This is the third in a series of stories following Ed and his adventures as a door-to-door salesman. You don't need to have read chapter one but you might as well!
I hope you enjoy them and please do leave me feedback – it's always welcome. All rights reserved, © Northern_One, 2013.
Things had quietened down for Ed since his little sojourn by the pool with Tilly. He'd taken her up on her offer of doing her in the shower which had then led to another offer of doing her in her bedroom. It was there, while she was riding him on her bed, with the trappings of her teenage life all around him - most pertinently her ballet certificates and gymkhana rosettes - that Ed had finally realised he probably shouldn't have been doing what he was doing. Tilly was eighteen, so there was no problem legally but morally he felt he was on shakier ground. As her svelte teenage body bounced eagerly on top of him and her impossibly tight, bare pussy milked a third load from his tired balls he had made a decision to behave himself until he'd made enough money to pay for his onward ticket.
He didn't want to leave but he'd heard enough stories about the strict immigration policies to know if he wanted to come back any time soon he shouldn't outstay his welcome. Things had definitely been looking up recently. He'd made a good drinking and smoking buddy, if not necessarily a lifelong friend, in the Canadian, even if he still didn't know what his name was. The Canadian had inspired him with the confidence to pick up on the signals from interested females and he'd already had some considerable success, what with Charlene the yummy mummy, and Tilly the spoiled daddy's girl. Through the Canadian Ed had met the Hungarian dancer who had already provided him with a quite remarkable memory of his time in Australia and, he was reasonably sure, could provide more to come – as it were – if the Canadian would only relax a bit. As the horny Hungarian had brought the pair of them to the upper limits of ecstasy Ed had realised he was fine with being in the same room as another naked guy. In fact he'd enjoyed it and was hoping the girl's suggestion of more fun with the two guys was a genuine one, but the Canadian was having trouble with the idea.
"I mean, yeah, getting head was awesome, dude, but we can't do more. I mean; what if our dicks touched or something? Wouldn't that be gay? I couldn't even look at you, man," the Canadian had told Ed over a cold one a couple of nights later.
Ed had brought the matter up on the off chance the Canadian had managed to come to terms with seeing an engorged member that belonged to someone else.
"Jesus, man. It's not you I'm interested in, it's her. This has to be the chance of a lifetime. The opportunity to fuck an amazingly hot girl together? It's like, fucking, porn shit."
The Canadian's horizons remained insufficiently broadened, however. "Sorry, dude. I just can't. I don't mind if you fuck her though."
"I'm not gonna fuck your girl. I wouldn't do that. Anyway, she doesn't want to fuck just me, she wants us both. Man the fuck up. Take one for the team. Wear a fucking blindfold, I don't care!"
The Canadian had shaken his head apologetically and sloped off to buy another jug of beer. Ed sighed and sat back in his chair, rueing his buddy's lack of faith in his own sexuality. I mean, Ed thought, surely he's seen dude's dicks in porn. What was the big deal?
The next day, as Ed sat in the font of the battered minibus that was dropping off the various door-to-door sellers, he reminded himself of the task ahead of him: to earn the last couple of hundred bucks he needed to buy his ticket. Fantasies of threesomes with comically beautiful exotic dancers would have to remain just that. The first knock of the day was his priority and that was something that hadn't got any easier no matter how high his confidence was.
He hadn't been paying much attention to where they were going. Over the weeks that he'd been doing this job he'd come to realise it didn't pay to plan ahead too much. He had no control over where he was sent, that was left to the wide-boy owners of the outfit and there was no point in stressing over being sent to a difficult patch. One of the owners, a thin, wiry Irishman called Declan was beside him in the driving seat. As they drove towards yet another identikit residential area it took Ed a moment to realise Declan was talking to him.
"Ed, you dozy fucker. Did you hear me?"
"No, sorry. What?"
"Fuck's sake," Declan drawled.
How he'd made so much money in sales was beyond Ed who was only now getting used to the thick Cork accent. He felt sure it was the piercing green eyes and general air of barely contained violence that did it rather than any slick patter.
"You know you could be a top boy if you put a bit more into it, Eddie-lad. You need to give a hundred and ten, not ninety nine or a hundred. It's gotta be a hundred and ten in this game."
It wasn't the first time he'd hear his name mentioned as a potential 'top boy'. He eyed Declan's cheap shoes and polyester shirt as the ancient van struggled up a slight incline. The prospect didn't fill him with much passion. Ed hadn't bothered telling anyone he was leaving the following week, he couldn't bear the thought of the talk of "bottling it" and his "not having the stones for the big time" that came the way of anyone who had the temerity to leave. Big time, my arse, Ed thought.
"I said, you're with the newbie today," Declan told him, jerking a thumb towards the back of the minibus. "Fresh off the plane. Show 'em how it's done, big man."
"Great," muttered Ed, not bothering to look round. Showing a newbie the ropes was one of the downsides of being relatively good at the job. Newcomers usually had no idea what the role entailed, the management having told them as little as possible beforehand so as not to scare them off before they even started. For Ed it meant having a shadow for the entire day, having to explain what he was doing and why, and having to try and convince the hapless soul that it was actually possible to make some money. The newbie wouldn't be paid, of course, and not many showed up again the next day. The team was shrinking, though, and Ed would be expected to make the job seem appealing enough for the newcomer to come back. In the past Ed had had people quit after twenty minutes, only to realise they were miles from home and without any means of getting back until the minibus showed up at the end of the day. The job was shit enough without a gormless newcomer making it harder.
By the time he was standing on the baking concrete pavement with the minibus belching its smoky way towards its next drop-off point Ed had to admit his mood had lightened somewhat. His companion for the day was a pretty English backpacker who introduced herself with a beaming smile as Katrina, or Kat, for short. It wasn't only her smile, her neat blonde bob and her blue eyes that had cheered Ed up. One of the biggest problems Ed had with having a newbie alongside was that they were usually clueless, scruffy fuckwits who were more likely to repulse customers than charm them. Kat, however, wore a smart fitted white blouse showing just a hint of cleavage, a tight dark grey skirt, and a pair of cream kitten-heeled court shoes that looked as though she might actually be able to walk in them. Looking, as she did, like a smart office worker, Ed wondered what the hell she was doing here, sampling the delights of a door-to-door career. Still, she wasn't going to scare anyone off and, he supposed, might even be a bit of an advantage if it came to any lustful male customers.
Ed and Kat had exchanged pleasantries and swapped the usual backpacker information - where they were from, where they'd been, next adventures, and so on. Kat was from Manchester, had just done Vietnam, Laos, Thailand and Cambodia, and was in Australia for six months - if she could find a job, of course. She had dropped a point in Ed's esteem by saying she'd "done" anywhere, as if it was something to be ticked off a list, but he knew he was shallow enough for her figure, hair and smile to outweigh the odd foible.
Their patch for the day looked an average one. Not as well-to-do as Tilly's suburb but not a total dump, either. There was a faint smell of cement dust in the air and the houses looked almost brand new. The two of them walked towards the first door of the day. Ed, full of confidence after his recent sexual conquests and with the Canadian's mantra foremost in his thoughts, knew he couldn't show any weakness in front of Kat.
"Okay, here we go. It's probably best if you hang back for the first few doors to see what it's all about." He turned to her, gave her a friendly grin and knocked.
"Fuck off!" a voice shouted through the screen door.
"Will do," Ed called back.
"Charming," Kat said.
They were about a dozen doors down with nothing to show for their efforts. Hardly anyone had been at home and those that were hadn't shown the slightest interest. Ed didn't think he was doing a great job of impressing Kat and an even worse one of showing her what a great job this really was.
