Lust Under Licence (11 page)

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.

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.

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.