The Bonk Squad (25 page)

From a ring in the rock,
the links had been twisted around his magnificent up-thrust
erection and then secured to a second ring on the far side of his
body. He was literally held prisoner by his penis. It pulsed,
purple and slippery, as Mordilla’s anxious eyes examined
him.

“
Don’t be scared,” she
murmured.

He grunted. She had no
idea if it was with fear or surprise or lust.

“
Don’t be scared,” she
repeated. “I know how to release you. Trust me.”

She licked her dry
lips.

“
Who are you?” he
demanded.

“
A friend,” she replied.
“Mordilla, daughter of Prince Horvath.”

She reached for one of the
flickering candles and held it closer so she could inspect him. He
was a warrior for sure—there were guard-marks incised into his
muscular thigh. And close above, his long chained cock was now hers
to admire...hers to enjoy. Its forked end writhed with fantastic
veins that looked alive with passion.

Mordilla ran her hands
over his taut belly and he flinched at her touch. He was hot,
smooth, and utterly male. She wanted that skin against hers...that
magic rod embedded deep inside her.

She stripped off her
gossamer gown and panties, and straddled his long hard
sex.

“
I know it’s impossible
for a man to deflate himself once he’s aroused,” she murmured. “Let
me be your release vessel. Then, once you’re empty, I’ll slip the
chains away and you’re halfway free. We’ll worry about the leather
later.”

Greedily she impaled
herself upon him, plunging and sliding, advancing and withdrawing,
thrilling as the flesh-warmed links of the chain caressed her
clit.

Jesus Bobbie! You’ve never
done it, have you!

Meg couldn’t imagine grinding her own
tender body parts against a steel chain. What a
turn-off...

And surely the ‘pulsing
purple’ description had been lifted straight from Eloise’s stable
lad story? Where had the writhing veins come from? Had Bobbie
ever
seen
an
aroused man? She seemed to have no clue at all what a male body
looked like—or how it worked. Forked? Fork me! Meg
thought.

Now she knew why the Erotica Queen
never brought any of her work along for the group to critique. She
slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles—not that anyone
was there to hear her. But what a delicious secret.

Good luck Jamie
MacArthur.

“
Ian looked
amazing
,” Liz squealed.
She didn’t squeal often, so Romy and Eloise and Meg gave her their
undivided attention.

“
I got him to shut his
garden center a bit early last night so he could be at my place in
time. Paul was due to collect the kids at six. And I made him take
off his shirt,” she added, rolling her eyes.

“
Paul or Ian?” Meg asked,
somewhat confused.

“
Ian of course. My bait. My
real live bait this time—better than Romy’s sports car and a shirt
on the sofa and the shower running as though there was someone else
there.”

Romy smirked at that. “It worked
though, didn’t it!”

“
Oh it worked fine,” Liz
agreed, as they trailed out to Meg’s patio with a glass of
sparkling wine each. Eloise brought the remains of the bottle. They
settled themselves on the outdoor timber seats, being careful not
to snag their Christmas lunch outfits on any splintery edges. “But
it was so good to have an actual man to wind him up
with.”

“
You made poor old Ian take
his shirt off?” Meg asked, remembering the long pale hairy arm he’d
displayed with such embarrassment at their last meeting.

“
I didn’t think he’d be
able to carry it off to start with,” Liz said. “But then I thought
if he was outside he could hide behind sunglasses. So I rinsed out
my best skimpy panties and had him pegging them on the clothesline
as soon as we saw The Bastard arrive.”

“
That’s really rubbing it
in,” Romy agreed. “Familiar with your underwear, doing little
domestic chores, he must have looked right at home.”

“
Yeah…” Liz purred with a
satisfied stretch. “Anyway, face like thunder, stares like daggers
in Ian’s direction—Paul really wasn’t pleased.”

“
And Ian didn’t mind all
this?” Romy asked.

“
I’m surprised he was
willing to do it,” Eloise added.

“
He owes me bigtime.” Liz
grinned. “No—he was all right. Stood his ground fine behind the
shades. Just hung up my panties and showed off his fabulous
shoulders in the sun. I bundled the kids out in a hurry and it was
over in a minute or so.”

“
I still can’t quite
picture this,” Meg mused. “I thought I was going to loan you my Al
in a bath towel?”

Romy tried to stifle a puff of
amusement. She bobbed her dark curls. Surely Liz wouldn’t go that
far?

“
I could borrow him as
well, if you like. Wouldn’t that just totally wipe the smile off
The Bastard’s face! Two different men in one weekend...”

“
Anyway, you said ‘fabulous
shoulders’,” Meg queried. “Ian? What have you been doing to
him?”

“
Me?” Liz’s face was all
innocence. “Nothing. Chose him some civilized clothes. Made him get
his hair cut. He looked kind of invisible before. I just thought he
had potential going to waste.”

They all considered Ian for a moment
as they sipped. Only Liz knew what the ‘new’ Ian looked like, and
she couldn’t wait for the rest of the group to see him.

Eloise pondered his hair—she’d quite
liked Ian’s thick Beatle-fringe. Johnno’s hair had become so thin
that a good thatch seemed a definite plus. She hoped Liz hadn’t
talked him into anything too outlandish.

Meg imagined muscles on Ian’s tall
frame. If he had any, he’d kept the evidence well covered. He
certainly hadn’t been displaying himself to any advantage, but she
doubted Brad Pitt had anything to fear.

And Romy couldn’t help but wonder what
her friend was playing at. You didn’t restyle a man unless you had
an ulterior motive...a definite interest in him. Liz and
Ian???

No—she couldn’t picture that at
all.

“
So do you want Al, too?”
Meg asked. “I’m sure he’d agree if I asked him.”

Secretly she hoped for more time at
the computer. Al expected to treat her to dinner that evening—and
therefore to bed as well. But Bobbie was off to a movie with the
as-yet-unseen Jamie MacArthur, and that meant the possibility of
several peaceful hours polishing chapter three. “Take him out for a
meal tonight and discuss it,” she suggested. “He likes food. Do you
want me to phone him?”

Liz shrugged her smooth shoulders. One
slender strap slipped down and tickled her upper arm. She twitched
it back up with a curse. “It’ll have to be somewhere affordable
like Pizza Hut,” she said.

Meg couldn’t quite picture Al at Pizza
Hut, but didn’t say so. “I’ll get the phone,” she said, pushing
herself up from the low chair and bustling inside before she lost
the opportunity.

“
Are you sure this won’t
annoy your husband too much?” Eloise asked. “You don’t want him
getting difficult about the custody arrangements.”

“
Ex,” Liz snapped.
“Ex-husband, Eloise. It’s none of his business. But he’s carrying
on with his secretary, so I want him to think I’ve got someone too.
And if I can outdo him and have two lovers, then I win.”

“
Three,” said Romy,
thinking of the non-man they’d created out of her car and Neil’s
shirt.

“
Promiscuous bitch, aren’t
I!” Liz said with great satisfaction. “No, he won’t play up about
the kids. It was all I could do to make him look after them every
second weekend. Bastard. They need to see their Dad, but they cramp
his style.”

Mine too. But I’d fight
him to my last penny to keep Rosie and Brett with me.

Meg ambled out again, talking into her
cordless phone, and the others fell silent so they could
eavesdrop.

“
You’d be doing me a real
favor, Al,” she murmured. “She’s a lovely girl. You’ll like
her.”

Liz stifled a snort with her
hand.

“
You’ve been in the same
situation, Al. Remember what you told me about Diana? Yes? So you
know why I’m asking.” She glanced across at the others. “Liz. Liz
McKenzie. Husband was a lawyer. Well—still is, but isn’t her
husband any more. I thought you two could have a meal together this
evening and hatch a little plot. And because you’re such a hunk, we
wondered if you’d—”

She laughed and rolled her
eyes. “Yes you are. You
know
you are. You’re gorgeous. Don’t be so modest.” She
grinned at the others. “So we wondered if you’d be prepared to wear
just a bath towel when the husband brings the kids back. And your
underpants, of course.”

She listened with amusement to Al’s
reply. “I’ll put Liz on,” she said, handing the phone
over.

The others craned forward to hear, but
were thwarted by Liz rising and sauntering off into the garden to
conduct her conversation in privacy. She paced backward and forward
along the timber-planked boundary fence as she talked; snapping a
sprig of pink and white jasmine off Meg’s vine and threading it
behind one ear, rescuing her slipping shoulder strap again, and
kicking at a couple of dandelion heads with the toe of her
shoe.

“
Settled,” she said on her
return. Seven tonight. Thanks Meg. So what does he really look
like?”

“
Like a gangster. Olive
skin, dark hair, lots of teeth.” Meg smirked at her own
description. “No—that’s unfair. He’s probably the best looking man
I’ve ever gone out with. Tall. Built. The right looks to make a
husband jealous.”

“
Ex-husband,” Romy
corrected just as a newly permed and over-dressed Vi joined
them.

“
Thank you Romy,” Liz said.
“Fuck this strap,” she added, hauling it up onto her shoulder yet
again.

To her credit, Vi managed not to
react, and adroitly changed the subject. “Not everyone here yet? I
was worried I’d be last. I wonder where the others have got to?”
she gabbled. “Noon for Christmas Lunch, and not one o’clock for a
normal meeting?”

“
Bobbie’s inside
somewhere,” Meg assured her. “Ben’s about, too. Eloise dropped
Tigger off someplace so we won’t see her today.”

“
I saw Mandy at the
supermarket yesterday,” Romy said. “Buying ice-cream.”

“
To go with my Traditional
English Sherry Trifle,” Vi confirmed. It had taken her several
hours to get each layer arranged and set before she added the next
to the big crystal bowl. There was enough sherry in the sponge
portion to flatten a herd of elephants.

“
And there’s Ian now,” Liz
said, recognizing the metallic scrape-and-slam of his van’s door.
“It’s treat-time, ladies...” She rose and hurried off to get
him.

“
I’ve made Tabouleh,”
Bobbie said, carrying the white china bowl to Meg’s dining table.
“With tomatoes and cucumber and chopped mint and
couscous.”

“
Kiss-kiss?” Ben asked. He
enjoyed teasing Bobbie now he felt more confident around
women.

“
Couscous
. It’s a Middle Eastern dish.
You could make this when you go off to uni and have to do your own
cooking. It’s easy.”

Ben picked up a spoon and gave the
contents of the bowl an experimental poke.

“
No meat.”

“
Well, add some chopped ham
or something if you
have
to,” Bobbie sighed, taking the spoon from him,
loading it, and holding it up so he could sample some.

“
Ian!” she exclaimed a few
seconds later as Liz led her made-over man to the dining table to
deposit his plate of assorted deli meats and jar of stuffed
olives.

“
Jeez, Bobbie!” he replied.
They regarded each other with wonder. Neither looked remotely like
they had at the last meeting.

“
Love the hair,” they said
in unison.

Bobbie slowly inspected Ian all the
way up his snug-fitting trousers, past his lean and muscular middle
and on to the short shiny cut that now hugged his head. “Wow,” she
said.

He gave her close curly hair an
approving smile, and then a tentative pat.

Ben, who’d always thought
Ian a bit of a berk, surveyed him with new respect, and tried to
swallow the Tabouleh without choking. What a
dude
. Tall, tanned, dressed to
demolish, and sleek as a cat.

His shy dopey grin hadn’t changed
though. “Blame Liz,” he said, shrugging broad shoulders under a
body hugging charcoal T-shirt, and ducking his head with
embarrassment.

“
Don’t slouch, Ian,” she
snapped, pulling him out to join the others.

“
All righty ladies—here’s
my Christmas present to you all.”

Four pairs of eyes swiveled like
spotlights. Four mouths dropped open.