Lust on the Loose (30 page)

Billy reached
down to grasp her behind both knees and lifted her legs off the
floor. She shrieked and flung her arms round his neck.

'You'll drop
me!' she protested.

'I won't if
you hook your legs round my waist. Besides, Brick is going to
help.'

Brick
approached wearing nothing but a smile, his big truncheon swinging
before him. He wasn't sure exactly what Billy had in mind but the
sight of Katie's large firm posterior thrust obscenely outwards in
his direction was giving him a few clues.

'Have you ever
had two men at once, Katie?' asked Billy.

'Put me down
at once, you pervert!'

Billy's hands
were on her broad creamy arse cheeks and now he spread them wide,
offering to Brick the dark hairy furrow between. The small brown
pucker of her bum-hole winked up at the singer invitingly and he
stepped forward eagerly.

'No!' screamed
Katie. 'Don't you dare! You'll never get it in - it's too big!'

Katie was
wrong. Applying the buttery juices that flowed so copiously from
her forward orifice, Brick lubricated her nether knothole and
advanced the head of his prong.

'Oh my God!'
cried Katie as she was breached.

Now the arms
of both men were fast around her as she was sandwiched between
their strong hard bodies. They proceeded slowly, Billy resting
against the desk, taking the weight, allowing Brick to thrust his
prick forward inch by inch, deep into the tight passage of Katie's
luscious arse.

And Katie
began slowly to respond, still cursing and complaining, but
grinding her pubic delta down onto Billy's cock then arching back
to take the increasingly urgent thrusts of Brick's shaft. She was
completely smothered by male flesh, penetrated fore and aft,
pinioned by two stalwart cocks who were able to give her everything
her insatiable loins required.

'Oh God,' she wailed as their organs fenced within her and the
momentum began to build, 'I hate you both! This is terrible! The
most disgusting, ghastly, horrible -
wonderful
- thing I've ever done!
OH!'

And her orgasm
broke upon their ears like an explosion.

Imogen heard
it in her office two floors below and stopped work for a moment to
listen to the screams and bellows of ecstasy from above. She smiled
contentedly to herself. She liked to know her people took pleasure
in their work.

The day of the
Gala broke upon a selection of interested parties with the
brilliance of the best of English summer days.

In the Mayfair
apartment, Katie Crisp rolled over in Billy's bed and thrust her
broad bottom into his crotch. Still half asleep, he accepted this
unspoken invitation to slide his morning stiffy home into the
capacious and still-hungry mouth between her legs.

In St John's
Wood, Candy Kensington inspected her new chauffeur as he paraded in
his uniform. The peak of his cap shone brightly and his gold
epaulettes did not look in the least ridiculous on such a broad and
strong pair of shoulders. His trousers were in no need of Candy's
attention for they hung neatly over a chair as she conducted an
in-depth hand inspection of his throbbing cock.

In Hampstead,
Patsy Fretwork gratefully sipped a mug of steaming coffee as
Pandora Britches sat on the bed beside her and said, 'Poor darling,
you shouldn't have drunk so much. I told you I'd be all right.' And
Patsy made no objection as Pandora's long fingers began their
familiar stroll across the soft and dimpled plain of her stomach
towards her mound of pleasure.

In Soho, a
further scene of sexual licence had just drawn to its conclusion
when Sophie Stark knocked at Betsy Toast's door. It was eventually
opened by a cadaverous man of extraordinary height who had
obviously just struggled into his jeans.

'I'm sorry to
disturb you,' said Sophie, 'but I'm trying to contact Billy Dazzle
and I wondered—'

The man held
up his hand to halt her flow and yelled over his shoulder, 'Betsy,
there's another recruit for your call-girl service. She looks even
better than the last one,' he added under his breath.

'May I ask who
you are, sir?'

'None of your
business,' said the tall blonde who appeared at his side. 'And
Billy's not here, so you can scram.'

The two of
them towered over Sophie who nevertheless was not put out. She did
what she should have done in the first place and produced her
identity card. 'Do you mind if I come inside?'

The pair
looked suitably chastened as Sophie took in the confusion in the
tiny set of rooms. An empty suitcase lay on the unmade bed, other
luggage stood in the hall.

'I didn't know
Billy was such a popular guy,' said Betsy. 'You're about the fifth
person who's come looking for him in the past twenty-four
hours.'

'Did any of
those people look like this?' And Sophie produced a photograph.

'You bet,'
said Betsy at once. 'That big fellow came here twice. The second
time he was wearing a false beard but he couldn't disguise his
build. Who the hell is he, anyway?'

'You obviously
don't watch the television or read the papers.'

'Sorry, I'm
American. Your Brit papers are from Mars.'

'Well, this is
a photograph of the country's most wanted man. We're looking for
him on charges of racketeering, extortion, manslaughter and
murder.'

'Christ!'

'If you've
seen him, Miss Toast, I want to hear all about it.'

'Sure, sit
down, Arnold will make us a drink. Why on earth is this guy looking
for Billy?'

'I think he
wants to kill him.'

'Oh my God!'
cried Betsy, and ran into the toilet to be sick.

She was gone
for quite a while during which interval Arnold handed Sophie a cup
of instant coffee. As an afterthought, and because the policewoman
had now discovered he was a celebrity chef, he also produced a
homemade biscuit.

Betsy
returned, her healthy tan dimmed for once, and sank into an
armchair. 'I'm sorry, Sergeant—'

'Sophie.'

'OK. The thing
is, Sophie, when he came back the second time I tried to get him to
come inside to, well, you know. I vamped him up a little and pushed
my bod into him because I saw something in his pants.'

'You thought
he had an erection?'

'Right! In my
line it's a handy indicator of business interest. He had a lump all
right but it didn't feel like a dick to me. And I ought to
know.'

'So what did
it feel like?'

'A gun. Now
that would make sense if he was going to kill Billy, wouldn't
it?'

'Bloody hell!'
said Arnold, who had been listening to this conversation with
interest. 'What are we going to do about poor old Billy?'

'Do you know
where he is?'

'Sure, he's
going to the Gala at Bedside Manor with Brick Tempo. He's driving
down this morning. And so are we.'

Sophie got
Betsy to let her into Billy Dazzle's office with her spare key. She
said she wanted to check it out but in reality she wanted to phone
Ambrosia in private. The senior officer sounded pleased with
her.

'Excellent,
Sophie. So, our Danny is still in town, according to this witness.
How reliable is she?'

'Very, I'd
say. She identified him straight off from the photo.'

'And your
theory is that Fretwork is after Dazzle because he bonked
Patsy.'

'Yes. I think
we've got to protect Billy Dazzle while using him as bait for Danny
Fretwork.'

'Sounds
familiar, Sophie. I remember your last scheme for luring Danny into
our clutches. Danny doesn't know where Billy is, does he?'

'Not as far as
I'm aware.'

'Good. I
suggest in that case that you leave the rest of us to track him
down. I'll put men inside Dazzle's office and step up the operation
in Essex. He's putting himself about too much. He'll soon come
unstuck.'

'But what
about Billy? Danny will blow his brains out if he finds him.'

'He won't find
him. Dazzle is much better off out of harm's way in the country.
And don't worry, I will personally keep a discreet eye on things at
Bedside. It so happens that I have an invitation to the concert
myself.'

'Ambrosia,
Billy needs proper protection!'

'Forget it,
Sergeant. You've done your stuff and just about saved your pretty
neck. Don't spoil it, now. Take a few days off.'

'Ambrosia,
please!'

'Don't be too
disappointed, Sophie. You've done enough. Not even you can catch
them all.'

Sophie sat
morosely at Billy's desk. The thrill of latching onto Danny's trail
had been swiftly cut off and she could hardly credit that Ambrosia
had dumped her from the case. She must be feeling the heat
herself.

As Sophie sat
there she looked idly through the desk drawers. She had no doubt
Fretwork would have gained entry and made a similar search. If
there was evidence here that would have told Danny where Billy was
then she'd get back to Ambrosia and insist she mount a big
operation at Bedside.

She found
nothing to link Billy to the Gala. But she did find something that
brought her up short. An obscene photograph of a rounded female
arse thrusting backwards to reveal a pouting pussy crack. It took
her a moment to realise just whose arse and pussy this was. My God!
The bastard kept a dirty photo of her in his desk drawer. It must
have come from the poolside photos Sophie had told her about. Why
had he kept this one? To jerk off over, she supposed.

The thought
gave her a funny feeling. The notion of an unknown man regularly
stroking his cock to solitary orgasm while fantasising over her
disembodied bum was - well, she had to admit it - highly arousing.
A bolt of desire shot through her like an electric current. God,
she felt horny! Wildly, excruciatingly, heart-stoppingly horny!

Suddenly she
knew what she would do. She would cadge a ride to Bedside Manor
from Arnold and Betsy and she would keep an eye on Billy Dazzle
herself. Patsy had spoken warmly of him. He sounded like a decent
fellow even if a bit of a ducker and diver. And the notion of the
boy wanking off to a picture of her thrusting arse - well, she had
a duty to prevent him being blown away by a brute like Danny
Fretwork!

She slipped
the photo back into the drawer and got to her feet, trying to quell
the lurid desires that stemmed from the crawling, itching feeling
in the pit of her stomach. This was no time to think about sex - a
man's life was in danger.

'Right, Sophie
Stark,' she said to herself, 'on to Bedside Manor!'

Five - Orgy!

Bedside Manor,
the former home of the Bedside family, enjoyed a naturally
seductive location. Nestling at the foot of the Sussex Downs, it
sat amidst fifty acres of neat green fields and rolling parkland.
The Manor itself had been transformed by the stage-struck Belvedere
Bedside in the years preceding the Great War. He had sunk the
family fortune into a full-scale theatre which he had built a
hundred yards from the house on the site of the old stables. His
intention had been to run his own theatre company, attracting an
audience from London and the nearby South Coast resorts.
Unfortunately for him, war had intervened and he had thrown himself
into a Greater Cause which had snuffed out his ambitions, along
with millions of others, in a muddy bog somewhere in northern
France.

But the legacy
of Belvedere lived on in the exquisite little theatre he had built
in the grounds of his family home on the banks of the whispering
River Bed. This was now the home of the Bedside Opera Company,
funded to a diminishing extent by the public purse and,
increasingly, by a clutch of boring but profitable businesses who
could afford to apply a little artistic gloss to their image. As a
consequence of all this, throughout the summer months discerning
patrons flocked in their thousands to picnic in the grounds and
drink their fill of Culture.

On the night
of the Poor Pussy Gala the regular company took a deserved
mid-season break and yielded the stage to Imogen's carefully
assembled roster of artistes. It was to be a glittering occasion,
performed in front of an audience of the great and the good -
including minor royalty. Dashing Prince Roger, twenty-something in
line to the throne, was squiring his latest exotic girlfriend, Inez
de la Puta. The Spanish beauty was rumoured to have won his heart,
or at least some other significant portion of his anatomy, by
dancing the flamenco in the nude at the Nuts Risborough Hunt
Ball.

From across
Europe the titled and the wealthy were making their way to Bedside.
Candy Kensington's call had been loud and strident and many had
answered. Some were driven by a genuine desire to support Poor
Pussy, these were almost exclusively British patrons captivated by
Candy's image of a bandaged moggy adrift in a world without
catflaps. The Continentals, who regarded most animals in simple
culinary terms, were more interested in attending a social event.
Some wished to visit Bedside without the tedium of actually sitting
through an opera. Others were sufficiently attracted by the allure
of Brick Tempo and Melissa Melone to abandon their yachts and
country retreats on an otherwise uneventful evening in the summer
season.

Backstage
there was panic. Voices were raised and shouts of anguish were
commonplace as noisy people in designer clothes and silent ones in
grimy sweatshirts mingled together. To Billy it had looked like
chaos until Brick explained that the smart ones were performers
letting off steam and the scruffy ones were technicians who
actually knew what they were doing. Having been chivvied out of
several hidey-holes, Billy took refuge in a stairwell.