Just a Piece of Ass

Disclaimer. This is set in England, with English dialogue so if 'F words' offend you, don't read it.

None of the Characters or corporations are based on real people, or corporations, any similarities are unintentional.

Just A Piece of Ass.

It was just a blue door beside a book shop, anonymous, blue, drab, I knocked and an ageing concierge greeted me, "Yes?" she asked as she blocked the way forward up the drab stairway with peeling brown wall paper and worn green stair carpet.

"Maggie? I phoned earlier," I replied.

"Top of the stairs, turn right," she said and she let me pass her, "You pay the girl," she explained, "Price depends what you want," she peered at me and added, "Anal is twenty extra."

"Straight," I replied, as I looked back down the stairs at her, she looked ridiculous too much make up for a woman in her fifties, high heels, fishnet tights, leather miniskirt, her waist tightly squeezed by a black leather corset over which her bust despite the best efforts of her huge leather uplift brassiere, and worst of all was her hair was an awful shade of honey blonde, almost orange all in all a sad shadow of a once beautiful woman.

"First on the right," she repeated. It was moment of truth time, Sam was insistent that Candice my ex was working here, in this tatty brothel, opposite Kings Cross station, at weekends. She called herself Maggie and I was about to find out if he was right.

I knocked the door, the wrong voice said "Come in." I went in. Sam was half right, the girl was blonde, mid twenties, but gaunt, her eyes sunken into her heavily mascara-ed eye sockets, painfully thin, the full heroin chic look, you could see her ribs above her leather thong, below her leather bra, I wondered if they had a dress code, black leather and as little as possible, but it wasn't her, it wasn't Candice, I didn't know whether to feel relieved or not, I needed it to be Candice, but I sure as hell didn't want it to be.

"Hi," she smiled showing too many fillings, "What do you want?" she asked as I carefully shut the door behind me. The room was well, basic, a tatty front bedroom with a single bed with a mattress and sheet but no covers, a two bar electric fire, a cabinet with a bowl of condoms, a scene set off by peeling floral patterned nicotine stained nineteen forties wall paper.

"Oh," I hesitated, I tried a smile, I wanted to get out of this dump as quickly as possible.

"You can just talk if you want," she suggested, "But its still the same money," I hesitated again but before I could answer there was a knock at the door and the door knob turned and she opened the door enough to put her head around it

"Maggs, have you got any ribbed durex?" she asked, "Oh sorry!" she said, "Didn't realise you had company.

My heart stopped, it was her, oh bloody hell, Sam had been right, almost, the, right place, the right girl, just the wrong name.

"Hi Candice," I said, "Long time?"

She stared back at me, in disbelief I guess, "John?" she said uncertainly, "John Meadows?" It must have been the beard, she didn't recognise me without the beard.

"The same, it seems my mate got the name wrong love," I apologised to Maggie, "It was Candice I wanted to see." I reached in my back pocket and peeled five twenties off my roll of notes and handed them to her, "No offence."

"No, it's fine, as long as you paid," Maggie agreed, but Candice was gone.

"What's she call herself?" I asked.

"Candy," Maggie laughed, "Kinky Kandy with a K,"

"Ok," I agreed, "Thanks," and I went to look for 'Kandy'.

"Shit, shit, shit," she was muttering in her room as I opened a door to reveal a tatty back bedroom with a single bed like Maggie's, the same faded wall paper and an electric fire and a cabinet with a bowl of condoms like Maggie's and there was Candice in a black leather peep hole bra and leather skirt busily throwing her things into a battered cream suitcase.

"How did you find me you bastard?" she asked.

"Oh friends," I agreed, "Good friends," and I closed the door behind me, and I looked at her, "You look like shit," I said.

"So do you," she agreed, "It's no good, I'm not coming back."

I took six crisp twenties from my back pocket, "I'll have anal." I said and placed them in her hand.

"What?" she gasped.

"Anal, christ you don't think I want you back do you?" her eyes said it, disbelief, as if she thought my life revolved around her.

"Right," she agreed, "Twenty extra, oh right, that's one twenty," she agreed, "Oh christ I can't" she said.

"Why not?" I asked, "You fuck all comers, why not me?"

"You know, you know very well," she insisted.

"So pretend it's someone else," I suggested, she stared horrified but then she nodded and sneered.

"Ok, why not, see if I care," she agreed, "Yes fair enough, I'll just bend over the end of the bed shall I?" she asked, "Only a BJ first will cost double."

"No bed's fine," I agreed, "You just pull your panties," I said but she laughed as she flipped her short supple leather skirt up to show there was nothing underneath.

"Just slip this on," she insisted handing me a condom, "And then fuck my ass big boy," she added as much nervously as sarcastically.

She laughed, she always laughed at me, at University we had shared a room in digs for nearly two years, we did the same Art course, but I had set out to make money from my art while she sought critical acclaim and I had issues, in bed, and she started screwing around, and in the end the rows got so bad that she split, left me, left the course, left town with a big spending older guy who promised to set up an exhibition for her somewhere in London, and she disappeared from my life.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asked, "You wanna fuck or you wanna chat."

"Candice," I asked, "Why be so crude?"

"Because I'm a fucking whore," she said, "You said 'If you want it all the time get a job as a fucking whore' remember?"

"I wasn't serious," I argued.

"No but it pays the rent." she countered, "You got seventeen minutes left."

I peeled off my brown leather jacket and my tee shirt, laid them on the chair and just dropped my levis and shorts down round my ankles.

"Jesus what you do, use Viagra," she sneered, "After all this time you finally found V."

I never disillusioned her, "Got a black one?" I said motioning towards the selection of condoms in her bowl.

"Yeah, a real cheap black one, here," she said and threw one at me.

She watched me roll it on, fascinated, expecting me to cum at any second as all too often happened when we were together, but it was ok, he reared up nice and proud, sort of forty five degrees above level, spearing upwards six and a half maybe seven inches.

"Don't get a heart attack," she said nastily, "I'll get some lube."

It came in a little applicator, one with a little handle which she pumped after she stuck the long white plastic nozzle inside her ass, and then she leaned over the end of the bed, "Come and get it," she sneered really nastily, like everything was my fault.

She thought I'd cum before I got halfway inside her, she hated that about me, 'all promise no delivery,' she once said as she assumed I must have fallen out of love with her or be banging someone else, but that was in the past and then she winced as I came close, grasped her by the hips and started to ease my meat inside her, "Hurry up!" she said nastily, as she gripped her own buttocks as she had a hundred times before to spread her tight brown bud to let a cock in, "You should have cum by now."

Her anus was perfectly round now as my black rubber encased helmet eased her open, six inches of shaft joining me to her perfect round ass, then five inches and then four and I kept right on pushing, "Oh christ, let me just," she said as she shifted position, "Ok." and I slid in some more.

"Oh fuck you're big," she complained, "Look maybe this wasn't such a good idea." but there were just three inches left, two, "Aaahhh, no that hurts," she said, "John please!"

"That's me a John," I agreed, "And I paid up front so button it you stupid bitch."

"No seriously!" she said, "Oh please no!" she wailed, "God no!" but there was just an inch now, and she felt real good, tight, real tight, too bloody tight really, uncomfortably tight, so I started humping gently.

"John please," she tried, and I humped some more, "John you can cum, its ok," she tried, "Oh god cum for me baby!" she tried.

"Where did you get that one from?" I asked.

"Some John, well not a John necessarily," she said awkwardly, "It could have been a Dick or a Harry," and the months apart sort of drifted away and she was like the old sarcastic irreverent Candice again.

"Right!" I agreed, "I guess I'm done." I said and slid out of her, her ass stunk of shit and there was shit on the condom as I peeled it off my still rock hard cock and tossed it in her bin.

"What did you have done, is it an implant," she asked as she felt herself freed and turned to look at me, she was lying sort of across the bed, her face against the mattress, lying on her ear watching me she looked at me sort of sideways like she used to with her gorgeous big blue eyes, it was a big mistake, because I gripped my shaft in my hand and wanked the skin up and down a half a dozen times and I just let fly. Her face was in the firing line, when, blam, that first gush of silvery cream came gushing up my rod and hit her right on the top of her forehead, and the next spurt hit her nose and then as she tried to get away I got her on the chin and tits as the spurts got weaker.

"Shit!" she wailed, "You cunt, yuck!"

"Lick it up," I said.

"No way!" she said, but I had my levis half way back up and I reached in my pocket and took a few twenties from the roll of notes.

"Lick it up," I replied.

"Fuck you!" she shouted.

"You all right in there Candy?" a mans voice asked.

"No, the John's completed and wont go!"she exclaimed.

The door opened and a black guy opened it, "Ain't you the guy that asked about Maggie?"

"Sure," I agreed, "Wrong name this is the pussy I wanted, except she wont lick my cum."

"You gotta pay extra," he said.

"I just did," I pointed out.

"So lick the man's cum bitch," he said, "He paid ain't he?"

She still had the notes in her hand.

"Uh, well yes but he spunked," she said awkwardly.

"So he spunked, lick it the fuck up, bitch," the black guy said.

"You're Malcolm right?" I asked, as I saw Candice wipe her forehead with a tissue

"Maybe," he admitted, "It depending on who's asking." he agreed, and as I motioned towards Candice he added "Use your fingers and lick it off your fingers bitch."

"What the fuck difference does it make?" she asked.

Malcolm's reply came as an open handed slap across her left cheek, "Lick the cum bitch, swallow the mans seed, you took the money now do the fuck."

She reeled and the tears welled in her eyes, "Ok, ok, give me a second ok, I'll do it!" she agreed.

It seemed pretty pointless making her lick cum, but she had to see it was healthy cum, smell it, see it, taste it, "Yuck!" she protested, but after that first lick I guess she figured it wasn't so bad.

"So how much?" I asked, "For the weekend?"

"Two K?" he tried, "For me you pay her the rest."

"Try one!" I countered,

"One thousand pounds," he replied, "A day,"

"Ok one day," I agreed, "Cash ok?"

"Sure!" he agreed, "Unless you wanna pay VAT."

"What?" Candice said suddenly, "Buy what?"

"Your ass bitch," Malcolm explained, "All night, sort of a take out, seems you two got unfinished business."

"Oh no way, no!" Candice protested but Malcolm silenced her with a left right two way open hand slap to the face and a rabbit punch to the stomach that sent her crashing against the cabinet before slumping to the ground gasping for breath.

"That's the way to treat white bitches, slap em around keeps em hot." Malcolm advised.

"So a grand?" I repeated.

"Cash," Malcolm insisted, "I don't suppose you have it in your ass or something?"

"Give me five minutes," I said. I saw he didn't believe a word, "Standing by the door, downstairs, ok?" I said as I borrowed a tissue wiped myself and pulled my shorts up.

"Sure!" he agreed as I pulled my Levis up.

"Five minutes," I repeated, as I pulled my tee shirt up and took my padded leather jacket from the chair, "In fact bring her down now."I suggested and I opened the door stepped through and slammed it behind me.

The door beyond Maggie's room was open, a John, WC, bog whatever you prefer to call it, I slipped in there and bolted the door, killing time, waiting and as soon as I heard Malcolm and Candice go down stairs I went down after them.

"I got it!" I announced, Malcolm was caught wrong footed with me behind him on the stairs, Candice had her case with her but it looked like she just had her jacket over her leather skirt, I expected that she would have changed into street clothes but I pulled the zipper in the lining of my coat and pulled fifty twenties from the lining.

"Count it?" I suggested, but he just checked two at random and when he saw a watermark he just told Candice she could "Fuck off!" and he told me it was a "Pleasure doing business with you!" but he lied, he just planned on taking my money, smashing his fist in my face and chucking me out on the street, that was what he had in mind, except I was behind him, it threw him.

"But, you don't own me you can't do this!" Candice protested, "Look at least let me get dressed in my own clothes before I get arrested."

"No, you're fine and the Van's just around the corner." I assured her, and I shook Malcolm's hand, picked up her case and walked out into the cold Kings Cross air.

She clattered after me on ridiculously high heels and gasped when she saw the van, yes the oldest and most disreputable ford transit you ever saw, and she had to wait for me to open the doors for her before she could climb in.

I put her case in the back, through the side door, "You can't buy me!" she said.

"That's debatable," I said, "Anyway we have things to do," she shivered in the cold as I started the engine,, "Here, put this coat on." I offered her a old short camel hair coat and gratefully she put it on, and we drove slowly down past the station.

"I always get changed before I leave," she explained, "I only do it because I owe Malcolm, he bought my."

"Too much information," I snapped, I certainly didn't want to feel sorry for her, "You're my whore for the weekend, I paid, get used to it." I suggested.

"Not for the whole weekend!" she protested, "I need to get home, you know, it's just."

"We'll see," I promised.

"So where are you taking me?" she asked,

"Weekends, Thursday, Friday, Saturday eight till four a.m." I suggested, "Am I right?"

"Yes, he just took you for a thousand pounds," she asked like she was concerned, "I can stay tonight but no longer. You know that don't you?"

"Sure," I agreed, "You just hop out at the lights right now and you can walk home."

"I need my case!" she exclaimed.

"That's my point, now you want to walk?" I asked.

She went quiet, "What's this about John?" she asked, "You never gave a fuck about me before."

"It's about being made to feel like shit," I said as I missed third gear again and almost got reverse with a hideous grinding sound, "Harry, Phil, Steve..."

"Yes, so what about you?" she snapped, and then she asked, "So where are you taking me?"

"Home!" I suggested.

She got a bit worried then, we were heading east from Kings Cross, my place was zoned for redevelopment, three storeys, a warehouse really, studio possibly, certainly not a residential area but it was ideal for what I needed.

The ground floor was empty, echoingly empty as I undid the lock and chain on the roller shutter door opened it and drove in, she made her run for it, except the van's side door was locked and she really needed her case.

She stared at me with a look of resignation, "Bastard!" she said, but she knew she was beat, "You can't keep me here," she insisted, but I knew I could.

"Up the stairs," I told her, "Over there." I pointed, there was room for half a dozen vans easily, and at the far end stairs led upwards, a padlocked mesh gate, guarded the way but I unlocked it for her and she went up the bare concrete stairs.

The middle floor was empty most of the windows broken like downstairs, just the closely spaced metal bars keeping the wine o's and whores out, and then there was the alarm to re set, and another locked door, sheet metal this time, which led to the top floor, I locked it behind us and we climbed the final flight of stairs to my home.

She just gasped, ok it was big, one big open space, big enough for maybe ten cars if you could get them up there, but at one end partitioned off in thew former offices were the facilities, cooker, freezer, shower, bed, TV, while the open space was my gallery or skittle alley or what ever else I wanted, in one corner I had an ancient but decent sound system, and there was space enough for a dance floor, but in the evenings with no lights on everything had a menacing orange hue from the street light's reflected glow.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked.

"Unfinished business, get naked." I suggested.

"No!" she defied me.

"Malcolm said a little slap works wonders," I reminded her.

"It's bloody freezing," she said.

It was, "In the office then," I suggested.

"Like that will make any difference?" she asked as I guided her through the old office door and turned on the electric heaters.

"It needs a while to warm up," I explained, "Sit down, you hungry?"

"Oh yes," she quipped, "I'll have the soup of the day, then Pate de Fois gras." and the magic was back for a second and then she stopped, sort of gulped and she was a whore again, a piece of meat, just a hole to fuck.

"I got vegetable soup," I agreed, "It's ok with sausage rolls," she didn't look too impressed with my culinary talents. "You got aids?" I asked, "Hiv?"

"N'no, I'm very careful, very, why?" she said.

"I'm fucking you bare back," I explained, "Over there, see?"

I had kept the old office from when this was the top floor of the warehouse, the office now had a double bedrooms, mine had a wardrobe and cupboards for my stuff, even an ensuite shower and WC, in the kitchen /diner / lounge was a computer and TV and beside the office the washroom still kept most of its cubicles with genuine Thomas Crapper porcelain, and U shaped wooden seats and cast iron overhead cisterns with chains, except the one that was now a shower, but it had electric heaters, and it was insulated so it would hit comfortable naked fucking temperature in under five minutes.

"Look, don't be stupid, lets talk." she said as I ripped the coat off her, "Ok!" she said and undid her jacket before I tore that too and she just let me strip her right down.

"In there!" I pointed to the open door to the spare bed 'room', down the far end of the office, beyond the "Kitchen." She peeled her white cotton panties off her heels, I expected a thong, and I as watched she tottered across the concrete floor, and her ass wiggled like heels make them do, and her hair caught the orange light streaming in from the street, and I was getting hard.

She stepped through the bedroom door, "Oh!" she gasped, as she saw the bare bed as if she thought it was for sleeping and then my arms were around her as at once I propelled her forwards and dropped the latch on the door behind us.

"John!" she gasped, "What are you doing?"

"What you always wanted," I told her, "A real fucking ok?"

"John, be careful, you know I can't take the pill," she said.

"Do I give a fuck?" I asked, "Well do I?"

"So use a rubber," she said, but she was on the bed now and as soon as I had the heels off her she was almost my old Candice, just the overdone makeup and then I hit the light switch and we slipped back in time to before.

Same soft skin, same smell, musky, stronger than before, Candice smell not perfume, christ was I hard, I got out of my jacked and tee shirt and dropped my pants, my shoes wouldn't come off without undoing the laces, so I had to bend down and she started laughing.

"You can't even get that right!" she laughed, but then I had a hold of her again, she was on the bed, naked, and I spread her legs, real wide, and in the orange streetlight's reflected glow I sunk my orange member into her soft orange pussy just like old times.

"John!" she protested, "Use a rubber for christ's sake, please!"

"You don't get it do you?" I snapped, "I don't fucking want to do this, I have to do this, ok?"

Except it wasn't like old times, I wasn't trying to shove a half hard tool down a tight slit, oh no she'd had a half dozen cocks in there since eight o'clock I guessed, no she was just right, slippery, and nice, hell she could maybe squeeze me if she wanted to be real nice, but I was hard and I was in, ball deep as they say.

"John, what's got into you?" she asked, "You're so hard, yet?" she paused, "Is it Cyalis?"

"Fucking vitamin deficiency," I told her, "I was fucking anaemic, can you believe that?"

"Oh shit!" she said, "Do you mean?"

"Yes, there wasn't anyone else." I told her, "I tried to get fit when you left, nearly collapsed when I tried a half marathon," I explained, "They did tests and the doc said vitamin deficiency and I'll have to take supplements for ever."

"Oh shit!" she said, "Oh fucking christ." I waited for her to say sorry, but she just gasped, "John," she said, "Oh fuck," and she had her arms around me as we fucked the longest we ever had.

"You're lying right?" she said as I began thrusting against her.

"Sure," I lied.

"Phew, oh you had me worried for a moment," she admitted, "But John, you don't have anything to prove."

"Of course I fucking do," I insisted, "I need to make you fucking cum, scream the place down like Harry used to make you do, yelp like Phil made you yelp, or."

"You heard?" she gasped, "You knew?" I kissed her shoulder.

"Yeah, my heart died with every scream," I said, "Not literally you understand," she laughed, her teeth smiling orange in the street lights reflected glow, it fucked me up, hearing her laugh at my jokes as I fucked her.

"You want to finish up?" she asked, "Maybe get a pizza, talk about old times, take me home?" she asked.

I stopped humping, "You think this is some weird date?" I asked, "Oh god no, I bought you lady, this is your home now ok?"

"John, this is too weird," she said, but I was still inside her, still hard, straining hard, not just hard, really hard, and she felt just perfect, I lowered my chest onto her tits and cradled her face in my hands so I could rape her mouth with my tongue, "Nnngg," she protested but my tongue was behind her teeth and as she tried to bite me I started to pump that jism.

"Nngggg," she protested, but the cum was spreading, seeping, gushing getting everywhere soaking her fertile womb, she struggled to throw me off but it wouldn't have mattered she was too late, she was well and truly fucked.

"Christ!" she gasped as I let her up, "We better get to an all night chemist," she said anxiously, "Morning after pill?"

"Your problem, deal with it," I suggested as I pulled out of her, "But you're going nowhere."

She stared at me, but she couldn't see what was in the shadows beneath the bed, I don't think she realised what it was as I held it up, she just sat up trying to make it out, but it was a simple dog collar, a collar for my bitch and it was around her neck before she knew, and secured by a tiny padlock next to the buckle.

"John!" she protested, "Don't be stupid!"

"Like I said," I replied, "I bought you, deal with it!"

I ran my finger round under the collar and made sure it wasn't too tight, "John, please!" she protested, it felt good, real good, better than a wedding ring, that meant partnership, this was ownership, I could do what I want when I want, and the feel of that leather made me want.

I laid her on her back again.

"Don't be stupid," she said, but it was ok, I was hard again, "You want anal?" she said hopefully.

"No," I confirmed, and once again I spread her legs.

"Look, you'll get a heart attack John, just slow down, take it easy ok, I'll stay all night, don't." she said, and then she sighed, "John," she said, "That feels really nice just be gentle, don't get too excited ok?"

"It's hardly going to make you scream the place down is it?" I exclaimed.

"I suppose not," she agreed, "But there's nothing to prove ok?"

"Of course there is, I need to know I can give you a good time." I insisted.

"John, these days a good time is Lark Rise to Candle Ford on TV, I've had enough cocks to last a lifetime and they don't do a lot for me." she looked delicious in that orange light.

"Oh god you aren't are you," she said as I started humping harder, "John!" she wailed, "John, ah, look oh, oh fuck you bastard, look, John," she gasped, "Ohhhhhhh, christ, John, oh fucking hell," she actually had tears in her eyes, "Please!" she said, "That's it, right there John, please, that's good."

"You're good," I told her, "At faking."

"Fuck you ohhhhhhh," she whimpered, "Oh fucking hell John, fucking hell."

I slowed my rhythm, "Fuck you to hell John Meadows," she said, "Why couldn't you fuck like that when we were together?"

"I'm not finshed yet," I assured her, "Oh no you cost me a lot of money, and I want every pennies worth."

"John, you don't own me, I only work, Ohhh thats good," she said, "Mmmmm," an she went quiet.

I made sure she was really enjoying it you know holding back really concentrating and then I just let fly when she was maybe faking her orgasm or maybe not, but then I was just about beat so I rolled off her and pulled the bed covers over me and turned on my side to sleep.

"John, you don't own me," she said.

"So you don't owe those guys two thousand pounds?" I queried.

"Oh, right," she agreed, "How did you know?"

"I have friends," I agreed, "What was it back street abortion." I asked her.

"No," she said surprisingly calmly, "No I wouldn't, no it was a gallery, I borrowed for an exhibition, you know, for my work, a gallery, and." she paused, I waited, "It flopped, no one came I didn't sell anything, well, nothing worth anything, you know, and then a friend."

"Some friend," I offered.

"She said it was a good way to make some pin money," she said, "I work Monday to Thursdays, in pub still, lunch times."

"And the friend?" I asked.

"She modelled for me." Candice explained.

"Right, a she, I see." I said tongue in cheek.

"And you?" she asked, "Still doing landscapes?"

"Anything the punters will pay for," I agreed, "You'd be surprised!" oh was she going to be surprised.

"I need to be at work at ten on Monday." she said, "You don't own me," it was a brave if foolish statement under the circumstances.

I must have drifted off to sleep, because I woke in darkness, the street lights went out at one a.m. and when I finally found my watch it was nearly four.

"You want supper or breakfast?" I asked.

"Sleep," she muttered, and yawned.

It didn't make much difference what she wanted, really, I just had some cold ham, an Atkins sandwich, no bread, and a coffee and then I slept through to eleven.

She was gone, she had dressed and had been through my pockets and drawers looking for keys, and she was getting inventive, rooting through my paints and brushes when I found her.

"Nope!" I told her.

"John, it's" she said as she pretended to look at a picture of a bank I had been working on, "It's crap John."

"It's a commission," I explained.

"Like a bloody photograph," she said churlishly.

"Well you could take a photograph," I agreed, "If they demolished the Woolworth building so you could get back far enough."

"Right," she agreed, "So did you graduate?" she asked.

"Just, and you?" I asked although I knew full well she had just thrown it all away when she stormed out and left me, and the final year of her art degree behind. She shook her head.

"I thought," she said, yes she believed the lecturers, she believed she had talent, that people would pay through the nose for her art, while I just worked out what people wanted and painted it, demand and supply, they demand I supply, simple.

But first I had to get ready for the evening, she still had the collar on, she thought it was a symbol, but it was a tool.

She could see the easels set up with my work now, work in progress mainly, now the daylight flooded in from the northlight roof, she could see my works in progress, I just flitted from one to another, that's why I needed the space, and she could see the various finished paintings in frames which adorned the walls, "John so many works, so little originality, so little flair," she said, it would have wounded me once, but not now.

"And whats the wall about?" she asked as she saw my masterpiece for the first time, a simple room ten feet long and six feet deep, with doors at each end, built in reclaimed brick at the opposite end to the office and against the blank wall separating my unit from the place next door, flat roofed rather than reaching to the ceiling ten feet or more above, and windowless except the long wall had five holes in it, one large, four small.

"It's a work," I explained, "There's a LCD TV beyond, I thought I'd take photos through the holes."

"Great, so you steal my ideas, you did take some notice of my work then?" she sneered, oh yes, I took notice of her ideas, great interest in fact.

"Yes!" I agreed, "It time to get ready," I walked away from her, she followed.

"What for," she demanded.

"You'll see!" I explained, she followed, towards the stairs, then back again towards the art work.

"What for?" she demanded again, as I stopped by a massive old iron hook screwed to the wall beside an old tall white painted wooden cupboard, and lifted down the painting which hung from it, "What for?" she demanded again, so I took hold of her by the shoulders.

"You'll see!" I promised as I gripped her upper arms and lifted her bodily, lifted her a foot off the floor so her collar grazed the hook on the back wall and then down again looping the collar over that big u shaped hook, don't get me wrong she didn't hang from it, she could just stand there, she couldn't do anything else, really, but she couldn't rise up enough to escape from it.

"John!" she protested, "John!" she screamed, but the plan was in train now, all the pieces were in place including the straps and ball gag in the bag just by the cupboard, and the eyelets screwed into the wall, she just stared, she had all her weight on her feet, she wasn't hanging, but she realised she couldn't raise up enough to get free, she was quite shocked, it came as a complete surprise. I slipped her jacket off her shoulders first, slipped it down her arms and let it fall, she just stared I 'm sure she thought I was going to screw her, just lift her legs and spread them and take her weight on my cock, but nice as that would be she was way wide of the mark.

"John," she said anxiously as I tossed her jacket aside and took a wrist cuff from my bag and slipped it around her left wrist she didn't get it, or the right, or when I clipped her wrists to the wall,

"John!" she cried in alarm as I pulled her skirt and panties down and looped a leather cuff around her left ankle, she should have fought then, maybe, it was too late to escape but she could still have broken my nose or something, but I clipped her left leg to the wall and it was all over, I had two hands, two strong hands to hold her one leg so when she finally tried to kick out I was too strong, I just cuffed that right leg and clipped its short chain the the wall, there was some slack, she could get comfortable, I'm not a sadist or anything, BDSM is fine, it doesn't float my boat but it sure as hell pays well.

Pictures I mean, photographs and in paint, paint from photographs, "John!" she was frightened now, so I found a craft knife and cut her bra off and kissed her breast.

"It's ok baby, you have to suffer for your art." I told her, and then I waited for ages before she allowed me to gag her with a nice new red leather ball gag with a black elasticated strap.

It was perfect, so I fetched the cupboard, it was just a nondescript tatty white wooden shell, with the doors locked permanently, the whole thing lined with glass fibre to deaden the sounds within and I carried it across and lifted it over her, it stood six inches higher than her and it fitted over her perfectly, slipping over the brackets I had installed along with the hook and eyes, and then I lifted it back off.

"Don't be frightened, you'll be safe in there." I assured her.

I had some trestle tables, candelabra', white cloths, all prepared, I set them out for a viewing, she understood or thought she did, she knew she was the exhibit, but she didn't really understand, she was too abstract for that, impractical, she had talent, undoubtedly, but if she thought I was going to unveil her as a work of art by lifting a cupboard off her or opening the doors then, well she was wrong.

I was on schedule, I showered and dressed, and waited, chatted to Candice, a one sided conversation admittedly as she was gagged, I told her about my work, my commissions, graduation day, everything, almost and then the doorbell sounded.

I answered the buzz with the speaker and said I would be down, but I put the cupboard over her first and sprinkled dust around it, and then the caterers came, they set the tables, an old friend Hugo Dumas and two pretty girls, working yards from the bound gagged Candice, one girl even tried the cupboard doors as she looked for candles, which I had already put out and then they went, promising to clear away in the morning.

"It's time." I told Candice, I slipped her Leather skirt and white panties from her ankles and slipped the chains from the wall so I could free it from her legs, then I clipped her ankles together, she could kick me, if she wished, but she would snap her neck if she tried and slipped, so she didn't try, she just stared in disbelief as I unclipped her wrists from the wall and clipped them together and then I lifted her up and off the hook and set her down on the ground.

She didn't understand, not a thing, even as I lifted her in a fire mans lift over my shoulder and carried her to the wall.

I wasn't sure about the holes, and she was even less sure, and this bit was dangerous, for her that is, "Head hole, two leg holes, two arm holes," I explained, "Simple."

But it wasn't, it needed three people really, and there was just me, but I had a plan, and a very solid trolley, which I fetched from where it had supported a large picture of part of Norfolk, a Landscape, and put it against the wall, it was just about at waist height, and I set it in line with the leg holes.

She stared, she shivered with fear, terror maybe, but the chains were through the leg holes, or a chain as it looped round the back, and before she could react she was on the trolley and her ankles cuffs clipped to the chain.

I checked the rubber pads at the bottom of the holes, she would need them, they would be supporting her weight for the evening, and after releasing the clip securing her ankles together I pushed the trolley firmly against the wall and tried to push her foot in a hole.

She strugged so I went round the wall and tugged on the chain, she struggled but sure enough a black stiletto heeled foot emerged and as soon as the ankle was through I attached a very short chain to stop her pulling it back and I tugged her other foot through, the thigh pads were still in place in the bottom of the holes, so I went to check she was ok, she was angry, but fine, so I pushed her further in, so far that her tummy was against the wall and then she realised why there was a strap through the arm holes, it was part of a racing car seat belt once, with a quick release buckle which I undid and pushed her head through the big hole.

She stopped me, her arms were too strong, "I'll push the trolley away," I explained, "You can't stop yourself from falling, unless you put your arms through the hole."

She heard the trolley move as I nudged it with my foot, and she quickly stopped resisting, "You wouldn't?" she said incredulously, but fear made her grab for the only hand holds available the hand holes in the wall.

I hoped it all fitted, I guessed the dimensions from a BDSM gallery on the web, but that was a girl trapped in a wooden frame with planks, this was brick four and a half inches thick, lovingly built course by course by by a couple of so called builders a month or so before which was why it was a bit out of plumb and not quite straight, but it was nicely dried out now, hard and firm, immovable.

I left the trolley and passed the strap round her, before I went round the other side, through the door to her left, which could be bolted from the inside, but opened inwards against a spring with nothing to catch hold of to open it from inside, the other door could also be bolted and opened outwards with nothing on the outside to pull to open it, effectively a one way system.

She looked terrified, but I clipped the chains on her wrist cuffs to eyelets screwed on the walls and took a can of spray foam, the sort plumbers spray around pipes to seal them where they pass through walls, and sealed her arms to the holes.

She really panicked as her legs were sealed in place, the can said the stuff was safe, but she didn't know that, and finally her head,I used a rubber collar from a dry suit I think, one a mate ripped and threw away, but it went over her head and covered her neck then I tucked her hair up under a baseball cap and sealed her neck to the wall with foam.

"Ok," I asked, but she didn't answer, she had fainted I checked the cameras, three web cams, low res filming constantly and three digital cameras, all slaved to my computer and zeroed in on her, all recording crisp high resolution pictures direct to a huge remote hard drive, one every five seconds when I hit the toggle.

I went round to the other side of the wall, turned on the TV which faced her and watched as she woke, and as she looked up at me so I put the remote control in her left hand, It was obvious I had mis-calculated as she couldn't reach across to operate it but I decided with some tape I could tape it to her hand so she could do it with her thumb one handed.

Next with the TV volume way up I went outside and shut the door, you could barely hear it, so no one would hear her scream, and there were two little shelves to screw in place on the wall, one for condoms and lube, and one for tissues, oh and a felt tip pen, and the waste bin of course.

I turned the TV volume down, selected channel 3 and went to find my tool box, then I taped the remote to her hands and fixed the shelves and set out the lube and condoms and when it was done I stood on a chair and fiddled with the lap top computer hidden among the insulation on the roof of the room above Candice's head. I checked the images, they looked fine, it just needed me to tap "Enter," to begin recording.

My cell phone rang, "Meadows," I replied.

"You rang about a model?" the voice explained, "A special model, we have Francine this evening five feet three and."

"Ah, I said but I'm ok thanks, at least for today." I said as I shelved plan B, my back-up plan, in case it wasn't Candice at Kings Cross after all.

I put the cupboard over Candice next, and put the folding metal framed canvass screen ready. I turned on the discreet lighting and then washed my hands and face and changed into a clean shirt and clean blue jeans. I double checked everything was ready and waited for my guests, Harry, Phil, Steve, Johno from Uni, Jerimiah Blakeney, Algy Acort, Sol Friedman, all invited on the pretext that there was a showing of an exciting new discovery's new work.

Sam and Jerry buzzed first, a couple of good lads to mind the doors, and I let them in, paid them half up front like you do, and went back upstairs and sat back to wait.

Johno and Phil came first, they shared a taxi and then the others, twenty guests came from twenty two invitations and not a female among them.

I kept Candice's "Room" locked, they ate nibbles drank champagne, took the piss out of my paintings, mainly bank buildings from the 1970's in an Edwardian street scene, corny maybe but they sold well to banks seeking that image of solidity, even if they didn't exist in 1910!

I wound up the sound, played Amarillo, Abba Do, Abba the Album, Abba's greatest hits, Abba the crap stuff a compilation, you know the stuff, all Elton Johns good stuff, I mixed that myself it only lasted thirty seconds, which really got them in a party mood and then I climbed up to the lap-top and clicked "Enter," starting the cameras, web cams and the digital cameras one click, one picture, every five seconds.

I took a big breath and started my speech, using the radio mike over the sound system from the stage, "Good evening, thank you, Blah Blah Blah Blah," I droned on. I don't remember much of what I said, as my heart was beating so loudly and my legs felt like like jelly, I didn't usually suffer from nerves but this was different.

"I invited you here tonight to see Candice's Crosby's latest work," I said, and sensed a ripple of interest spreading around the room, "She's still seeking a title but it's so avant gard that it cannot be pigeon holed, is it performance art, or sculpture," I asked and paused briefly, "It certainly can't be displayed at the tate modern nor performed at the London Palladium," I laughed, no one else did, "But here it is," I said as I approached the old white wooden cupboard.

"Miss Candice Crosby's unnamed work." I announced and I lifted off the cupboard to show Candice, at least her back, her naked buttocks, the neat ridge of her spine and below it her ass, suspended in space all sweet and available, and just the right height for comfortable stand up fucking, or at least so I hoped.

There was a stunned silence, they simply didn't expect to be confronted by a naked torso sticking out from a wall and they didn't know how to react, I started speaking into the mike again.

"Just a Piece of Ass', or 'Wall Woman', are two suggestions for a title," I explained, "But please write any suggestions on the wall or across her back using the felt tip pen provided," I picked it up and showed them, "And I'll erect a screen in a moment in case anyone wishes to use it, but," I emphasised, "Please, please, please use a condom."

I stood aside to stunned numbed silence, and switched off the mike and put it in my back pocket while around the room un eaten sausage rolls were set down, and half empty champagne glasses were forgotten as all eyes turned on Candice.

"Is she real!" someone asked.

"Of course she's real!," someeone else replied, "Who is she?"

"A genuine Kings Cross whore," I assured them, "The real thing, she charges twenty extra for anal," I explained, "but bent at that angle she can't do anything else." It was a joke, but no one laughed

"Hell John, what is she on?" Richard Pandle asked seriously.

"Vallium," I suggested, "Don't fotget the condoms!"  

There was a ripple of nervous laughter. At last.

The champagne had flowed more thoroughly than I realised, "What's up, can't get it up, Rich?" Simon Yardley asked.

"Well, not with an audience." Dick Lewis replied.

"I'll put the screen round," I offered and I spread out the metal and canvas screen behind Candice's exposed back and ass.

"Ok, hold my glass," Richard agreed, and he stepped behind the screen.

"Use plenty of lube," I said, "Anal is twenty extra."

"Well," he said after a rasping zipper and rustling of trousers being lowered, "I certainly can't do anything else."

"Leave a twenty for her then," I suggested and I laughed, how was I to know he thought I was serious? I picked up a glass of champagne and a plate of nibbles and slipped away to see Candice face to face, and once through the side door to Candice's room I quickly closed and bolted the door behind me.

She was staring wildly at me as Richard lubed her up, I saw later when I replayed the tapes that he was using a pot of lube and a condom clad finger, rather than her fancy applicator, and her face contorted as he brutally forced his condom clad manhood up her tight brown hole,

Her face and head jerked with his exertions, even though her neck was held immobile by the foam, she just stared pleadingly, I smiled, a friendly smile I hoped, not a twisted one.

"It's all right, he's rubbered up," I reassured her, "It's fine."  I watched the TV screen, 'Dancing on Ice' was on, "It's so funny, so unreal!" I chuckled.

Obviously she didn't think so, an unseen unknown man was inside her, raping her ass, entirely without her agreement, a man who could see not a woman, not a girl, not a whore but just an anonymous torso, a back, an ass, an asshole to fuck, somewhere to shoot a load, the ultimate convenience, always available, the next step beyond a glory hole.

She wanted to say something, she wanted me to release her ball gag but I kissed her cheek instead, "It's ok." I said but she convulsed, coughed behind the gag and I knew he was forcing himself deep inside her, and I watched her head move to the rhythm as he started to hump her.

"It's only sex," I said, "Relax."

I waited for the cycle to repeat, lube, enter, hump, cum, watching her expression, annoyance, pain, resignation, annoyance, perhaps at the fact she felt pleasure as he pumped and jerked inside her then relief as he pulled out, and then I kissed her

I hadn't thought through the idea of kissing her, her head was down where it needed to be up and it was uncomfortable for both of us as I fastened my mouth round the bulge of the ball gag for an open mouth kiss.

Her eyes betrayed her confusion, not the hatred I expected but genuine confusion, how couod I be so tender while someone else raped her, at least that's what I hoped she thought.

I had a surprise for her, three tiny web cams, and channel 99 on the TV remote was web cam feed, so I changed channels until it showed her back, and also the back of the guy fucking her, and two views of the room, three panels across the screen, and there in the centre, centre stage so to speak, was Desmond Manders, busily fucking her ass and he was certainly going for it his pink ass bobbling up and down as his shaft piston-ed in and out of her.

"Where are my manners, would you like a drink?" I asked Candice.

She shook her head, "You must be thirsty, champagne?" I suggested but again a shake of the head, "Sausage on a stick?" I asked, again a shake.

"Perhaps later?" I asked, she nodded and then the tension in her seemed to seep away.

Rich was pulling out, I could see him on TV, using a tissue, discarding the condom, wiping himself, it was time to go, I punched the buttons of the handset taped to her hand and flicked back to channel 3 and then she shuddered again.

I turned back to the web cam feed, the screen was gone now, a queue had formed, all her lovers from uni, those gallery owners who professed to like her work, I think I had just about the full set, and all queueing up to screw her, I did the math, three minutes each, two for a change over, One hour forty minutes of continual fucking, oh lord would she be sore in the morning.

"Sausage Roll?" I asked.

She nodded, it was a ploy to get her ball gag removed, I knew that, but I went along with it.

"Please!" she said as soon as she could speak, "I'll do anything!"

"I know you will, no matter how depraved," I suggested and I pushed a small sausage roll in her mouth, and to my surprise she began to chew it.

"Please," she spluttered through the crumbs, "Make them stop!"

"It's only your friends," I assured her, "Your little fuck buddies from Uni, Steve, Johno, Phil, all those so called friends of ours, remember?"

"John!" she protested.

"You said it was just sex, well now it is," I said as Icily as I could manage, "But this time it's sort of reversed, I know who's fucking you behind your back, while you," I left the complex concept hanging in the air.

"Who else, just?" she asked, breaking off before naming lovers I may have remained ignorant about.

"Algy, Sol, oh yes Jerimiah, yes the great Jerimiah Blakeney, he got you the big exhibition didn't he, lured you away to the festering rat hole of London with his empty promises," I reminded her, "And what happened to your glittering career when he got tired of screwing you?"

"That's not fair, I had a lot of interest." she said.

"You have now, they are admiring your ass," I pointed out bluntly, "Oh my look someone is groping your tits, I wonder who it is?" she looked at the TV screen, the man's head was down as he stood beside her as behind her Graeme, "Stingy," Singeon began to work his penis up her anus.

"My god old Stingy is poking you now," I said, "You'll give the poor bastard a heart attack!"

"You get used to it." she said, when she finally swallowed the last of the sausage, "Being fucked over," she licked her lips, "Can I have a drink please?" she asked. I held the champagne for her, she couldn't really lift her head enough but she slurped some. "As you see, I can shut my mind," she said, "It means nothing."

"So you approve of this as a work of art?" I asked.

"Your best yet, actually, no, it's the only, ah, bloody hell," she said as 'Stingy' got energetic, "The only half decent thing you have ever done." she said and added with a flourish, "More Champagne please."

I kissed her lips, I nearly broke my neck getting into position and I turned the web cam feed on again and watched as the next guy lined up with the line stretching away behind her. Charles Blakeney, Jerimiah's cousin, he had to be sixty, greying balding overweight, "He promised me an exhibition too." she said, "Bastard!"

"I think they all screwed you." I observed.

"And the rest." she said, "Or do you mean professionally?"

"Art world screwed." I suggested, Harry, Phil, Steve, Johno, Algy, Sol, all that lot?"

"Yes," she agreed, "Sorry."

"Hey don't be sorry, we're nearly even." I reassured her, "After tonight the slate's clean."

"Yours may be, I won't rest until you're dead." she assured me.

"Well fuck you then!" I snapped, and I dropped my pants. She laughed, my manhood must have looked funny nestling there like some albino vole but when I held it so it started to respond, I think her laughter started it swelling, and then with a few tugs at the loose skin it was rearing again, six inches plus poking up at forty five degrees.

"Cyalis?" she asked.

"No vitamins, like I told you I was anaemic, all those bloody awful." I looked at her, she was trying to be quiet but she was gasping with every stroke as the unseen cock banged into her, "Look I'm sorry I was crap in bed, we'll have a room like this in our studio so you can get what you need," I said awkwardly.

"John Meadows I do believe you proposed we get back together when someone else was having anal sex with me!" she gasped, "That's so funny, oh John, how could I possibly refuse!" she laughed, and looked at me, and absolutely deadpan she said, "A blow job is still fifty."

It was hopeless, I couldn't get close enough to put it in her mouth, I needed a little platform a few bricks, a pile of newspapers, something to stand on but there was nothing.

"You always get something wrong John," she said, "Always some detail, or."

But something more sinister was wrong, on the screen, unrest, an argument, beyond the wall, on the screen in the left hand panel, "Looks like trouble!" I said and I bolted for the door, the second door, the exit leaving the entry door locked, and there was a very angry trouser-less Darren Rourke holding a worried looking and equally trouser-less Frazer McInnes by his collar.

"You filthy bastard," he said drunkenly.

McInnes looked embarrassed, "You wanked over my foot Rourke complained in an Irish accent which sounded more south London by the second, "You filthy bastard!"

There were four of them, pants round their ankles I realised, just out of web cam shot, wanking as Algy Acort fucked Candice's ass, excited by his relentlessly pistoning penis rhythmically banging into her brown hole, making her whole body rise and fall with his violence, making her sway from side to side, making the foam around her arms, legs and neck flex, split, crack.

I stopped for several heartbeats mesmerised by the scene, Algy had his tailored pin striped trousers and green and white checkerboard underpants around his highly polished black shoes, his white shirt tail covered his ass and he was really going for it, banging and slamming into her sweat pouring from his brow, banging thrusting, forcing with all the energy of a thirty five year old ex rugby player, and round him in that semi circle were Franck Havers, Don Reeves, Lou Tranter and Desmond Jenkins, tools in hand wanking as if mesmerised.

I choked back the vomit, I expected many outcomes but never this, I wanted to humiliate Candice the way she humiliated me but this had gone far beyond anything I had imagined, and tangentially, why the hell had I not stopped to think, of course, half of these guy were intrinsically fundamentally gay.

"You wanked over my foot Rourke complained again, "You filthy bastard!" and he clumsily swung a punch at McInnes, he missed, I have no idea how he missed at such short range, he looked embarrassed.

"There's some of that magic cleaner around somewhere," I ventured, "Accidents happen." not the brightest thing to say but it worked, "There's some Guiness in the fridge," I added.

Acort was ready for the final flourish, he stopped, pulled out, threw the shit soiled condom in the bin and then exploded greyish cum all up Candice's back.

I was going to take them in to Candice's room one at a time to make them apologise for treating her like a piece of ass but that idea fell away as the greyish silver liquid dripping down Candice's spine, seeping down her buttocks and dripping down her legs, she needed a clean up before the next fuck and everything was falling apart.

I grabbed the microphone, switched it on cutting the sounds of Abba's Winner takes it all, replacing it with my laboured breathing, "Phil, Steve, John would you give me a hand, I think you should all say a big thank you to Kinky Kandy from Kings Cross."

They appeared as if magically, I handed out tissues from the box on the shelf beside Candice and Steve cleaned her up as I shoved the microphone in my back pocket and went to explain what was happening to Candice, only to find the door was bolted from inside, damn! I tried the other door but the outside of exit door was smooth, nothing to hold on to but there were hooks screwed into the wall so I unscrewed one and forced it into the door and turned it until it screwed in tightly, "Ok?" I asked as I finally got the door open.

Candice's face peered at me from the wall, "What's happening?" she asked anxiously.

"They want to meet you." I explained, and I left her again.

"Take her weight would you, I'll release her and we can pull her out," I suggested to Steve, Phil and Johno, as the clustered around Candice's naked torso, "Have you got her?"

"Yes, Ok, they agreed so I went back in to Candice's space, I quickly undid her ankle cuffs, and her wrist cuffs, and just left them dangling from the wall on their chains and then I went back outside.

"Will she pull out?" I asked.

I saw them tugging so I went to check on Candice, she screamed, "My Neck!"

I remembered the microphone, and clicked it on, "She's stuck, just a moment," my voice boomed around the room, it was the neck, the foam wouldn't let her nod her head forward far enough to let it slip out, "Can you push her shoulders in?"

"Agghh!" Candice complained but now I could get at the foam which had formed a collar around her neck and I crumbled it away to small individual nodules of foam, "Can you move your head?" I asked.

"Yes," Candice agreed and she nodded.

"Can you pull her back?" I heard my voice boom and then she slid gently back from my view, I sprinted round to see her emerge and I announced "Gentlemen may I present Miss Candice Crosby,"

Phil dropped her leg in shock, but Steve held her upright as Candice's feet touched the floor for the first time in several hours, circular blocks of foam still clung to her arms, legs and around her neck as she turned around to face her public blushing bright red as she did so,

"Just a piece of Ass," I read from the felt pen marks on the wall, and I held the microphone for Candice.

"Just a piece of Ass," she agreed, "Anyone want to buy? a hundred for a short time?" she said

"Anal is twenty extra?" Candice stood there, blushing crimson, yet defiant. Circular blocks of foam still clung to her arms, legs and around her neck and she looked at all the people watching her, Harry, Phil, Steve, Johno our friends from University, Algy Acort, Sol Friedman, Jerimiah Blakeney, all art world figures who had pretended to help with her career and the others I had invited all of whom had screwed her physically and or metaphorically.

"That's me, 'Just a piece of Ass," she announced, "Anyone want to buy? a hundred for a short time?" she said "Anal is twenty extra?" and she said it with that old sarcastic spirit which I had so loved about her.

She didn't cry, I expected her to crumble and cry, but she didn't know that ten minutes before four of them had been wanking at the sight of Algy Acort screwing her, she knew over the past hour at least ten of them had screwed her backside, fucked her anus as her ass projected through the wall while her head feet and hands were the other side, and while she had been forced to watch Dancing on Ice on TV, watching C list celebrities perform as unseen penises pistoned up and down in her anus.

No she didn't cry, she crumbled away the builders foam around her arms and legs, I helped her with the foam around her neck, and then quite surprisingly Algy came over, "Sorry," he said, awkwardly, "For everything."

"Shut up," she said, "It's too late for sorry, christ I need a piss." she announced and she walked away.

I watched her go, I remembered her clothes were in the van downstairs , so I followed her, I suggested she use the en suite loo in my bedroom and promised to get her case.

I sprinted down to the basement, checked on the guys minding the doors, opened up my old transit van and grabbed her battered cream case, Candice was in my bedroom when I got back "Happy?" she asked, "Satisfied?"

"Not yet," I smirked, "Can you manage smart?"

"I can try," she said and added, "Just get this damned thing off my neck," referring to the stretchy rubber collar.

She rummaged in her case, she found a knee length tan coloured skirt and a blouse and a light brown jacket, neither smart nor sexy just ordinary, "Hey," I said, "If you toned down the make up."

"Yes," she agreed, but her efforts were wasted, when she was ready almost everyone was gone, there was hardly anyone left, Johno from Uni and Jerimiah Blakeney were talking, Steve was tidying up, "Oh!" Canice exclaimed, "They've all gone!"

"So, John," Jerimiah asked, "Whose idea was this?" he asked me as he fixed me with a icy stare.

"Mine," I said.

"I thought so," he agreed, "It has potential," he said, "It just needs marketing correctly."

"You told them it was my idea," Candice reminded me.

"Ah," Jerimiah agreed, "That's the thing, it does seem more PC if a girl created it," he explained, "And forgive me for saying so, but it was a powerful piece, literally your ass, we all wanted you, your ass, I'm sorry if I gave you false hope over your art but."

"Sure!" Candice agreed.

"But I'll certainly give you an exhibition," he promised, "If you two will collaborate, John's ideas, your."

"No way!" she said, "I am not going to let anyone fuck me for art ever again!"

"Name," he said, "We'll get photographs," he explained, "Use a model, a prostitute," he suggested.

"We'll sort out the detail later," I suggested, "What about my own works, landscapes?"

"Crap!" he said and laughed, "No porn is the future, that iconic image," he laughed, "Algy with his pants down!"

We shook hands, Jerimiah said his good byes and then it was just the four of us, like Uni.

I went to the Lap-top turned the camera's off, and fast forwarded through a forest of thumb-nails.

"It was a hell of a show, Candice," Steve said, "Christ, if I'd known."

"But thats the point Steve, there are no pieces of ass," Candice explained, "We are all people, we all have aspirations and dreams, Artists, Housewives, Whores everyone."

"And needs," I added, as I fiddled with the Laptop

"Uh, yes, but." she said.

"Some guy spends his days wages on ten minutes with you," I said, "I mean with a whore, is that fair?"

"Shut up Meadows," Candice insisted, "It's late, take me home."

"We're out of here, " Johno announced, "See you," and as Steve and he left I followed to pay our doormen and lock up.

Candice was sitting on my bed when I got back.

"Did you mean it, before?" she asked.

"What?" I asked.

"A studio together?" she said hopefully.

"Maybe," I sid non committally, "But we're even, we can start again maybe, or I can just buy some of your time."

"Fine, well it's a hundred, Anal is twenty extra." she said.

I found five twenties in a drawer, "Here," I said, she smiled and undressed, leaned over the end of the bed and reached around to stretch her buttocks apart spreading her bruised anus as if she wanted the extra twenty, but I slipped out of my levis and slipped my tool easily into her sopping wet vagina.

"You bastard!" She said, "Let's do it in bed properly," she said, "Like the old days."

"Oh no, you're getting fucked properly madam," I insisted but after five minutes I relented and let her pull back the covers and we went to bed like lovers.