M25

Chapter One

"And here are your keys Sir - with the all important soft leather M5 fob. He took a step back and held the keys high and out of his customers reach like he was teasing a little Brother, "the sight of which will get the tarts in the office wetter than an otters pocket. Gary didn't reach up, but stared straight and laughed in unison with Josh, top salesman for M25 BMW, they'd both heard the 'otter's pocket' line before, but the laughter shared by Josh and Gary had nothing to do with fun. It was all part of the big, male, pissing contest they entered into every time they put on the salesman's uniform of white shirt and wacky tie. It was what salesmen did, irrespective of what they sold. For Gary and Josh lived in Sales World where two things mattered sales targets and image.
Granted these two where at the top of the food chain but it was still for the majority, a world punctuated by cheap beige hotel rooms, furnished with a bed, a chair and a black TV manufactured obscurely in Scandinavia. And on this TV, after a day spent behind the wheel thinking about fucking anyone but their wives, girlfriends or lovers, Sales World provided dull pay channel TV porn that gave these white-shirted ugly blokes silicone-titted dream blondes in denim shorts. The girls as thoughtfully chosen, as the bedside tissues left for the gentleman wanker's convenience. Candy Apples or Suzy Creamcheese would happily spend a Wednesday night in with Steve or Brian . In salesworld you could settle for your sins in the morning and as the bill again thoughtfully itemised nothing more descriptive than 'movie' Mal, Brian, Trev or Mark could recommend Forest Gump to the foreign girl on reception,

However, targets aside, image mattered in Sales World, but way above the designer label on the suit, way above the wackiness of the tie and way above managing once a year to persuade recently divorced and vulnerable women to suck them off in a Beefeater car parks in return for a cheap food and wine. What really mattered was the car you sat your sweaty arse in, and Gary's car was as serious bit
of kit

He waited for Josh to hand the keys over in a proper manner and they parted with a strong shake. 'Keep In touch Butch' Gary said in a half laugh ' this was Gary's way of declaring he'd pissed the highest, as it was him Gary Bragg, that had won this one as he would soon driving away in the 65 thousand pound BMW M5. He over strolled
to his new motor soaking up the moment. The sound of his Churches' brogues clicking with a certain swagger on the showroom marble sounded almost military.
"Hi Gary, a voice echoed across the floor. Gary threw a wink in the direction of the blonde with the young hair and old face. "All your wishes come true I see, she said walking as sexily as she could for fifty two. She stopped a couple of inches inside Gary's personal space.
"All except one sweetheart."
"Really and what one is that? She bit her lip and picked a piece of lint off his shoulder. Gary bent forward and whispered into her ear . "I wish¦I wish."Yes. She prompted. Gary pulled back and spoke loudly. "I wish my dick was as big as my turds. He laughed as her face crumpled into a frown. "Keep in touch Butch." He turned and pointed the fob and pushed a button, the lights flashed once and a click smoother than a blended whisper opened all the doors. Settling in he adjusted the anti-glare mirror and pushed the arse of the Hong Kong Hugo Boss suit he'd got from the deep into the beige nappa. On the half turn of the key the eight speaker sound system kicked in. On the full turn the engine rumbled darkly into life. As Gary pushed it into first, he looked to his left to see 'young hair old face' smile at him from behind her sales desk, he checked right to see Josh raise a hand, he was the wrong side of the tinted showroom doors which he had slid open ready for Gary's departure. As Gary rolled past their eyes met and they recognised and loathed each other with equal venom.

Gary savoured the rush, he felt the dogs bollocks, it had taken him fifteen years to get to here, hard years, four of which were spent behind the wheel of Fords. He fuckin' hated Fords ' Now Mondeo man could suck his big German M5 cock. The lights flicked onto red and the ventilated discs pulled him up sharp. A boy racer rolled up along side, his car looked like a white trash carnival. The pimple in a mock Burberry baseball cap who was driving fancied a dual. Red light flicked through to green and pimple chops screamed away. Gary sat tight and tapped his finger on the thick leather wheel to David Gray and laughed. "One two three four." The speed camera three hundred yards up the road flashed and confirmed six points for the pimple. Gary was King of Sales and knew every speed camera for miles. "If you want it come and get it for crying out loud" Gary's voice was pure karaoke. A Fiat Punto behind tooted impatiently, he raised his hand in a glorious apology and growled off.

The trees were still there, six in a row, so many years had passed and they were still the same. In fact the only thing different about the whole road was a drive through McDonalds which stuck out like a fat holiday arse. He slowed down and peered in. Outside a girl with a figure the victim of the free quarter ponder stopped picking McLitter in her yellow McVest to admire the handsome flash bastard in the posh motor. Gary pushed the window button and the light tinted glass slid down. Gary winked, it worked a lot "the wink especially on the office temps who he'd targeted with his three F's rule of 'Find 'em Fuck 'em and Forget 'em.' She smiled back, Gary pushed the button and the window slid up. He'd promised himself 'no fat chicks in his beamer' especially
not today, not during his victory drive salute.

The orphanage was now a college of further education ' teaching skint housewives CSE maths so they could work out how much they didn't have and pensioners IT so they could plan their funerals on line and e-mail long lost sisters in Australia. A board spouted some old bollocks about working with the community for the community. It covered the Borewood Children's Home sign. To Gary it was never a home, just six years more agony after the fire and for the sort of people it let loose on the world it should have been called the monster factory. he turned in and drove the short distance to the entrance. A security guard older than God's Donkey held up a warning hand. "Sorry Sir, he smiled, you can't come this far, Teachers and support staff only.
Students and visitors need to go back out and take the first left to the public car parkGary didn't smile. " Piss off out of the way you old cunt, or you'll have one of these 17 inch low profile tyres over your fucking head."
The guard was stunned. "Didn't you hear me you smelly old fucker move." Gary revved the engine hard and the vibration shook the ground. The guard stepped back dazed. Gary edged forward. "Don't mess with me you miserable fucker, else you'll be eating your Netto soup through fucking tubes." Gary sucked back hard, puffed his cheeks and delivered a ball of steaming phlegm in the Guards face."Now fuck off back to your hut and your £3.50 an hour before I snap your neck." He stared into old timers face, he could see the fear. It gave him a tingle in his bollocks,"You do right to look scared, didn't you hear me, move!
The old man shuffled backwards. Gary drove on up to the entrance to the house. He pulled up got out of the car and skipped up nine stone steps to the entrance doors. His breathing hard and fast, the smell of the wild garlic triggered all the memories he could handle. Zip down, cock out and grinning he began to piss like a police horse. "Have a taste of this you fuckers."
He stood back. "See? See? Not bad for me is it? Gary held out his hand and gestured towards his new motor, he was distracted by the sound of a car approaching behind him. Without being obvious Gary slipped himself back in his Calvin's and zipped up. He turned to see the car pull up a few feet behind him, the headlights went out and a woman in her mid thirties and looking a bit too hippy for Gary's taste got out clutching a blue file. "We're not open yet", she said not looking up, but rummaging in her bag
" No worries, I didn't want to go in."
She was about to tell Gary he couldn't leave his car parked outside when she stopped in her tracks on sight of the stream of piss trickling down the steps. She looked at Gary, the two didn't fit, a handsome young man, the flash car. Gary was quick off the mark. "You want to do something about the old geezer."
 The woman was puzzled "Old Geezer?"
"The security guard, Gary nodded toward the old blokes hut, I came up here and there he was pissing, in full view with his old crinkly tadger out. I put a flea in his ear but sometimes that's not enough is it?""Albert did this? Gary nodded, "is he a bit senile? The woman was clearly upset. "No I
don't think so."
"You wanna report him next thing you know he could do something far worse."
"Worse, like what?
"Dunno, Gary shrugged, but you read about it all the time in the News Of The World."
"Little things build up to bigger things and then Bingo ugly front page headlines. I'd hate to see what magazines he keeps in that Kwik Save bag under his stool."
The woman stepped over the stream of piss and made her way to the door. "I'll have to have a word with the agency."
"Ah Agency Gary gave a knowing sigh, that explains it, a magnet for losers and weirdo's those places attract all sorts. Rapist's Murders, Paedophiles and pissers like him, dirty old cock out for the world to see pissers."The woman felt uneasy, she sensed something about Gary she didn't like, it wasn't the words so much as how he said them, there was something in his voice, a single-minded hatred that put a chill up her spine.
"Did you want to enrol, she asked?"
Gary shook his head . "Nah, I've spent much too much time in this place. Gary turned and walked down the steps. The woman deliberately didn't follow him with her gaze, she chose to unlock the doors, clearly upset by the brief encounter. Gary jumped back in the car, turned the key and rolled away. As he got to the Security Guard's hut he rolled down his window.
"Oi pisser, he shouted, the old man came out, he was without his jacket and the shirt, which was at least three sizes too big, made him look like a turtle out of its shell. He had been crying it was obvious, "Ahh! Gary spoke in a mock baby voice, to most people the sight of an old man weeping is quite powerful and upsetting, but d'you know what
Granddad not to me, to me you're just a siwwy old cunt."
Gary spat again this time it hit the old mans shoulder like a ball hits the net at Wimbledon. The old man stumbled back. Gary swept out of the gates and shouted "Keep In Touch Butch" pressing his thumb on the volume button on the steering wheel David Gray shouted again "Saturday night I'm running wild all the lights are turning green to red" He swept down the A412. Life was good.

Gary's comedy ring tone, was predictably 'Little Britains Andy ' It made Gary reach for his shirt pocket, the caller I.D. said Withheld. "Hi, Gary Bragg."
"Hello, Mr Bragg I'm calling from African aid, I was given you're number by one of your colleagues who said you might be willing to donate a couple of pounds a month to help the starving people of Africa."
Gary thought the girl sounded young, petty and posh. "I could be
"That's great, the young girl was enthused, cold calling was hard and she'd have much rather have been travelling the world for a year with her Tanya, Poppy and Tiggy.
"How old are you Gary barked slipping in bully mode. The girl was thrown.
"Old?"
"Yeah, how old are you?"
"19."
"19, and your name?"
"I'm sorry sir¦ we're not¦"
"Never mind fucking sorry, you rang me didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Well what's your name?"
"Jenni with an I."
"Jenni with an I" Gary mocked
"Yes."
"Well Jenni with an I, what's a pretty little posh tart year like you doing sat in a call centre begging for money off complete strangers? "
There was a long pause." You still there then Jenni with an I?"
"Yes "obviously Jenni had never encountered a Gary Bragg before.
"Well, answer the fucking question dumb ass!" Gary was brutal.
"I just want to help."
"Well Jenni with an I that's all very good you volunteering your help to all those starving people in Africa - But?"
"But, Jenni repeated."Just shut the fuck up, a fucking parrot as well a posh tart are we?"
Jenni stammered ' "N¦No."
"Well Jenni with an I how much do you want to help?"
"Enough to take this fucking bullshit from you " Jenni summoned up the courage to mumble back.
"Well Jenni let's see shall we how much you really want to help"
"What do you mean?"
"I've got a platinum Amex card here, and I'll give you a grand, that's one thousand pounds for those little black kiddies with the big bellies. That'll buy fucking thousands of 'em a McDonalds each. But you've got to do something for me."
"Like what?"
"We'll start with the colour of your knickers?"
"No fucking way yar!"
"Don't hang up now darling, remember all those little gobs you could feed. Well.. Colour?"
"White."
" And no bra right?"
There was a silence and Gary was in bullish mood.
"I said no bra, right?"
"No Bra."
"Thong?"
"Yes."
Gary pulled into a lay-by he was enjoying this.
"Have you got a boyfriend?"
"Yes."
"Does he fuck you?
Silence.
"Listen Jenni with an I, Gary changed his voice he now sounded reasonable - can you afford not to answer? You've already told me the colour of your thong now just lets get this over with and you'll have your grand for the little black kids. Now ..Does he fuck you?"
"Yes."
"Hard?"
"Yes."
"Have you got big tits?"
"No."
"Wrong answer Jenni with an I."
"Have you got big tits?"
"Yes."
"I'm wanking Jen, I can call you Jen can't I ?
"No."
"Wrong answer babe."
Do you know what I'm doing, Jen?
"Yes."
Gary wasn't.
"Do you want my cum?
He could hear Jenni starting to sob he knew he'd pushed her as far as he could so hegave her some mock dirty moans and pulled at his cheek to give a plausible wanking soundtrack before finishing with three quick grunts and a 'Je-ni ba-by."
"Oh Jen you filthy little slut."
There was a pause, Gary thought he'd lost her but no.
"Can I have your card number now ?" Jenni sobbed.
"Wouldn't that make you a prostitute Jen?"
There was silence again
"What's up Jen want to phone a friend, pony tail too tight?"
"No, it doesn't."
"Money for phone sex. Think about it, come on put that private school to good use."
"No, you said."
"Jen."
"Yes."
"Bye."
Gary shook his head turned off his phone and threw it on the seat next to him. "Fuckin do-gooders."