by Noel Amos
They skipped the coffee - it had gone cold - and opened the champagne. Then the two men changed ends. After Gerald, she took Sir Charles up her arse without a murmur. The men poured more champagne and moved her around on the bed like a rag doll. She lost track of what they asked her to do but she didn't say no. This was business after all.
She kept count of the number of times she came, however. Now she was doing a programme on the orgasm regime it seemed appropriate.
Chapter 28
The video wasn't the best quality Amy Tooth had ever seen but the sound was good, which was probably the most important thing. She plumped the cushions on the sofa and delved into the second layer of her box of chocolates. By her side Claire Quartermain sipped from a long gin and tonic and stroked Amy's bare thigh. The sergeant was nude from the waist down. So far this had been a pretty entertaining evening.
On screen it was past midnight in Tom Glass's bedroom. Moonlight from a high window illuminated two people on the bed. Perspiration glistened on Tom's forehead as Eve Biscuit pulled his head down to the comfort of her soft bare chest. He had just made fierce and energetic love to her, as if slaking a terrible thirst. Amy bit on a hazelnut crunch and Claire lit a cigarette. They had enjoyed the fun and games but now it was time for business.
'How did you end up with Euphoria?' Eve's voice was little more than a whisper. 'Pop-group managers don't normally run record companies, do they?'
'No, they don't.' Tom chuckled. 'I guess I was lucky.'
'It couldn't just be luck.'
'I suppose not. Chas came to me before Christmas at the end of the first year and said the royalties were going to be late. He said Euphoria had short-term difficulties which were eating up the cash and that it took time to collect money from overseas sales. I asked for a statement, so I could see exactly how much we were talking about. It was a hell of a lot. As far as I could tell it was a straight accounting, he hadn't tried to stitch me up. The problem was that he didn't have the money at that moment.
'Frankly, I was worried. I knew more than he thought I did because I had a girlfriend in his accounts department.'
'Aha.'
'What do you mean, aha?'
'Because there's always a woman. That's how you remember, isn't it?'
'That's true.'
'So, what was she like? Give me all the filthy details.'
'Eve, I think you've got the most prurient mind I've ever come across in a woman.'
'But you like me for it, don't you?'
'Oh for Christ's sake,' muttered Claire as the figures on screen moved into a clinch, 'get on with it.'
'You want me to fast forward?' said Amy. 'Personally I think it's rather sweet.'
'Spare me,' said Claire. "'Ooh look, I think they're going to wait until he's coughed" the details.'
It was true. The two heads on screen had separated and Tom was speaking once more.
'Meredith was American and very ambitious. She didn't like the way the department was run. She thought it was sloppy and un-businesslike but she couldn't do much about it. She reported to Robert, the Company Secretary, who was a founder member of Euphoria. In other words, Robert had been at school with Chas and they were tight. She'd tried to seduce Chas and failed but she pulled Robert for a while before he got married and when I met her she was thinking of going back to the States. So you can see that she was a bit of a loose cannon. She also had a big mouth.
'So when Chas spoke to me I already knew from Meredith that the figures from the US were a disaster, that Chas had borrowed a ton of cash to build a studio in the Caribbean which had hardly returned a cent of investment and that his distributor in Japan had just gone belly-up owing Euphoria a fortune. Really it was Shani and the Shagbags who were keeping the business afloat and if Chas paid us what he owed in royalties he'd have no money left for anything else.
'I told Chas I could sue and he said it would take years to come to court and I'd have nothing in the meantime, was that what I wanted? He said he was only asking for six months' grace.
'I said I wanted a deal and I'd settle for a fat slice of the company. He laughed and said I was naive. I said I wasn't and I'd trade in something he really wanted.'
'What was that?'
'Tina.'
'What?'
'He was mad about her. The way she looked so cool and virginal and wrote all these passionate songs for Shani. He thought the other members of the group were complete slags and that Tina was some kind of symbol of purity. He was besotted.'
'And he agreed to hand over his company for the privilege of getting her into bed?'
'Yes.'
'And you arranged it?'
'Yes.'
'Oh, Tom. That's disgraceful.'
'I know.'
'It makes you no better than a pimp!'
'I'm not proud of myself, Eve.'
'How did you manage it?'
'I wouldn't want to shock you.'
'Go on, lover, try.'
'You're asking for it, Eve, aren't you?'
Claire groaned. 'Don't tell me he's going to fuck her again.'
'Looks like it, guv,' said Amy, her eyes glued to the sight of Tom kneeling over the pneumatic nurse, his stiff penis casting a long shadow over her belly.
'Time for the intermission, I suppose,' said the inspector, sliding to the floor and prising apart Amy's thighs. 'Pass those chocolates over here.'
'What are you up to?' said Amy, handing over the box. Claire contemplated the girl's spread legs - the pretty brown muff and the glistening pussy lips peeking through the curls. She selected a coffee cream.
'Ooh!' squealed Amy as something small and hard was pushed into the mouth of her vagina. 'Ooh, Claire, you sexy witch,' she grunted as the inspector's tongue quested inside her after the chocolate.
On the screen Tom's lean buttocks were rising and falling between Eve's quivering thighs. Between his legs could be glimpsed a dark knot of hair and the rolling purse of his ball-sac. His face was buried in the nurse's hair as his hands ransacked the gleaming white pillows of her breasts.
Amy's mouth was fixed in an O of excitement as she watched the lusty fucking. Her pussy gaped in an O of ecstasy as Claire rimmed it with her tongue and flicked a chocolate-stained tongue-tip across her swollen clit.
'Just remember, my sweet Tooth,' said Claire, as she paused in her delightful task, 'you're not the only one around here who likes a soft centre.'
Chapter 29
Petra was feeling pretty good - the Honeydew fitness routine had put a spring in her step and a twinkle in her eye. In fact, she was a real convert.
'My,' said Cassie with a sly note in her voice as she reviewed Petra's results, 'I wouldn't have thought Kelvin had it in him.'
But it was no thanks to Kelvin that Petra had achieved her POT every day for a month. And there were no new names in Petra's personal organiser - unless you could count The Magic Wand. The glass dildo had put Petra to sleep every night with a smile on her lips and woken her in the morning with an urge to plunge its smooth glowing head between her thighs at least once - maybe twice - before breakfast. It was the most entrancing thing she had ever owned - the ultimate sex object. She was in love.
Truth be told, it had taken her mind off Kelvin and the sudden deterioration of their relationship. Petra felt guilty because it had started the night she had first wanked herself to exhaustion with the Wand. Kelvin had been out late, so late that when he'd returned he'd bedded down in the spare room so as not to disturb her - or so he said. He'd stayed out late the next night and the night after that. Soon the late nights and the spare room had become a pattern.
Petra thought it was funny how quickly the new regime had become established; obviously it must have suited them both. She would leave the office around ten or eleven at night and go straight to bed with a sandwich, a glass of wine - and the Wand. It would often be one or two in the morning before she fell asleep, usually with the glass tool still buried in her sated pussy. She didn't care to speculat
e on what Kelvin might be up to. They rarely saw each other and at weekends they found reasons not to be together. His reason, like hers, was called 'work' but she had no doubt - if she were to force the truth out of him - it might be better termed 'another woman'.
On the morning Cassie congratulated Petra on her Honeydew endeavours and made her sly remarks about Kelvin's prowess, Petra put down the phone and marched into the spare room.
It was neat - that surprised her. Like most new men, on the domestic front Kelvin was pretty much old school and Petra did most of the clearing up around the flat. She had expected chaos but the bed was made, his clothes were hung tidily and folded in drawers and, on the table by the window, pencils and paper were squared away by the side of the word processor. Even the wastepaper basket was empty. This was not at all like Kelvin. As a journalist, it was an article of faith that his working papers were in unfathomable disarray.
This orderliness made it easy for Petra to spot the clues to Kelvin's new way of life. On the bookshelf above the table were a row of paperbacks with uniform luminous green spines. Petra was surprised to see that they were porn books designed for female readers. And hanging up in the wardrobe was a weird all-in-one garment of black rubber. She took the smooth membrane between thumb and forefinger - it felt like loose skin. She shivered. She noted that the article had a cutaway crotch. Kinky.
Of course she checked for the obvious things: dirty shirts with lipstick stains, love letters hidden at the back of a drawer, female trinkets under the bed - not that she really thought Kelvin would dare bring a lover back to the flat. She found nothing.
When she left she took with her one of the erotic books - maybe it would provide some clue to Kelvin's mysterious conduct. On the other hand, she wasn't holding her breath.
She looked at the book on the train up to Spilling Grange. In a tightly packed carriage full of men she would have felt embarrassed to be seen reading Cold Stone, Warm Flesh by Morticia Chekhov. However, she had selected her first-class accommodation with care. It contained only one other person, evidently a businesswoman like herself, dressed in a severely cut navy-blue suit, making notes on a foolscap pad. Holding the book so the cover could not be seen, Petra began to read.
By the end of the first chapter the naive young heroine, Deliciosa, had fallen into the hands of the cruel but charismatic Thaddeus who took her back to the family castle. By page thirty he had introduced her to the delights of the old schoolroom and caned her bare bum, by forty-five he had flogged her in the ancestral hall and on seventy he was heating up meat skewers in the kitchen to pierce her nipples.
'Yuk,' said Petra out loud and the woman opposite looked at her keenly through her black-rimmed spectacles.
Petra found it hard to believe Kelvin was turned on by this stuff. Surely he didn't want to stick red-hot skewers into her nipples? Evidently not. Whatever he was sticking where these days, it wasn't into her. She flicked on through the pages.
On page ninety-five Deliciosa, now pierced, degraded and rendered multi-orgasmic, was introduced to Thaddeus's former governess, an imperious female with horn-rimmed spectacles whose first words to her were—
'Take off your knickers!'
Petra's head jerked up, she could have sworn she had actually heard the words. The woman opposite was grinning at her.
'Take off your knickers,' she repeated, 'that's what someone always says to the heroine in those books.'
'Oh,' said Petra. 'You're right.'
'Of course. And the silly girl goes around bare-arsed for the rest of the story. You can imagine what happens then.'
'Quite.' Petra nodded, not wanting to appear ignorant.
'So now you can put the book away and talk to me. If you'd like to, that is.'
Behind the spectacles the stranger's eyes were almond-shaped and hazel-hued. She had a wide curving mouth that tugged upwards at the corners. She didn't look kind but she did look interesting. Petra was surprised to find she did not resent being bullied like this. She put the book into her briefcase.
'What do you want to talk about?' she asked.
'Your pretty little cunt, of course.'
The woman's smile was still in place but Petra felt as if she had just been doused in cold water. 'You can't talk to me like that!' she spluttered.
'Why not? If you don't like it you can go and sit somewhere else.'
'I could report you.'
'You could but there's no point - who'd believe you? Anyway who's reading pornography around here? Not me. If I were a man, of course, I'd never get away with saying something like that. But, then, if I were a man I wouldn't dare.'
Petra stared at her, aghast. There was no arguing with what she said.
'So, take off your knickers and hand them over,' continued the woman. 'Unless you're not wearing any.'
'Of course I'm wearing knickers.'
'What colour?'
'White.' Why did she say that?
'How sweet. Let me see.' It was the recent encounter with Inspector Quartermain, Petra later reasoned, that caused her to comply. That all-too-vivid scene had been replayed frequently on nights she had cuddled up with only the Wand for company. The woman opposite her had the same mocking arrogance of the inspector and the same confidence that her will would prevail.
Petra stood unsteadily, supporting herself with one hand as the train rushed on. With the other hand she raised the skirt of her short summer dress.
'Oh yes,' said the woman, leaning forward to gaze at Petra's bare white thighs, 'you're quite a curvy little thing, aren't you?'
The hem of Petra's skirt had now reached the vee of her pantied crotch and her hand shook as she lifted it the last few inches to reveal herself.
'White indeed,' said the woman, 'I rather hoped you'd be lying so I could punish you. Never mind, I'll find some other reason.'
'What?' Petra couldn't believe she was doing this.
'Take them off quickly.' The voice was harsh. 'Show me your cunt, slut, and hurry up.'
The words hit Petra like blows to the face. She fumbled her panties down her thighs and fell back onto her seat to slip them over her shoes.
'Who said you could sit down? Stand up at once!' hissed her tormentor and Petra jumped to her feet, her panties now in her hand. The woman snatched them from her and pressed them to her lips.
'They're soaking wet,' she pronounced with a hoarse laugh. 'You delicious little baggage. My, are we going to have fun! Now, let me have a good look at you...'
And as the train rushed onwards Petra held her dress high and eased her feet apart. Maybe she was going crazy but she couldn't help herself. The woman leaned forward till her mouth was an inch from the impudent curls of the exposed pussy. Her eyes were on Petra's most intimate secrets like a torch beam at midnight and her breath caressed Petra's itching clitoris like a warm breeze off a summer sea.
'Oh God, oh God, oh God,' she moaned softly.
Though her persecutor had not even touched her, Petra knew she was about to come.
Chapter 30
When Tom offered Chas the use of Christina's beautiful bod in exchange for a stake in Euphoria, he had no idea how was going to deliver. But the gleam in Cross's eye told that somehow he had to find a way.
The outcome was a surprisingly formal dinner party in Shani's luxurious Chelsea flat. It was not the kind of place Tom had envisaged for the singer but she was not a predictable woman. The rooms were large, the ceilings were high, and the windows were wide. An interior designer had doubtless been at work but the effect was personal - warm, luxurious, seductive.
Shani was in Tom's confidence - she had to be. She'd laughed when he'd told her about her conversation with Chas.'
'I can fix Tina,' she'd said, 'but why should I? What's in it for me?'
'Power. And a bigger slice of the cake. We'd be in a unique position, for God's sake - we'd control our own record company.'
'OK,' she'd said, fixing him with her snake-charmer stare. 'Just don't fuck me over, white boy. I'm
a witch, remember?' Tom knew that well enough. He'd seen it in the way she hypnotised her audience and manipulated the girls in the group. And in the way she cast a spell over Tina.
After dinner Shani led her guests into the living room. There were only three of them - Chas, Tina and Tom.
'Why have I got to be there?' Tom had asked Shani
'Because Tina wants you to be,' had been the reply. 'Besides, don't you want to watch?'
Right now he was watching Shani kiss Tina beneath the mistletoe. It was a week before Christmas and all of them, he realised with a cock-stiffening jolt, were game for an early present.
Tina wore a black cocktail dress that finished at mid-thigh and was held up by two thin straps. Her blonde mane was piled high baring the long white stem of her neck. The pale flesh of her shoulders gleamed like porcelain. Shani turned her to face the two men and she obeyed like a puppet, her eyes cast down. One strap was off her shoulder. She made no move to replace it.
'Who's first?' Shani whispered into her ear.
To his surprise, Tina said softly, 'Tom.'
Her big brown eyes bored into his as she kissed him, her mouth wide and wet, her tongue darting inside him like a little fish. In his arms she was light and slender but the flesh of her back was warm to his touch. She wound an arm round his neck and pulled him down onto a large soft sofa. Somehow her dress had fallen to her waist and one small perfectly curved breast was in his hand.
Tom was at a loss. This was surely not what was intended.
But the nipple was big like a nut in his palm and his other hand was on the full curve of her buttocks beneath her skirt. If she wore panties, they were so small as to be undetectable.
He managed to turn her head so he could look back into the room, expecting to see a very unhappy Chas.
But Chas was far from discontented. He and Shani were locked in each other's arms beneath the mistletoe and his hands were roving the seat of her scarlet stretch pants. As Tom watched, her loose silk blouse was detached from her shoulders and fluttered to the floor.