The Bunk Up (The Village People Book 1) Page 5

  I smack him in the head.

  “Oh my God! Fuck! That’s where it hurts, you cow.”

  “Moo,” I say and I walk out of the room, slamming the door again.

  Chapter Nine

  Daisy

  As it’s only four am, I settle on a couple of slices of toast and a nice cup of tea. I wash the dirty pots as payment for my food and teabag. Morning has broken and the birds are chirping a dawn chorus. I pull the curtains open and gaze outside. The front of the property faces the dirt track and lots of trees, making the area where the sofa is quite dark. I instead take a seat at the dining table that faces a window at the rear of the property. Through this window I see a fenced off good piece of land; must be an acre or so. It’s neatly cut, suggesting that someone pops over to keep it all tidy, despite what Sam says about no-one coming down here. At the bottom of the garden is what looks like an old horse stable. I bet this place could be converted into an amazing property, although something in its quaintness makes you want to keep it small. Steady on there, Daisy, I tell myself. You’re only here for a couple of weeks. Still, I decide, once Frazer is up and hopefully out of the way, I’m going to swap around the dining table and the sofa, because I intend to spend a lot of time here with my kindle in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

  As I gaze around the room, I see it’s in need of a general lick of paint. That’s it! That’s how I’ll pay Mrs H back for the hospitality. I’ll freshen the place up. I’ve always been a dab hand with a paintbrush. I decorated all of our - Marcus’ - home. Oh, to be back there now with a paint and wallpaper stripper. I’d take every bit off the walls and doors.

  The sofa is amazingly comfy and I plump up a couple of cushions and rest my head on them. Before I know it, I’m asleep.

  A clink of a cup jerks me awake, followed by a, “Shh, you fucker.”

  I stare at Frazer who is standing at the kitchenette sink. “Sorry. I tried to be quiet, but it’s really difficult with the sofa being so close to the kitchen.”

  “It’s fine. What time is it?”

  “Nine. Do you want a cup of tea?”

  I raise myself up on the sofa. “I’d love one.”

  He makes us a brew and then he comes to sit beside me on the sofa.

  “So what are we going to do about the fact there are two of us and one bedroom?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. Shall I ring your mother?”

  “No!” he shouts, then winces at the pitch of his own voice. “Sorry. I just don’t want her to know I’m here.”

  I bite on my lip, considering. “I’ll tell you what. You give me a rundown on your history with Mrs H and I’ll consider your stay.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you convince me of why a) I shouldn’t tell her and b) why you should remain here rent free, then I have a proposition for you.”

  “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. You move. I was here first.”

  “Fine. Hang on while I call Mrs H.”

  “Okay,” he snaps. “You win. God, you’re an annoying twatwaffle.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “I learned it from you last night. Could have been worse, I could have called you a c-.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Right, I’m all ears.”

  “You sure you don’t have something else to do with your day?”

  “Nope. I seem to have all the time in the world. What about you? Don’t you work?”

  “Shit.” He jumps up. “What time did I say it was again?”

  “Nine.”

  He plops back down. “Oh, that’s alright then. Only I’ve got a new job at the pub and I have to be there for ten-thirty.”

  “So you’re a barman? Temporarily?”

  “I’m an actor.” He says it posh, like ac-torr.

  “Really?” I wonder how many famous people he knows and whether he can put me in touch with any of the Hemsworth brothers. I’m not fussed as to which… or maybe all three; don’t want to leave the non-acting one out.

  “Yes. I’ve come here to try and get a part in the production they’re filming here. Tilly, the director, is an old friend of mine.”

  “Tilly Kendrick? Tilly Kendrick is here? Oh my God she’s one of my girl crushes. She’s always in my magazines. I love her. Flipping ‘eck, when they said they were filming here yesterday I thought they meant something like Pride and Prejudice. Is it that transgender film?”

  “All is Not Lost. Yes.”

  “Is Joe Foster here?” I ask cautiously.

  “Yes.”

  I scream. A large, ear-piercing, I-have-gone-back-to-being-thirteen-years-old screech.

  “What is it?” Frazer’s gaze is one of concern. “Is it a spider? Here, I’ll get it for you.” He reaches beyond me and starts molesting me while he shakes out the cushions.

  I smack him on the top of the head.

  “What the fuck did you do that for? You know my head’s injured. I bet I’ve got concussion thanks to you.”

  “There’s no spider. Back off, Spiderman. If there was, I’m not scared of them, anyway. Now wasps, that’s different.”

  “So why did you scream?” Frazer looks around us.

  “Because Joe Foster is here.”

  “Seriously? That hysterical sound is because Joe is here? How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five,” I mutter.

  “Dear God. Women.” He rubs his eyebrow.

  “Bet you wouldn’t be dissing me if I’d screamed like that over your name.”

  “Depends where you were. In a crowd or in my bed.”

  Our eyes meet and the temperature seems to go up. Suddenly he’s too near. “Does the shower work okay?”

  “Yes. It’s pretty modern, considering.”

  “Okay, I’m going to jump in then.”

  “I thought you wanted to ask me twenty questions.”

  “It can wait. It’s not like it’s me looking for a place to stay, is it?”

  “Sure you don’t want a bath? I could arrange an accidental drowning then.”

  “God you’re so funny. Sure you don’t want to change careers and be a comedian?”

  “No. I’ll leave that to you and the idea that you think you’re in charge here.”

  “I have permission to be here. You don’t. End of. Anyway, change of subject before I shower. Who have you worked with acting-wise? I want to daydream about them in the shower.”

  “Erm.”

  His chin is tense. It’s like in cartoons when the character’s mouth is stuck together with glue and they’re trying to speak. He doesn’t want to tell me but it’s going to come out anyway because he’s stubborn and he’s going to brazen it out.

  “I’ve done a sofa advert,” he states, sitting up straight, shoulders back with pride.

  “So your acting companions would be cushions?”

  “Fuck you. My break will come and then you can stick a draft excluder up your arse.”

  “So I’m here thinking you’ve worked with the Hemsworths, but the only hems you’ve acted with are the ones on the sofas.”

  “Get your shower before you regret being near me.”

  “What are you going to do, big boy?”

  He leans over me, grabs my hand and places it on his cock. Fucking holy mother of God, what is down his pants, a vacuum extension?

  “I am a big boy. Don’t you forget it,” he growls in my ear.

  I smack him one last time in the head. I’ll not do it again just in case I do cause some damage.

  “Motherfucker.”

  While he clutches his crown I escape to the bathroom.

  Frazer is right. Although the bathroom suite is primrose, the shower isn’t a bad strength, even though it must be older than I am. Returning to the bedroom, I take out the travel bag of toiletries I bought, making a note to myself that I must go back to the village centre later for some supplies, especially some food. I place my shampoo, conditioner, shower gel and sponge on the bath side then strip my clothes off, throwing
them away from the bath so they don’t get damp. I step into the bath, pulling the shower curtain past me for privacy. There isn’t a lock on the door and although I doubt Frazer will come in, I’d rather err on the side of caution.

  The shower instantly takes the tension out of my shoulders, the jets giving me a mini massage. I stay there for a good ten minutes before I begin soaping up. My thoughts return to the man downstairs. Such a juxtaposition. One minute I feel like jumping his bones, the next sending a few rounds of bullets into him. And his cock. Oh my God, to have a go at that. I think about what the girls in the pub said and I wonder what the blokes in the village are like. No-one knows me here so maybe I could gain a bit of experience and return to Chesterfield a stronger and more confident woman.

  I jump as a knock sounds on the door.

  “What?”

  “I’m bursting for a piss and the only toilet’s in here.”

  “Can’t you go in the garden?”

  “I’ve got standards; I like to piss in a bathroom.”

  “God, go on then.”

  I hear the door open, followed by the sounds of Frazer taking a massive pee. Then the door shuts. Thank God he wasn’t desperate for a crap. I hear movement in the bedroom. Good he’s getting ready for work.

  After another few minutes I reluctantly turn the shower off and pull back the shower curtain. My eyes roam the floor.

  Where are my clothes?

  Where are the towels?

  “Frazer!” I boom.

  The door opens slightly. “What’s the problem, Daise?”

  “Don’t you Daise me. We are not friends. Only friends get to call me Daise. Where are my fucking clothes - and can you pass me a towel?”

  “Well, I could.”

  “What are you up to?” I am so tempted to slam the door right now; it would hit him in that beautifully, sculptured looking nose. However, as he has me at a disadvantage I’d better play nice.

  “Sign this and I’ll return your belongings.” He shoves a piece of paper and a pen through the gap.

  I read the paper.

  I hereby give permission for Frazer McNeil to share Haversham Cottage with me for the remainder of our stay, including sharing of the double bed on an alternate night basis.

  I throw it back at him. “Fuck off. I’ll come and get some other clothes. I don’t care if you see me stark naked. Have a free boner on me.”

  “Okay then,” he replies, and moves away from the door. Bastard.

  Holding my head up high and placing one arm across my breasts and the other in front of my foo, I walk in front of him into the bedroom. I’m aware he can see my backside, but so what? He can kiss my arse. I ignore the little betraying pulse between my legs that comes with this thought. I have to drop the arm across my breasts to open the wardrobe door but he can’t see the front of me so it’s no bother. The problem is that I totally forget that fact when I swing around in anger. “Where are my clothes?”

  “Jesus Christ. Wow, woman. If I had that body I’d never cover it up.”

  I look down and scream again.

  “It’s a good job we’re up this way alone or I’d have the police coming round with those noises you’re emitting.”

  “I’m naked!” I squeal.

  “Well, you saw my junk yesterday. Now we can call it even.”

  “It’s not even. You’re having a really big stare and I only got a quick peek.”

  “Do you want a longer peek then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Yes. I want a longer look. It’s big and I’ve only seen my ex’s, which I believe is a small sausage, so show me your dick.”

  “No. You weirdo perve.”

  “Show me your dick and I’ll sign the piece of paper.”

  He coughs. “Seriously? I expose myself and you’ll sign?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do I know you’ll do it?”

  “You have my clothes, arse-wipe.”

  “Oh yeah. Okay then. Here goes.”

  He pulls down his joggers. Frazer is pant-less and his dick hangs there. It’s plump, and well… saggy. Not what I expected at all. It looks about the same size as Marcus’. Talk about disappointed.

  He moves towards me.

  “Back away, soldier. What are you playing at?”

  “You want a good look at my dick, don’t you? You can’t see it very well from over there.”

  I realise that this situation is entirely inappropriate but find I don’t care.

  “What happens in Beydon stays in Beydon,” I say.

  He winks at me. “Fine with me. Listen. This is going to sound weird, but can I touch your boob just a little bit?”

  “No you fucking can’t, you sick bastard.”

  He puffs out his lips. “Well, I thought you wanted to study a proper dick.”

  “I’ve seen it. It wasn’t anything amazing.”

  “It’s not hard.”

  “Oh.” I look again. “Well what difference does that make? My ex-boyfriend’s was the same dead or alive.”

  “If you let me touch your boob, you’ll find out. Tell you what, I’ll shut my eyes and imagine it’s someone else’s boob.”

  My inquisitiveness wins out over common sense. I may never see a proper dick again.

  “Okay.”

  “You’ll have to guide my hand.”

  He closes his eyes and holds out his hand. I move it onto my breast. His large hand cups my tit and moves around it, pinching my nipple. My nipple pebbles and my mouth goes dry. That’s because all the liquid in me has gone to my still traitorous foo. I watch in fascination as Frazer holds his dick in his other hand and begins to pump it. The fucking thing grows and becomes the monster penis I’d observed before. I wasn’t wrong. There must be nine inches of erect penis here and the girth is, well, I’m not sure how it would go in, but then babies come out, so...

  I realise Frazer has opened his eyes and is watching me observe his dick.

  He lets go of my breast and lets his hand drop from his dick.

  “Well, that’s the peep show over,” he croaks out. He has a couple of beads of sweat on his face and his breathing is rapid.

  “I want to touch it.”

  His eyes widen.

  Fuck. Did I say that out loud?

  “I’m so sorry Frazer. You must think I’m a sex-crazed maniac.” I sigh. “I’m not. I’m just the opposite.”

  “You can if you want but then you’ll have to excuse me to go to the loo and know I’m going to think about your body as I beat off. I’ve gone past the point of no return here.”

  New personality Daisy gets brave. “I’ll do it. I’ll finish you off.”

  “What the hell? Is this really happening?” Frazer says, then mumbles something about hallucinogenic pie and beer which makes no sense whatsoever.

  I fix my hand around his dick. I’m no stranger to a hand job after eight years with Marcus, but this one takes more handling. It’s just so, well, sturdy. What I’m not expecting is that after a few minutes he’s still not come. What’s that all about? With Marcus, ninety seconds tops and he was done and halfway asleep.

  “Am I not doing it right?” I ask him.

  “Are you fucking kidding? It’s the best hand job I’ve ever had. Your hands are the perfect size and your stroke is exemplary.”

  “But you haven’t come yet.”

  His forehead creases. “No. Are you getting bored?”

  “No. It’s just my ex would have finished by now.”

  “Wimp. I don’t know why you split up but it sounds like you’re better off.”

  “He cheated on me.”

  Frazer stops me with his hand and looks at me, tilting my chin up with his finger. “Your ex cheated on you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many years had you been together?”

  “Eight.”

  “How many lovers before him?”

  “None.”

  “Let me guess this right. The only
sex you’ve had is with a small-dicked cheating cunt?”

  I sigh. “Yes that’s about it.”

  “God, I hope I don’t regret this.” Frazer picks me up and throws me on the bed.

  “What are you doing?” I squeal as I bounce on the bed and my tits fling up and down, almost giving me a black eye.

  “I want to fuck you, Daisy. What do you say to that? Just say no and I’m out of here and we’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

  “Yes,” I say, the single word popping into my head without argument or debate.

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, I want you to fuck me. I want to know what it’s supposed to be like. That’s if you know what you’re doing. I mean, it’s not like I have any way of measuring whether or not you’re a good fuck.”

  Frazer slides down the bed and pulls my legs apart and then proceeds to do the thing that I’ve read in magazines, but that Marcus refused to do because he didn’t like staring at my foo. He licks my clit. Electricity and pleasure shoot up my spine and I have to suck in a breath to stop myself from purring… I might scare him off if I start to meow like some horny bloody kitty.

  My hips rise up off the bed. “Holy fuckety fuck. I rather like that!”

  Frazer looks at me from between my legs, a smug grin on his face. “I’ve barely started. Hang in there, Daise.”

  I let the use of my nickname go. It’s the least I can do to count him as a friend when he’s being so nice to my vagina.

  I lay back, my head on the pillow, which it has to be said, is almost as rock hard as Frazer is. Another item to add to the shopping list.

  Frazer grabs the pillow from his side of the bed. His side? What the hell am I saying? He proceeds to put it under my hips then his tongue returns to pretending my foo is a melting ice-cream. I close my eyes and feel the sensations of his tongue. He bites on my clit slightly, making me squirm with pleasure. I nearly lose my mind when his tongue enters me, fucking me. I feel the pressure building and know I’m close, and somehow he knows because he proceeds to change to a fast flick of his tongue. I grab the back of his head and pull him closer to me as I explode all over his mouth.

  I lean back against the bed as tiny aftershocks flitter in my, dare I call it… pussy? Yes, my foo has earned itself a new name after that most tremendous of orgasms. It’s definitely a pussy and it’s demanding more attention. I needn’t have worried as Frazer opens a drawer, quickly puts on a condom and then leans over me. Then he guides his dick inside me.