by Noel Amos
'What do you mean?' Maeve's glass was empty already but her gaze was steady. Tom did not dare look away.
'I mean that this group is going to be big.'
'How do you know?' There was interest in those glittering brown eyes - and not just in what Tom was saying. 'You must be hot in that jacket and tie. Take them off, don't mind me.'
Tom got to his feet and gratefully stripped to his shirt. As he did so he gazed down the gaping ravine of her cleavage, at the plump tawny flesh spreading beneath the flimsy neckline of her robe. She caught him looking and grinned. Her lower lip was full and wet with wine.
'Tell me then,' she said, 'why my daughter is going to be a superstar.'
'I didn't say that,' Tom replied. 'I said that the group is going to be successful. The singer is going to be the superstar.'
'Really?' Her tone was not entirely sarcastic. Tom had said something that was making her reconsider matters.
'I've seen them, you know,' she continued. 'Tina made me go to some frightful dive. It wasn't my idea of entertainment. But I suppose there was something about the woman singing. I could understand why all those little boys in the crowd were coming in their pants. I just didn't want them doing it with my daughter up on the stage.'
Tom nodded sympathetically.
'What's your interest in this?' she asked.
'I'm the group's new manager. That's why I'm convinced Christina is not wasting her time. She's writing songs for Shani. We've got great plans.'
'My God.' Maeve Slack shook her head, whether in amusement or disbelief Tom couldn't make out. He pressed on.
'That's really why I've come, Mrs Slack. To say that I'm looking after Christina's welfare and that everything's looking good. I've got them a TV spot next month. You're going to be very proud of her, I promise.'
She grabbed the bottle herself this time and emptied it into her glass.
'I can see I'm destined to be publicly humiliated all over again,' she said. 'First I'm depicted to the nation as the dreary wife of the dirty professor. Now I am to be the mortified mother of a half-naked, underage Shagbag. That is the name of the group, isn't it?'
'It's a headline-grabber, Mrs Slack. Personally I think it's ghastly but you've got to get people's attention these days. Actually, I'm glad you brought up the question of Christina's age because she's not yet old enough to sign the management agreement and I wondered if you, as her parent, would be kind enough to...'
'You little shit,' she cried and knocked him off his chair with a swing of her arm that came from nowhere.
The next thing he knew she was on top of him in a whirl of perfumed silk, pummelling and smacking his face, her warm weight grinding him into the flagstones of the patio. Such was his surprise he made no attempt to fight back but raised his arms to ward off the blows. Despite the pain of her attack he registered that her kimono had burst open and that her big tawny breasts were swinging free only partially hidden by the curtain of hair that now cascaded over both of them.
She pulled his arms away from his face and pressed them down onto the stones. Her eyes blazed and her wide wine-wet mouth was inches from his as she hissed, 'Are you sleeping with my daughter?'
'No,' said Tom truthfully.
'I don't believe you.' She hit him hard across the face. Tom noted the thrust and jiggle of her tits as she did so. She hit him again.
'I swear to you I've never touched her,' he said as calmly as he could.
She hit him once more and blood from his nose fountained over the pair of them. 'Oh hell,' she said, 'now look what you've done.'
'She sounds a fierce lady,' said Nurse Biscuit as she nestled in Tom's arms in the narrow hospital bed.
'She was very passionate,' said Tom, reliving the fresh-minted moment from his past, revealed to him in his sleep just a few moments before.
His cock was a swollen baton of flesh in Eve Biscuit's hand. 'You're hard again,' she said, fondling the length of it. 'I bet you had a stiffy while she was smacking your head watching her big boobs flying everywhere.'
Tom grinned in the dark. 'I'd been stiff since the moment I walked into her flat. I'd always had the hots for her when I met her with Lionel. I'd never had a grown-up woman before; I'd only had girls my age.'
'Aha, so you did bonk her then,' said Eve, slicking Tom's foreskin back and forth across the bulging head of his tool. 'Tell me about it. Tell me all the lurid details.'
'You're not the sweet little innocent you appear to be, are you, Eve?'
'Don't be daft,' she said, 'I'm a nurse. Now just you lie still while I put this poor swollen fellow somewhere comfortable.'
The pale curve of her hip gleamed in the dark as she cocked her leg over him and aimed the head of his tool into the shadow of her loins. With a grunt of satisfaction she tucked the straining bar of his penis into the slippery mouth of her pussy and laid her body along the length of him.
'Go on,' she said, 'tell me what happened next.'
Tom cradled Eve's soft weight on his chest and did as he was told.
Chapter 16
Petra remained under the shower for an age, the water as hot as she could stand it. However, the attempt to cleanse herself of Claire Quartermain's degrading caress was not a success. Afterwards she sat on the bed in front of the mirror and spread her legs. The curling pink gash of her pussy was gaping and swollen. The inspector had called it pretty. She put a hand between her legs and began to—
'I'm not a lesbian,' she shouted out loud and jumped to her feet. The fact that she had come on Claire's tongue more profoundly than on any man's cock had to be simply part of the policewoman's ghastly professional skill. Or maybe the potency of her attentions was an illusion, the indecencies so effective because they had been forced on her as part of an interrogation. What she needed, she thought, was Kelvin's familiar lovemaking to reassure her. Where the hell was he anyway?
She pulled on the long T-shirt she sometimes wore to bed and made herself a sandwich. On her desk lay her briefcase and a bundle of papers she had grabbed as she had hastily quit the office. Among them was a package that Harriet had insisted she take with her. 'Don't open it here,' she'd hissed as she'd pressed it into Petra's hand.
Petra pulled the padded envelope towards her and noted with a sinking heart that it came from Mitre & Gauze, the solicitors representing Glass Tools of Glendrockit. It could only be trouble.
The object contained within was undoubtedly that. Petra had seen dummy pricks before. A boyfriend had once given her a pink plastic one and she had thrown it out unused. She had examined them once or twice in friend's houses - Cassie, for instance, had a collection. They came in all shades and shapes, with weird attachments and stupid names and Petra had never ever been tempted to do more than laugh at them. This was different.
The phallus was made of coloured glass and, to her surprise, it felt warm to the touch. As she folded her fingers round the thick stem and cradled the base in her palm, Petra felt as if she had never held such a precious object before. Its contours were life-like but somehow smoothed out so that it was aesthetically more pleasing than the real thing - and bigger. As she held it, the glass appeared to change colour, the indigo lightening and swirling within the solid shaft, paling to yellow as she traced a finger up and around the swollen head.
'Oh my,' she said, Claire Quartermain's assault quite banished from her mind, 'you're beautiful.'
The accompanying note from Mitre & Gauze informed Petra that this was a prototype product of Glass Tools, designed for the discerning connoisseur of erotica. It was intended to enhance the home as an objet d'art but, if required, it could be used in conjunction with a selection of specially prepared aromatic oils. The item was known as The Magic Wand.
Petra opened a small velvet-lined box and took out some small vials of liquid. They were musky and fragrant, much like any aromatherapy preparation but, in conjunction with the glowing presence of The Magic Wand itself, the fragrance sent Petra's pulse racing - and her loins throbbing.
She hardly needed lubricating, such was the state she was in already, but she anointed the Wand with a few drops of green liquid. She pushed back the chair and spread her legs, pulling the T-shirt up and over her belly.
'What's Kelvin going to think if he comes back now?' she wondered as she positioned the monster between her legs.
Then she didn't think of Kelvin any more as she pressed the length of it up inside herself, the smooth glass glans nosing between her swollen labia as if it knew its own way. 'Oh,' she moaned out loud and 'OH!' more loudly as the thing infiltrated the depths of her, filling her as completely as if it had been made to measure.
'Oh yes!' she cried, rocking the glass dildo back and forth. She held it by the balls and manipulated it inside her, marvelling in the solidity of it, at the ease with which she seemed to be able to manoeuvre it for her pleasure, at the reliability of this big tool in her own hands. She discovered there was a rounded protuberance at the base which thrust up to kiss her clit if she twisted just so—
'Yes!' she shouted on the crest of a sudden orgasm.
'YES!!' she cried as she rode the wave of ecstasy.
'Oh yes, yes, yes!' she murmured as she wallowed in the afterglow, falling forward onto the desk to cradle her head in her arms.
The ringing of the telephone by her side woke her from a profound sleep. It was Cassie.
'Hi, darling, how's the war?' she said.
'Huh?' was all Petra could manage.
'You sound drugged. It's OK, I'll make this short. Philippe's about to come any minute and God do I need a little workout.'
Petra was awake now. She had a pretty good idea what Cassie was going to say next and she wasn't disappointed.
'I'm just making sure you haven't forgotten about The Come-Again Lifestyle profile for the magazine. I've fixed it all up and Chastity's going to analyse your results. So don't neglect the regime. Three point six eight a day's your target. If I were you I'd round it up to four.'
'Cassie, I've been thinking—'
'Don't say it. You're not weaselling out on me now, Petra Rosewater.'
That had been Petra's intention. The more she'd thought about it the more she'd been turned off by the whole thing. Especially after the Claire Quartermain incident.
'Come on, darling. It's a licence to fuck and it's healthy - what could be better?'
'Look here, Cassie,' said Petra firmly. You had to be firm with Cassie or you got steamrollered. Cassie was Australian. She leaned forward to make her point and suddenly became aware of a solid, comforting feeling in her loins. The glass dildo was still buried deep inside her.
'Don't you look-here me,' Cassie was saying. 'I'm counting on you so you'd better be counting your comes. How many have you had since last night?'
Petra opened her mouth to tell her, once and for all, to forget the whole thing. Instead she heard herself say, 'Six.'
Cassie laughed. 'You sly bitch. See if you can manage a couple more tonight, then we can say you started yesterday.'
'But, Cassie—'
'Philippe's at the door, I've got to go. Two more tonight, darling. Go for it.'
Petra gingerly extracted the phallus from between her legs. To her amazement, it had changed colour. The swirling indigo of the shaft had been transformed into sunset orange and the great head had turned pink.
She couldn't resist. It was as if the thing was real. She plunged the plum-shaped knob into her mouth.
She gorged on the dummy penis, tasting the spice of the oil and the honey of her own juices. She thrust it down her throat till she gagged, rubbed the smooth head on the roof of her mouth, pushed the tip of her tongue into the eye of the glans.
When she took it out, the stem was a deep maroon and the head a flaming scarlet.
She looked at her watch. It was nearly seven. 'Sod Kelvin,' she said.
She put The Magic Wand to the salivating mouth of her pussy and pushed home.
Two more tonight. She'd go for it all right.
Chapter 17
Tom lay still, as instructed, on the sun-dappled flagstones and held a wadded ball of paper tissue to his nose. His head sang and he could still feel the weight of Maeve Slack's body on top of his as she pummelled him. The bruises and scratches on his arms and chest smarted. Blood congealed on his face and pooled beneath his head, matting his hair. Behind him, just out of his vision, a bee buzzed. Inside the flat he could hear the sounds of Maeve fetching water and towels. He felt unaccountably serene.
She returned and knelt down by his side. She began to clean him up, her hands no longer aggressive but tender.
'I'm not sorry,' she said. 'I must let my temper out or go mad. That's what this last year has taught me.'
'I'm the one who should apologise,' he said, which was truer than she realised - or so he hoped.
Her face was furrowed in concentration as she ministered to him. There was blood on her cheek and her mouth was turned down at the corners. Her hair fell forward, hindering her work and she had to keep brushing it back, out of her eyes. As she did so his gaze strayed to her breasts dangling loosely within her robe.
'You're lucky you still have your eyes,' she said. 'I was that mad I'd have scratched them out. Don't you want to know why?'
'I've never touched Christina,' he said.
'Maybe not but you had your way with Elvira, didn't you?'
Tom's heart skipped. Any mention of Elvira in these circumstances was alarming.
'I found her diary,' Maeve continued, placing a plaster on a cut on Tom's neck. 'Maybe the little slut didn't think anyone round here could read Italian but she was wrong. She wrote a lot about you, considering you were one of many.'
'Oh, really?'
'She suspected you knew about her affair with the teacher.'
'Who?'
'The teacher. That's what she called him. Of course it turned out to be my bastard of a husband. There, that's finished. You'll be needing a new shirt but there's still a few of Lionel's around.'
Tom began to sit up.
'You should keep your head back. Sit like this,' and she positioned him with his head in her lap. He looked up into her face, her fascinating bosom, loosely covered, looming over him.
'Did you know she was having an affair with Lionel?'
'I thought she was having an affair with me.'
'Would you have told me if you'd known?' Her eyes searched his face. 'If I'd found out I could have done something. I could have got rid of her before the papers got onto it. I've fixed things like that before.'
Her perfume was intoxicating. He could see her nipples pushing against the thin scarlet silk like fingertips.
'What I don't understand,' she said, brushing his hair off his forehead, 'is why she sent that photo to the papers.'
'You're beautiful,' said Tom, desperate to change the direction of the conversation.
Her fingers lingered on his brow. 'I'm a middle-aged woman who lost her husband to an Italian tart half her age. Do you know they've set up house in Rome? He's teaching and I bet she's fucking his students already. Plus ca change.'
'You mustn't think about it,' he said, catching her hand and pressing it to his lips. Her fingers tasted of antiseptic. He licked the ball of flesh at the base of her thumb. She sighed. He ran his tongue from her palm up the tiny blue veins on the inside of her wrist.
'She said you were quite inventive in bed.'
'Oh yes?'
Her eyes were laughing now as they looked down into his. 'She said you were a bit clumsy at first but you were a quick learner.'
'What else did she say?' He had his fingers in her hair, playing with the heavy curls.
She was smiling. 'I couldn't possibly tell you the other things - not on so slight an acquaintance.'
Tom had never kissed a woman when recovering from a nose bleed before. He played it safe and tugged her head down to his, feeling her long slender neck curve beneath his fingers as she bent to offer him her parted lips.
Her mouth was like molten honey,
sweet and hot. The skin of her back burned into his hands through her flimsy kimono. He ached to strip her and explore her perfumed flesh but he held back. He knew he mustn't rush at her. This was a woman to be pleasured on her own terms.
But she was eager too. She pushed her tongue to the back of his throat and ran her hands beneath his blood-soaked shirt across the planes of his chest. 'Take it off,' she ordered him. 'Take everything off. Let me see you.'
He did as he was told, kicking his shoes off and flinging his clothes onto the flagstones. She made him stand in front of her and turn round, her eyes devouring his tall rangy frame, the hard white buttocks, the lean thighs, the forest of black hair at the base of his belly. And his cock.
'I might have known Elvira wouldn't lie about that,' she said.
He stood over her and ran his hands down her back under her kimono, the flesh satin smooth to his touch. 'What do you mean?'
'She said you had a big cock and she was right.'
'Oh!' cried Tom as her hands sank into the rounds of his buttocks and her lips closed over the tender knob of his penis. He felt perilously close to coming just at the touch of her mouth. He lifted the veil of her hair so he could look at her sucking him, at the incredible sight of his long white bar of flesh disappearing between her wide red lips. She sucked him hard, hollowing her cheeks, a blue vein beating in her neck.
With his other hand he reached into the neck of her robe and drew out a plump pear-shaped breast, the long brown nipple nosing into his palm.
He hadn't intended to come in her face but he had little choice in the matter. She held his shaft in one hand and wanked him slyly, pumping and squeezing, all the time mouthing the swollen plum of his glans. He watched spellbound as she fellated him, her red lips working and her opulent tit-flesh swinging. When a long finger was insinuated between his buttocks, seeking out the sensitive pucker of his anus, he knew he was lost. As she penetrated him to the knuckle, his knees wobbled and he ejaculated into the hot cavern of her mouth.