Magic Bullet

by Kay SEXTON
 

“Is that a bullet?” Bill Sanderson says, peering at my key-ring through the bar’s low-lit intimacy.

“It is,” I say, holding it level with my breasts. His eyes get wider—much wider. “It’s a magic bullet.”

“Yeah?” He leans closer to stare at the bullet. It’s a magnum cartridge. It used to be a .243 Winchester but I had to get a bigger size.

“Yeah … it reads minds. Watch.” I put the bullet into his hand, pulling the key-chain down through his fingers so it hangs below his hand and the bullet rests in his palm. He looks at the bullet, then at me, and as he grins I twist the keychain so that the links tighten up and the bullet rises slowly in response, until it’s standing straight up in his hand. Simple but effective—and very crude. I’m gazing into his eyes. Finally he remembers to look down at the cartridge, sees it standing at attention and laughs. I’ve got him.

I’ve been watching the Ladies toilet, and as Sonya comes out, I get up, brushing my nipple against Bill’s arm as I squeeze past him through the packed bar, using my elbows where men’s wide backs block my journey - they never get in my way if they can see me, it’s always a big smile and a hand on my shoulder, or hip to ease me along. Men can’t resist touching me. As I pass Sonya, I jiggle my rear for Bill’s benefit and she smiles, pouting in his direction. I can’t see him but his tongue must be hanging out. Men are so predictable. She looks over at him and shakes her head gently. It could be a teasing telling-off, a way of reminding me that I’m being naughty, but it’s not. She’s telling me he’s not on her list. Even so, I go into the Ladies, sit down and unscrew the bottom of the bullet. Two long strips of tightly rolled paper fall out. I read through them slowly. Bill Sanderson is not there. Sonya was right. It’s our major risk; that one of us will pick up a guy the other’s already been with—that’s why I have a list of her pick-ups, and she has a list of mine. I’m going to have to upgrade bullet size again soon.

“Who was that?” he says when I get back. It’s a good thing I don’t really fancy him, or I’d be jealous. Lust has made him rude, as well as stupid.

“My flatmate,” I say. His lust increases as he thinks about going home with both of us. Good. Lustful men are gullible. On top of the idea that he could find himself alone with two wicked women, he’s leaving on a skiing holiday tomorrow, early flight from Heathrow. He’s been telling me all about it. He thinks his luck is too good to be true. He’s right.

I give Sonya and her pick-up a half-hour start, then steer Bill to our flat. Sonya’s door is closed, Matt’s is open, telling me he’s gone out. It’s his night off anyway.

I check the fridge, popping the ring on a Miller Lite and dropping in a powdered Stilnoct. I’ll give it to him in a while, so he doesn’t fall asleep too early—I like a one night stand as much as the next girl. Sonya’s pick-up favours rum: she’s taken him a Breezer. He’ll chill out with a sleeping tablet he didn’t know he’d drunk. Dreamland will have him soon.

Bill is enthusiastic and cooperative and we have a very hot time. I’m impressed by the way he can support his weight above my body so that the only part that touches is his cock, inside me. It’s like Tom Cruise hanging from the ceiling in Mission Impossible. He says it’s a skier thing. I say I’ll have to remember that.

Later I bring him his beer and sit on the bed, dressed in his shirt, drinking one I’ve opened for myself. We fool around for a bit, but within half an hour he’s snoring. I pick up his trousers and mobile and head for the lounge.

Sonya’s already there, sorting through her bloke’s wallet. She smiles briefly and goes back to work. I check through Bill’s credit cards and find his P.I.N. written on the side of his donor card. I take his Visa. It’s hardly been used compared to his grubby Mastercard; he won’t miss it for a while. Then I liberate the TopMan card I’ll bet he wouldn’t want his mates to know about. I can use it in Principles - there’s a coat I’ve been lusting after. I check his mobile’s stored numbers in case he’s a trainee copper or something - that happened once. Finally I take his clothes back to the bedroom and curl up beside him.

The alarm goes off at six.

Bill remembers he’s got to get home and pick up his bags for the flight, kisses me and runs. By the time he returns from his holiday, we’ll have emptied his account. If he manages to work out it was me and remember where I live, he’ll find Matt answering the door. That will stop him in his tracks—Matt’s a big lad.

I yawn and wonder how much sleep Sonya got. I’ll buy that coat today, and if I can withdraw enough of his money from a cash point I can pay this term’s course fees. I wish I knew what Bill’s credit limit is. Matt has a student loan payment due and Sonya needs philosophy texts for her MPhil. It’s tough being university students these days.

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