Lust on the Loose (27 page)

Brick had
complied at once, stuffing his bone-hard spike straight into the
minister's hairy split without benefit of foreplay or lubrication.
Evidently such niceties were not required in Vanessa's circles for
she thrust her rump back at him with a will, howling out her
pleasure.

'That's it,
man, ride me like a horse! Give me all you've got! Debauch me, you
beast, just like you've debauched thousands of innocent young
girls! Fuck it up me and see what true-blue British cunt can
do.'

Brick had
responded to the spirit of the occasion by cracking his big hands -
splat! - on the juddering mounds of her bum cheeks, leaving the
pink imprint of his palms on her wobbling flesh. Then he had torn
open her bodice to release the ministerial tits which had tumbled
out to dance and jerk beneath her writhing frame as she took the
rock star's thundering shaft from the rear.

Finally her
legs had buckled under her and she had orgasmed with a piercing
whinny, collapsing face forward onto the chair.

As Brick
extricated himself from her still-twitching form Billy had been
interested to note that his tool still stood at full stretch.
Though it showed signs of wear it was evident that Arnold's miracle
drops still gripped the mighty organ in a frenzy of desire. Vanessa
raised her head to marvel at it, grabbing the bar of flesh in both
hands to bestow a parting kiss on the red and glistening cap.

Next door
Billy had adjusted his own bar of flesh, concluding that the new
Minister for Transport was a good sport after all. If the PM ever
created a Minister for Bonking she undoubtedly had the right
credentials.

Brick was now
on his fifth special contributor, Mrs Sadie West of West's
chainstore jewellers, a five-foot fireball with an
over-proportioned bosom and caramel thighs. She was bound to ring
the cash register for Poor Pussy in a big way, being that Morrie
West was a well-known contributor to charity.

Billy was
debating whether to ogle Brick's progress with the West whoppers
when Candy appeared by his side.

'I need your
help,' she said in a low voice, 'too many people want to give.'

'That's a
problem?'

'Too many of
them are asking for a special audience with Brick. They know what's
going on, they don't want to be left out.'

'That's too
bad. I reckon he can manage a couple more and that's it. I'm taking
him away.'

'But what
about the others? I can't send them home with full purses and itchy
cunts. I wouldn't be doing my duty as a hostess.'

'I'm sorry,
Candy. A real star should not be too available to his public.
Always leave them wanting more, that's the cardinal rule.'

'Maybe,' she
said, prodding a long fingernail sharply into the centre of his
chest, 'but not before everybody has taken the stage. And that
means you. You're on in the Blue Bedroom in five minutes with Lady
Florence Smart.'

'You're mad,
Candy! They don't want me - I'm no superstar!'

'Maybe not but
they all know you're connected with Brick. I'm telling them you're
a brilliant young songwriter who is composing exclusively for him.
Besides, we're not charging as much for you.'

'How
much?'

'A tenner a
minute.'

'That's
outrageous!'

'Do you think
so? Honestly, Billy, they're all so steamed up they'd pay for
anybody's cock right now.'

'No! I mean
Brick can't be worth ten times more than me! That's insulting!'

At school
Billy had done his fair share of amateur theatrics but on the bed
in the Blue Room he saved his finest performance for Candy's Poor
Pussy Rescue. As Lady Flo dangled her big boobs in his face Billy
captured a rubbery brown nipple between his lips and gummed it
enthusiastically. At the juncture of their heaving bodies he ran
his fingers through the slippery folds of her cunt, searching for
the magic button that would bring her release - and allow access to
another of the randy sisterhood.

Without the
benefit of Arnold's elixir he knew that the afternoon threatened to
tax his most vital resources. As the buxom dress designer Brandy
Brazil approached the bed Billy announced, 'I only suck pussy, my
cock's off limits!'

'Fantastic!'
she replied, tugging off her panties to reveal a veritable forest
of wild and tangled pubic hair. 'Down into the jungle, young man,
and don't bother coming up for air!'

The French
actress Monique Aragon insisted on sucking his penis till the spunk
frothed on her bee-sting lips. 'It eez my specialitay. Ozzerwize I
don' write no cheque. OK?'

Grace Garter,
the schlock novelist, and her agent, Marilyn Savage, came in
together.

'Be gentle
with me!' pleaded an exhausted Billy.

'You must be
joking!' said Grace as she settled her big soft buttocks squarely
on Billy's face. 'Gentleness would ruin Marilyn's reputation,
wouldn't it, darling?'

'You bet,'
replied the piranha of the literary world as she snapped her sharp
white teeth over the head of Billy's valiant tool.

His howl of
anguish was muffled by a mouthful of hairy quim.

'Billy -
Billy! Are you OK?'

A familiar
voice was calling from afar and firm hands were shaking him by the
shoulders. Billy's eyes opened reluctantly. Candy Kensington's big
brown orbs were staring directly into his. Concern was writ large
on her lovely face.

'Candy, I'm
sorry. I don't think I can manage any more.'

She laughed.
'Don't worry, Billy, the show's over. You've done your bit. In
fact, you saved the day.'

'Thanks.' He
sat up wearily and took in the fact that Candy was as naked as he
was. 'What's been going on? I hope you haven't been molesting Brick
again.'

'Fat chance. I
had to go to work just like you. Bianca Fleece is a hardcore
lesbian and there were two others who swing both ways. I wasn't
letting any of them out till they had paid their dues.'

'And what was
that, exactly? I'd love to know your rate per minute.'

'Well, you shan't. But you
can
call me the best little fund-raiser in London.
Now, shall we go and see if our honoured guest is still
alive?'

Brick was more
than just alive, he was bubbling with good humour.

'Hey, man,
what a trip!' he cried, punching Billy on the arm. 'That's the most
fantastic afternoon I ever spent in my life. You are a genius!'

Billy smiled
modestly and Candy announced that her chauffeur was standing by to
drive them both back. She'd take them herself if she wasn't so
(yawn) utterly exhausted she could hardly stand. Billy sympathised
but he thought he detected a hint of disappointment in Brick's eyes
as he eyed Candy's carelessly buttoned blouse and its generous
display of shadowy cleavage.

'There's just
one more thing,' said Candy and she swivelled her eyes meaningfully
along the hallway.

Billy turned
to see, smiling at him in a predatory fashion, the statuesque
figure of Joanna Knickerbocker. His heart sank.

'Oh God,' he
muttered.

'They wouldn't
leave. They said they were waiting for you.'

'Yoohoo,
Brick!' called Joanna. Billy squared his shoulders and stepped
forward, it would be better to fob them off straight away with
sincere apologies.

At that moment
Nicole Knickerbocker stepped from behind her mother and shamelessly
lifted her T-shirt up to her chin, baring her chest for all to see.
Her huge pert breasts, pink bulging rounds of taut youthful flesh,
wobbled hypnotically before their eyes. The words of excuse died in
Billy's throat and from behind him he heard a gasp of indrawn
breath.

Suddenly a
broad figure strode past him, arms outstretched in welcome, as
Brick bore down on mother and daughter.

'Hello,
ladies,' he cried, 'I wondered where they'd been hiding all the
pretty women! How'd you all like to come back to my apartment for
tea?'

The
Knickerbockers squealed acceptance with one voice.

'Once more
unto the breach then, Billy,' said Candy with a sly smile on her
face. 'I'm sure you can rise to the occasion.'

It was
mid-afternoon when Betsy received her next unlikely visitor. Her
mind had been taken off the matter by the arrival of Arnold with an
armful of roses. She had entertained him in the customary way and
consequently now walked rather gingerly to the door with just a
flimsy wrap thrown over her aching charms. Arnold was a bruising
lover. His compulsive talk of marriage was flattering but daunting.
She wasn't sure if she was robust enough to withstand his romancing
for any length of time.

These were the
thoughts buzzing through her head as she opened the door to a
pretty dark-haired girl in a denim jacket and a lime green
mini-skirt that scarcely covered her crotch.

'Yeah?' said
Betsy, genuinely curious. She wasn't used to female visitors.

'Sorry to
bother you, but do you know where I could find Billy Dazzle?'

Betsy rolled
her eyes heavenwards. 'For crying out loud! Who do you think I am?
His fucking wife?'

The girl was
completely unfazed and continued to chew a mouthful of gum in a
noisy, loose-lipped fashion. Her big black eyes, however, darted
curiously at Betsy, noting her dishevelled state.

'Got you out
of bed, have I? Sorry. The thing is, he's not down in his office
and I need to see him urgent. You're a brass, aren't ya?'

'What?'

'You know, on
the game. "French chest for sale", that sort of thing. You sure you
don't know where Billy Dazzle is?'

'No.' Betsy
began to close the door.

'Here, hang
about - can I ask you a question?'

'You already
did and I can't help you.'

'No, something
different. Tell me, how much do you charge?'

Betsy's
irritation boiled over. She stepped forward and grabbed the girl by
the collar of her jacket.

'Push off, you
little bitch,' she hissed into the other's startled face, 'and
don't you or any of your funny friends come and bother me
again.'

The girl's
lips froze in mid-chew and her pupils grew large with fright. An
irate Betsy, some four inches taller, her hair a wild golden mane
around her scowling face, was an intimidating sight.

However, the
girl stood her ground and said meekly, 'I'm sorry, miss, I didn't
mean to be rude.'

Betsy relaxed
her grip, aware that perhaps she had over-reacted.

'The thing
is,' the girl pressed on, 'I need some advice - how do I get to be
a tart like you?'

Betsy couldn't
understand why she had invited Amanda in, especially with Arnold
asleep in the next room. Maybe it was guilt - she had nearly thrown
the poor kid down the stairs - or maybe an instinctive recognition
that here was a girl with possibilities. Those eyes, almost black
but flecked with hazel lights, were fabulous. Betsy had always been
a good judge of the competition.

'Why,' she
asked when she had sat the girl on her sofa and made her a mug of
tea, 'should a nice kid like you want to be a prostitute?'

Amanda
grinned, 'Cos I'm sick of handing it out for free - or near enough.
I don't call a Four Seasons pizza and a tenner a proper return for
letting a feller get his leg over.'

'Have you had
lots of boyfriends?'

'Are you
kidding? I'm very popular down our way, always was - even before I
left school.'

Betsy nodded.
She had been popular at school, too. 'But the men I know,'
continued Amanda, 'only want one thing and they want it on the
cheap. I was thinking of moving up west and putting it on a
professional basis. Like you. Do you think I could?'

Betsy
shrugged. 'Why not? The only thing that separates the amateurs from
the professionals in this business is that we get the cash up
front.'

'I mean, do
you think I look good enough? You're so tall and blonde I can see
why men would cough up to get at you. I'm worried I'm not special
enough.'

Betsy laughed.
'Are you serious? You honestly don't know how gorgeous you
are?'

'Well, my
Uncle Danny says I'm the hottest little teenager he's ever had. But
he fucks my mother too and she's gross, so I think he might not be
the best judge.'

Betsy took a
long look at the girl sitting next to her. She was bedraggled and
nicotine-stained, her dress sense was abysmal and she continued to
chew gum even as she slurped tea. She also mangled the English
language in the funny London accent that Betsy still found
difficult to understand. Evidently this was not the most
sophisticated lady in town. Nevertheless, there was something about
her. The long dancer's legs, the big black eyes, the full red lips
all screamed out that this girl was a guaranteed cock-stiffener at
a hundred yards on a foggy night. A germ of an idea took root in
Betsy's brain.

'Would you
mind taking your clothes off?'

Amanda leapt
to her feet and, without hesitation, began to strip. Betsy watched
with half a smile on her face as clothes began to fly across the
room - scruffy denim jacket, creased white blouse, garish red bra
and pale green skirt - leaving her clad in just a pair of clumpy
lace-up flat shoes and thick blue leggings that clung like a second
skin to her hips. She wore nothing beneath them and a thick bush of
flattened pubic hair bulged obviously at the junction of her
thighs.

She kicked off
her shoes and turned away from Betsy to bend over and slide the
remaining garment down her legs. As she did so Betsy drew in her
breath, 'Wow,' she said, 'that's a great ass!'

'Do you think
so? I'm worried it's too big.' Amanda looked round at her rear end
critically, grasping her left bum cheek so the creamy flesh spilled
over her fingers.