Once decent, Matt held his hand out to help me out of the truck.
“Think you can keep your hands off me this time?”
“Looks like I’ll have to.”
A cough behind Matt drew his attention to a stern-looking older man approaching us. He looked as though he was in a senior position, and therefore Matt’s boss.
“Charlene Collins?” The man questioned. I nodded and held out my hand.
“General Leadbetter, ma’am. I trust Corporal Stokes has been looking after you?”
“Oh yes, General. He’s attended to my every need.”
Paper Rose
by J.S. Black
South East London 1967
From his corner desk within the busy office, Detective Ray Morecambe observed the two women from over the rim of his steaming coffee cup with interest.
He’d always enjoyed being able to discreetly appreciate Officer Jenny White’s full shapely thighs that she struggled to contain within the thin material of her above-the-knee skirt, always such a tempting distraction from so much dull, routine paperwork.
But there was something about her female companion that troubled him.
He assumed the other woman had been attacked judging from her scuffed appearance and yet hers was not the face of the beaten and frightened, instead she appeared to be quite calm as she spoke quietly with Officer White. The two seemed almost intimate in their conversation, such was their closeness.
There was something familiar about her beautiful yet strong features but his brain failed to make the right connections and it bothered him.
His attention was drawn to the woman’s hands. She was toying with what appeared to be a pink rose and it could almost have been a moment of tenderness when she handed the flower over to Jenny White, who considered the flower before placing it upon the table. Morecambe watched their lips moving as they spoke. Jenny leaned forwards, placing a hand upon the other woman’s thigh when she seemed to be trying to reassure her in some way.
Not for the first time Morecambe found himself trying to work out the enigma that was Officer Jenny White. He could describe her as being hardworking, determined and reliable but she was also a quietly sexual woman, alluring and strangely animalistic in her nature. And yet there was depth to her, a certain darkness that had intensified since the tragic loss of what had been her husband and his friend. He supposed he would always have to be content with admiring her from afar, when he’d secretly hoped that the death of a mutual friend might actually bring them closer together …
Morecambe began glancing over his papers when Jenny got up from her seat and headed towards him. He felt his face flush a little and wondered if she’d been aware of his voyeurism.
“Ray, I need to have a quick word with you.” Morecambe looked up from his papers and into Jenny White’s serious yet pleasant face.
“Certainly, what’s on your mind?” Morecambe indicated towards the chair on the other side of his desk. Jenny pulled the chair to the side of the desk so that she would be closer to him and he felt immediately intoxicated by the woman’s scent, her closeness forcing him to battle against his urge to kiss her.
“Ray, I have reason to believe the woman sitting over there has been attacked by the one we’ve been after, you’re familiar with his calling card …”
“The paper rose, yes, of course,” Morecambe glanced over Jenny’s shoulder. The woman had picked up the paper flower from the desk, its bright pink appearing so much more vivid against the whiteness of her thigh on which it rested. She looked down at the fake flower thoughtfully before running her hand through her hair, pushing a blonde lock from her eyes. She turned her head and suddenly Morecambe found her enchanting eyes holding his own. The young woman was beautiful.
“… scum deserve the gallows.”
“Sorry?” Morecambe turned his attention back to Jenny although the other woman’s face remained in his mind as he struggled to remember where he might have seen her before…
“The scum out there, who dirty the air by their very existence, they deserve nothing less than the gallows,” Jenny said, anger hardening her otherwise soft features.
“Yes, quite,” Morecambe found himself looking deeply into Jenny’s dark brown eyes and knew he’d become lost in them should he look for too long. “I’d better speak to her,” he struggled to pull himself together, “she must be able to give us a description …”
“Ray, listen, let me stay with her, I believe she’ll open up to me, she really needs someone who understands right now.”
“By that you mean another woman, right? Yes, I suppose I can understand that. But you know she could be the link we’re after.” Morecambe felt a warmth wash over him when Jenny smiled. “What’s her name?” he asked.
“Moira McCann. She wants to go home, Ray, she’s upset, she needs to be in surroundings in which she feels comfortable …”
“Jenny, you know you’re not supposed …”
“Trust me, Ray, I have a feeling about this,” Jenny persisted. She placed a hand on his arm and Ray sighed in defeat.
“Okay, I suppose you’re right, do what you need to do,” he told her as he looked towards the woman, instinctively his mind began searching through its huge database once again, searching for something that he just couldn’t find.
When Detective Ray Morecambe returned with fresh coffee the two women were gone. Upon Jenny’s desk lay a single paper rose looking strangely out of place in the confines of the otherwise dull office.
Officer Jenny White followed Moira McCann up the flight of stairs leading to the apartments. Jenny admired the other woman’s legs and longed to touch them once again. She imagined what it might be like to kiss their smoothness, to rest the softness of her cheek against those soft thighs.
She breathed in more deeply, eager to locate more of Moira’s unusual yet exotic scent and tried to comprehend what it was about this woman that excited her so much…
Morecambe placed the rose on top of the filing cabinet before pulling open a drawer and finger-danced over the folders, stopping only when he reached the area he sought. He knew he was following nothing more than a hunch but more often than not he’d been right. Although for Jenny’s sake he hoped that this time his hunch would be proven wrong.
Moira McCann unlocked the door to her apartment. She pushed the door open before stepping back and motioned for Jenny to enter.
Morecambe stared in disbelief at the open file before him. There could be no mistaking the small photo accompanying the file. It was definitely her. It disturbed him to think that such an attractive woman should have a record, spanning from prostitution to the more disturbing violent sexual conduct, towards both sexes, to her name.
And if that wasn’t enough, her name, according to the file, wasn’t Moira but Rose McCann, Rose McCann who took pleasure in mutilating pimps, drug dealers and just about anyone else whom she considered unworthy of the skin they’re in.
Rose, it had seemed, had also gathered the nickname of “Paper Rose”, so called due to her calling card that was a …
Morecambe looked up at the rose upon the filing cabinet.
Slamming the drawer shut and spilling his coffee, Morecambe headed for the door at speed.
“I’ve always liked these apartments,” Jenny said cheerfully as she turned to smile politely at Rose who had quietly shut the door behind her. Jenny’s smile died upon her face when she saw the coil of rope that the woman held. In her other hand she held a gun. It was directed at Jenny.
And there was no politeness in Rose’s smile at all.
Bringing his car to a screeching halt before the building, Detective Morecambe only hoped that the address he’d found in Rose McCann’s file was valid. He fumbled with the door of the Jaguar in his haste to be inside the block and to locate apartment 4b, not wanting to admit to himself what he might do should he discover Jenny in any way harmed. The detective felt a little disgusted with himself when the mere thought of the woman caused a stirring in
his loins, how could he be thinking of her sexually when she could be in such terrible danger?
He bounded up the stairs two at a time, his mind a turmoil of racing thoughts until the door marked ‘4b’ bought him to a halt. He took a deep breath before delivering a firm rap upon the door.
No answer.
From somewhere inside the detective heard what sounded like a muffled plea. Reaching into one of his seemingly bottomless pockets Morecambe fished out his special key and with an expert turn the lock clicked open.
Morecambe decided to go on as he’d begun and unapologetically rushed into the room.
The sight that greeted him stopped him dead in his tracks…
In the centre of the apartment was situated a high heavy oak table. Securely tied to this table was Officer Jenny White.
Jenny’s skirt had been pulled up over her hips, and her bottom, raised due to the cushions placed under her, was naked but for the small turquoise cotton panties doing little to conceal the smooth white globes of her plentiful buttocks. It was with effort that the detective wrenched his gaze from the small moist patch upon the gusset. There was a long ladder in her right stocking running down the length of the back of her thigh and she had lost one of her shoes. Jenny, he noticed, had also been gagged and blindfolded.
Also gathered upon the table were a small collection of sex toys to which Morecambe had little doubt had been put to some use upon Officer Jenny White.
“Oh … my … Lord …” the words tumbled from Morecambe’s lips before he could think to stop them.
When Jenny tried to speak from behind the gag her words were incomprehensible to Morecambe who was secretly pleased that she was unable to see his excitement, something that would’ve proved difficult to hide as he walked towards her. He tried to speak in an effort to both comfort her and to tell her that he was going to get her out of here and yet he couldn’t wrench his gaze from the sight of her, a sight more pleasurable than anything he’d before imagined.
“Welcome, Detective,” Morecambe was startled by the voice behind him, “so glad you could make it.” He turned to see Rose McCann who had been silently hiding behind the door. She aimed the pistol directly at his chest and the beginnings of a smile etched across her red-glossed lips.
“What the hell do you think your game is? You won’t get away with this!” Morecambe told her. A muffled sound came from Jenny.
“Oh, Detective, I do so hate to sound corny but is that a gun in your pocket?” Rose glanced down at the obvious bulge in Morecambe’s pants. To his embarrassment Morecambe found that he was evidently more excited than before and felt his face redden when his old friend ‘shame’ raised its ugly head once more.
“At the sight of you,” the detective sneered, “it’s a wonder it hasn’t vanished up my arse!”
“Oh, now you know you don’t really mean that,” Rose said not unpleasantly.
Morecambe gave her the once over as best he could with a gun pointing at him and knew that she was right, he didn’t mean it. The woman was stunning. He noticed that most of the buttons on her blouse were unfastened.
“Enough of this talk, Detective,” Rose raised the gun slightly to let him know that he was still very much under threat, “turn to face her, it’s time we had a little action going on here.”
“I don’t know what you intend to do but don’t I even get a drink first?”
“Just do the fuck as I say,” Rose ordered.
Morecambe turned and was faced once again with Jenny’s raised bottom and once again a wave of sheer lust washed over him. His cock ached pleasantly as though sensing the closeness of the woman he’d desired for so long.
“Come on, you know you want this, she’s gorgeous, I’d screw her if I had a dick, who do you think got her so wet for you?” Rose nodded towards the implements upon the table, her own excitement evident in her voice.
“Is this the only way you can get off Rose, by watching other folk fuck?” Morecambe asked, realising that he was only trying to sound under pressure for Jenny’s benefit.
“Not at all, Detective, I merely consider this to be art, art to be enjoyed,” she moved her position so that Morecambe could see her once again and would be aware of the gun still trained upon him. “Now, slowly, unfasten your pants, drop it all to the floor, I want to see your cock.”
“I don’t believe this …”
“Just do it.”
Morecambe released each brace-strap from his shoulders before releasing the button on his slacks. They fell about his feet in a heap. His erection protruded from under his jacket and he looked almost apologetically towards Rose who observed his manhood. Her tongue flicked lightly over her lips, wetting them.
“Now, take off your jacket, shirt and shoes, kick them all away from you,” Rose ordered, a quiet deepness in her tone now. Morecambe did as he was told.
“Boy, do you two look sweet,” Rose teased when he was naked behind Jenny.
“Jenny, I’m so sorry about all of this,” Morecambe said, to which Jenny mumbled something that the detective took to be an “OK”. He looked down at his cock, it pointed directly towards the dark patch on Jenny’s gusset.
“Sorry my ass, you look anything but sorry from where I’m standing,” Rose giggled, “now, be a gentleman and remove the good lady’s panties for her, nice and slowly mind as I’m still inclined to shoot your cock off should you piss me off.”
“How do you expect me to do anything with a gun pointing at me? You’ll never get away with killing two police officers …”
“Just do as I tell you and no one will get hurt,’ Rose told him, “Now come on, get to it.”
The detective moved forwards obediently and hooking his fingers into the elastic of Jenny White’s panties, pulled them slowly over the firm smoothness of her bottom and down over her thighs. He needed to stoop down in order to release the garment over Jenny’s feet and found himself facing her glistening sex.
“Taste her, make her wetter,’ Rose ordered, eagerness apparent in her voice now.
“Forgive me Jenny, I’ll …”
“Do it!” Rose hissed, raising the gun once more.
Detective Morecambe, on his knees, began to taste Officer Jenny White. He no longer cared that he was being watched, no longer cared for the danger he was in or even that a gun was directed towards him. He drank in the scent of this woman, relished her moisture upon his face as he began to taste her, running and flicking his tongue between her thighs, feeling the sweet bud of her clitoris under the steady pressure of his eager tongue.
A muffled groan from Jenny White served only to make him want to pleasure this woman more. He lapped Jenny’s abundant moisture, never before had he felt so aroused, so overwhelmed by the force of his own swelling lust.
“That’s the way, now that looks so damn good, Mr Detective sir,” Rose said with a sigh, “You know what? I believe she’s ready for you now, Detective, what with your tongue and my ground work she must be damn near gagging.”
Morecambe observed the collection of sex toys and silently wished he’d been here to witness the event, the thought excited him further. If he were unobserved he’d have put one to his mouth …
“Stand up, Detective,” Rose ordered. He noticed that although she still had the pistol trained upon him, her left hand had disappeared under her short skirt. Her breathing too had deepened.
“Slowly, I want to see you slowly push your cock into her,” Rose commanded. She gazed intently at the detective’s cock as though willing it forwards towards its goal and her pace upon herself quickened slightly.
“Lady, it’s somewhat off-putting trying to do this with a pistol trained upon me,” Morecambe protested.
“I’m sure you’ll manage somehow, now do as you’re told,” Rose commanded impatiently.
“I’m so sorry, Jenny, but I have no choice, I will do my utmost to be gentle with you,” Morecambe told the gagged and blindfolded Jenny whose response was an eager squeal of consent, she too, it seemed, was r
eluctant to annoy her demanding kidnapper. The detective fought hard to contain his smile of pleasure when, with one hand resting upon the female officer’s bottom he used his other to guide himself forwards into her and was deliciously enveloped by Jenny’s silky warmth.
“Boy, that must feel so damn good, I do so envy you. Explore her with your hands too, damn you, come on, get into it, I want to see you use her!” Rose ordered excitedly, her fingers working hurriedly now between her thighs, Morecambe could hear her wetness, wished he could have her too.
Morecambe moved slowly at first, tentatively, but soon his own desire compelled his thrusts to quicken and deepen, the act becoming taken over by an inner animal instinct and audible slaps sounded around the room. He was encouraged further by the pleasurable sounds from Jenny.
The detective felt distracted when Rose moved to a position behind him and uneasiness settled in again now that she wasn’t in view.
Something cool and smooth moved slowly over his thighs and buttocks and Morecambe surmised that Rose was using the pistol upon him, the sensation was not, he found, altogether unpleasant despite the danger he knew himself to be in.
When a switch was flicked and the object being used upon him began to vibrate he felt the beginnings of a warm tingling sensation signalling the onset of orgasm and knew that he couldn’t last much longer. The vibrating object moved over his heavy scrotum and towards where his cock joined with Jenny, the toy now pleasuring her too and she let out a deep groan from behind her gag.
Morecambe made a conscious effort to slow his thrusts in a bid to gain control, knowing that there would be nothing to gain from finishing this too early. But even as the detective was becoming lost in his own pleasure the thought crossed his mind that maybe he could tackle Rose now that she’d made the mistake of getting too close. But it seemed that the woman had read his thoughts.
“Don’t even think about turning around, Detective, you’d better believe it when I tell you that I still have the gun pointed in your direction. Do you really want a secondary arsehole? Now screw her hard.”
Fantasy Assignment Page 2