Rick had her where he wanted her now, her head and shoulders hanging backwards off the bench, her mouth and throat open to receive his length. She took the lot, hard and fast, as he plunged in and out of her, his rhythm soon matching the strokes of Matt’s cock in her cunt. The rest of them crowded around, offering up their cocks to her eager hands, as they kneaded and pulled at her heaving tits, sucking and biting at them as they stroked her thighs. They were spread further than seemed possible, her ass cheeks slapping against Matt’s sides as he thrust himself in.

All I could see of her by this time was her spread legs. Matt pulled out slightly and pushed one finger up inside her, alongside his cock, then another. ‘I’m gonna stretch you wide open, baby,’ he groaned, totally caught up now in the heat of the moment.

As the pair of them continued to hammer her, she clenched her nails into Rick’s ass cheeks, and pulled him into her, slamming him home ever harder. Matt kept in time, building and building the speed of his thrusts, matching Rick stroke for stroke. Hands and mouths ran all over her, as she lay arching and bucking and gasping for air. Even through the stuffing her mouth was getting, her moans were growing wilder and wilder, and finally she began to come, her whole body writhing and shuddering, as she let forth an almost animalistic howl. The noise seemed to drive Matt past the point of no return. His head tipped back, and he let forth a long, almost pained, groan, as he jerked once…twice…three times, before collapsing onto her stomach, panting. It was too much for Rick, and he pulled out and came, spurting over and over, daubing her face and tits – not to mention the back of Matt’s head - with long, white runnels of jizz.

No one seemed to care that she’d come. As soon as Matt and Rick had recovered enough to move out of the way, they were replaced by the next pair. And the next. And the next. By the time the guys had had their fill of her, she’d had her mouth and cunt used a good half dozen times each, coming at least twice more, by my reckoning. It was hard to tell because, each time, she seemed to be getting more exhausted and her cries of ecstasy had diminished to mere groans of enjoyment.

Matt and Rick had taken her again, the final time, and, when they’d come, she just lay there, breathing hard and fast. I’d wondered at the time how she’d be feeling now. Often, afterwards, girls tended to come down pretty sharply, ashamed of their own actions and desires. Not Felicity. She was still riding high, rubbing Rick’s cum all over her tits, her pink nipples glistening milky white in the dimming light.

Nobody spoke for a while…they were too busy collecting their breath. But after a few minutes, she pulled herself up onto her elbow, cradling Matt’s head in towards her belly, and rubbing Rick’s drying cum through his hair. She looked around at us all, consideringly. ‘I think,’ she announced, after a moment. ‘I might need a good ass-fucking.’

That was where I drew the line. She’d had more than her fill and enough was enough. None of the information given had led me to believe she’d even had her ass fucked, and this wasn’t the way for her to experience it, not for a first time. The remaining guys had been waiting a long time for a bit of the action and I wasn’t sure they’d be able to restrain themselves enough to play nicely. If they didn’t, it’d hurt - really hurt – at least to start with, and I couldn’t stop them without giving myself away.

If I’d had more information about her, if she’d come to me of her own accord, I’d have been able to make a more informed decision. As it stood, I was working purely on conjecture, and a generous dash of bravado she’d posted online. I had no idea if she liked pain at all – let alone the kind that came with having your ass forced open for the first time - and I wasn’t making that call for her.

So I made the sign. I’d made sure she had a good time - it was the least I could do - and now it was time to follow Giles’s orders.

I pressed pause, and called him back in.

Eleven

I packed with little regard for what I’d need. I threw things into a couple of suitcases almost at random. I had no idea how long it’d be before I returned, if I ever did. I stood looking at my depleted wardrobe, half the hangers empty and exposed like bones, and wondered if I was doing the right thing. I couldn’t really believe he’d let me be the one to go, when he’d brought this whole mess upon us.

The thought of it sent a surge of fire swelling up through me. He was, utterly and without question, a dick. I grabbed a couple of cocktail dresses – again at random - and some evening shoes, crammed them in where I could fit them, and zipped up the cases. A bag of toiletries and, at the last moment, my jewellery, and my joke of a life was packed. The buzzer sounded downstairs. I took a last look round our bedroom, so clean and light and airy, before lugging my suitcases across the landing and down the stairs.

The taxi, once I was safe installed, pulled away sharply, scattering the surrounding reporters like skittles. I kept my head down the whole way, only looking up as we pulled into Chiswick. I loved Chiswick. It was far enough from the City centre to be away from the rush of tourists and visitors, but close enough to be trendy. The High Road was liberally sprinkled with bijou restaurants and pavement cafés, and Liv and I had had some good nights out there over the past few years. Her side street lay just off the High Road itself. I’d been there a couple of times, before going to one of her gigs, so I was pretty sure I’d remember her house.

In point of fact, it was impossible to forget. The minute I saw it, I knew it was hers. The unkempt front garden and purple door popped against the other quietly-elegant Edwardian houses lining the street. It’d been her mum’s place, back when the area was less sought after, and she never treated it with the reverence a semi in Chiswick deserved. She could’ve sold it for a small fortune, but it was all she had left of her mum and she clung to it.

I dragged my cases up to the front door and rang the bell. The strains of what sounded like a death metal riff echoed from somewhere behind it.

‘Gav’ll be there to let you in,’ she’d whispered, when I’d called her. She was at her desk, and private calls were an absolute no-no. On Max Flint’s time, a personal life was a no-no. ‘But don’t worry. He’s going.’

This I wasn’t surprised to hear. Men came and went in Liv’s life like shadows. They barely had time to shove their clothes in the wardrobe before they were back out the front door. To be fair, it was usually their fault. Liv was a magnet for cheats and liars. I was beginning to know how she felt.

I waited a few minutes, but apparently whoever was strangling their guitar inside – presumably Gav – hadn’t heard the bell. I was beginning to feel exposed and uncomfortable standing there, so I rang it a couple more times.

When he came to the door, Gav turned out to be a lanky Goth with dyed-black hair and heavy eyelids. He stank of weed. ‘Uh…hi,’ he said, standing back from the door to let me pass.

I dragged my cases inside, wondering if I’d made a mistake. The whole place smelt of weed. It was like returning to my student days, back in the halls of residence. I’d enjoyed them at the time – had a blast, in fact – but I wasn’t looking to relive the experience.

He gestured up into a narrow stairwell. ‘Up there… back left.’

I began to haul my cases up the stairs, feeling those drooping eyes upon me. What the hell was she doing? He was barely more than a kid. His manners could use some work, too. He wasn’t even easy on the eye. She could do a hell of a lot better.

Says you, I told myself, lugging my suitcases across another landing and into another bedroom. This one was small and squat, with magenta, poster-strewn walls and a single bed. There was barely room to lay my cases down.