Hot Sheets

by Ray Gordon

  "Your ex-wife."

  "Oh, yes, my ex bloody wife! OK, we'll let her go - and we'll kick Harold out. I want all these problematic bastards out of the building. As you said, we'll see what happens. Right, you get rid of her and then chuck Harold out. I'm going down to my flat to have a think."

  Descending the steps to his basement flat, Mike went wearily into the lounge and flopped onto the sofa, wondering what Belinda would do once she was given her freedom. She might get her hands on another gun and shoot Harold, but that really wasn't his problem. Harold would just have to look out for himself. Besides, he reflected, Harold should never have agreed to go on holiday with his wife and her lover. Stupid bloody man. He deserves to be shot.

  Thinking back over the recent events and developments, he pondered on the idea of coming clean, admitting to Dickwipe that he'd been running a brothel, and accept the consequences. Recalling Paul's words, he leapt up from the sofa. Where was the old Mike who had marvellous, bloody brilliant, ingenious fucking ideas for the future? No, he couldn't surrender. What sort of man would give up?

  Rubbing his chin as he paced the floor, he thought hard. He needed something to distract Dickwipe. A crime so vile, so horrendous, that the brothel would pale into insignificance - but what? "Fucking hell! Is there no peace for the godly?" he cursed as the phone rang.

  "Mike, it's Dave. Princess Christina is on the line, shall I put her through?"

  "Yes, yes of course!" Mike jittered, his stomach somersaulting as he recalled screwing the majestic pussy.

  "Hi, Mike," the princess trilled. "I'm pleased that you're still alive."

  "I'm fairly pleased, too! God, I could have been shot to death and died! Anyway, how are you?"

  "I'm fine. I'm confined to the palace, but I'm OK. How are things with you?"

  "Dreadful! I've got the police after me, there's a would-be assassin on the loose, I've had my electricity supply cut off, the Inland Revenue are causing me problems, my ex-wife... sorry, I shouldn't bore you with my problems."

  "Can you sort things out? I mean, you've had problems before, haven't you?"

  "Yes, your father's bloody hit men, for a start!"

  "Yes, I'm sorry about that. I did ring your local police station and warn them. Look, all you have to do is cause bigger problems for the people who are causing you problems."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, your ex-wife, set her up somehow. Take a leaf out of my father's book and set her up so she takes the blame for some crime or other. My father has his own people shot and then blames the Skythuanian Peoples Front. "

  "That's easier said than done! Besides, I can't shoot people, it's not right. I also have a policewoman causing trouble. I kidnapped her and..."

  "You kidnapped a policewoman?"

  "Yes, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

  "A good idea?"

  "Yes, at the time. Of course, with the benefit of hindsight... anyway, it gets worse."

  "What can be worse than kidnapping a policewoman?"

  "I tied her up and whipped her, and then I fucked her rotten."

  "Well, I really don't know..."

  "I also made her lick my ex-wife's cunt out."

  "My God! Oh, I have to go - my father's coming! Bye!"

  "Call again."

  "I'll come to England and visit you."

  "When?"

  "Soon."

  It was good to hear Elizabeth's sweet articulations again, Mike reflected, replacing the receiver. It had been a great shame that she'd had to return to her own country - taking her beautiful pussy with her! Pondering on the royal words, he wondered how to set Belinda up - and Widegroin! "Jesus Christ!" he gasped as a gunshot resounded throughout the hotel. Dashing to the door, he bounded up the steps to the foyer.

  "Rolling bollocks! What the hell's going on?" he yelled, staring in horror at Harold Gloom writhing in agony on the floor. "Harold, what the fuck happened?"

  "I've been shot in the arm!" the weedy man groaned.

  "Blimey! Was it a gun?"

  "No, it was a bloody peashooter! Of course it was a bloody gun!"

  "Fucking hell! Who did it?"

  "An old woman!"

  "An old woman?"

  "Yes, the one who was staying here - Miss Chaste, I think that's her name."

  "I'll call Dickwipe!" Dave said helpfully, emerging from the kitchen to confront the stricken Harold.

  "Miss Chaste? Where is she now?" Mike asked incredulously, helping Harold to his feet.

  "She went upstairs mumbling something about her room."

  "Fuck me, this is brilliant!" Mike chuckled. "This is absolutely fucking brilliant!"

  "Brilliant? I've got a bloody bullet in my arm, and you say it's brilliant?"

  "No, not the bullet in your arm, the situation - it's a miracle! God moves in mysterious ways."

  "Yes, and so does Miss Chaste!"

  "Go through to the bar and have a drink, Harold."

  "I need an ambulance, not a bloody drink!"

  "Of course you don't! Besides, I want Dickwipe to witness your death."

  "Oh, thanks very much!"

  "To the bar, Harold!"

  If he could frame Belinda for the shooting, she'd be banged up for attempted murder! Mike mused, planning his next move as Dave got through to Pox Green police station. But why did Miss Chaste shoot Harold? And where the hell did she get the gun from? With Dickwipe's imminent arrival, Mike had little time to formulate his plan.

  "Where's Belinda?" he asked as Dave replaced the receiver.

  "Paul released her before he went up to the top floor to clear up."

  "And then what happened?"

  "I was in the back yard and, after about ten minutes, I heard the shot. I didn't see what happened."

  "Brilliant! What did the cops say?"

  "Dickwipe will be here any minute now."

  "OK, you saw Belinda shoot Harold."

  "Did I? I don't remember seeing..."

  "Of course you don't remember it! Lie, tell Dickwipe that you saw Belinda shoot Harold."

  "But..."

  "Just lie!"

  "Will do."

  As Dave wandered into the kitchen, Mike recalled Elizabeth's words. "Set your ex-wife up," he murmured pensively as he dashed upstairs to Miss Chaste's old room. Using the skeleton key, he unlocked the door and tentatively entered to discover the woman sitting on the bed mumbling about her key.

  "Miss Chaste, why did you shoot Harold?" he asked, taking the gun from the bed and slipping it into his jacket pocket.

  "I was looking for my key in your desk drawer, and then..."

  "Yes, and then?"

  "When?"

  "What happened after that?"

  "That's right, I found the gun in the drawer. That man was about to leave the hotel when I was looking at the gun, and it suddenly went off - bang! Is he all right?"

  "It's nothing that amputation won't put right."

  "Oh, dear!"

  "OK, you stay here. There's no harm done so there's no need to say anything about this. Nothing happened, all right?"

  "When?"

  "When what?"

  "You said that nothing happened. When did nothing happen?"

  "Jesus Christ! Look, stay in your room and don't come out! It's another rule, OK?"

  "If you say so, Mr Hunt."

  "Yes, I do!"

  Closing the door, Mike bounded downstairs and dashed across the foyer to the bar to discover Nancy, Cecilia and the waitresses attending Harold's arm. The more witnesses the better, he thought, his plan coming together brilliantly. The doorbell ringing, he pushed the women aside and grabbed Harold's arm.

  "Belinda shot you, OK?" he expounded, shaking the man.

  "Argh! My arm!"

  "Oh, sorry. Listen, Harold, my ex-wife shot you, all right? You all saw it, didn't you?" he asked, turning to the girls.

  "I saw it, mate!" Trudie beamed excitedly. "We all saw it!"

  "It wasn't your ex-wife!" Harold groane
d, clutching his arm. "It was..."

  "It was, Harold!" Mike broke in. "You must lie, or you'll get an innocent old bag banged up in Holloway fucking prison!"

  "But your ex-wife is innocent!"

  "Innocent? Fuck me, she was your would-be assassin! It all fits perfectly."

  "Oh, I see. Well, I'll say that I didn't see who it was. You'll all have to lie - if that's the way you want it."

  "It is, Harold! Right, there's the bell again. Let me do the talking, OK?"

  Feigning shock as Dave showed Dickwipe into the bar, Mike held his hand to his head. Things couldn't have worked out better, he reflected. With several witnesses, Belinda didn't stand a chance! And if Satan was on his side, the gun would be registered in her name. Please, Satan, help me - just this once.

  "What's been going on here, then?" Dickwipe asked, his beady eyes staring at Harold. "Something's afoot, I deduce that much."

  "It's not my foot, it's my bloody arm!" Harold moaned.

  "My ex-wife shot Mr Gloom!" Mike imparted, rather too excitedly. "We all saw it - she came into the hotel and shot him with a gun!"

  "With a gun?"

  "Yes, bang!"

  "Your ex-wife?" Dickwipe frowned.

  "Yes, Belinda Hunt. She came into the foyer with a gun and..."

  "Was she wearing torn clothing?"

  "When she left, she was."

  "We've just arrested a woman for indecent exposure. She was dashing down the street wearing a ripped pink blouse and a matching short skirt, which was also torn. She had long auburn hair, does that fit her description?"

  "Yes, that's her, all right! Her clothing was torn during the struggle. Here's the gun, Inspector," Mike beamed, taking the weapon from his jacket pocket. "She put up quite a fight, I can tell you! Incensed, she was! Bent on killing poor old Harold!"

  "Have you called an ambulance for Mr Gloom?"

  "No, not yet. We thought you might want to witness the death."

  "Witness the death, Mr Hunt?"

  "She'll be done for murder if Harold... what I mean is..."

  "I'll call Pox Green station and have them arrange for an ambulance to attend. Right, I'll need statements from everyone. Mr Gloom, I'll be talking to you when you've had your arm sorted out. I'd better get back to the station and interview Belinda Hunt about the shooting. I'd appreciate it if you'd all remain in the hotel as I'll be returning later."

  "Yes, of course, Inspector," Mike replied, his stomach somersaulting in his excitement.

  "There is one other thing, Mr Hunt. A girl came to see me."

  "Oh, how nice for you."

  "She alleges that she came here and you were not only extremely rude and vile, but you squeezed her breasts."

  "Really? Good God, I've never squeezed a girl's breasts in my life."

  "Never?"

  "Well, not much."

  "I'll be in touch, Mr Hunt."

  Unable to believe his luck as Dickwipe left, Mike skipped to the bar and poured a well-earned round of drinks. That was Gill dealt with, Belinda banged up, the environmental mental bastards fucked off out of it... the fire inspector had nothing to inspect, the Inland Revenue... fuck them! The only remaining problem was WPC bloody Widegroin!

  Deciding to deal with Miss Chaste when the statements had been taken and the dust settled, Mike left the girls chatting to Mr Gloom about the shooting. Sitting at his desk, he pondered on his incredible good fortune. Goldie and Trudie emerging from the bar, he scrutinized their shapely thighs, imagining their swollen pussy lips engulfing his hungry mouth, his tongue tasting their sweet honeypots.

  "Sex!" he cried, leaping up from the desk. "Let's have an orgy to celebrate!"

  "I'm game, mate!" Trudie grinned as Goldie answered the doorbell and led the ambulance men into the bar.

  "When Harold's gone, we'll have an orgy in the bar," Mike whispered. "Wine bottles, whips, handcuffs... we'll celebrate our victory over Belinda by fucking and whipping and sucking and... oh, good luck, Harold!" he called as the ambulance crew helped the wounded man out of the building. "Come back when you've been fixed up."

  "I might," the mishap replied, pausing in the doorway. "There again, I might go home and shoot my wife and her lover."

  Shaking his head and chuckling as Harold left, Mike rubbed his hands together gleefully. Was this the beginning of a new era? he wondered. His luck, it seemed, was changing. Deciding to take bookings for that evening, regardless of a possible raid, he pondered on WPC Widegroin. After all she'd endured in his hands, she'd be back with Dickwipe, he was sure. But he had to take the risk of continuing with room sixty-nine. Watching the waitresses unbuttoning each other's blouses, he sensed a gut feeling that he was taking the right path - the path to sexual debauchery and buckets full of cash! Smiling as the colonel stumbled down the stairs, he crossed the foyer to meet him.

  "Colonel, where have you been?" he asked.

  "By Jove, naked girls!" the old man snorted, eyeing Goldie's elongated milk buds, her yawning vaginal slit. "Do you know, back in fifty-five..."

  "You've missed all the fun, Colonel. There's been a shooting, attempted murder, even."

  "Attempted murder?"

  "Yes, Mr Gloom was shot in the arm. Anyway, we're about to have a celebratory orgy, if you'd care to join in."

  "Celebrate an attempted murder? I don't get it, old boy."

  "No, we're going to celebrate the arrest of the would-be assassin. Go through to the bar and prepare for several hours of rampant sex!"

  "Prepare? What, take my clothes off?"

  God forbid. "Er... yes, Colonel, if you wish."

  "By gad! I'm looking forward to this!" the randy old devil chortled, twisting his waxed moustache as he made a beeline for the bar. "A celebratory orgy, by Jove!"

  Emerging from the lift, Paul told Mike that he'd cleared the fourth floor and dumped the sex equipment in the basement. "There's no evidence at all," he grinned triumphantly. "Not a whip, a dildo or a spunk stain in sight!"

  "Put it all back," Mike said blandly.

  "But I've only just..."

  "Put it back and then join us in the bar for an orgy. I'll explain later."

  "God, clear the stuff out, put it back... there's no pleasing some people!" the barman groaned, taking the lift.

  Following the naked girls into the bar, Mike ordered Nancy and Cecilia to strip. This was going to be the mother of all orgies! he decided, stepping out of his trousers as Dave wandered into the bar. Fists, wine bottles, fingers, cocks - the girls were going to have anything and everything pushed into their wet cunts, their tight arseholes! The mother fucker of all fucking orgies!

  "OK, girls, lean over the bar and show us what beautiful delights you have between your legs!" Mike ordered his harlots as he finished undressing. Complying with his crude demand, the girls took their positions, their long legs spread wide, their bulging pussy lips perfectly displayed beneath their tightly closed anal portals. The epitome of filth.

  The naked colonel shambling across the room and standing behind Goldie with his erect penis in his hand, he looked at Mike for permission to enter the delectable beauty's vaginal sheath and shoot his spunk over her cervix. Nodding, Mike watched the excited man push his solid glans deep into the girl's wet cunt until he'd completely impaled her on his valiant member.

  "We'll do them one at a time," Mike grinned, standing behind Trudie with his erect cock waving from side to side, eager for the wet heat of her tight roost. "Half-a- dozen thrusts into one cunt, and then we'll move along to the next, and so on. Come on, Dave, you can begin with Cecilia. And no spunking until I say so."

  Their bellies slapping the naked girls' buttocks, the men thrust their girl-wet cocks in and out of the hot female orifices to the accompaniment of whimpers and gasps of pleasure. Withdrawing their glistening penises, the girls' inner lips dripping, furling to protect their sex ducts, the men moved along to the next girl and drove their organs home, thrusting several times before moving along to the next tight vagina.

&n
bsp; "Musical cunts!" Mike chuckled. "We need someone to turn the music on and off! The man who wins gets to spunk!"

  "I'll do it," Nancy volunteered, standing up and moving behind the bar to the stereo. Pressing the play button on the cassette deck, Tchaikovsky's Fifth blasting from the speakers, the scene was set.

  "We've got three girls and three men," Mike said, stilling his painfully hard cock within Goldie's tight vaginal sheath. "Cecilia, you'll have to take a seat for this round."

  Settling on the sofa as the music played on, Cecilia watched the men walk up and down behind the young waitress's projected buttocks, their stiff penises in their hands, ready to drive into the nearest cunt when the music stopped. The colonel grabbing Trudie's shapely hips and penetrating her tight sheath with his huge member as the music stopped, Mike and Dave fought to shove their ballooning knobs into Goldie's vagina.

  "I'm almost in!" Dave cried, his bulbous glans pressing against Mike's as he tried to force his shaft into the girl's inflamed lust hole.

  "No, you're not!" Mike argued, his heavy balls swinging as his knob slipped past Dave's and drove into the girl's accommodating pussy sheath. "Jesus, she's tight! I win!"

  The music continuing as Dave and Goldie sat next to Cecilia, Mike and the colonel walked up and down behind Trudie with their cunny-wet weapons pointing skyward. Projecting her buttocks out further, offering the open centre of her sex to them, Trudie giggled, waiting impatiently for the music to cease, cueing her cuntal fucking.

  "Whoever shoves his cock in her cunt gets to spunk up her!" Mike laughed as the music stopped. "Come on, Colonel, give it your best shot!"

  "By gad, old boy!" the colonel panted, desperately trying to gain access to the girl's sex hole as Mike did his best to impale her on his lust staff. "I think I'm going to spunk whether I win or not!"

  "May the best cock win!"

  Allowing the frustrated old trooper to penetrate Trudie's gaping sex hole, Mike stood back and watched him grab her shapely hips. Pumping for all he was worth, the colonel groaned and grunted, his heavy balls swinging to and fro as his spunk coursed along his cockshaft. "By Jove!" he cried, his paunch slapping the quivering girl's bum cheeks as his sperm gushed from his pulsating glans, drenching her spasming vagina. "By gad, I'm there!"