Barry Corby Part 1

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Another day, another dollar, Barry Corby rubbed his hands together adjusted his garish, Hawaiian shirt and congratulated himself on being Barry Corby. No one else in the world could make such a good job at being Barry Corby as he did. He was the best damn Barry Corby there could be. Sometimes Barry Corby wished he was his own wife so he could experience what it was like to be married to the great Barry Corby, he looked at the photo of the two of them on his desk. 

“You're a lucky girl, Mrs. Corby,” he said, and then blew a kiss towards the photo although as he was in the photograph too, it wasn’t clear who the intended recipient was.

If Barry Corby’s wish to be his own wife had come true right then, then he would have had been in for a big surprise. Right then she was  indeed  a lucky woman. Is there anything better than afternoon sex, in crisp white satin sheets, a young willing buck between your legs with all the energy you’d expect from a Castleton United centre forward?  She dug her expertly manicured nails into the taut muscles of his back drawing blood and leaving marks that teammates would comment on the next day. He was building up a good rhythm and she was nearing orgasm. Nothing could stop her now.

Nothing that is except for the shrill blast of her mobile. Katrina and the Waves Walking on Sunshine blasted out telling her, her Barry was calling. He’d insisted on that song for her ring tone. Told her it was his theme tune, like him it  guaranteed to put a smile on your face, he’d promised. Guaranteed to wipe the smile off her face more like. She pushed Tenby Rushden out of the way and reached for the phone.

“Barry darling…working out dear…of course I haven’t forgotten… So soon, ok. See you soon.”

She put the phone back on the bedside table, her lover still inside her, but the mood gone.

“Get dressed,” she said. He looked genuinely distraught. “Now!” she barked. “He’s on his way.”

Tenby jumped out of bed and pulled his clothes on, for a split second she longed to reach out and stroke his abs, pull him back to bed and resume their lovemaking. But she knew it wasn’t worth the risk. The ground was half an hour away, but the way Barry drove he might be home in twenty minutes, so Tenby had to get out of there, tout suit.

“Same time tomorrow Mrs Corby?” Tenby asked.

“I’ll call you,” she replied, wondering what she’d arranged with Ross Kettering, the team manager.

Just as Barry killed the call to his wife, Carter popped his head around the door.

“I’m off home boss,” he said. ‘Unless there’s anything you need me for.”

“Carter, come here,” Barry said, standing up to reveal his perfectly ironed trousers. He put his arm around his young charge and led him to the window.

“Do you think it is possible for a man to grow new fingers?” Barry asked
Carter shrugged. He knew the answer was no, but his boss didn't take no for an answer, one of his catchphrases that was; the name's Barry Corby, and the answer is yes. 

“Because I've got my fingers in so many pies, I'm going to need some new ones.” Carter's laughter was more because he was scared of his boss rather than he thought he was funny, but he had to admit it was better than his usual effort.

For part two click here and part three here and part four click here and part five click here