arouse his suspicions, after all, and if I suddenly became unfriendly for no obvious reason, it might well do that. Turning down sexual advances was another matter, as surely even an arrogant bastard like him would have to accept that I just wasn’t interested. It might even be fun to string him along for a while, just for the satisfaction of turning him down.
    â€˜OK,’ I told him, using my best schoolgirl voice, ‘as long as you’re sure I won’t get into trouble.’
    â€˜That all depends what sort of trouble you mean,’ he answered.
    I gave him a blank look, pretending I didn’t understand.
    â€˜We’ll go to Champagne Charlie’s,’ he said. ‘It gets crowded, but we should be able to get a table at this time of day.’
    â€˜OK,’ I said, deciding to play the role of easily led little waif, which I was sure he’d accept.
    The top flight of stairs was so narrow we had to go down in single file, me following, and I caught the smug glance he gave to the men who were still in the Blockhouse. Andy returned a look of annoyance and said something to Steve, but I was past the door and didn’t catch it. The back door was at the end of a passage where the stairs started down towards Mr Prufrock’s retreat. As we passed I caught an odd sound, somewhere between a cough and a grunt, which conjured up an image of him lurking in the dark as he peered up between the banisters in an attempt to see up my skirt.
    With a friend I’d have shared the joke, but Mark didn’t need any encouragement to talk. He was completely full of words, and full of himself, chattingcasually about the skiing holiday he was planning in Val d’Isere and managing to subtly put down all four of his colleagues and Richard Montague as well before we’d even reached Champagne Charlie’s.
    It was a smart City bar, all chrome and pale, polished wood, with rank upon rank of bottles behind the counter, mostly champagne, but also other wines and spirits. There were several fridges as well, each with four tiers of bottles visible