The Party.
Ms. Grey finally completed the purchase of the shop and the day she was to receive the keys happened to coincide with my 19th birthday. As a way of celebration, she had decided to throw a party. Existing and prospective new clients were to be invited, I should have been delighted that she thought highly enough of me, to throw such a bash, but in reality, the thought of it, filled me with dread. You see over the last few months, I realised, it was not my handyman skills the women were interested in, instead it was the tool in my trousers that got them excited. I am not bragging when I say "I have bedded most of my female clients." In fact, I had even enjoyed a 3some with Joanne and Becky, the twin lesbians. The thought of these women, all being in the same room, at the same time and their alcohol induced conversations, made my toes curl. Despite all my protestations, Ms. Grey pointed out that she was my employer and if I wished to remain within her group, I will be attending the evening.
So it was with some trepidation, that I entered he room that had been hired for the night, it was packed, most of the women I knew, but there were many others, I had yet to meet. Also what tickled me, was that many had brought their partners with them and quite openly introduced me as their prurient handyman, a term I did not understand, but a phrase that was repeated often that evening.
One woman, Jennifer, made a point of introducing me to her husband, saying,
"Darling, this is Shaun, the young man who has kept me off your back and me totally on mine"
What the fuck did she just say?
He held out his hand and when he shook mine held it in a grip so hard, it hurt.
"Well young man, all I have to say is, thank you, Jennifer has been nagging me for months to get the bed sorted. Nag, nag, nag. Now she leaves me alone."
Phew! I thought he knew about me and his wife.
"She is quite a moan bag, when she starts." He added
I knew damn well she was a moaner, especially when I was buried balls deep inside her.
Ms. Grey ushered me away and introduced me to a woman named Val, saying,
" I have promised her a slow dance with you later in the evening."
From experience, this was not a request but an order.
If I was to describe Val, the only words I could use was plain. Someone you would pass in the street without giving a second glance at. Mid to late forties, dyed brown hair, a pretty face but masked with large glasses. Her dress sense designed to hide whatever figure lay beneath.
"It will be my pleasure to escort you onto the dance floor" I replied.
The rest of the night I spent my time mingling with the assembled guests, I lost count how many times I had my bum squeezed, naughty words whispered in my ears, invitations to fuck.
Towards the end of the night, the lights dimmed and the music slowed. I was aware of what was expected of me, so I made my way over to Val, offering her my hand,
