A Worthless Filthy Fucking Smoking Trash Cunt Whore – chapter 3

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 ‘Number One Ladies Detective Agency’ – so it actually exists, mused Tracy as she read the brass plaque on the door. Wasn’t there a TV programme or somefink? Oh, what the fuck… She rang the doorbell. It was answered by a strikingly attractive black woman – older than Tracy by a few years perhaps, but slender, glamorous, and with large breasts straining at the jacket of her rather fine red skirt suit. “Tracy? Come in. I’m Billy Webb,” said the woman with a broad smile, as she proffered her hand.Tracy went into full job-interview mode, instantaneously pushing all cynicism, doubt and nerves to the back of her mind, and smiling just as broadly as she shook the woman’s hand. “Very nice to meet you, Ms Webb,” she said, putting on the poshest accent she could.“Please call me Billy. And do come and sit down. Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”“Oh, just a glass of water, please,” answered Tracy, taking care to pronounce the “t” in “water” correctly – like Charlie always did. Billy’s office was a large room, with all the normal paraphernalia – a couple of large desks, some filing cabinets, and a seating area with a leather three-piece suite arranged around a large coffee table – on which, intriguingly, sat a large, but apparently clean and unused, glass ashtray. Tracy sat on the edge of the sofa, opposite Billy’s armchair. The next fifteen minutes or so passed thoroughly pleasantly. Billy went through Tracy’s CV with her, asking her gentle questions about her educational background and professional experience: educated at a comprehensive school and a middle-of-the-road polytechnic, with experience as a receptionist, secretary and personal assistant in various small companies. Tracy kept smiling broadly, doing her best to appear enthusiastic about anything and everything her interviewer brought up, and to pronounce all her consonants correctly. Billy also told her a bit about her company: a one-woman private investigative operation, dealing mainly with run-of-the-mill divorce cases requiring a bit of subtle surveillance, “to check whether the man’s sleeping around, or has a second family somewhere, you know the sort of thing.” Tracy laughed nervously.“Don’t you worry about any of that, though, Tracy,” said Billy reassuringly. “I do all the field work, so to speak. I would just need you to man the office, deal with phone calls, do the filing and the bookkeeping and other admin work. My previous assistant had to leave suddenly last month, and I have been having trouble finding someone to fill her shoes. No one I have so far interviewed has been entirely… suitable.”Tracy looked quizzical. “Oh? What has been the problem?” (She was very careful to say “what has” rather than “wot’s”.)Billy stood up suddenly. “Tracy, I have a question to ask you, for which I require an absolutely honest answer… Do you smoke?”Tracy’s mind went into startled overdrive. Oh fuck – she thought to herself – she can smell the smoke on me. And almanbahis şikayet she knows if I’m a smoker I’m always going to stink, and skive off for cigarette breaks and all that shit. I’m fuckin’ done for before I’ve even been given a chance. If only I’d just stayed off the fuckin’ cigarettes for one morning, I’d then at least have had a foot in the door.All this passed through Tracy’s mind in a split second, but what came out of her mouth was not much more edifying: “Oh… oh… just a little, I mean, every now and then – you know, socially. But really hardly at all. And I’m planning to stop, really soon. My boyfriend and I are planning to get married, you know,” she lied, “and if we start a family I’ll definitely be stopping! It wouldn’t get in the way of work at all, I promise…”Billy stayed standing, and looked down at Tracy with an inscrutable expression: Tracy couldn’t tell if it was amusement, pity or contempt – until Billy said, very slowly: “Tracy, you’re a filthy liar.”In an instant, a wave of shock and humiliation came over Tracy. Her heart pounded, and she felt the moisture begin to well up behind her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have known you could smell the smoke on me. Please, ma’am, please give me another chance. I need this job so badly, and I’m a really good worker. I promise it won’t get in the way of my work at all…” (Tracy pronounced the last two words “a’ aw’” – under the stress, she could feel her accent slipping again.)“Tracy, tell me why you left your last job, with FCK Logistics.”Oh fuck – thought Tracy again to herself – now what do I say? ‘I was fired for smokin’ on the job, whilst jerkin’ off in the ladies’ toilets’? I am really gonna say that? Unwisely however, Tracy lied again: “Oh, the hours weren’t really suitable for me. I wanted to spend more time with my boyfriend, and he works shifts, so I wanted a job which wouldn’t take me away at weekends so much, and…”Tracy’s monologue dried up under Billy’s withering gaze. Oh shit – she thought – I’m telling so many fuckin’ lies I won’t know what I’ve said. I have totally fucked this up… Her face downcast, and the tears beginning to leak out and down her cheeks, she tried to backtrack: “Oh no, no, that’s not the real reason why. I… I’m so sorry, ma’am, for having wasted your time. I’d better go now. I’m really sorry. I’ll let myself out…” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and a large smudge of mascara spread across her cheek. “Oops,” she giggled in humiliation, as she got up and, deliberately avoiding Billy’s gaze, started making her way towards the door.“Stop right there, Tracy,” commanded the black woman. “I think you might be just the right person for this job. Sit down again, please.”Tracy paused. “Uh, really?” she replied, puzzled and confused, as she sat. Billy smiled again, walked over to her desk, and opened the top drawer, pulling out a lighter and an unopened packet of Marlboro Lights almanbahis canlı casino 100s, which she brought back to Tracy and placed on the coffee table in front of her. “Oh!” exclaimed Tracy “Do you smoke, ma’am?” She gazed longingly at the packet of cigarettes.“Call me Billy,” was the only reply she received, before Billy continued: “Tracy, please smoke for me.”“Smoke – sorry – what?” Tracy blurted out, thinking all the time: What kind of fuckin’ weirdo is this – asking me to smoke for her in a job interview? Jesus, now I’ve seen it all. But the sight of a brand new packet of her favourite smokes sitting on the coffee table next to the virgin ashtray looked so tempting – and if ever Tracy had needed a cigarette, it was now.“Smoke a cigarette, please,” repeated Billy, gesturing for Tracy to help herself.Tracy did her best to look as if she wasn’t desperate, slowly unwrapping the cellophane from the cigarette packet, then nervously tapping out one long, beautiful white cigarette, which she held as elegantly as she could between two fingers. Oh fuck – thought Tracy – this looks so fuckin’ good! But she resisted the temptation to rush it. Instead, she gently took the cigarette between her lips, picked up the lighter, and lit up.It is so hard, when you are desperate for a cigarette, to look as if you are in control of your cravings – but Tracy tried her best, taking a slow shallow inhale like a rookie smoker, exhaling it apologetically away from Billy, then pausing. She felt hardly anything from that drag, and was desperate to take another of her favourite deep multi-pumps, to luxuriate in the sensation of a body flooded with nicotine. But instead she smiled nervously, wondering what would happen now. After a second shallow drag Tracy felt she had to break the silence: “Uh, is there anything else you wanted to ask me, Billy?”“Yes, Tracy. I want you to smoke that cigarette the way you really want to. You’re pretending to be a light, part-time smoker. But I know you’re really a total addict. I know you’re a smoking whore.”“What?” Tracy replied, insulted and indignant. “This is ridiculous! I am not going to sit here and be spoken to like that,” she declared, hastily stubbing out the barely-smoked cigarette in the ashtray and getting up once again to leave.“And I like smoking whores,” continued Billy. “In fact, I like worthless filthy fucking smoking trash cunt whores the best.”“What the…? How the fuck do you…?” Tracy stammered in her rage, her accent reverting to Essex in an instant. “‘Oo put you up to this? Is this one of Charlie’s stupid pranks? ‘Ave you been spyin’ on me? What perverted disgustin’ game are you playin’ at? What do you fuckin’ want out of me?!”“Sit down, Tracy! Nobody put me up to this. But I am a detective, after all – so after receiving your application, I did a bit of research, as I always do. So I know how much you love smoking, and I know how much you smoke. And I know you almanbahis casino like to sit on your back patio frigging your pussy while you smoke, because your prude of a boyfriend won’t let you do so in the house. And I also know that your last boss barged in on you while you were smoking in the office toilets, with three fingers all the way up your wet cunt. All in all, I think you are just the sort of employee I need, because” – and now Billy reached over, removed two new cigarettes from the packet, placed both between her red-lipsticked lips, lit them together, took a deep drag of one, and handed the other to Tracy – “I am also a filthy fucking smoking cunt whore. But I am not worthless, or trash, and nor are you. In fact, we need each other.”Tracy sat in stunned silence, watching as the beautiful black woman opposite fixed her with her sultry eyes and took another deep drag of her cigarette, followed by a luxuriant snap-inhale and a thick cone exhale from her lusciously full red lips, right across the coffee table at Tracy. Tracy basked in the smell and sensation of the warm smoke enveloping her body, and she started to drag on her new cigarette, not delicately like the last one (crushed but still gently smouldering in the ashtray), but the way she really wanted to, hard, deep, desperately filling her lungs with that heavenly nicotine-laden smoke, letting it pour out of her nose and mouth, satisfying her craving and enveloping her in that wonderful smoky stink which she loved so much.Billy smiled, watching with lustful admiration. Tracy held her cigarette to her mouth between trembling thumb and forefinger so she could multi-pump, feeling the nicotine relief wash over her again. Billy smoked with more elegance and less desperation than her interviewee, but with long deep drags, snap-inhaling huge churning balls of white smoke into her open mouth, or breathing the smoke back into her nostrils in rich cascading waterfalls, before directing perfectly-shaped cones of smoke across the room towards Tracy. “Play with your cunt for me, Tracy,” she said.“What?” Tracy replied, the alarm rising in her voice again.“If you want this job, Tracy, show me your cunt while you smoke.”Tracy desperately wanted the job, and having come this far she didn’t want to fuck it up. She also desperately wanted to smoke, and the nicotine high was making her feel horny. She pulled her grey pencil skirt up to her waist and gently pushed her panties to one side to display her pussy. “Beautiful, Tracy,” said Billy. Now stick a finger in there.”Tracy obeyed, continuing to smoke with her left hand while her right middle finger gently parted her dark cunt-fuzz and slid in between her pussy lips. Billy kept up the instructions: “Nice, Tracy. Now fuck that finger in and out, so I can see it getting sticky. Now take it out and lick it. Beautiful, now how about two fingers? Good girl, now lick your cunt-sauce off again. Good. Now,” continued Billy, “stick that cigarette in there.”Fuck, even I’ve never thought of that before! thought Tracy to herself, holding her fuck-lips open with the fingers of her right hand while gently sliding the yellowing cork-end of her cigarette into her damp pussy.

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