Matt pulled his dick out of her mouth, rubbing it back and forth slowly to keep it up. He stood aside slightly, making way for Rick. She leaned forward, her mouth open wide, eager to take him, but he pushed her back slightly and dragged her top down around her waist, revealing her tits. They were full and wide, much like her face, and she ran her hands over them suggestively.

Rick and Matt started tossing themselves frantically, and she cupped her tits in her hands like udders. They surged forward, crouching, and she pushed them into their hungry mouths, as they suckled, more like piglets than grown men. She tipped her head back and sighed contentedly, the sound of their slurping echoing around the empty car park.

‘Show us what else you’ve got,’ said Matt, coming up for air. ‘Come on, Fliss, show us your pussy.’

He got up and stood back, Rick following his lead unwillingly. Every man there was watching her intently, playing with themselves like schoolboys. She looked around them with a knowing smile. She pushed open the car door, giggling unattractively, and turned until her legs were sticking out of the car door. She was wearing a black miniskirt – no surprise there - with high heels to match, and the legs that linked them were long and tapered. Something to remember her mother by, at least.

She looked around the guys, as if daring them to will her on, and they were only too happy to oblige. She’d primed them well, and her looks didn’t come into it now. They all had stellar appetites. It was another of the reasons they got this particular perk.

‘Oh yeah, Fliss.’ Rick was rubbing his cock for England. He sounded breathless. ‘Come on, gorgeous, spread those legs for me.’

She played the tease for a few seconds, parting her thighs slightly, before snapping them shut with that irritating giggle.

‘Come on, Flissie,’ he coaxed. ‘Spread 'em for us, baby. Let’s see what you’ve got.’

She leaned back across the seat, wriggling her skirt up to join her top around her waist, and opened her legs wide. ‘Who’s going to do the honours?’ She pulled her bare pussy apart with her fingers. ‘Who’s going to eat me all up?’

Nine

The phone and the buzzer were going constantly. After a couple of hours, Frank, one of the concierges, came up and knocked timidly at the door.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Anderton,’ he said, running his hand over his brow. He was usually cheerful and chatty. Now, he just looked harassed. ‘It’s the reporters. They won’t go away. I’ve rung the police, but…’ He tailed off with a look of defeat.

‘Is…is there nothing you can do?’ I tried to keep the wobble from my voice.

‘I could disconnect the buzzer,’ he said. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘Yes,’ I managed. ‘Yes, Frank. Thank you.’

He nodded, and backed away, a pitying look in his eye.

I shut the door, and put my back to it, feeling hunted.

I wandered around the flat, wondering what to do. Eventually, I forced myself to sit in front of the TV. I turned it on, and tuned it to a channel. I can’t even remember which. It was pointless, anyway. I just didn’t have the concentration to spare, and I was so terrified the news would come on, and me with it, that I couldn’t sit still.

The phone rang and rang. The few times I answered it, it was some newspaper or other, after a story. In the end, I pulled the cord out of the wall and when my mobile went flat, I didn’t bother charging it.

I tried to eat, but I couldn’t face it, and I still couldn’t stop shaking. Surely I should have calmed down by now, I thought, but my brain had forgotten to tell my body. I had stomach cramps all evening; short, sharp bursts of pain that got worse and sharper and more dagger-like until I thought I’d die, then wore off and I’d need the bathroom. Then the whole thing began again. By the time they finally ended, I didn’t have a thing left inside me, I was sure.

I paced the flat again, pausing a couple of times to look out at the reflections of sunset in the river. It was probably beautiful. I know, at another time, I would’ve thought so, but now I just looked. I didn’t feel anything.

I paced some more, before wandering aimlessly into our room, and collapsing on the bed. Lying there, I decided to distract myself with the one thing that always worked, and allowed my hand to wander just as aimlessly down towards my clit.

I let out a sigh of relief. That feeling; that sudden blossoming of sensation that came from the nerves rather than the emotions, brought with it the promise of an immediate – if transitory - escape. I placed my fingers lightly over the apex of my folds, and began to massage myself, gently at first, then more insistently. As my fingers worked their rhythmic magic, teasing and arousing my clit, my body began to relax, for the first time that day. My thighs parted of their own accord, and my mind started to drift away from my troubles, and into my fantasy world, where emotions didn’t even exist.

As my body, then my mind, became more in tune with my fingers, my thoughts became dirtier and, within minutes, I was where I belonged, in the back room of the bar, the guys around me, caressing my breasts and spreading my legs ready to claim my depths.

But as I looked around at each of them, feeling their hands running over me, their lengths slapping against my bare skin, they were no longer faceless and I knew them all by name. They were all Leo. I was surrounded by him, enclosed in a whole circle of him, and struggling to get out.

I pulled my hand away with a jolt and sat up, trying to shake the image from my mind; but it clung there, refusing to be released. It was then I realised that he’d taken everything from me – even my fantasies. I was awake for the rest of the night, but I didn’t touch myself again. I just lay there, wracked in my own private torment and wondering what the hell I was going to do.

He came back early the next morning. I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept. I was just lying on the bed, staring sightlessly at the thin, grey sky. It spread from behind the distant skyscrapers like an extension of my emotions. Or lack of them.

When he entered the bedroom, something primal took me over. I sprang up and backed into the corner.

‘Hey, Princess.’ He put his hands up, in surrender. He looked strained and dishevelled, and the spikes of his hair were flat on one side. ‘I’m not going to touch you. I just want to talk.’

‘Okay.’ I stayed in the corner, the smooth coldness of the walls pressing into my shoulder blades through my clothes. ‘So talk.’

‘Look, this has got out of hand.’ He pushed his fingers through his cow’s lick, ruffling the remaining spikes into feathers. ‘I’ve done wrong, I know that. I know you must hate me.’

‘Oh, I do.’ I fought back the tears that sprang, unbidden, from the deepest recesses of my soul. ‘I don’t even want to see you, let alone talk to you.’

‘You need a few days to calm down.’ He shifted from one foot to the other. ‘I get that. You must still be angry.’

‘Angry?’ I shook my head. ‘You have no idea. Where were you last night, anyway?’

‘I went to a hotel.’

‘Alone?’

‘Of course, alone.’ He put his arms out to me, and began to pad around the side of the bed. ‘Look, come on, babe. Come and have some breakfast. You look like shit.’

‘Thanks.’ I looked down at myself. I was still wearing the clothes I’d had on for work the day before. I hadn’t even noticed. ‘You said you wanted to talk.’

‘I do, but I don’t know what to say.’ He stopped before he reached me, and stood there, his arms still outstretched. ‘I’ve told you I'm sorry. I am, so much. I don’t know what else I can say.’

‘Well, then.’ I pushed past him, batting his arms out of the way. ‘There’s really nothing more to say, then, is there?’