CHAPTER ONE
The Pact With Satan
Man, I was so freaking excited, because it was Friday night, and soon SHE would be in my unit (and hopefully she’d also be in my bed).
I wasn’t obsessed with Her in the same way that I was obsessed with Evie the Superstar prostitute from my work, I simply wanted to hump Her … in my bed … all night long.
I was a very happy prostitute, and I had a great week at Paradise Gardens, because I got humped continuously, and I made shitloads of money, and importantly, on average, every third client was blowing me off, yet as exciting as that all was, tonight could prove to be one of the best nights of my young life, because SHE would be coming.
SHE was my best friend, and realistically, Marcie was a total Dickhead, so maybe I didn’t need to italicize or capitalize the ‘she’; but last week one of my sordid fantasies came true, and me and Marcie got down and dirty with each other.
Yes, it happened last Saturday night, Jemma Hoskins and Marcie Cartwright got physical with each other. Me and Marce had been best friends since Prep, and I had always secretly wished and prayed for a better Best Friend than her, and not surprisingly, she was wishing and praying for exactly the same thing. Yet Woe is me … fate had thrown us together very early in our lives, and now we were stuck with each other. Our other good friend Beth started at our school in Grade One, and Beth was forced to hang out with me and Marce, because nobody else would talk to her. The three of us travelled through Primary School and High School together, and while at school all of us wished and prayed that we’d be invited to join the The Cool Chicks, or The In Group, although we all suspected that we were where we belonged, in our intimate little trio of Losers and Loners. Being isolated at school meant that we bonded and became very close, and now that we were out in the Real World forging our own careers, I knew that we’d be friends forever.
Some of you might be thinking that if we wanted to stay friends forever, why would you even think about getting intimate with each other, and yes, that is a valid point, but you need to understand that our underdeveloped teenage brains were affected dramatically by our loveless final years at High School. We’d always hear that The Cool Girls and the female members of the In Group were getting laid every weekend, and we’d be struggling to get a guy to even kiss us (or even glance at us) so we were jealous as all Hell, I mean one time we even had a séance, and we made a pact with Satan. We promised Satan that if he could organise a group of guys to hump us, he could have our souls, yet right up until our final year of High School, the Losers and Loners group all still had their souls.
When we turned eighteen, we started hitting the nightclubs, and we’d be excited as we gushed, Tonight could be the night! Although as it turned out, Satan must have been a lazy prick, because the trio of Losers and Loners always ended up sharing the same taxi home. Then again, maybe Satan had standards that he needed to abide by, and He just didn’t want our souls.
Fast-forward to the current day though, and the Losers and Loners were doing well. Marcie worked in a Bank, and importantly, she got an occasional root; and Beth worked for a big Telecommunications company, and she’d been going steady with a guy for more than two months, so she was getting rooted frequently; and wait for it, wait for it … me, Jemma Hoskins had found my perfect job, and I was the happiest prostitute in all of Melbourne, because I got rooted multiple times every time I went to work. Just thinking about that, maybe I owe Satan a great big thank you, and even though he took his time organising everything, I couldn’t be any happier, so, Yeah Satan, if you still want my soul, it’s all yours.
Maybe some of you are thinking, Wait up, if you’re all getting rooted now, why did you get involved with each other? And yes, that is a reasonable question, although if you read the previous book, you would understand that it wasn’t our fault, because things simply spiralled out of control. Admittedly, I had been fantasying about getting intimate with Marcie, but I was a nymphomaniac who may, or may not have multiple personalities, so in my twisted mind, I shouldn’t be held accountable for the fantasies I have.
Funnily enough, things started off very innocently last Saturday night, because it was the first time me and Marce met Beth’s boyfriend, Dylan. We drank and smoked weed, then as the night wound on, we ended up playing a decadent game of Truth Or Dare. Beth and Marcie are competitive beasts, and whenever they get together, they try and outdo each other, and excitingly, all the Dares revolved around the players having to kiss me or undress me. I am a team player, and I quite graciously allowed myself to be kissed and undressed, yet I was so co-operative that I eventually found myself standing in front of the other players completely naked. And that was fine with me, because I operate more effectively without clothes on, yet I am a self-confessed nymphomaniac, and when naked nymphomaniacs are being kissed and caressed, we tend to arrive at a Tipping Point, and my Tipping Point was reached very early in the night. And when naked nymphomaniacs reached the Tipping Point, the only certainty thereafter was that someone was going to get rooted.
Me, Marcie and Beth were destined to be friends forever, yet last Saturday night as the atmosphere became hot and steamy, we became lovers. Marcie gave me a ripping orgasm, then I went down on her, and after carrying on like a Prima Donna for a while, Beth eventually got into the spirit of things, and I ended up going down on her as well. Beth wouldn’t let Dylan touch us, and we weren’t allowed to touch him, but Dylan did hump Beth right in front of us (twice). I started a diary after my very first shift at Paradise Gardens, and while the diary is mainly about what happens during every shift at the Gardens, in grand and carnal detail, I recorded every single salacious event that occurred last Saturday night.
So realistically, Marcie should be just as excited about tonight as I was, although on the Sunday morning after the grand event, the little pussy made it very clear that our friendship was the most important thing to her, and she could only ever frolic with me if she was drunk or wasted. I am a forward thinker, and I’d already rolled a chill stick for each of us, and I had a bottle of our favourite champagne in the fridge, and also an opened bottle of our favourite wine on the table. As well, I under-dressed for tonight, and all I had on was a bikini top and a pair of shorts (no panties underneath) and I anticipated that if everything went according to plan, I could get naked inside twenty seconds, and then … let the fun begin.
In my mind, the order of play would go something like this; we would drink, suck back, maybe watch a bit of porn, and then … my shorts would come down. So hopefully Marcie would get in the spirit of things, and then the main entry in my diary for tonight would be, PANTS DOWN IN GLEN WAVERLEY (with my best friend).
I put some boppy music on, then I bounced around as I tidied the unit, and after everything was cleaned to my satisfaction, I went into my bedroom and placed a red rose on the pillow Marcie would (hopefully) sleep on, although just quietly, if the slim brunette did slither into my bed, she wouldn’t be getting much sleep.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t in love with her, I mean she had been my best friend since Prep, and best friends don’t suddenly fall in love with each other; but if I had my way tonight, I would hump my best friend until the sun came up.
Hoooo … I was so freaking excited.
I was into my third year of being a prostitute, and I was making Bank-Vaults of money, and since I was a nymphomaniac, I loved my job. I was having a minimum twenty-five sexual experiences a week (excluding my very personal and intimate D-I-Y experiences) although as fabulous as my life was, I felt there was something missing, and I suspected that the something missing was a Fuck-Pal. Currently, my entire life revolved around my job, because I was living my dream, and while I wasn’t looking for a relationship, my time away from work was pretty boring, yet if I did have a lovely little Fuck-Pal, I wouldn’t get so bored. I didn’t have many friends, and when my days off came around, I struggled to find anything to do. My usual day off routine went something like this; masturbate when I got up … have breakfast … maybe go shopping … masturbate when I got home … have dinner … and masturbate before I went to sleep. And yes, I do understand that one activity seemed to dominate my days off, but maybe look up the word nymphomaniac in the Dictionary, and then you’ll understand that I’m not responsible for my actions.
Marcie wasn’t interested in a relationship either, and while I wouldn’t classify Marcie as a nymphomaniac, I would classify her as a slut, because she was horny all the time and she loved blowing off. So really, me and Marcie were made for each other, because we didn’t want to commit to anyone, we both loved sex, and we were horny all the time, so that’s like a match made in Heaven, isn’t it? But like I said before, Marcie is a total Dickhead, and she’s always whining, Jeez Jemma, we’ve been best friends forever, and we need to protect our friendship, so pull it back a bit will ya! Yeah go on Marcie, snivel and whine, Ohhh Booo Hooo Hooo … but if she ended up naked and in my bed, I would just Go for it … but don’t blame me, because Satan probably has possession of my soul.
In a roundabout way, I understood her point, because if I damaged our relationship, I’d be even lonelier than I was now, yet I was intelligent enough to separate the sex from the friendship. If we went out shopping together, we would be best friends, but if she was naked and in my bed, she was … mine. Also, if we were chatting on the phone, we’d be best friends, and I would be interested in what was happening in her life, and she’d be interested in what I was doing, yet if she stepped into a nymphomaniac’s unit for a sleepover … well, again, I wouldn’t be responsible for what happened.
If I attacked Marcie with lustful intentions, she would probably roar, What the fuck, get off me! But I could come straight back at her and declare, Hey you remember that pact we made with Satan in Year Eleven? Well, I think it worked, and I’m not doing this, the Devil’s making me do it!
I sent her a text message, what time should I expect you? And I received an immediate reply, Fifteen minutes.
Jumping Jiminy … I was already so excited and aroused that I contemplated pushing my shorts down and having a quick tinker, but no, control yourself young lady and let the arousal continue to spiral. In my mind, my best friend should let me hump her, because I provided champagne, wine and weed, and I also placed a red rose on her pillow, so she should feel obligated to give herself to me, but I could just imagine her whining, The friendship Jemma, the friendship’s the most important thing … yeah, yeah, whatever, just get your freaking panties off!
