[pervipete]

She smiled as she watched the zip of her boot being pulled down “that’s it worm, do your job” she purred at the man, a slight sneer on her face, he just looked up at her, his head cocked to one side while he considered his reply.

“Bollocks, I’m not one of those losers you boss about” was his reply, emphasised by a two fingered salute, she looked down at him for a moment, her face stern before laughing, which also destroyed any hope of him looking serious with her .

“Fair enough Peter” she let him lift her leg and pull the thigh length leather boot off, waiting until he had pulled down the zip and removed the other one, once they were removed she wriggled her painted toes a little “ahhh that’s a relief, damn things are part of the uniform, but shit they’re not comfy” she looked up at him “as for not being one of my...losers...as you so charmingly call them... I would like to point out that you have still done the job.” He stood and stretched his back then fell onto the sofa beside her, shaking his head as she stood.

“Anything for my mates bean” he grinned, taking advantage of his privilege of using the old nickname, she turned her head and just shook it in mock anger, before going back to removing her clothes, pulling down the zip of the leather catsuit, the room becoming filled with the aroma of talcum powder as she struggled out of the tight outfit, Pete got up, took hold of the shoulders and pulled it down, getting a glance of the old scars on the backs of her arms, his face grim for a moment as he remembered her at school, tall for a girl, gangly, all limbs, her body never really filling out, socially awkward with it, which in that cruel Darwinian world that is a state comprehensive marked her out as a target for the bullies, Bean Pole, Anna Rexic, Lez Bian, that one turning out to have an element of truth to it, fugly, and weirdly considering her height, Bridget the Midget, even Pete took part until one day, leaving the changing rooms after rugby practice he heard crying from the equipment store, investigating he found her slumped there, crying her heart out, a blade in her hand as she took it to her arms, revealing old scars from previous, he inwardly shuddered at the memory, he walked to her, took the blade from her hand, and, with that passion only belonging to the young, vowed to help her and stop the bullying, which he somehow managed, normally by knocking three bags of brown smelly stuff out of the boys doing the bullying, and sometimes the boyfriends of the girls doing the bullying, he had to rely on his sisters to deal with the girls themselves.

He looked up to see her watching him in the mirror “water under the bridge my love” she shrugged, as if reading Pete’s thoughts, she stepped out off the suit, picking it up to hang up to send to be cleaned “I’ll hit the shower and then we will get to grab some food” she walked forward, taking the door to the rooms en suite, every movement showing her little tattoo on her hip, a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, as Pete sat down, his eyes taking in the little room, her inner sanctum she liked to call it, her private oasis away from needy clients, Pete smiled, wondering to himself if he should be honoured or worried that she had invited him there, this set of rooms that hidden behind her work rooms, her dungeon halfway in the sky, whips, chains and lord knows what on the walls, which, once she put on the leather clothing and boots turned mild mannered Bridget the Midget in uber-bitch Deborah the Domme, a persona used to great effect to tell off middle class wealthy men like they were naughty little schoolboys, smiling at the change he laid his head back against the head rest of the sofa, closed his eyes and let the music and the sounds wash over him, the soft classical music combining with the early evening traffic coming up from the road three storeys below to gently hypnotise Pete into an almost drowsy state, he opened his eyes suddenly as the sound changed to a gentle cough, he looked up to see Bridget standing over him, her once naked body now clad head to toe in a shimmering silk dress, just a hint of leg visible from the slit in the skirt, sandal clad toes poking from the hem, small breasts pushing out the material of the clinging bodice, the light green complimenting the greenness of her eyes, “well?” it was only when she spoke that he had realised that the room was in virtual silence, only the sounds of the traffic to be heard.

He grinned “well what?”

“Well are we going out to eat or are you just going to sleep the evening away.”

“You really need to get out of that habit”

“What habit?”

“Treating me like one of your subs.” He stood and grabbed his suit jacket “well come on ma’am” he made an elaborate and very, very bad bow “your carriage awaits” standing again he lead her to the door and down the stairs into the cool spring evening, he looked upwards at the red brick building, not for the first time wondering just who her clients were, they must have had some financial juice, how else would she been able to afford an apartment in Mayfair, he quietly shook his head in wonder as he turned back to the street to flag down a taxi, he opened the door for her, admiring the way the silk spread across her cheeks before following in, the driver facing them through the divider.

“Where to squire?”

“The Lady Elizabeth Rose at Butler’s Wharf” the driver nodded and pulled away, forty five minutes of complaints and apologies about the traffic later they pulled outside the alleyway leading to the former warehouses, the sounds of a party coming out of the open windows of an upper floor, where some couples where already starting to dance to some slow R&B music, Bridget looked them and then at him as he paid the fare, one eyebrow cocked questionably, he just shook his head “food first” and then taking her by the arm he lead her around to the restaurant’s main entrance.

The two men were standing waiting for them at the entrance, impervious to peoples stares and comments, Pete was not overtly comfortable with them, but they were friends, and he had came to a conclusion a long time ago that a person’s sexuality was their business and nobody else, he could sense some of the other diners eyes on the pair, both standing there in pale blue and pink, subtly was not one of their strong points, and any way the comments were nothing truly new, just the usual fair of fag, queer, bum bandit, normally Pete just let them get on with it, but this time he heard one man loudly exclaim.

“It’s fucking disgusting, two fucking queers like that pouncing about, while better men are out dying in Afghanistan” Pete shook his head, waved a quick wave to the men and walked up to the owner of the voice, a thuggish looking man in his mid twenties standing half drunk by the rail, more moronic looking people of the same age group standing around him.

“Excuse me mate, I do believe you have a problem with my friends over there.”

The man looked at him, a sneer on his face, “yeah, fucking queer perverts, a time in the army would straighten them out” he lifted his hand and started to poke Pete in the chest, all the while looking at his friends for the affirmation he knew he would get “and fucking fag hags like you as well”, as he expected his words met with a chorus of approval from the people with him, Pete just smiled, looked at the finger while slowly shaking his head, then turned to face his own friends, Bridget and the two men having a look of ‘oh shit’ on their faces, while the one in the pink suit was mouthing “he’s not worth it”. Again the finger poked him, this time in his back, again Pete closed his eyes and shook his head, and then in one smooth movement spun around and grabbed the finger, smartly bending it back, just stopping at the point of breaking it.

“Listen up you little cunt, that...fucking queer...as you so charmingly put it was alongside me wearing this countries uniform and facing this counties enemies while you were still sucking on your mummy’s titties, so show some fucking respect.” Out of the corner of his eye he spotted one of the little group reposition himself “don’t even think about it, one wrong move from you assholes and this little cunt will be minus a finger” he pushed it back a little for emphasis, causing its owner to cry out a little, “get the idea cunts” they all nodded their heads, he pulled the hand down and twisted it over, forcing the man’s head to come within inches of his own “ok you little cunt, you and your little kiddie mates are going to wander out of here, grab a taxi, a bus or even walk for all I give a shit, but you are going to get as far as way from me as possible.”

The thug just looked at him, trying to work up a protest, but something killed it in his throat, maybe the fact that there was a total lack of emotion coming towards him, when he tried to describe it to himself later the only thing came to mind was not hate or anger, but, well boredom, like it didn’t matter whether the guy broke his finger, a leg, or killed him, he felt, well a nothingness coming towards him.

He gulped and then nodded his head, and before anyone could protest, “c...c...” he coughed to clear his throat “come on, let’s finder a better bar” and as soon as his finger was released they were gone, Pete followed them out to the road and watched them stagger off, piling into a passing taxi and drive off into the night, one of them trying a last bit of defiance by bravely give Pete a single finger salute, though from the back of the taxi as it drove off, he was brave not completely stupid, shaking his head Pete went back to the restaurant, seeing his friend in an earnest discussion with the restaurant manager and who looked like one of the doorman, a man giving back an interested and warning gaze in Pete’s direction, in reply Pete picked up his waiting drink, shrugged, gave him a silent toast and took a deep hit of the whiskey, grinning as the hot fiery liquid hit home “ah, good drink”, watching with a detached air as Simon, his gay friend, spoke in hushed yet urgent tones with the manager, eventually the manager blanched, indicated something to the doorman and they both stalked away, their gaits that of seriously unhappy campers, though neither could look as unhappy as Simon’s partner could, the look Pete was getting from him could have cuddled milk at a hundred paces, and quite possibly while it was still in the cow.

Simon gave his partner, Graeme, a peck on the cheek, made a show of smoothing his trousers and sat down, a pissed off yet amused look on his face.

“Don’t pout dear”

“But we could be kicked out, why do you insist on bringing a thug along?” he turned to Pete “was there any need for that?”

Pete just shrugged “probably not, I could have let them ruin our meal by insulting us all evening, and who knows, made theirs by letting them stay around for a little queer bashing at the end. Might have even been amusing, I know Simon could handle himself” he smirked a little “well until you came along.”

Graeme looked at him, daggers drawn, “if you mean I have somehow made him weak...”

“Graeme” the one word from Simon silenced him “it’s ok, we’re not being chucked out, told them I would contact Stonewall and have Peter Tatchell blockade the place for kicking out people defending LGBT from thuggish customers, I don’t think he believed me, but I don’t think he wanted to take a chance either. Anyway, who’s hungry?”

Pete sat down at the table and grabbed a menu, idly reading through the options.

“So Pete I never knew you were bringing Bridget along, never thought she was into guys, well” he moved his head in close and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, forcing the rest of them to do the same “not unless the men are paying for a little discipline” he laughed as he pulled his head back.

Bridget pouted for a moment “variety is the spice of life Simon, anyway I knew Pete was in town, so I invited him for a drink, and then myself along when he said he was coming to see you guys.” She smiled at the waiter while he took the order. “Anyway Graeme what do you do for a living?”

“I work in the city, my uncles firm, Beaumont and Sons, you might not have heard of us, we are discreet” he looked Pete and Bridget up and down “and very exclusive.”

Simon smiled, “yes his uncle is Sir Douglass Beaumont.”

“Oh right” though, Pete secretly agreed with Graeme a little, the name meant absolutely nothing to him.

Bridget on the other hand smiled “Sir Douglas? Really how is the old boy? Haven’t seen him in a while” she laughed a little at the confusion on their faces “I have some money invested with them, been doing quite well, you should consider it Pete.”

Upon hearing those magic words “I have money invested with them” Graeme’s whole demeanour changed, from bored disinterest and an attempt to overawe these ‘lesser’ people to one of sycophantic indulgence, if she was a client and friend of his uncle, he reasoned to himself, than Bridget needed looking after, and if he could bring in some new business, well his uncle might treat him with the respect he was due, reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out a business card and handed it to Pete, much to Simon’s annoyance.

“Graeme my love, this is not the place to tout for work, especially amongst my friends. Sorry about this Pete, sometimes he has a one track mind, though sadly not always for pleasurable things.” A salacious grin spread across his face.

Pete took the card and felt its quality, impressed at the thickness of it and the gold embossing “not a problem mate, and personal contacts are important in business” he put the card in his inside pocket “I’ll have a word with my accountant and see about making an appointment, he has been telling me I need to spread my cash around a little, find some better ways to invest.”

Graeme beamed at him “diversification is the key” he caught a warning look from Simon “but of course there is a time and place to talk business. We have some good news, don’t we love?”

Simon’s face lit up and he took his partners hand “yep, two bits to be honest. We’re getting married, well a civil partnership” Bridget and Pete both shouted their congratulations, Pete calling over the wine waiter and ordering a bottle of their best champagne.

“And the second?”

“Well, Simon and myself are going to have a baby? One of our friends is going to surrogate for us.”

“Great news” though to be honest Pete was a little unnerved by the news, not so much because they were two men, though part of him was not overtly comfortable with the idea, he accepted his mates sexuality, but more out of a realisation that he couldn’t change who Simon was, and he was too good a friend to lose than out of any liberal, pro anything political correct thinking. There was just something about Graeme, something which unnerved him, the rapidity of how he changed from dislike to brown nosing when money was mentioned, maybe it was just his survival instinct, but then again, maybe the man was full of shit, he would wait and check with Martin at the weekend about the man.

Not being able to help himself, Graeme managed to steer the conversation back around to work, asking Bridget all manner of questions about the money she had invested, what type and who was handling the account, Pete just picked up his drink and tuned out, the whole financial thing bored the arse of him, it was something he knew that he should take more interest in, even if it was just enough to prevent people ripping him off, and Pat had been on his case for years about doing something with his cash, his nest egg was just sitting in the bank, not making much, but to be honest, as long as he had enough to pay his bills and keep himself in suits and pussy, he couldn’t have cared less about it, still, maybe he should contact them, he knew he had a few hundred thousand squirreled away, and the way things were going back home, it might be safer to make some kind of knew arrangements with it, ‘fuck it’ he thought ‘I’ll see Pat next week, get his opinion on it’.

He found himself tuning back into the conversation briefly, realised that they were still discussing finances so he tuned his mind back out as soon as he could, his eyes sweeping around the room, taking in the little groups walking by the windows, office workers in their suits, off to grab an early evening drink before the commute home, couples in their finery on their way out the evening, the women wearing long summer dresses, the men in suits. Tourists in shorts and tee shirts, their camera’s snapping away at the view of Tower Bridge and The Tower Of London from the riverside, posing in front of the statues that lined the river front. He smiled as a group of teenagers, obviously on a school trip, walked by, memories of school trips from his childhood, the same chaos caused, the same ineffectual herding by the teachers, no wonder they always picked hotels with good, cheap bars, must have really needed a good drink after a day with him and his mates, then as now, the older girls were more interested in flirting with the older boys than they were any history of culture around them, while the boys were more interested in watching any mildly good looking females coming past.

A cough brought him back to the present, “pardon”.

Simon laughed “boring you are we?” Pete just shrugged his apologies “I said Peter, would you be one of witnesses at the ceremony?”

“Uhm, let me think about it, I’m sure if I’ll be free.” He gave an exaggerated look of considering the idea, trying not to smile at the confused look of the couple, “Off course I bloody would.”

“Thanks mate, knew I could rely on you.”

“Bridget you will have to give us your address so we can send you an invite.” She smiled and pulled out a card and a pen, noting her address on the back and handing it to Simon, narrowly missing knocking some of the food out of the waiter’s hands as she leaned forward, smiling her sweetest smile at him while apologised.

The conversation waxed and waned while they ate, only really talking while they waited for each course to arrive, which was a relief for Pete as Graeme dominated the conversation, work, houses, complaints about taxes and the ‘plebs’ protesting high bankers bonuses were all he could come up with as subjects, the last subject which he managed to keep going, far past the meal, payment and as they walked along the South Bank of the Thames, boring the arse of him, he let Graeme and Bridget get a little ahead of him and fell into step beside Simon.

“Would I lose my invite if I tell him to shut the fuck up?” Simon just laughed. “Why the fuck do you put up with his pompous arse.”

“Ah but Pete, his arse may be pompous, but look how tight it is” it was now Pete’s turn to laugh loudly, causing the other two to turn around and realise they were alone, waiting in various stages of impatience as Pete and Simon caught up “seriously Pete, he is different once you get to know him, a lot kinder and very kind and loving, just a little...”

“Pompous?”

Simon looked, shrugged and then joined Pete in laughing “yeah yeah, that a little bit.” By this time they had all caught up with each other.

“So what’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing much Bean, just old army stories you know, kind of need to be there to get them.”

“Oh so we are excluded” Pete just looked at Graeme, trying to phrase his answer, preferably, he supposed, diplomatically would be best for Simon, “you know what it’s like mate” he smiled “everyone has stories that are fucking hilarious to the people involved, but are more likely to bore the arse of everyone else. Now who’s up for more booze?” He nodded towards a pub along the walk “there’ll do” and without waiting for an answer he made a beeline for its door, leaving the others to follow in his wake, turning briefly to tell them to grab one of the free tables on the pubs little raised terrace, before plunging into the packed bar, fighting his way through the crowded interior, pushing his way through the knots of office workers, his hands ‘accidentally’ brushing some of the females asses, fighting his way back out, two bottles of beer held by the neck in one hand, while he held two glasses of spirits high above the heads of the people.

As he put the glasses down on the table, he felt his phone start to vibrate in his pocket, followed a second later by the ringtone, the intro of Bank Robber by the Clash, he closed his eyes before reaching into jacket, apologising to the others as he moved off to an empty spot, the phone rang off before he got clear, a glance at the missed call confirmed what he feared, hitting the button he called back, waiting patiently until it was picked up.

“Pete, where the fuck were you?”

“Up town with company, had to get clear before I could answer, what’s up?”

“What the fucks up you ask, well there are four thousand things that are up, why the fuck did you commit me to spending that much on something that we have never heard off” Barnes may have been royally pissed off, but not enough to give too much away over the phone. “How the fuck do we know it even works?”

Pete sighed “I thought we figured this out yesterday, we needed something, Pat put me onto Carl and this is the product he recommended for the result we need.”

“And you trust him?”

That was the sixty four dollar question Pete thought, he didn’t think Carl would cross him, but he was close to the Russian mafia, and having such powerful friends did make him Carl unpredictable, “Okay boss, fair point I suppose, look I will contact him and see if I can arrange some kind of demonstration” Pete rung off, Barnes’ grunted reply in his ear then rung Carl. “Carl? Barnes is a little reluctant about the costs, what are the chances of getting enough to give him a little demo...”

“Demonstration? What the fuck is this? A fucking car dealer?”

“Carl for fucks sake listen, this could be a good little regular order, and would you spend that amount on something you’ve never heard off?”

“Why don’ you fucking trust me?”

“Honestly, no I don’t.” He had to hold the phone away from his ear to avoid being deafened by the explosion of loud laughter from the other end, only putting it back when it sounded like he had settled down.

“Least you’re honest, okay leave it with me and I’ll arrange something.” The silence after the laughter was deafening, Pete turned to watch the pleasure boats moving up and down the river while he waited, reluctant to rejoin the others, he turned back as he heard the clicking of some heels to see Bridget heading his way, luckily before she reappeared his phone beeped to tell him of a text from Carl, reading it, he smiled “good”, and started to head towards her, quickly calling Barnes to let him know it was arranged.

“Sorry, work”

She nodded “lets rejoin the natives” before grabbing his arm and leading him back to the others.