I just thought of a new writing name. CandyCups.
Right, Dr. Google! Don’t you go bringing me no bad news. I type in the name and pause.
Well, do you feel lucky punk?
I hit search.
Hmm, cake decorations. All you need for the perfect finish to your bake.
Are they kidding? Cake is something you buy! Oh well, back to work.
I return to my sales figures. The override commission generated by my cosmetics team is down.
Nothing to cry about. But there is a trip to Monte Carlo at stake and I already have a bag packed.
I pull up the individual figures and notice Sally has a big fat zero against her name.
I call Sally.
“I’m so sorry Victoria. I wasn’t able to get out last week and the internet has been playing up…”
I drum my nails on the desk.
“… And Ted has left me.”
Ah, I am all sympathy and invite her to dinner.
My husband has bought a golf package at some resort hotel. It’s at a place I thought was in Scotland but turns out to be near Birmingham. Apparently they host the Ryder Cup. Whatever that is.
So we are just three for dinner. Wayne from the gym joins us. I have a third share in the place, so that means I own a third of him.
I must say that for someone whose raison d’etre is largely physical he is a surprisingly good conversationalist. Sally is lapping it up anyway. Along with the rhubarb crumble and cream.
“This is so delicious Victoria. Did you make it yourself?”
Sometimes I think she lacks the killer instinct for sales.
“Of course darling. Just before I expressed the cream from my tits.”
Wayne laughs. His whole body shakes. I have seen smaller mountains. He has some interesting tattoos covering his mammoth shoulders. Though normally I think tattoos are a waste of money on black skin.
He fills our glasses. Sally touches his arm for the third time in the last five minutes.
“Not too much for me. I have to drive home.”
“Cab home, my treat.” I start to clear the table.
“Oh thanks, Victoria. You are such a lovely boss.”
Wayne opens the door for me. I nod to him. He knows it is time to go to work.
I leave the kitchen door open. As I load the dishwasher I see them making for the stairs.
I give them a wave.
When I enter the guest bedroom I see Wayne having his chest and shoulders oiled. Two of his fingers slosh around in Sally’s lush slit.
I unzip my dress and hang it in the wardrobe. I take my dildo from the drawer. He is called Champion, like the horse.
Sally is on all fours. From the look on her face, I’m guessing she has never had ten inches before.
I hitch my legs over the sides of my bedroom basket chair, pull the gusset of my lace panties to one side and start to tease my gash with the exquisitely moulded head.
I lock eyes with Sally. She is sobbing. I’ve never seen her so happy.
I hear the shower start up as I open the door to the cab driver. Wayne knows I won’t want oil on my clean sheets.
“That was amazing! I feel like a new woman.”
My lips brush her cheek. “Sorry about Ted, by the way.”
“Ted who?”
I watch from the doorway as the newly energised Sally sashays down my drive towards the waiting car.
Monte Carlo, here I come. I can almost feel my bottom on that plane seat.
