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Ed left the two of them in a club a couple of hours later. The girl had made it pretty obvious she'd be more than happy to continue their ménage a trois but Ed had the feeling the Canadian was less keen. As much as he'd have loved to see what other tricks she had up her sleeve he didn't want to piss the Canadian off who, it was pretty clear, had been left a touch confused by the goings on in his apartment. Anyhow, Ed felt deliciously sated by the quite incredible blowjob and was silently delighted to have outlasted the Canadian. On top of this, the girl had pleasingly informed him that he was the better endowed of the two so all in all he'd had an excellent night and decided to leave them to it. Funds-wise he was still way short of his target and time was running out. A first kiss of the night and a whispered promise of further fun from the Hungarian nymph was his goodnight present.
As it was, Ed found himself in the familiar position of having to psyche himself up for another day of door-knocking. He'd woken up feeling remarkably fresh - no doubt due to the magic worked on him – and his daily routine of persuading his brain to do something it hated was much less painful than usual. With half a dozen doors under his belt he was feeling good and quietly optimistic about the day ahead.
He was in quite a well-to-do neighbourhood, the affluence of the inhabitants predominantly marked out by bigger, more expensive-looking cars and bigger, more expensive-looking houses. Although the gardens were fuller and better-tended, the houses larger and further apart, there was still something rather soulless and fake about the place. From the six or seven houses he'd tried so far, only one had answered, making Ed wonder if it was to be a fruitless day with everyone out at work to earn enough to pay for the mortgage on their executive homes. He wondered if these were the kind of people who even went to the cinema anymore or if their movie-watching was taken care of through a home cinema and stack of blu-rays. He contented himself with the thought that, on the other hand, the area could be rife with the bored housewives the Canadian had talked about. Whether he made a packet or struck it lucky, Ed was feeling positive. After all, in the last couple of days he'd had sex with a total stranger on her kitchen table and received a sumptuous blowjob from a topless dancer so anything was possible. As he walked up the next drive, bidding the gardener tending the lawn a good morning, he had a spring in his step. Five minutes later, his first sale made to a 40-something homeworking woman - who, admittedly had barely looked at him, never mind given off any signals -he was starting to wonder if this was actually a pretty cool job.
The previous night had given Ed plenty to think about. A mental image of the girl sucking on the Canadian's cock, then swapping back to his own, kept popping into his head. At the time he'd been swept along in the moment but looking back, seeing a good looking guy being fellated by an incredible looking girl was actually, now he thought about it properly, pretty fucking hot. He'd not had an urge to get involved with the Canadian but he hadn't minded at all seeing him hard and naked, his cock disappearing between his lips. Was it the Canadian, specifically, that had made it so arousing? Ed didn't think so; he pictured his friend naked on the bed as he had been, maybe masturbating next to him but no, that wasn't nearly as appealing a thought. The involvement of a woman was clearly necessary but nevertheless his horizons had definitely been broadened. He could stand to be in the same room as another veiny stalk. Assured of his heterosexuality, Ed wandered up the next driveway.
It was another hot day – they all were here – and Ed had gratefully accepted a cold drink from the retired lady he was now chatting to. They were sitting on a bench in the shade of her house, discussing Britain. The lady had left the North East decades before but still had a trace of an accent. Ed loved the fact that despite the 40 degree heat, she was sipping a cup of tea. As always, since the Canadian's pep talk his antennae were fully alert but he wasn't picking up any signals. Besides, his mind may have been opened but he wasn't sure he was ready to make the leap to GILF, just yet. It was a pleasant way to spend a few minutes, though, and Ed was chewing an energy bar by way of some lunch, gently trying to steer the conversation back to the unmissable deal he had to offer.
Ed had finally convinced the lady – Mrs Williams, he'd learned – that she should buy some tickets, if not for herself then for her grandson and she'd gone inside to find her purse. As Ed waited, the tall grasses and palms in Mrs Williams' garden swaying in the gentle breeze, bamboo wood chimes clacking soothingly, he heard raised voices across the road. A car had pulled onto the drive opposite and a woman and girl were exchanging heated views. Ed couldn't hear everything that was being said but, judging by the way the woman was flinging bags onto the back seat and pointing at the girl he guessed the girl had delayed the woman who was now telling her exactly how annoyed she was to be kept waiting. As Ed watched and listened, Mrs Williams appeared from the house.
"They're always at each other, those two," she said, looking across the road. "I haven't heard that girl say a nice thing to her poor mother in years. She's such a little madam, that Tilly. Spoiled rotten. I shouldn't even bother knocking there unless Peter comes home. Here you go," she said, handing Ed the money for the vouchers. "Well, it was nice chatting. Best of luck, pet."
"Thank you Mrs Williams," Ed said politely. "It was nice to meet you and I hope your grandson makes full use of the vouchers."
Ed shook her offered hand and said goodbye, then, leaving the comfort of the shade, walked down the drive, towards the cacophony of mother and daughter, tearing verbal strips off each other. It was a familiar scene, if he was honest. His own sister had barely said a civil word to their mother from the age of fourteen until she left for university and his sympathies lay firmly with Tilly's mum. It didn't make for a peaceful household.
As he reached the pavement and turned towards the next house – doing his best not to stare - the older woman shouted the age-old threat used countless times across the generations by a mother at the end of her tether. "You just wait till your father gets home, young lady!" She flung open the driver's door and glared at her errant daughter who stood, hand on one hip, her middle finger raised.
"I'm sooo scared," Tilly yelled back.
Her mother made a strangled cry of intense frustration and climbed into the car, slamming the door so hard Ed thought the glass might break. She rammed the car into reverse and screeched off the drive, then accelerated round the corner in a cloud of blue smoke from the spinning rear tyres.
Too bad, Ed thought to himself. She was definitely a MILF.
He kept walking, but allowed himself a slightly nervous peek At Tilly. He didn't feel the need for a mouthful of abuse from a stroppy teenager but from the quick look he risked, he saw a short, skinny and very young-looking girl. Tilly had had enough, anyway and had stormed up the drive, little white summer dress flapping as she walked. Ed told himself to behave but couldn't help wondering how old you had to be to drive in the state.
Ed was on a hot streak. Six sales in a row was his record and he had just matched it. His doubts about the likelihood of sales seemed unfounded. After a slow start it had turned into one of those days when things just seemed to be going his way. He was, however, regretting accepting another drink an hour or so before. He desperately needed to empty his bladder and there was no way he could hold off till dusk.
He stood on a street corner and looked at his photocopied map to see where his next road was and realised he was back at Mrs Williams' house, meaning the next house was that of the fearsome Tilly. He checked his map again, wondering if it was worth skipping it and moving to another area but he was running out of roads and, besides, he hated the thought of cheating his own system simply because of a bad-tempered teenager. Even if he made a sale at the next house along it wouldn't be seven in a row. He ummed and ahhed but the pain in his bladder wasn't going to go away and anyway, who knew? Perhaps Tilly would send a little of her pocket money his way after all. More to the point, he knew she was probably in so might allow him to visit the bathroom.
There were still no cars in the drive suggesting Peter – the father, Ed was assuming – wasn't home yet and Ed paused at the foot of the drive, wondering if he could break his own rules, just this once. A strong woman like the Hungarian girl, who had clearly enjoyed the control and power she had wielded over the Canadian and him was very different to a spoiled little bitch who got what she wanted by pissing people off and playing them off against each other. Ed walked up the drive towards the heavy wooden door, determined to retain the day's positivity and do his best to sell this little brat a cinema voucher, having first persuaded her to let a strange man into the house. Anyway, for all he knew Mrs Williams had it all wrong and Tilly was actually hard done by her wicked mother.
He could hear music playing somewhere and used the heavy wrought iron knocker, figuring it would be louder than the bell. After a few seconds the music stopped and the door opened and he was greeted by Tilly. She still wore the little sun dress and had her light blonde hair parted in the middle so it hung messily either side of her face. Her face was mostly obscured by huge sunglasses, making it impossible to read any expression. She didn't smile.
"Oh hi there," he began. "My name's Ed, I'm in your area today with a fantastic deal on cinema tickets. Are you a movie-goer?"
"I might be," she replied, unhelpfully. He noticed she wore a wristband from a music festival and a couple of string bracelets on a skinny wrist. Despite this and her hippy-chick hair he wasn't feeling much in the way of good vibes. Ed cursed himself and his stupid rules. "Look," she said as Ed opened his mouth to try another tactic, "I don't really wanna buy anything. My dad's the one you need to talk to and he's not back yet."
"Oh, okay," Ed said, feeling his chances of a record seven in a row slipping away. His bladder forced him to stay. "Look, that's fine, no problem at all. I know this is really cheeky but I don't suppose I could use your bathroom, could I? It's not the kind of thing I'd normally ask but..."
Tilly cut him off. "Fine," she said with a sigh. "You can use the one in the pool house. Go through the gate over there." She nodded and pointed to the side of the house.
"That really is great," Ed said. "Thanks."
"Whatever," grunted Tilly, already closing the door.
Selling anything had suddenly become totally unimportant as the opportunity to relieve himself presented itself. He jogged awkwardly to the gate and scuttled down the path to the back of the house. Once there he found Tilly again, who pointed towards an open door beside the pool. Ed thanked her and quickly found the facilities he needed.
A couple of minutes later Ed, feeling much more comfortable, re-emerged from the wooden pool house and made his way back towards the side path. He felt a little like he'd been made to use the tradesman's entrance which, when he thought about it, was about right. Tilly emerged from the house, a can of diet Coke in her hand.
"Want one?" she asked, holding the can up.
"I'd better not," Ed said, slightly wistfully.
"Suit yourself. You waiting for my dad, then?"
This took Ed slightly by surprise. He'd assumed he'd just push off but perhaps it was worth waiting. "How long do you think he might be?"
"Dunno. A while probably."
Ed weighed up his options. He needed a couple more sales to hit his target but perhaps Tilly's dad was a pushover who'd buy whatever his daughter wanted. Thinking sensibly, and ignoring his stupid self-imposed rules, he could always try a few more doors then come back but a little rest in some shade did sound nice. His decision was made for him, however, when Tilly slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and dropped it to the floor, revealing a flawless teenage body clad only in a little striped orange bikini. She pulled open the can and took a drink.
"Yeah, well," Ed said, failing, he thought, to disguise the impetus behind his decision. "If it's not too long I might as well wait."
Tilly sniggered unsubtly and sat on a poolside chair.
Ed was irritated. He felt like this spoiled daddy's girl was playing him and it irked him. They both knew full well why he had decided to stay and he was annoyed at himself that even a skinny teenager could play the sex card and win hands down. Ed helped himself to a seat at the far end of the big glass and steel table and tried to act cool. Tilly's phone chirruped and she answered it.
As Tilly talked – apparently to a girlfriend judging by what he heard - Ed tried to make himself comfortable. He looked around the pool and landscaped garden, pondering what one might have to do to pay for a cosseted, safe existence like this. As his eyes flitted around the ancient ferns and trees that must have existed for decades before the garden was even conceived, noticing the reticulation system needed to keep a garden green in the blazing heat and the high fences to keep undesirables out he tried to avoid looking at the young girl now stretched out over two chairs. Tilly was short, not much over five feet, and very thin. Although he felt bad for looking, Ed wondered if she'd even have to bother with a bra, her chest was so flat. Save for the blonde hair she was nothing like his usual type yet here he was, disempowered by a girl much too young for him and not even pleasant company. As he involuntarily took in her smooth, tanned body from carefully dishevelled hair to dainty orange-painted toes, the second on her left foot adorned by a little ring, he tuned into her side of the phone call.
"...morning at the beach with PJ and Caro... ...Yeah, pissed my mum off real bad, ha ha... Pretty ordinary. Just hanging by the pool. Got some Pommy salesman here perving over me... ...Eww no! He's like 28 or something!" For the last few words Ed was treated to a sneering look as Tilly told her friend just how impossibly old and creepy he was.
"'K... Later babe. Love you." Tilly put down the phone.
"Just so you know," Ed protested. As soon as his mouth was open he regretted it but found himself unable to stop. "I'm not perving over you – you're not my type. And I'm twenty five."
Tilly snorted in derision. Ed took a breath to justify himself further then thought better of it. Tilly stood up and walked towards the house, her tiny little bottom wiggling impertinently under the skimpy material as she padded barefoot across the patio.
Ed wriggled awkwardly in his seat. He didn't like the aspersions she was casting but he did want the sale he'd by now assumed would be his when Tilly's dad came home. She did have a point, too. He had been looking at her but it was hardly perving. She was barely more than a child and far too skinny for him anyway but it was only natural to look at a fit young body when one appeared.
Tilly reappeared from the house with an apple in her hand, her sunglasses now on her head. Her green eyes weren't particularly large but long lashes made them more noticeable. Her lips were slightly parted, her teeth just visible giving her, Ed thought, a look of sullen insolence. Although he would never do it for real, he couldn't help but think her face was eminently slappable. Something about this girl was getting to him.
"You still here then?" she asked, confusingly.
"Well, err, yeah. You said your dad wouldn't be long? I can go if you'd prefer?"
Tilly laughed. "I said he'd be a while. I don't care what you do. Just try not to stare too hard, yeah?" She took a bite of her apple and walked towards a sun lounger already covered by a big blue beach towel.
Ed felt ridiculous again. Why was he here? On the off chance her old man would want to buy cheap cinema tickets from a stranger in his back garden? Even under the vast parasol it was so damn hot he couldn't think straight. Tilly paused by her sun lounger and used her phone to start music playing through the loudspeakers dotted around the garden. She stood, engrossed in her phone, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back again in time to the beat. As she did her tiny bum pointed this way and that, drawing Ed's eye to the little triangle of striped orange fabric. Another few minutes waiting wouldn't hurt, he assured himself. He made himself look busy by leafing through his clipboard. Tilly crunched her apple and did whatever it was she was doing on her phone then sat down.
"What's your name, anyway?" Tilly called over.
Ed told her and smiled wanly as she asked if he liked being called Eddie.
"Not really," he sighed.
"Not weally, mate," she mockingly repeated with a heavy Cockney accent. Ed couldn't bring himself to tell her he was from Brighton, not the East End.
"Just so you know, I'm not Kylie, or Sheila," Tilly told him, stretching out on the sun lounger. "I'm Tilly."
"Still pretty Australian though," Ed laughed gently. She looked at him blankly. "Waltzing Matilda?" he offered.
There was a pause. "Right," she said, with a far from convincing smile.
"I knew your name anyway."
Tilly shot him a look. "Are you a fucking stalker or something?"
"Don't flatter yourself love," Ed laughed, not quite as heartily as he might have. He flicked his head towards the front of the house. "Mrs Williams from over the road. She told me."
Tilly scrunched up her nose. "That old cow. What a bitch."
"Hey," Ed said protectively. "She was very nice to me."
"Yeah, well," Tilly scowled. "She isn't to me. Nosy old fucker."
"She's not your greatest fan either," said Ed, defensively. As he spoke he saw his sale chances drifting away on the hot wind but this jumped up little shit had no respect and he'd held his tongue long enough. "I'm not surprised after the way you talked to your mum." Ed's toes curled in his shoes as he realised what an old fart he must sound but Tilly actually looked hurt and turned away from him, lying on her front.
"Shut up, Ed. You don't know what you're talking about. Why should I listen to a loser perv like you, anyway? I bet my dad earns a hundred times what you do."
"I'm sure he does, and buys his spoilt little daddy's girl whatever she wants. Ever had a job, Tilly?" he didn't wait for an answer. "Thought not." He'd had enough. A few lousy dollars and a stupid record weren't worth being abused, no matter how cute that little teenage bum was, which, he now permitted himself to acknowledge, was the real reason he was still here. He stood up. "I'm gonna go," he said.
Tilly turned and sat up. "Why? My dad won't be long. I told you he'd buy your stupid vouchers or whatever they are." Her lips parted again, that hint of white teeth just visible. Her eyes were narrowed, a look of indignant self-righteousness. She obviously wasn't used to not having her own way. God, he wanted to wipe that look right off her face.
"You're okay, thanks. I've better things to do than be insulted by a stroppy teenager."
Tilly was on her feet. Ed took a last look at her lissom frame. No. Definitely too skinny.
"At least can you put some sunscreen on my back before you go then?" she called out as he approached the side gate. He looked back, not sure he'd heard her right. She was standing with one hand on a hip, the sunscreen bottle in her other. Her eyes were opened wide, her head bowed and slightly to one side. "Please?" she asked with more than a hint of little-girl-voice. Obi Wan-like, The Canadian's teachings echoed in his head. As if, he thought. Too skinny and too young. Little tease.
