My first day back at work was hard. The memory of the weekend on a loop in my brain. I would relive every detail of my time with them again and again, over and over. The imagery sometimes became so intense, like a flashback after some exotic hallucinogen.
I couldn't concentrate at work, was forever thinking about Josh or Becky, or them both together. At least twice I had to slip away from my desk and go over to the restroom to masturbate in a fruitless attempt to scratch the unappeasable sexual itch. I wanted to burn up all this accumulated erotic need, make space in my mind free of those deliciously obsessive memories.
My work stalled. I could hardly function.
And so I would stand in a stall and take off my skirt and hang it on the back of the door so as not to crease it. Standing upright, I'd tug down my tights and knickers — to my ankles — then I'd widen my legs as far as the underwear and hose allowed, finger myself to competition. I'd think about either Josh or Becky doing all those things to me in their unique way. Often it would be both them doing things to me in their combined, unique way. Sometimes it was hard to cum in silence. Restrooms do echo so.
After work, I decided to go and see Ian, sort it out once and for good. But as I sat in Becky's fiat 500, parked outside my house, nerves got the better of me. Before going inside I called Josh. He said I he would come over and that I should wait for him, "Just in case," he said.
But I said this was my shit, and I needed to sort it myself. I took a deep breath as I slipped my key in the latch.
Ian usually got home after me, so I had a half-hour to kill. When I went upstairs to get more of my stuff, I noticed the bed was still made up, which was strange as Ian never makes a bed after him. Apparently, he had not slept in it over the weekend.
I waited an hour. Still no Ian. I tried his phone. No reply. It was then I realised I was worried about him.
I phoned Josh.
"Tell me about the last time you saw Ian," I said.
"I already have?"
"Just — It doesn't look like he's been home this weekend. Did he say anything unusual."
"The guy was fuming, Cassie. I managed to talk him out of seeing you that night, said he should wait until he'd had time to think things over, to calm down."
"What was his reaction?"
"He said you would make sure you pay for treating him like this. Then he got in his car and drove away."
My mind was racing when I said, "Listen, Josh, I think I'm going to stay here until I see him. I need to get my life sorted. I can't hide away at yours, though you've both been so generous, what with the car and all."
"Cassie! Becky and I both love you to bits. We will do anything for you."
"But I have your car."
Hold onto it until you're straight . . . Okay?"
"Thanks."
Then his tone changed, became almost conspiratorial, "But can we meet up Wednesday? Becks and I need to arrange things for this weekend with you. You are to be our special guest."
"The weekend?"
"Hendrix's party."
"Oh, I don't know . . ."
"Listen, Cassie, Daddy will be very angry if you don't come."
Without thinking, I said, "Yes, Daddy, of course, I'll come."
After speaking to Josh, I telephoned Ian's Mum, Jean. She said Ian had texted to say he'd flown out to Spain on Sunday. She knew all about me walking out on him. I didn't say a couple I know had stolen me away from him. She called me a bitch, said she had warned Ian about me and was now glad he was shut of me.
I told her to fuck off. Now that felt good.
I went for a drink with the girls from work on Tuesday evening, Abbi's birthday. When Chloe from accounts started going on about her weekend with her boyfriend and how they had been to Alton Towers, I felt like saying none of those rides at the theme park would compare to the white-knuckle experience that had been my weekend.
The others were no better; talked about shopping, their kids, Carla's new car. The conversations bored me, and I found myself looking around the pub, studying people, trying to imagine their lives.
Lots of couples came and went, and I would pick one out and speculate if they had inclinations like Josh and Becky. I would look at an apparently loving couple and wonder if they hankered for a girl like me, one who would join them. And as I sat there I imagined being just what they wanted me to be.
I knew from past boyfriends, and especially after Josh and Becky, that many couples did or at least discussed taking another female into their marital bed. The majority probably never would get to act out their fantasy, but that still left a lot who would jump at the chance.
I sat with the chatter and laughter of my colleagues washing over me and began to slip into an almost sexual delirium, the memories of the weekend continuing to replay in my mind.
Then from the corner of my eye, a mid-twenties couple heading to the bar. She was tall and blonde, a lot like Becky in her ways; he not as handsome as Josh, but still, he had the air of a guy confident in his masculinity. They paid for drinks and took a seat just ten yards from where I sat among my colleagues.
Just then my phone pinged. A text from Josh's number, though my display inexplicably said, Daddy.
DADDY: Slave! Where are you now?
ME: The Pub, with the girls from work.
DADDY: Having fun?
ME: No! *sulky face*
DADDY: What are you thinking about?
ME: A lovely couple I know.
DADDY: Are any couples near you now?
ME: Some.
DADDY: Any as beautiful as Daddy and Darling Girl?
ME: No miracles here tonight, Daddy.
JOSH: None that you like, then?
ME: Not really.
Daddy: Maybe just a little?
ME: Maybe one couple.
JOSH: Send a picture?
ME: I'll try.
I get the shot and send it to him. A moment later.
DADDY: She looks like a bad girl.
ME: Do you think?.
DADDY: Absolutely!
I looked over at the couple again, focussing now on the female, seeing her sloe-eyed beauty, the sensuous self-ease she exuded as she moved through the world.
ME: I see what you mean.
DADDY: I want you to give them the come-on.
ME: How?
DADDY: Eye contact. Facial expression. Wink if you have to.
ME: I can't do that. I'm with friends.
DADDY: Daddy and Darling Girl will be so cross if you don't even try.
ME: I'll try.
DADDY: Report back with images.
The flare of my embarrassed flesh as I fixed my gaze on the couple, neither engaging each other; she texting, he watching pub life. They reminded me of myself and Ian when we were out together.
I felt so self-conscious looking. How to give out the right signal? I felt ridiculous, but neither noticed me. I reasoned to myself that their lack of conversation probably meant they had been an item for far too long, maybe at that point in their relationship where a threesome with a gorgeous young thing like me might be at the back of their minds. As I watched them, tried to glean something of their natures, I began to think, yes Cassie; they are just the kind of people who'd want to pamper a girl like you.
I eventually got the attention of the bloke, and a lingering eye exchange commenced. Yes, he was getting the message. But when his partner saw me, understood the nature of the looks I was giving her man, she pinned me with a gaze of such sexual laden intensity that it threw me off kilter. Our eyes snagged and I felt her rake my soul. Then I knew she'd got the message of my willingness to be whatever they wanted me to be. To leave her no doubt, I notched it up a level by giving her an outrageous wink.
She smiled, turned to her husband and then they both turned to me again. While I once more held his gaze, she jotted something down on the piece of paper she took from her bag. They drained their drinks as if to leave, but then he came over to where I sat, stooped down by my side and handed me the slip of paper, whispering in my ear, "Call us later. We're staying at the Metropolis." Then he joined his wife who was already on her way to the door.
I was dumbfounded. How easy was that? I looked at the digits neatly printed in blue ink; their names, Erika and Adam.
I texted Josh:
ME: They gave their number, names too.
DADDY: What are their names?
ME: Adam and Erika.
DADDY: You must call them.
ME: I'm horny, Daddy. Can't you come and fetch me instead? I want to be with you and Daring Girl, not two strangers.
DADDY: No, We have guests. Call Erika and Adam. Do it now.
ME: Yes, Daddy.
***********************************************************
What kind of girl was I becoming? Last week, if someone had said to me that next Tuesday you will be debating with yourself whether to go to a strange couple's hotel room, I'd have called them insane.
But then this time last week I did not have a Daddy.