Dirk is the most evil person I’ve ever met: it’s a delight to have him
as a friend. One day after work he told me to get into his car. He
said we were going to the apartment block where Amy Palmer lived. I
stared.
Amy Palmer is a tall blonde co-worker from hell: always bitching,
always telling tales to the boss and always sneering down her
beautiful nose at underlings like Dirk and myself. It doesn’t help
either that her icy disdain is carried around in a figure that would
set flash bulbs popping in a Rio Carnival. Ms Palmer cycles to and
from work and the rear view of her tightly stretched lycra shorts is a
major traffic hazard.
So, we went to where she lived. Waited in the parking lot underneath
the building. Dirk sniggered as Amy arrived. She stopped her bike by
the lift doors, and then tried to get off it — and couldn’t. She
looked surprised.
“How about that, Pete?” Dirk chuckled. “That super glue I put on her
saddle must have worked. Let’s discuss the situation with her.”
We moved closer. Watching Amy trying to wriggle her shorts off that
saddle was the sort of thing you wished Spielberg was around to film.
She was one sexy lady — and also a very unhappy one. Especially about
Dirk having smeared the superglue over her saddle just before she got
on her bike. But now her choice was either to be helped out of her
shorts in a hospital emergency department or in the privacy of her own
apartment. Dirk had two cans of glue solvent in his pockets and was
eager to start work — so was I. And Amy finally decided she’d let us
do the job. She squawked about it, naturally, but not as much as she
was going to.
We wheeled her into the lift, one on each side, and both of us too
advantage of the situation to steady her front and rear for five
floors. Some girl tried to get on at one floor but took one look at
Amy’s bright red face and the grip we had on her and kept giggling
until the door closed again. Then we wheeled Amy down the corridor and
opened her door for her.
Dirk set things up. We put Amy facing a full length mirror and a
couple of books down on each side of the bike to rest her feet on.
Then we set to work on those shorts. Dirk had a pair of scissors he
used to cut away at the sides, and then the hard work started of
spraying the solvent down the back of the shorts and massaging it into
Amy’s bottom. Dull, boring work, I guess, but watching Amy’s face in
the mirror as four hands got busy inside her pants sure helped pass
the time. Then she had the nerve to complain because we used the
scissors to cut off a patch of pubic hair instead of messing around
with the solvent. She made some threat about getting her own back at
work, so Dirk showed her the camera he had. No more unsticking without
poses — deal? Deal.
First of we had her sitting upright with nothing on from the waist up,
and then we took turns at getting some hands on shots. Then we had Amy
leaning on the handlebars while she got handled. Dirk also insisted on
her putting her crash hat on again. I didn’t know why, but he showed
me how to hook my fingers underneath the rim and it turned out he was
right — our ice queen did give very good helmet.
So then we did turn and turn about, front and rear, until we had
enough of Amy unstuck to give her a tandem ride. Ralph worked her up
to speed and then I helped her along for a while, until her back wheel
was bouncing on the floor. Then Ralph said it was his turn to wear the
yellow jersey in the Tour de Fuck.
The funny thing is, we never have any trouble with Amy at work now. In
fact every lunch break we take her somewhere quiet and help her out
with her non-fattening diet plan.