Parasite Ch. 01

Without for one second breaking our embrace she used her grip on me to guide us round until she could push me backwards onto a pallet of hand towels which, while not the most comfortable of beds, gave us something soft to land on and there, in amongst the mops, the dusters, the disinfectant and the floor buffer we copulated, rutting like animals in heat.

Because, to be sure, what we were doing had nothing to do with making love. Sure, I was fond of Yvonne in a 'friend at work' sort of way but that was irrelevant. The creature inside me was not interested in emotions, it wanted sex, raw sex and what we were doing was about lust, not love. Whatever the creature had done to us had given us primal appetites which needed feeding. We needed, desperately, one thing and that was to climax as hard and fast as possible. We weren't going to let tenderness or compassion get in the way. Her hand inside me was grabbing so hard that it hurt but that just made me want it more.

With my free hand I reached round behind her and scrabbled at the catch to her bra until is came undone and I could push it out of the way. I broke from the kiss, bent forward and clamped down on her nipple using my teeth to bite, hard, harder.

In reply her hand went up, under my tee shirt and I felt her nails rake my back. Oh, god that was good, so good, yes, Yvonne, hurt me, hurt me, hurt...

I could feel my orgasm starting, the tension growing, and, for some reason, it was really important to me that Yvonne should come at the same time. Furiously I pumped my hand, my fingers curled into some sort of death grip for I knew that, like me, she wanted it as hard as I could give her. Meanwhile my teeth worked at her nipples, biting harder and harder, making Yvonne mew like a cat in pain. I rode the rhythm of her cries, we rode the rhythm of her cries until...

Her whole body went taut and, with an animal cry came from deep, deep within her as she, once more, raked her nails down my back. This, in turn, was enough to tip me over the edge and I hung on tight as, together, we dissolved into ecstasy. Her fingers down my spine, like her fingers in my cunt, felt so goddamn good, so perfect, so all too much, far too much, much too much... until it was too much and, exhausted and replete, I all but blacked out.

As I came too I realised just how much Yvonne was shaking with emotion. Whatever the creature inside me had done was now over and we were left with the tail end of an explosive orgasm and bodies that hurt like crazy. More importantly, now that the overwhelming sex drive was gone it was fast being replaced by an overwhelming sense of guilt. Yvonne was the first to come to her senses. She stood up, turned away from me and, as quick as she could, buttoned up her dress. I too struggled to my feet and pulled up my panties and trousers although, with the left hand side ripped almost to the knee, I was left having to hold them up.

Once her dress was buttoned Yvonne turned back to me. She was biting her lower lip and her eyes were full of tears.

"Jane, Jane, I thought you were my friend but tonight you make me do bad things. Go, go away and, please, stay away. You are not my friend any more."

"Please, Yvonne, let me...." Let me what? Let me explain? Explain? How could I explain?

"Just go. Please, leave me alone."

There was nothing else to do but leave.

The journey home was painful and awkward. Simply boarding the bus was not so easy because, although I had done the best I could with the office stapler, I had to keep one hand on the waistband of my trousers so as not to expose myself. Fortunately my jacket covered my tee shirt which, by the feel or things, was now mopping up my blood from my back. Thank heavens that the bus was all but empty and I could find a quiet corner.

When I got home I peeled off my tee shirt and threw it in the bin. Maybe the blood stains would wash out but, somehow, for me they would always be there. My trousers followed. They were ripped far beyond repair. I would have to buy new at the weekend. I went to the bathroom and looked myself over. My back looked, and felt, like it had been mauled by a bear and, as for my nether regions, they were bruised beyond belief. I got under the shower and very, very carefully washed myself down.

One thing I did notice was that, like the previous evening, immediately after feeding the creature inside me was quiet. I didn't know whether this meant that it was sleeping or simply laying low but it felt like the former. I wondered how long this remission would last. It had been nearly twenty four hours since last time. Would it be as long before the next? This remission did, however, give me time to think.

I had two serious problems. The long term problem was how to get rid of this thing, how to get it right out of my life forever. I had no idea where to even start on that one.

The more immediate problem, and one I couldn't put off, was how to keep it fed. After the episode with Yvonne it would appear that, as soon as it was hungry, it would force me to jump the nearest available female. The power it had had to force both Yvonne and me to have sex effectively against our will was more than frightening. I had, probably, irreparably damaged my relationship with Yvonne. How soon would it be before I ended up raping every other woman in the office? The prospect was far from appealing.

The biggest question was how often it would want to feed. So far it had been every day. Did that mean I was going to have to find a willing sex partner on a daily basis? Did that mean I had to find someone before tomorrow evening? That was a bit of an ask. I reckoned I had three options.

Firstly the street girls; although it would work out costly, they wouldn't ask too many questions, would they? Not that I really knew. It wasn't as if I had ever even knowingly met a prostitute, let alone used her services. Do they even accept women customers? I'd never even contemplated this before The idea was, under normal circumstances, completely abhorrent. However, these were far from normal circumstances.

Secondly, although I was never much of one for the local scene, I knew of a couple of clubs in town, clubs where I could reasonably rely on getting myself picked up for a bit of rough sex which seemed to be what the creature inside me was after. Trawling for anonymous pickups was not the most appealing of prospects but felt better than paying for it. Mind you, even with the best will in the world, I would soon run through the available partners and, in the rather small and gossipy lesbian community, I could only imagine what it would do for my reputation.

The third, and best, option was to find myself a girlfriend, one who didn't mind the fact that her partner was possessed by a sex mad parasite who demanded regular athletic and all consuming sex. Of course this wasn't really an option. I hadn't found myself a girlfriend in months, no, make that years. Finding one for tomorrow evening simply wasn't going to happen. And then, even if I did, having to perform for the demands of some alien inside me would destroy any relationship just as fast as it had destroyed my relationship with Yvonne.

Overarching all this was the fact that, whichever option I chose, I would have to persuade the thing inside me to let me try it. So far it had only interacted when it needed to feed. I wondered if that would work the other way around. I wondered if 'performing the sex act on myself' would get its attention. I was too bruised and battered, not to mention exhausted, to do anything about it that evening so I decided to wait until morning. In a feeble attempt to distract myself from my troubles I spent a listless evening in front of the telly before taking myself off early to bed and setting the alarm clock for an hour earlier than normal.

Come the morning I got up and made myself a cup of coffee. I knew what I had to do but wasn't sure of how. I mean, normally, playing with myself is something that 'comes naturally', so to speak, not something I decide to do in the cold light of morning. So, where to start? Run a bath, maybe, or take a shower? In the end I remade my bed, took off my pyjamas and slipped back under the covers.

I was still a little sore from the battering Yvonne had given me so, ever so gently, I reached down with my left hand and eased my nether lips apart. Then, after giving my right forefinger a good lick to lubricate it, I reached down with my right hand and rested my fingers over my joy button.

Slowly, softly, I moved my fingers in leisurely circles. I remembered all the sexy images that the creature had recalled for me the last time I had done this. Why did the image of PC Andrews seem to trump all the others? That was crazy; I seemed to have some sort of schoolgirl crush on a woman I had only met for a few moments.

I'd only ever seen her in uniform and those stab proof vests and high-vis tabards are not the most flattering of clothes but my imagination was doing a fine job of speculating on what was underneath. Anyway, I've never been much of one for the girly look. I like my women strong and powerful and if she felt the need to arrest me then I wouldn't be one to say no. I gave a deep sigh and upped the tempo slightly.

'What are you doing? Why are you performing the sex act?'

'I wanted to get your attention.' I mentally replied as I stopped what I was doing.

'Do not stop.'

'Ok, but I need to talk to you.'

'You need to continue performing the sex act.'

'OK, OK, I'm doing it. But, seriously, I need to talk to you about what happened last night. You must not make me do anything like that again. If you make me do things like that then you'll end up getting me locked up and that won't work for either of us.'

'Locked up?'

'Put in prison. Go on, search my mind. You know I can't lie to you.'

I had that file card feeling and, almost inevitably, images from the TV series 'Bad Girls' came to mind.

'That's television. It's not like that in real life. I don't know if you have to feed every day but you certainly won't if I'm in prison.'

There was more rifling through my mind and, this time, it seemed to believe me.

'Let me choose the who, the where and the when.'

'And why should I do that?'

'Because... because it will be better, better for both of us. And we'll be able to keep on doing it. Please, trust me on this, if we do it my way it will be better.'

There was another of those pauses, that looking through my mind feeling, and then, 'These street girls, are they skilled at copulating?'

'Well, that's the idea. I don't know for certain; I've never met one.'

'But this...' in my head appeared an image of Billie Piper in Secret Diary.

'That's just telly. The real thing, well, who knows?'

'Very well. Arrange it so that today you will copulate with one of these street girls.'

'OK, but after work. Leave me alone until after work.'

'Do not leave it too late. If you disappoint me then we will revert to my way of doing things. Now, you must finish performing the sex act on yourself.'

'You could help out. You know it will be better for both of us if you do.' I felt another one of those surges go through me and, suddenly, playing with myself wasn't a chore, it was a necessity. The bruising and battering that Yvonne had left me with was no longer a hindrance, rather the little stabs of discomfort were adding a piquancy that was getting me higher. Whether by my own volition or prompted by the creature within an image of PC Andrews swam before me. In my mind, I could feel her taking me, holding me, ravishing me. Oh, god, I was becoming obsessed with this woman. I wanted her so bad. How much of that was down the thing inside me and how much was real? Did it matter? As my fevered imagination fuelled my fingers I didn't give a damn what caused it and, with a cry that might well have bothered the neighbours, I came and came and came and came.

For the rest of the day the thing inside me kept quiet. In its place my stomach was filled by a hundred million butterflies. My entire knowledge of prostitution was down to watching Secret Diary and now I was forced to make use of their services. For all that I had talked about 'street girls' that was not what I was after. Belle De Jour was more my style, or so I guessed. But where on earth was I going to find her.

Come lunch time I went out to the nearest Starbucks so that I could use their wi-fi. After all, the sort of sites I was after would definitely be blocked from work, let alone the danger of someone seeing what was on my screen. I got out my tablet and googled 'Melchester escorts' and was surprised by the number of hits. However, there was one, Xena's Massage Parlour, which looked to be head and shoulders above the rest. The web site was quite detailed and included photos of their "masseurs". Not that you could tell much but the setup did, at least, give the place a professional look.

I wasn't going to phone them from Starbucks, let alone work, because of the risk of being overheard. However, I didn't need the wi-fi any more so I went out into the park and found a quite bench to sit on. With the butterflies in my stomach now doing the Macarena I dialled the number.

"Good afternoon. Xena's Massage Parlour. How can I help you?"

"I've... I've been looking at your web site and I'd like to book a... a massage... for this evening."

"Certainly. Would that be in call or out call?"

"Err..."

"Would you like the girl to come to your house or do you want to come here?"

"Err.... I'll come to you." The thought of having a call girl round to my tiny bedsit didn't appeal.

"No problem. In which case, unless you had a particular girl in mind, you don't have to make an appointment. We're open twenty-four seven and, if no one is available you can always wait in our lounge. Now, we have special rates for couples..."

"It's just me. Err... I'm not a couple." I cut in.

"You're not a couple? You're not enquiring for you and your boyfriend?"

"No, I haven't got a boyfriend. There's just me." Well, me and my parasite but I wasn't going to tell her that.

"Oh! OK, that's a little unusual but I'm sure any of our girls will be able to accommodate your needs. Come to think of it... when you arrive you might want to ask if Sandra is available."

"So, I don't need to make an appointment; I just drop by whenever?" I asked for confirmation.

"That's right, love. You can't miss us. The address is on our web site and when you get here we're the pink door just past Johnston's Jewellers."

"I'll see you this evening, then."

And, with that, the phone call was over.

I wished I had been able to make an appointment. That might have helped stop me from dithering. The thought of actually going to a brothel, sorry, massage parlour, was turning my knees to jelly. I was having trouble concentrating at work and ended up leaving a bit early as I couldn't stand the tension any more.

I took the bus into the town centre and made my way to Cookson St. Halfway down was Johnston's Jewellers, or should that be Johnston's Pawnbrokers, and, right next to it, was a door painted pink with Xena's Massage Parlour printed on a discrete card over the doorbell. I rang the bell, the door buzzed and I let myself in. There was a short hallway and then some stairs which led to up to a room that was opulent, if a little tacky, its decorations attempting to be sexy and managing, just, to avoid sordid. At the far end was an open archway into an adjoining room.

"Can I help you?" A rather matronly woman appeared through the archway.

"I... I phoned earlier..."

"Oh yes, I remember, the young lady who was looking for a massage. Now, Sandra is available or maybe you would prefer one of the other girls."

"No, Sandra will do fine."

"Just take a seat for a moment, will you?" and, with that she returned to the adjoining room. I sat on a garish mock leather sofa and waited.

"Hello, I'm Sandra, and you are..."

I looked up. There she was, my date for tonight. Sandra was roughly my age, mid twenties, with bleached blonde hair and a trifle too much make up for my tastes. Playing along to the masseur image she was wearing a white lab coat. However, this image was slightly spoilt by the four inch stiletto heels and black stockings. Still, she was reasonably pretty and her open welcoming smile was reassuring. I reminded myself that it was in her interests to make me feel comfortable, to give me a good time and that, compared to some of the customers she must get, I would be easy money.

"I'm... I'm Jane," I replied.

"Lovely to meet you, Jane. Would you like to come this way?" She led me off, through the adjoining room and beyond to a room where the main article of furniture was a huge bed. She closed the door behind use, turned to me and gave me a big, beaming smile.

"This is your first time, isn't it?"

I just nodded.

"Nervous?"

"A bit," I confessed.

"Well you don't need to be. I won't bite, well, not unless you ask me to," we both had a little laugh at this. "Now, is there something special you would like to do? There's no need to be shy. I've got all sorts of sexy toys, if that's what you'd like to try."

"No, nothing like that, I just want...." I wasn't sure how to explain what I wanted.

"Not sure what you want? Why don't we start with a bit of a kiss and a cuddle and take it from there. First things first, we're both a little overdressed." She reached for my jacket and eased it off my shoulders. "Let's get you out of these things and into bed where we can relax properly. Just put your things over that chair there."

She took the jacket from me and put it over the back of the chair. I was trembling so much that my fingers were barely functioning but it didn't take long before my clothes were off and I was slipping under the covers. Meanwhile she took off her lab coat to reveal that all she was wearing underneath was a rather fetching pink lacy bra and pantie set.

"On or off?" she asked pointing at her underwear.

"Off please," I replied.

She gave me another of those big, beaming smiles, slipped out of her undies and got into bed beside me.

"There, that's better. Just us girls together. Now, are you sure you haven't got anything special you'd like me to do? How about a strap-on? Or maybe you'd like something a bit kinkier. I'm quite a fan of kinky."

"No, nothing like that. I just want to..."

'Kiss her!' the parasite screamed in my head. I should have known that it would barge in at a moment like this. I leaned forward and gently kissed Sandra on the lips. As soon as I did so I felt the same tingly ribbon that I had felt with Yvonne. What is more, it seemed to affect Sandra in just the same way as it had affected Yvonne. Her response was strong and instant. A simple, gentle kiss immediately turned into a passionate snogging session with each of us trying to see how far we could push our tongue down the other's throat. Meanwhile our bodies entwined. It was as if we wanted to hold, to touch, as much of the other as possible.

Our writhing around soon had the result we both desired and, with our legs interlocked, I was grinding myself against her thigh as she did the same to me.

"God, you're one sexy woman! Where did you learn to kiss like that," Sandra groaned, pushing herself as hard as she could against my thigh.

"You're not so bad, yourself," I replied doing the same.

She ducked her head down and started kissing my shoulders, my collar bone, my throat, then moving lower, kissing the upper bulge of my breasts, getting closer, closer until, finally, she was nuzzling at my nipples, using her teeth but gently. Even so they were so sensitive that each nip, each nibble, seemed to be connected by a fine golden thread running straight to my groin. I couldn't help but cry out in pleasure.