Lust Under Licence (19 page)

'Please,
please, please!' she heard herself moaning. She was rubbing her
thighs together now, trying to ease the itch in her hungry pussy,
undulating her whole frame, aware her tits were swinging and her
arse was gaping and that she was making an obscene display of
herself. She couldn't help it.

They had
closed in on her now, pressing their hairy male nakedness against
her yielding softness. She could feel their cocks rubbing against
her arms and legs, their hanging balls brushing against her. Their
pungent man-smell, of sweat and cologne, enveloped her. Two mouths
were on her as well, kissing her back, her neck, her dangling
breasts. It was glorious. She was squealing out loud with pleasure
as her thighs juddered together.

Fingers
pinched her nipples knowingly and a hand probed her arse crack,
wetting her anal pucker with the juice that was slicking her
thighs.

'Put it in,
put it in,' she moaned over and over. 'Both of you. Together. Put
it in.'

One of them
shut her up by thrusting the thick head of his penis between her
lips. She swallowed him to the root, her nose buried in the coarse
hair of his belly. She could feel his hands in the thick mop of her
hair pulling her into him.

Then something
hot and very big pressed into the dimpled hole between her arse
cheeks. She recognised that bull's pizzle of a cock. She squirmed
and clenched her buttocks round it. It was her own fault, she'd
fired Gerald up with the prospect of shagging her arse and now he
was going to do it.

His hand
slapped her bottom again, once, twice, on each side, urging her to
keep still. She couldn't for she was already twitching with orgasm.
Then the big thing was lodged in her bum and she was coming full
spate, thrusting back down on it with a mouthful of cock at the
other end and her tits swinging like church bells on Christmas
morning.

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.

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.'

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 speculate
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—