Free The Boss by Monica Belle

of the Saab there was a gravelly, complaining rumble to theRover’s big but ancient engine. Only when we’d passed the Weeting did he pay any attention to the way I looked, and then he tried to make it a compliment.
    â€˜I like your new hair.’
    â€˜Same hair, different colour and style.’
    â€˜Yeah . . . right, you know what I mean. You look right smart too. Been to a funeral or something?’
    â€˜Thanks a lot, Dave. No, I’ve got a job.’
    I told him, using the same explanation as I had before. He accepted it, desperate to please as ever, but I could see he was surprised. I changed the topic of conversation.
    â€˜Why not take this heap of junk off-road?’
    â€˜This is my car, Fizz, I ain’t wrecking it.’
    â€˜How much did you pay for it?’
    â€˜Twenty-five quid.’
    â€˜Right, and how long do you reckon you’ll keep it with no tax, no insurance, no MOT and a suspended licence? We might as well have some fun with it before the police get you.’
    He made to reply but didn’t, putting his foot down instead as if that would answer my question. There was a sulky look on his face, one I knew only too well, and I was about to say something to try to put off the inevitable when he spoke up.
    â€˜Tell you what. I’ll go off-road, and you can drive if you blow me?’
    â€˜You’re a dirty little boy, Dave, you know that?’
    â€˜A hand job then?’
    â€˜Dave, shut up.’
    â€˜Aw, come on, Fizz. I need you so bad.’
    He was whining, and there can’t be many bigger turn-offs than a whining man, especially when he wassuch a weedy specimen next to Stephen English. Stephen wouldn’t have whined . . . no, he’d never have asked. It was so frustrating, and so typical, to have one man wanting me and wanting another myself, especially when Stephen was so wrong for me. Dave chirped up again.
    â€˜How about giving us a titty show then, like you do when you play?’
    â€˜That’s part of the act, you pervert.’
    â€˜Yeah, but you look so fucking good. You give me blue balls, Fizz, you do.’
    â€˜Turquoise? Ultramarine?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Never mind. Look, can’t we just go for a drive?’
    â€˜Yeah, but . . .’
    â€˜Just drive, OK, and maybe I’ll think about it.’
    â€˜Yeah!’
    I’d only said it to shut him up, but as he slammed his foot down on the long straight into Methwold I realised that there was more to it than that. Stephen English had made me feel small, and if I showed off for Dave it would make me feel powerful again, to have him grovelling and begging for the least little favour while he pulled on his cock in desperate need. It would also be an act of rebellion against the creeping need to behave myself I’d been suffering from all day.
    â€˜Turn right. You said you’d go off-road.’
    â€˜You got it.’
    He swung back into the forest, fast at first, then slowly, glancing to the side each time we passed the end of a logging track, and turned sharply the moment he found one where the gate was open. They’d been working there, maybe earlier in the day, leaving theground scarred with lorry tracks and showing bare flints, which he sent up in a spray as he brought the Rover to a skidding halt. He spoke immediately.
    â€˜Don’t fuck it up, yeah? And remember, I get to see your titties.’
    â€˜Here’s a hint, Dave, for free. When you want sex, it’s best to play it by ear instead of negotiating every detail in advance.’
    â€˜Oh . . . right . . . but I get my titty show, yeah?’
    â€˜You get what I choose to give, if anything. Now get out.’
    He was looking seriously sulky, no doubt thinking I was going to trick him, but he got out. I don’t actually mind guys who ask for stuff if I’m in the mood, but this was different, because I didn’t