After Hours: Black Lace Classics Read Online Free PDF Page A

was making her feel horny as hell in fact. She tossed aside her knickers. The hair on her mound was black against her velvety, white skin. Jamie’s cock reasserted itself.
    ‘Better,’ she praised, and reached out to fondle his cock thoughtfully. ‘Now, how do we keep this rock-hard on Saturday night when you jump out of the cake at the hen party? I can’t be standing there in the buff then.’
    ‘You could,’ said Jamie.
    ‘No, I couldn’t. I know. Keep a men’s magazine and a torch in there with you.’
    ‘Like what? Motorbike monthly?’
    Dani tweaked the tip of his cock.
    ‘Ow,’ said Jamie.
    ‘Well take this seriously, will you? Damn! It’s going down again.’
    ‘Your fault for pinching it,’ accused Jamie.
    ‘This is the dress rehearsal,’ said Dani sternly. ‘It’s got to be right. God, it’s hot. Drink?’
    Jamie nodded. Dani got two tins out of the fridge, popped the pulls and gave him one. Jamie downed the whole tin, tipping his head back and gulping it down like the guy in the Diet Coke ad.
    Dani sipped hers and watched him. She liked a bit of rough, and Jamie fitted the bill just fine. Sometimes she wondered if he was just a tiny bit too hot to handle, but still she considered him one of her best discoveries. She’d spotted him months ago when she’d done a dinner for the art college. There she’d been, dishing up the baby pink salmon mousses, the bloody red slices of beef, profiteroles dripping with chocolate and cream, looking prim in her black dress and white apron. More wine, sir? Red or white?
    Trying to behave as if she didn’t know damned well she was turning on all those dusty academics like crazy.
    And all the time, while they had been eyeballing her, she had been eyeballing the painting of Jamie, stark naked on a blanket.
    Instant lust.
    She’d quickly found out who he was. He was a Glaswegian and an art student. He was seriously shaggable. He was lowlife and light-fingered. He made weird planet-shaped mobiles to sell, and ice sculptures, which was useful to a busy caterer like Dani. Shealready had three commissions booked ahead for him: a wedding at Leeds Castle in Kent, a twenty-first at the Oxo Tower, and the Blue Ribbon restaurant awards at the Cranleigh Hotel in Piccadilly.
    Jamie was permanently potless, always in need of money.
    Well, she had money, and she felt sorry for him, sorry for the raw deal life had pushed his way.
    They were both pleased with their arrangement and they sealed it on the first date. She’d fucked him bandy, and he’d been signed onto the payroll.
    But Jamie had one big fault – the attention span of a gnat. Oh, he had pluses too, like that humongous cock of his. And he looked good, broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped, in a waiter’s uniform. Jamie had the good sense to flatter old women, defer to men, flirt discreetly with the babes. So when Jamie was on the team, the tips flowed free and there were lots of happy smiling faces. And he balled the boss hot and strong whenever she wanted it. Which was frequently.
    But there was work to do tonight.
    Jamie tossed his can into the sink and looked at her.
    Come-to-bed grey eyes and tousled streaky blond hair.
    The heat and the quiet of the night thrummed as they stood and looked at each other. The rain had eased to a whisper.
    Dani was stroking her throat slowly with the moisture-beaded tin.
    Finally she put the tin aside.
    ‘Well, just this once,’ she said, and stepped into the cake with him.
    Venny was lying in the bath, her tits half-submerged and sheeny with water and foam, when she heard them. She stuffed the end of the flannel in one ear and a hank of loo paper into the other.
    She could still hear them.
    Panting, murmuring, bumping and grinding.
    Oh, and shrieking.
    Why did Dani always have to howl like an Alaskan she-wolf when she was getting laid?
    Venny yanked her useless earplugs out, lay further back in the citrus-scented foam, and thought calm thoughts. But before very long work