When Katie Made A Deal

Author's note: When I started this story a long time ago, it consisted mostly of the explicit sexual scenes at the end. As I worked on it more recently, I found myself expanding the more subtle interactions that precede those final scenes, to the extent that I now wonder whether the balance has shifted too much towards that preamble. Anyway, I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it.

*******

Around two o'clock on the afternoon of her nineteenth birthday, Katie was bored. She perched on the arm of her Dad's favourite chair and gazed out of the window at the quiet street where she had grown up. The house was on a T junction so Katie could look straight down a stretch of road for about a hundred yards, past the neat front gardens, to where the street curved out of sight. Nothing moved in the sunshine. The whole street seemed to be taking a summer afternoon nap.

It was strange being home for the summer after her first year at University. This familiar world seemed small and limiting now. In her English Literature class she had studied Philip Larkin, and his line, "Home is so sad. It stays as it was left," seemed very apt to her now. And it was sweet of her Dad to promise her a birthday barbecue that evening, but her heart was not in it. She felt she barely knew the neighbours and old classmates whom Dad would invite.

Katie thought about the previous weekend, just after the last end-of-year exam, and the start of the heatwave. Sunbathing with her best friend Beth on the flat roof at the back of their shared apartment. Drinking chilled white wine, daring to go topless, almost certain nobody could see them, while perhaps hoping that someone might. She wondered what Beth was doing. Probably having sex, or about to have sex, or maybe she'd just finished having sex. Beth's phenomenally active sex life rather threw a spotlight on the continuing existence of Katie's virginity, which she had hoped to rid herself of at University. In the strictest physical sense, she had, of course, taken care of it herself in a drunken and rather uncomfortable experiment with a hairbrush handle. But that wasn't really the point. She thought back to that afternoon on the roof with Beth.

****

One week earlier ...

"Kate, babes, it's nothing to worry about. It'll happen for you. You are fucking gorgeous, girl, look at you. It's no big deal anyway. It's only sex. If you want to sort yourself out quickly, what about that guy David in your English class? He seems sweet and he obviously fancies you. You could do worse."

"Beth, you say it's 'only' sex because you get so much of it," Katie replied half humorously. "I dunno, maybe I am making too big a deal out of it but surely I'm missing something. I really like David as a friend. I'm afraid sex would spoil that. And anyway I wouldn't know what to do, the longer it goes on the more obvious it will be how inexperienced I am if someone ever does want me."

They lay on the flat roof in their bikini briefs, enjoying the sun's warmth on their naked breasts. The physical contrast was almost comical. Katie delicate, petite, blonde; Beth heavy and voluptuous with thick black curls. In six months of sharing a flat with Beth, Katie had been at first astonished and then amused by the number and variety of Beth's conquests, who would usually appear in the shared kitchen the morning after a busy night, looking for coffee. Off hand, Katie recalled meeting Tom, Richard, Other Richard, Mateusz, Stuart, Sanjeev, Chris, Jean-Baptiste, Tom again, this time accompanied by Eddy, and a startled-looking blonde called Caroline. And at least as many again whose names she had never known.

"I mean, Beth, who will want some hung-up little virgin like me, when there are women like you out there who are so ..."

"So ... what, Katie? So horny? So depraved? Honestly babe, I just enjoy sex but I don't do anything special, it's not like I'm ultra kinky or anything. I just suck and fuck, babe, honest." Beth's Welsh accent grew more pronounced as she warmed to her theme and to the wine. "You know, a lot of guys don't like anything too advanced anyway. I offered to wear some nice lingerie for Stuart and he said no. And a couple of them didn't even want me to go on top. All pretty basic."

For a second Katie conjured an image of Beth straddling and riding one of her skinny college boys, her monumental breasts swaying above his terrified face. She smiled, but the sadness at her own lack of a sex life reasserted itself very quickly. Sighing, she turned to lie on her front, propped up on her elbows with her chin in her hands. The sun felt good on the nape of her neck, newly exposed since the daringly short haircut she had finally decided on a week ago. Beth sensed her friend's disquiet and turned to mirror her position, Sphinx-like. Her huge bosom rested heavily on the beach towel under her.

"Katie, this is really getting to you, isn't it, babe?"

"Yes ... no ... oh I don't know. It just feels like part of life is missing, you know? I'm sorry to moan, Beth, you must find me really boring company."

"Bollocks, my dear, with all due respect. I love you dearly, Katie, but you don't half talk some nonsense sometimes. You know what you need, apart from the horribly obvious?"

"What?"

"Dr Beth Jones's Sexual Counselling Service - at your, er, service, Miss Bishop!"

"Oh leave it, Beth, please ..."

"I'm serious, hon, we talk about this stuff but we never talk about it properly, you know? And I can see you're unhappy and I care about you ... no, seriously, Kate, I do. We're both going home for the summer tomorrow and I don't want to leave you like this. So let's fucking talk about it, yeah?"

Even after being so close to Beth all year, Katie could not always distinguish her mock anger from real impatience. She found it was usually best just to play along, once Beth had the bit between her teeth. "OK, OK. So what does Dr Jones advise?"

Beth pushed her sunglasses to the end of her nose and looked over them at Katie. She put on a pompous, pedantic tone. "Miss Bishop, do you find you are able to become physically aroused, and even attain climax, under self-administered manual stimulation?"

Katie laughed. "Yes, Dr Jones, I have attained climax under self-administered manual stimulation on average at least once every day since about the age of fourteen. In fact I find I become rather readily aroused and reach climax relatively quickly." Katie's nipples puckered slightly, as if to emphasise what she had just said.

"That is very encouraging, Miss Bishop, it means you are not in any way lacking in libido. Now it is a question of finding your sexual focus. When administering manual stimulation to yourself, what thoughts or images do you bring into your mind?"

Katie was silent for a second, then answered in a low, serious voice, "Fucking hell, Beth, that's it. You've got it. I don't know what it is that turns me on. I have given myself hundreds of orgasms but I don't have pictures or stories in my head when I do it. What do you think about?"

In her own voice again, Beth replied, "Well, my last half decent shag mostly. Or some other highlight. But really graphic, visual, you know? I'm trying to remember what I thought about before I'd ever had sex. Imagined stuff, I suppose, but still very specific and visual, some guy at school or whatever. You don't?"

"No, no I don't. I've tried looking at porn but I find it really boring. I mean with me there is something I think about but it's ... I don't know ... kind of hidden, unreachable. I don't really know what it is."

"You baffle me, Miss Bishop. Seriously, Katie babe, this is deep stuff."

Katie continued, seemingly fascinating herself with what she was saying, "Whatever it is, I have not met it yet. But it arouses me intensely. And I do know that it is male, and very much stronger than I am, and that what gets me off is giving myself up to this ... this thing, this masculine power."

As she spoke, Katie could feel herself getting turned on, pushed her pubis gently down into the towel. The sun went behind a cloud. Katie very much needed to touch herself now. Beth read the situation perfectly. "A nameless, numinous, overpowering masculine force turning our little Katie on and getting her off, eh? Fair enough, babe. And there's boring Beth, just thinking about cocks. Now who's the kinky one? Listen babe, we're out of wine. I think we each need a little bit of a lie down in our own rooms, am I right?" She winked lasciviously. Katie burst out laughing. She picked up her towel, climbed back into the flat through the large window, closed her bedroom door behind her, lay on the bed and began to play with her nipples.

***

In the living room at home a week later, her recollections were arousing Katie again. She shifted slightly on the arm of the chair so that the seam of her tight jeans sat just right in her crotch, and squeezed her thighs together gently. Ever since the conversation with Beth, ever since she had tried to put into words her formless desires, Katie's sex drive, always strong, had become overwhelming. She wanted to go into her room and make herself come, but the thought that Dad might be home soon stopped her. Rationally, she knew he must realise that his adult daughter was a sexual being, but it never felt right masturbating at home during the day if he was around. "Male ... stronger than I am ... what gets me off is giving myself up ..." her words to Beth went round in her head . A movement caught her eye, through the window. A man was walking along the street in the direction of her house.

As he got closer, she realised it was Mr Roberts, her Dad's boss, almost unrecognisable in a grey t-shirt, faded jeans and sandals instead of his usual business suit. He walked purposefully. Surely he would not be coming here? He had never come to the house before. As he got to the T junction Katie waited for him to turn left or right. He did neither. Shit shit shit, she thought, he is on his way here.

Katie sprang up from the chair and stood in front of the full length mirror in the front hallway. She knew it could only be a few seconds before Mr Roberts rang the bell, but in that time she checked herself out very thoroughly. Barefoot on the laminated wood floor. Blonde hair in a short pixie cut, flattering her delicate features. A startling, yellowy blonde - nobody would believe it was natural, which it was, until they noticed that her eyebrows and eyelashes were only a shade darker. Big, dark blue eyes. No make-up, no jewellery. Clear skin, a golden tan. Tight white t-shirt on her slender torso. No bra. Very, very obviously no bra. Not that her small, high breasts needed the support, but the t-shirt clung to them and highlighted the fact that her nipples were noticeably large and prominent. The fine downy hairs on her arms were shimmering and translucent. Tight, dark blue skinny jeans. She turned her back on the mirror and looked over her shoulder at it. Although she was very slim, there was a feminine flare to her hips, and the jeans showed off her high, rounded buttocks to good advantage. "Bum like a fucking lap dancer, babe," Beth had once said. Katie heard footsteps crunching the gravel of the driveway. She repeated to herself again and again what Beth had said on the roof: "You are fucking gorgeous, girl ... you are fucking gorgeous, girl ... fucking gorgeous, girl ... fucking gorgeous fucking gorgeous fucking ..."

The doorbell rang. Katie took a deep breath in and out, and opened the door. "Hello Mr Roberts, what can I do for you?" He took his sunglasses off and squinted slightly as he looked from the sunlit doorstep into the shade of the house. He spoke in a soft, calm voice.

"Oh hello, Katie. Is your father home? I need to speak to him. It's important."

Katie, to her own fury, began to babble straight away. "Oh, ah, no, Mr Roberts, I'm sorry. He's in town, buying some stuff for a barbecue this evening ... it's my birthday actually ... er ... yes ... actually he said he might meet up with some of the guys from work in a pub as well, there's some football on TV or something, I don't know, actually I didn't think they played football in summer ... maybe it's from abroad or something, or actually cricket or tennis or something ... anyway, yes, actually he's in town and he should be back a bit later, I think. Have you called his mobile at all?" She blushed very deeply, feeling silly and girlish.

"Thank you Katie. I really would prefer to speak to your father in person. Perhaps I should come back later. Thank you, anyway. And happy birthday." He put his sunglasses on and began to turn away.

"Er, Mr Roberts, actually, I could call him and ask him to hurry back if you would like to wait. Would you like to come in? I'll just get my phone." Mr Roberts took his sunglasses off again and stepped into the hallway. Blushing insanely, Katie rushed to get her phone from the coffee table, muttering inwardly, "Fuck's sake, Katie, get a fucking grip, girl, and at least stop saying fucking 'actually' every other fucking word. You're a fucking English student." Another deep breath, and she walked, deliberately slowly and calmly, back to the hall as she dialled her father's number. She gave Mr Roberts what she hoped was a pleasant, relaxed smile. Then heard her father's phone ringing in the kitchen. "Oh no, I am sorry, Mr Roberts, he's left his phone behind. I don't know what to suggest. I mean, you are very welcome to wait here for him but I really don't know when he'll be back."

"Thank you Katie." He paused. "The thing is, I have another commitment myself later this afternoon ... let me think for a moment."

"Er, is there anything I can do to help, Mr Roberts, or ... er ... would you like a drink ... or anything?"

"No thank you, Katie. Ah ... Katie - may I speak to you frankly? I think you should be aware of the situation."

"Oh of course, Mr Roberts, please come in and sit down." She led him into the living room. He sat on the chair where she had perched before. She was scared now. She sat on the sofa.

"Katie, there is no easy way of saying this." He fixed her with a steady gaze of his very beautiful, slightly sad, green eyes. His voice remained soft. "I can't afford to keep your father on at work. I have tried and tried to find a way to make ends meet, but his work has been so poor for months now that he's costing the business. Head Office are asking questions. I've got younger guys on the way up who could do his job and more. I'm sorry. Your father's a good man; I have great personal respect for him. But these days he is a liability to my own livelihood."

Tears started in Katie's eyes. No way had she expected this. Dad had always seemed so upbeat about work, full of happy anecdotes about his colleagues, never short of money when she needed help. Business was good, he had always told her. "Mr Roberts ... I can't take this in. Oh God, I am sorry. Mr Roberts, this will destroy him. He loves that job. Since Mum left, it's been his life, and now I'm away at Uni it matters even more. He has nothing else ..." She sobbed. Mr Roberts looked impassive, neither sympathetic nor hostile. "I mean, is there anything I can do to help?" she continued through her tears. "I'm home all summer, could I maybe help him at work, get him back on track?"

"Katie, that is very good of you. You're a good daughter to your Dad. But that's not the way things work. There are all kinds of reasons - legal, insurance - why I can't just take you on as casual assistance in the summer. And before you say it, I don't think you should give up your studies for this. I've heard you are doing well at college. You need to look after yourself as well as him."

Katie dabbed her eyes dry with a tissue. She felt shaky, vulnerable. Her preening before the mirror seemed ridiculous now. She tried to rally herself. "Excuse me for a moment, Mr Roberts." She went into the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water, brought her breathing back under control. Come on. Fucking gorgeous, girl.

There was only one thing that could happen next.

She went back into the living room to find that Mr Roberts was standing, looking out of the window. He turned as she came in, silhouetted against the sunlight. "Are you all right, Katie?"

She looked at him. He was a bit younger than her father - mid thirties, probably - and while, like Dad, of medium height and build, somehow seemed stronger, more of a presence in the room than Dad ever was. "Yes, I'm fine, Mr Roberts. I'm sorry I got upset. Mr Roberts ..."

"Yes Katie?"

"Mr Roberts ... when I asked just now if there was anything I could do to help Dad keep his job, I meant anything. Really, absolutely anything."

There was complete silence for several seconds. "You didn't mean it when you first said it, Katie, but you do now, I understand that. You will do absolutely anything to save your father's job. Anything I ask you to."

"Yes, I will."

Another long silence. "Katie," he said, still in that low, soft voice, "I will make a deal with you. This is how it works. From this moment onwards, while I am in your house today, you will do absolutely everything I tell you to do, immediately and without question. I will ask you questions and you will answer them truthfully. I will give you instructions and you will follow them precisely. I will decide how long this arrangement lasts. If you keep to it, I will do everything in my power to save your father's job. If you do not, he is unemployed as of Monday. Do we have a deal, Katie?"

Katie's head swam. She heard her own voice as if from a distance saying "Yes, Mr Roberts, it's a deal." Her stomach churned with apprehension at the same time as she began to feel her arousal returning.

"Good girl. Stand still in the middle of the room. Just there." He walked slowly around her as if viewing a sculpture at an exhibition. "Your father is very proud of you, Katie."

"Thank you, sir." He had not told her to address him as "sir" but it came naturally to her, and he did not correct her.

"He talks about his wonderful daughter all the time at work. When you were younger we heard all about the school orchestra, the gymnastics team, the poetry prize. Now we hear what a brilliant student you are, the commendations from your tutors, the stellar exam results. How you are making friends and everyone loves you. But we never hear about a boyfriend. There has never been a boyfriend, has there, Katie?"

"No, sir."

"Which seems strange, because you are an exceptionally beautiful young woman as well as being intelligent and charming. Fucking gorgeous, in fact, as the men at work said when your father passed round the photos from your eighteenth birthday party."

"Thank you sir." The echo of Beth's pep talk made her catch her breath.

"Take your t shirt off, Katie. Remember our deal."

"Sir, I'm not wearing ..."

"Not wearing a bra. I can see. It's very obvious and you know it. I mean, it's fair enough, you have small and very firm breasts so there is little need for support. And you also know perfectly well that you have noticeably long, thick nipples. You enjoy people noticing them, don't you, Katie, perhaps even making them embarrassed at how blatantly you show them off? I can imagine you in a tutorial at college, innocently presenting a careful, erudite analysis of some poem, secretly enjoying the fact that all the men in the room can't stop staring at those amazing nipples. Am I right? Tell the truth, remember."

"Yes sir." Deep inside her there was a warm heaviness of arousal.

"Good girl. Now take your t shirt off and stand with your hands at your sides."

She did as she was told. He carried on walking around her. "Nice tan. So you went topless, I like that. Was anyone watching?"

"I don't know, sir. I don't think so."

"But you would not have minded too much if someone was, I expect." She nodded. "Were you on your own, Katie?"