accent, but he did have to lower the register a tad.
‘Shields.’ He smirked. ‘Sean Shields.’
I put one hand on my hip and smirked back, trying for sultry although I probably resembled Forrest Gump after his trans-national marathon. ‘Guess that makes me Pussy Galore.’
‘Damn right it does.’ He was trying hard to keep the suave expression, but his mouth kept lifting at one side. The smile was infectious. I’d also failed to remember how much fun he was, and his remarkable enthusiasm, and facility, for oral sex. I couldn’t believe that just a few moments before I’d actually been disappointed he wasn’t Alex.
I switched from Pussy G to Dr No. Or maybe it was Dr Evil. Either way, the German accent I spouted sounded pretty hammy. ‘So, Mr Shields, we meet again. From where did you appropriate the limousine?’
‘Commandeered it for my mission.’
‘Which is?’
‘Get in the back seat and you’ll find out.’ He clicked open the door.
chapter eight
M onday morning I was stuck in traffic on Punt Road, heading north to Nick’s place in Abbotsford. I’d tried to call him to make sure he was still up for the ride-along, but he hadn’t answered his phone that morning or the day before. I was pretty annoyed and could have just gone about my business without him, but he’d advanced me quite a large sum which I really didn’t want to give back. I figured if I fronted up regardless, I’d have fulfilled my part of the bargain and the money was mine to keep.
To tell the truth I was hoping he wouldn’t want to come. It would be awkward after witnessing his scene at the writers’ festival, and I didn’t want to dick around. My plan was to finish the job in record time, type the report, attach the photos, then hurry back to Sean. I kept remembering the day before and getting little aftershocks when I thought about his tongue on my clit and his cock in my pussy, the two of us tussling in the back of the limo among plastic-wrapped hire suits and boxed corsages. At first I’d protested—I hadn’t had time to preen myself and I was too sweaty and hairy to fool around—but Sean had insisted he’d take me any which way, and after a few seconds I wouldn’t have cared if I had ten centimetres of regrowth and a bush down to my knees.
Later, after the wedding, he’d staggered back to my place and we’d done it all over again, my carefully blow-dried hair turning into a bird’s nest once more. Being pissed, he spilled his guts, confessed how much he’d missed me and how bad he felt about not being there when all the hideous shit with my mum went down in Sydney. I’d told him to shut up, it wasn’t his fault and he had nothing to feel guilty about. Then he’d asked if he could stay a few days. Curtis was still subletting his place and couldn’t find anywhere else to rent, so I said sure. It was only for a little while, and he promised to cook and clean and provide sex on tap.
I’d also managed to get some goss on the wedding. Sean knew I’d unintentionally shown up at the bachelor party, but not about Alex following me into the toilets. I’d been worried Alex’s scumbag cousin would spill the beans, but Sean’s face hadn’t betrayed any trace of suspicion as he told me about the day.
Apparently the ceremony had gone ahead without a hitch, but Alex had gotten really smashed at the reception, and Sean and some other groomsmen had to hustle him out of there and put him to bed. He couldn’t have had much of a wedding night. The strange sense of disappointment I’d felt on hearing the ceremony had gone ahead turned into an evil kind of satisfaction. It was sick, but I couldn’t help myself.
I drove my boring, sensible Ford Laser past Nick’s place. The entrance wasn’t much to look at, just a high wall with a garage and a door, but I guessed the rest would be pretty posh. The street was in an upmarket part of Abbotsford, and one side was crammed with renovated terraces and converted
‘Shields.’ He smirked. ‘Sean Shields.’
I put one hand on my hip and smirked back, trying for sultry although I probably resembled Forrest Gump after his trans-national marathon. ‘Guess that makes me Pussy Galore.’
‘Damn right it does.’ He was trying hard to keep the suave expression, but his mouth kept lifting at one side. The smile was infectious. I’d also failed to remember how much fun he was, and his remarkable enthusiasm, and facility, for oral sex. I couldn’t believe that just a few moments before I’d actually been disappointed he wasn’t Alex.
I switched from Pussy G to Dr No. Or maybe it was Dr Evil. Either way, the German accent I spouted sounded pretty hammy. ‘So, Mr Shields, we meet again. From where did you appropriate the limousine?’
‘Commandeered it for my mission.’
‘Which is?’
‘Get in the back seat and you’ll find out.’ He clicked open the door.
chapter eight
M onday morning I was stuck in traffic on Punt Road, heading north to Nick’s place in Abbotsford. I’d tried to call him to make sure he was still up for the ride-along, but he hadn’t answered his phone that morning or the day before. I was pretty annoyed and could have just gone about my business without him, but he’d advanced me quite a large sum which I really didn’t want to give back. I figured if I fronted up regardless, I’d have fulfilled my part of the bargain and the money was mine to keep.
To tell the truth I was hoping he wouldn’t want to come. It would be awkward after witnessing his scene at the writers’ festival, and I didn’t want to dick around. My plan was to finish the job in record time, type the report, attach the photos, then hurry back to Sean. I kept remembering the day before and getting little aftershocks when I thought about his tongue on my clit and his cock in my pussy, the two of us tussling in the back of the limo among plastic-wrapped hire suits and boxed corsages. At first I’d protested—I hadn’t had time to preen myself and I was too sweaty and hairy to fool around—but Sean had insisted he’d take me any which way, and after a few seconds I wouldn’t have cared if I had ten centimetres of regrowth and a bush down to my knees.
Later, after the wedding, he’d staggered back to my place and we’d done it all over again, my carefully blow-dried hair turning into a bird’s nest once more. Being pissed, he spilled his guts, confessed how much he’d missed me and how bad he felt about not being there when all the hideous shit with my mum went down in Sydney. I’d told him to shut up, it wasn’t his fault and he had nothing to feel guilty about. Then he’d asked if he could stay a few days. Curtis was still subletting his place and couldn’t find anywhere else to rent, so I said sure. It was only for a little while, and he promised to cook and clean and provide sex on tap.
I’d also managed to get some goss on the wedding. Sean knew I’d unintentionally shown up at the bachelor party, but not about Alex following me into the toilets. I’d been worried Alex’s scumbag cousin would spill the beans, but Sean’s face hadn’t betrayed any trace of suspicion as he told me about the day.
Apparently the ceremony had gone ahead without a hitch, but Alex had gotten really smashed at the reception, and Sean and some other groomsmen had to hustle him out of there and put him to bed. He couldn’t have had much of a wedding night. The strange sense of disappointment I’d felt on hearing the ceremony had gone ahead turned into an evil kind of satisfaction. It was sick, but I couldn’t help myself.
I drove my boring, sensible Ford Laser past Nick’s place. The entrance wasn’t much to look at, just a high wall with a garage and a door, but I guessed the rest would be pretty posh. The street was in an upmarket part of Abbotsford, and one side was crammed with renovated terraces and converted
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