by Noel Amos
'And what does she say about the spunk conservation part of the new lifestyle?'
'As far as she's concerned I've been practising the Timberland regime since Whitney was born and she's three. Satisfied?'
'Regularly, darling, but it doesn't sound as if you are.' They were through the check-out now, searching for an empty table. 'We'd better not sit next to the researcher with the tits, you'll only get uncomfortable.'
Gerald scowled at her but followed the sway of her slim hips in her tight black mini to the corner of a crowded table by the window. They squeezed in beside a crew of technicians with hairy arms and beery bellies who looked at her with undisguised lust.
'This should suit you,' said Marianne, the length of thigh hard against Gerald's, 'you can empathise with your fellow apes.'
'Shut up,' he hissed.
She was amused to see the anger boiling in his eyes. Their faces were inches apart.
'I'm sorry we're so squashed up,' she said. 'Do tell me if female proximity is threatening the retention of your male essence.'
'If you keep this up, Marianne, I'm going to smack your behind,' he whispered.
'I'd rather you buggered it. You're good at that.' She smiled at him sweetly, noting the flush on his cheeks. 'Of course, now you're a tree-hugger you wouldn't be able to go all the way and spunk off up my bottom, would you?'
'Marianne, please!' His whisper was fierce and attracted sidelong glances from around the table.
'I'm sorry, Gerald, I'm only trying to get things clear from an intellectual perspective. I mean, theoretically, would you be allowed to stick your penis into my arse provided you didn't actually come?'
He was staring down at his salad, refusing to look at her.
'I mean, is it the fluid retention that's the real issue? Or are you prohibited from actually handling me?'
He forked beansprouts into his mouth, his face and neck beet red.
'As you're only a beginner maybe you're allowed partial penetration. You could put your lovely big cock halfway up my bum. Or my pussy. Or between my titties and I could lick it a little. I promise I wouldn't swallow any juice you leaked.'
He made a strangled sound, as if he were choking.
'And if you did come in my mouth then I'd kiss you and give it all back and you wouldn't lose a drop...'
Fortunately for him, Gerald's squeal of frustration was drowned by the squeak of chairs and rattle of cutlery as the technicians rose as one from the table. As they left, one of them bent over and said to Gerald. 'I'd give her one sharpish, if I were you, mate. Or would you like us to do it for you?'
'Oafs,' snapped Marianne as they wandered off chortling. 'Mind you, if I went off with them I reckon I'd soon be bathing in spunk. They say that sperm is very good for the skin. I could rub it into my breasts and my thighs—'
He grabbed her by both arms and shook her. 'Shut up, Marianne!' he hissed. 'Shut up!'
She fell across him, giggling into his neck, one hand dropping into his lap where it closed on a big solid bulge tenting out his trousers.
'I'm sorry, Gerald,' she whispered. 'I'm only teasing. There's no need to get so worked up. My, you're huge down there - would it help if I just squeezed—'
Suddenly he froze, his eyes bulging and his mouth working soundlessly. His pelvis was jumping and twitching against her hand and she leaned all her soft weight into his body as he lost control.
Laughter gurgled from her lips like water over pebbles. 'Oh dear, Gerald, you're all wet. Don't tell me you've lost some of your essential oils.'
'You bitch,' he breathed into the silver-blonde locks that fell over his face, 'you complete and utter bitch. I really am going to tan your arse now.'
She snuggled into his body and licked his ear. 'Go on, Gerald, agree you lost the argument.'
'Never.'
'Come on, the evidence is dripping down your leg!'
'So what? You didn't play fair.'
'Admit one thing then - a woman is much nicer to hug than a tree.'
He said nothing but his arms were tight around Marianne's delectable body. She wondered if Tree-Top Ted would be more of a challenge. Intellectually, of course.
Chapter 45
'So? What do you think?' Cassie's voice was tense, expectant. The special Honeydew issue of Fragrant was in Petra's hands and the editor was desperate for a reaction.
'It looks fabulous,' said Petra with as much genuine enthusiasm as she could muster. 'The front photo is just right.' The full face of a winsome beauty with plucked eyebrows stared out of the page, her eyelids half lowered, the tips of two squeaky white teeth biting into her swollen lower lip. The effect was of an exquisite nymphet struggling to stem the rising tide of onrushing ecstasy, or - so it occurred to Petra - a schoolgirl about to wet herself with exam stress. She did not share this last thought with Cassie.
'I love these headlines,' she said. '"The Big O Eight Days A Week", "How To Double Your Targets In Love" - that should shift a few copies.'
Cassie wasn't satisfied. 'But what do you think of your profile? Businesswoman X, that's you. You're top of the POTs, you've beaten your target by about seventy orgasms a month. That's phenomenal.'
'Is it?'
'Are you kidding, Petra? Six comes a day, rain or shine, that's amazing. No wonder you're the boss of a multinational corporation. You're living proof of the power of the orgasm. The ultimate vindication of the Honeydew theory!'
As Cassie's voice rose in jubilation Petra's face fell.
'What's the matter, Petra? I thought you'd be pleased.'
Petra slumped onto the sofa in Cassie's living room. 'I'm sorry, Cassie, it's just that this is all crap.' She dropped the magazine onto the table in front of her. 'This makes out that I'm wonderwoman, taking control of my life, running a business, enjoying fantastic sex - it's completely false. Thank God I'm not identifiable.'
Cassie stood over her, her face hard. 'You didn't make up those results, did you? If that got out I'd be in deep trouble.'
'No, no, it's all true. It's just that—' She started to sob and an alarmed Cassie sat next to her and put her arms around her heaving shoulders. It was a minute or two before Petra felt composed enough to speak.
'You see? I'm going to pieces. The truth is I've been so worried about Tom and bound up with his situation that I've not actually been running the business. I've employed someone else to cover for me.'
'Who?'
Petra gave her a tear-stained grin. 'A man called Charles Kite. The Primrose Court had him removed as Chief Executive of Stamp & Marne and demoted him to office administrator. I rescued him from a life counting hand towels and loo rolls. He's a complete bully but brilliant.'
'Well done you. I always say delegation is the key to good management.'
'Then there's Kelvin. He moved into another room and we have no relationship at all. I haven't seen him for weeks.'
'So he's got nothing to do with your amazing results?'
'No, but they're correct, I swear to you.'
Cassie got up and fetched the wine bottle. She topped the glasses on the table and waited. It was a long wait.
'Cassie, what would you say if I told you I was a lesbian?'
'Holy shit!' Cassie's hand flew to her mouth. 'I mean, how come?'
Petra told her about the incident with Inspector Quartermain and Sergeant Tooth in her office, then about Morticia Chekhov on the train and Eve Biscuit at Spilling Grange and, finally, of the afternoon in bed with Claire.
Cassie sipped her wine and looked thoughtful. 'I can see why your results were so good, you sexy thing, but I'm not sure that it demonstrates you're an out-and-out lesbo. Fifty-seven per cent of women feel good about the idea of sex with another woman and not all of them are gay. After all, you do seem to like a bit of cock as well.'
Petra thought about that and it appeared to cheer her up. 'Of course,' she said, 'I haven't told you the real reason I scored so heavily.' She picked up her bag and reached inside. 'It's this.'
Cassie took the glass dildo in her hands and held it as if it were a sacred object. It glowed in her grasp, warming her fingers, a mist of swirling colour rising up the thick smooth shaft.
'My God,' was all she could say.
'Meet The Magic Wand,' said Petra. 'He's the real man in my life.'
'I've got to have him,' breathed Cassie, squirming her bottom into the cushions of the sofa.
'That can be arranged - at a price.'
Cassie looked up. There was a sparkle in Petra's eyes and a grin on her lips as she said, 'Where do you stand, Cassie? Are you among the fifty-seven per cent?'
'Are you propositioning me?'
'Why not? You started all this when you made me take a video of you having sex.'
Cassie giggled. She remembered it had been a turn-on having Petra watch her with Philippe.
'I was fascinated by your nipples,' said Petra, 'all long and red like loganberries. I wanted them in my mouth but would never have dared to ask you. Then.'
'I see,' said Cassie and pulled her thin cashmere sweater up over her jutting breasts. The white cups of her brassiere seemed enormous. Petra put her hand on one and squeezed.
'Be gentle with me,' said Cassie as Petra tugged the bra cup over the bulging breast and a big white globe of flesh tumbled into her palm.
'No chance,' she said. 'It's about time we got to grips with your orgasm targets.'
Chapter 46
On the afternoon that Tom heard from New York that Ralph Simons had been ousted as President of the Simons Corporation he rang a detective agency.
'I want someone with a video camera. Someone discreet, and experienced. I want them here in half an hour, if not sooner.'
'Blimey, Mr Glass,' said a young woman's voice, 'they're out.'
'Can you use a video camera?'
'I suppose so.'
'I'll pick you up in half an hour or you can tell Mr Dazzle I'm closing the account.'
As a result he found himself driving home with a blonde in a loose cheesecloth shirt and a denim skirt cut off at mid-thigh. Roxy looked about fourteen.
'Shouldn't you be at school?' he said.
She guffawed, making a lot of noise for a small person. 'You must be joking, I left ages ago. I'm not as green as I look, Mr Glass, honest.' And she gave him the benefit of a bubble grin, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth and wrinkling the freckled skin on the bridge of her turned-up nose. Tom was not convinced but said nothing.
He parked a street away from his house and led her to the garden gate. There was a four-year-old Saab standing in front of the garage with a tennis racket and cage of balls on the back seat. He made her video it.'
'I'll go through the kitchen door,' he explained. 'You wait outside and follow me when I tell you.'
The back door was locked but he had a key. He'd been carrying it around for weeks, waiting for just this set of circumstances. He went through the empty kitchen and into the hall. He listened. From above came cries and moans. They were the sounds he had anticipated but nevertheless they set the hairs itching on the back of his neck. It was the sound of his wife making love.
He ushered Roxy up the stairs, the camera whirring, recording their progress. Tom crept into the spare room next to the bedroom and the girl followed. They moved silently though the precaution was unnecessary for Laura, as Tom well knew, took her pleasures noisily.
'OH BABY, OH BABY, OH BABY!' she was yelling. 'Take me there, sugar, pleeese!'
Tom locked the door behind them and placed a chair against the wall adjoining the bedroom. He indicated to the girl that she should stand on it. Then he pulled aside the curtain on the mirror in front of her and watched her pretty mouth fall open as she stared into the room next door and saw the naked man and woman on the bed.
The two-way mirror was a toy he had installed years earlier and he'd had a certain amount of fun out of it in his bachelor days. Now he was going to use it to record the extra-curricular activities of his wife.
Laura and a broad muscular man were entwined on the white sheets. They made a handsome couple. It occurred to Tom that they would make excellent models for an upmarket sex manual. Here they were in the missionary position, for example; she was cradling his thrusting pelvis in the vee of her outspread thighs, one hand clutching the compact flesh of his pumping buttocks, the other stroking his neck with agitated fingers; he was driving into her in measured strokes, his fingers on the flattened bowl of her breast, his face buried in her neck.
Laura's black hair whipped across the pillow as her body shook in orgasm and her cries, formless shouts of ecstasy, could plainly be heard through the wall.
The man must have come too for, after a moment, the pair disentangled themselves and lay side by side on the bed.
'Get their faces,' hissed Tom and Roxy obliged. The bed head was against the wall and she had to stand on tiptoe on her chair and aim the camera downwards to capture features.
Her rounded bottom beneath her short skirt was on a level with Tom's face. Her legs were bare and brown. A schoolgirl's legs, Tom thought.
Then the doorbell rang and Roxy looked at him. He shrugged. The man on the bed next door - Ray, Laura's tennis coach, Tom informed Roxy - lazily got to his feet and padded to the window. Then, stark-naked, he left the room.
After he'd gone Laura pulled on a pair of tiny white pants and a robe. Tom didn't recognise it. It was black and gauzy and almost completely transparent. Her big breasts and the treacle-dark cones of her nipples were clearly visible beneath it. The girl filmed her, the tip of her small pink tongue protruding over her bottom lip as she concentrated.
The bedroom door opened and Ray returned with another younger man. He was lean and tall and wore tennis whites. He had a sandy shock of hair that flopped over his forehead. He held out a big hand to Laura as if to shake hers and she laughed and pressed it to her left breast over the flimsy garment she wore. Tom could imagine the silky warmth in the boy's hand, the wonderful weight of flesh and the imprint of the hard nipple in his palm. He groaned.
'Are you all right?' said Roxy, her voice full of concern. 'This must be terrible for you.'
'I'm fine,' hissed Tom. 'Just get it on film.' But he felt far from fine. There was nausea in the pit of his stomach and his cock was twisted in his pants. He eased it straight, hoping the girl wouldn't notice. How could he feel sick and turned on at the same time?
Next door Ray had produced a bottle of Scotch. Laura and the boy used tooth glasses from the bathroom and Ray drank from the bottle. The three stood close together, as if they were chatting in a crowd at a cocktail party. They looked awkward and there was much unnecessary laughter. Ray slid his arm round Laura's waist and kissed her. His cock was flying like a flag, the bared helmet a flaming red.
After a bit Laura pulled her mouth away from Ray and offered it to the boy. He dived at her, plunging his tongue down her throat. As he kissed her Ray pulled the robe open to her waist, baring her tits, cupping and mauling them in his hands. The boy broke off the kiss to fondle her breasts as well. Then Ray took the whisky bottle and sprinkled drops on her puckered brown nipples. She laughed. The men took turns in licking the spirit off.
Things appeared to heat up from that point. The two males became overeager, crushing her between them as they grabbed and pawed her silky, opulent flesh. She let them do as they liked for a minute or two, the three of them still standing, groping and kissing and laughing. The robe was off her by now, pooled in a heap on the floor, and Ray was tugging at her tiny knickers, sliding his fingers under the waistband to paddle with the flesh of her bum.
She tore herself away from them and walked to the big easy chair in the window alcove. She leaned over from the waist and placed her hands on the arms of the chair. Then she bent her knees and waggled her bottom at them. The white cotton of her knickers stretched tight over the rotund globes of her buttocks.
'Female apes show their arses like that,' muttered Roxy, 'I've seen 'em at the zoo. Guaranteed to get the fellers going.'<
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Too true, thought Tom as he watched the tall boy impatiently tug his singlet over his head and kick off his shorts and jockstrap. Like his body, his penis was thin and long, it stood up against his belly, the tip covering his navel.
Laura reached behind her and eased the material of her panties off her bottom cheeks until her knickers were just a line of white in the divide of her shapely bottom. She pulled the strip tight, exaggerating the outthrust of her arse, defining the pouting bulge of her pussy.
Tom wondered how long it would take before they cut short the teasing and fell on her. He was almost of a mind to go in there and show them how it should be done.
The thin boy couldn't wait any longer. He tore the flimsy material from her rear and covered Laura like a dog on a bitch. His big spade-like hands grappled beneath her to catch her hanging tits and his buttock cheeks hollowed as he pistoned into her full steam.
It was over in a flash - jab, jab, jab and he was finished.
'I thought so,' said Roxy. 'Just like an animal. No staying power.'
Ray was at Laura now, on his knees in the crook of her outthrust rear, feeling between her legs for the slippery warm of her opening and then guiding his stiff tool up and in. She leaned her head back as he pressed against the cushions of her buttocks and the two of them kissed, a long probing embrace.
'That's more like it,' said Roxy, obviously lost in the drama of the moment.
The pair were fucking in a steady rhythm now, savouring every nuance of their pleasure. The boy stood over them, eyes wide and - Tom was impressed - half erect once more. The copulating pair looked up at him and Laura said something Tom didn't catch. The boy moved closer and Laura craned her long neck to capture the tip of his tool in her mouth.
It was fully erect now and she bobbed her head on it but the position was too difficult - the chair was in the way. They retreated and, to Tom's shock and excitement, Ray put an arm around his waist.