Steve shrieked like a schoolgirl caught with her panties down in the backseat of a car at Lover's Leap.
"Shit!" exclaimed Bea, snapping her fingers, "I forgot to lock the damn doors!"
Lawrence spun his back to us, clutching his black cap in his twitchy fingers.
"I... um... just came in to ah... verify the situation," he sputtered, "I didn't mean to interrupt."
He glanced over his shoulder, gulped, then looked away again.
"I'll be in the limo when you're ready," he added, throwing the sound over his shoulder as he headed for the door.
"HALT!" yelled Bea, and Lawrence froze mid-step, his right foot in the air.
She sighed a long, expressive sigh.
"If you can keep your mouth shut, we'll let you stay."
"WE?!" Steve alarmed, the tea towel back in his lap, tented by his overdosed dicky maximus.
Still harder than a choir boy in a porn shop.
Lawrence appeared relieved and surprised by his good fortune. He shed his black suit jacket, sat on the loveseat, loosened his black tie, and slipped it from his neck. Then he nodded a smile to Steve, who responded with a blank stare.
Bea stepped into the adjoining dining room and waved me over.
"What the hell are you doing, Bea?" I whispered.
"He can't unsee what he just saw, Shannon," she answered, "and he's an employee. I need to include him so he'll be compelled to keep quiet." She shrugged. "He's all yours, if you want him."
"ME?! NO!" I said, poking her between those tiny titties. "Steve and I are going upstairs. ALONE!"
Bea arched back and away from me.
"All right Shan, calm down for Christ's sake," she said, "Just give me a few more minutes with Steve, and you do your best to draw Lawrence into this - my job and both our reputations are at stake."
Her crazy ideas sound reasonable at the time, but on further reflection, reveal themselves to be total bullshit.
"Now where were we Mr. Smith?" Bea said, as she walked back to him and attempted to position herself between his knees - but they appeared to be super-glued together.
"Close your eyes and try to relax."
Steve did as commanded, and Bea managed to wedge in and tug the tea towel from his death grip.
I joined Lawrence on the loveseat and offered him a joint in an attempt to compromise him, per Bea's instruction. Ever since their federal government had legalized it in 2018, it seemed that Canadians had gone reefer mad. And although getting high was not a problem in most cases, I was pretty sure it would still be frowned upon if on the job - especially if that job involved operating heavy machinery - such as a limo.
But Lawrence appeared to be unconcerned for his employment, most likely because the woman who signed his checks was dick diving in the buff. He pinched a fatty from the little metal box and put it to his lips. I lit the end of it - the flame illuminating his face, awash with that kid-in-a-candy-store awe.
"Damn, Ms. Grove," Lawrence said, huffing a puff of our small town's finest, "I didn't know this was the sort of activity Miss Bea was into."
"Under the circumstances, Lawrence," I said, taking the joint from him and enjoying a nice long draw, "you can call me Shannon."
"No mam," he said, shaking his head, "My grandpa Albert told me never to um... what did he call it?... slip into familiarity... yeah that was it."
But if familiarity had been the only thing Lawrence would have slipped into that afternoon, his grandfather would have been relieved.
"It's a crazy situation we've found ourselves in," I said, passing the dwindling doobie back to him. "You wouldn't say anything to anyone, would you?" I asked through a cloudy exhale, staring at him with doe eyes, and resting my hand on his thigh.
"No mam," Lawrence said, smiling, and answering my touch with a light one of his own just north of my knee.
I turned my attention to my bestie and my mister. Steve's earlier expression of horror with the addition of a fourth player had morphed into a purr of pleasure as Bea two-handed his greasy engorged shaft and tickled his heavy ascending pouch with her tongue.
"Oh yeah, mmmmmmmmm, so so good," Steve moaned, his eyes fixated on her advanced technique, but when the deep-throating commenced, he once again broke ranks and attempted to rake his fingers through her hair.
And imagine my uneasy surprise when she went off script and didn't admonish him for his felony. Rather, she egged him on.
"That's it Steve," Bea moaned, "Fuck my mouth."
And that unapproved tactical maneuver precipitated a wave of unwelcome adrenaline through me from tip to toe
"Oh man, oh yeah, this is hot," Lawrence whispered, as he rubbed his swollen package straining against the black gabardine of the uniform trousers.
"Ms. Grove, are you interested in the BBC?" he asked, a shyness in his quiet voice.
"Yes," I said, barely engaged, absorbed instead by the wild wild web of seduction my best friend was spinning around my sweetheart. "I love that Downton Abbey series."
Lawrence knitted his brows.
"I don't know what that is, Ms. Grove," he said, "BBC means big black cock."
"Oh Bea, OH BABY, OH GOD BABY!"
Steve blurted the same sentiment as Bea's three misters, as he held her head down and bucked up into her face.
Him calling her baby - it hurt; that's my name.
"I'm going to cum." Steve whimpered.
"Oh no you are NOT!" Bea snapped, and she climbed to standing on the couch, yanked his head back by his tufts of sparse gray hair, and jerked her matching pussy along his lips.
