School for Nurses (20 page)

‘Thank you!' she gasped.

‘What did you call me?'

‘I don't know your name, sir,' she answered carefully.

‘Exactly,' I said. ‘You can call me
sir
.'

‘Yes, sir. Thank you for beating me with your belt, sir.'

‘You're welcome. You've got five more coming.'

And she took them, one after the other. There's nothing like the excitement of a woman who's been well behaved for too long. She'll do anything to feel bad. She'll even take a cock wherever her unofficial son-in-law wants to put it. Pearl has never spread her bum for me; she says it's too rude, she says her mother didn't bring her up that way. Well, this is what her mother did that night, and what she does on the nights her daughter is out of town on business. My mother-in-law, Annette, gets down on all fours in the woods outside her house and clutches the grass and moans as I slip my cock between her cheeks and make her squeal softly, so her husband won't hear, as I ream her good and hard. I tease her by saying that when Pearl and I get married, I want her to come along on the honeymoon. Then I tell her that when we're all legit, and she's officially my mother-in-law, that my brother will want to fuck her too. I'm serious about this. I tell her, ‘He likes a woman who doesn't mind taking it up the ass and in the mouth at the same time.'

Annette groans and says, ‘I'll do whatever you want, just take pictures! I want you to keep sending me pictures!' And then I come in her bottom and she comes too, shuddering and nearly sobbing from the intensity of her climax as she begs me not to tell anyone about what we do together. I haven't told anyone except my brother. I wonder what Pearl would say if she knew what her mother and I did at night in the woods with only the moon to watch all these timeless black-and-white images of human lust.

 

 

 

Gloria Pryde, a voluptuous girl with plump breasts and long legs, was kneeling in the back of a luxury car with blacked-out windows on its way back to Whitehall. Her short skirt was around her waist and her tights were pulled down around her ankles and her breasts, pink as grapefruits and just as big, were hanging out of her low-cut angora sweater. Her position was a business matter, government business, an affair of state, if you will.

Gloria was the personal assistant of the Secretary for Defence. It was his limousine she was riding in half naked, and his erection that was in her mouth as she crouched before the plush leather seat and sucked and sucked as the Secretary of Defence caressed her naked bottom. Upon his insistence, she never wore any panties beneath her skirts. As always, he came in her throat, and as she was wiping the corners of her mouth with her fingers, and then struggling back into her tights and pulling her top up over her breasts again, the telephone rang. It was the Secretary's phone, the mobile unit he always had with him, just as he generally had Gloria. She didn't go home in the evenings like a normal PA, not if she could help it. Unless, of course, he was forced to spend time with his wife, by far his most annoying duty. But the telephone never left his presence. He carried it on his hip at all times.

‘Tony!' the Secretary exclaimed with well-practiced delight. ‘How nice of you to call.' He didn't say anything else for a few minutes, just gradually turned red under his beard and all the way up to his receding hairline. He was a small, trim man with a greying beard, and she had fancied him the first time she saw him when she interviewed for the job of his parliamentary personal secretary. She'd had ideas of her own about the meaning of ‘personal', and they had taken exactly three months to define and execute. The Secretary's wife lived up in Carlisle, which had helped her considerably in her efforts to get his cock out of his ministerial trousers. Cocks, Gloria had found, rarely resisted too much if the women they rightfully belonged to didn't suck them regularly.

His face ashen now, the Secretary put the phone down. ‘Yes, of course,' was the last thing he had said. Now he stared out of the window into the distance.

‘What is it, love?' she asked. She called him ‘love' when they were alone. She had begun doing so soon after she started pulling his zipper down, and he seemed to like it. It wasn't clear if he thought she was talking to him or to his dick, but then he was vain, like all the politicians she had met; he probably thought she loved his cock as much as his mind. She didn't love either one. Love never even crossed
her
mind as she swallowed and bent over his rod. She was a girl with a future to make for herself, he could help her with her goal, and that was enough.

‘I have to leave her,' he said.

A pure, adrenaline thrill sliced through her belly and made her pussy go ambitiously hot. At that moment, she felt ready to fuck a whole troupe of ministry officials. ‘Leave her?' she asked lightly.

‘Margaret,' the Secretary said in a distant, distracted voice. ‘I have to leave Margaret in twenty minutes flat, and then call them back.' He was still staring out of the window. ‘Or I have to break it off with you,' he looked at her. ‘Either way, they have to know, and they have to know now. That was Tony. A daily tabloid got the story. They're going to run with it tonight, and the party has got to get its response ready. So, I have got to make my mind up, fast. Good thing we had such a lovely holiday together.'

Good thing indeed, Gloria thought. His cock hadn't been out of her mouth for ten minutes, she had made certain of that. The man couldn't see beyond her devoted head bent over his lap, let alone think straight from all the endorphins swimming around in his skull from all those blowjobs.

He had come inside her on the beach, on the balcony overlooking the beach, even in the lift up to their hotel room. She had not let him put it in her bottom yet, but she had promised to let him, if he left Margaret, that is. If he left his wife, she would get on her hands and knees on the floor and lift her skirt like a good pony girl, and he could shaft her up the butt to his heart's content. She had not dreamed, however, that he might be collecting his prize so soon.

‘Margaret is crucial, of course,' the Secretary was saying, his blue eyes still strangely distant. ‘She's crucial,' he said again, ‘to the progress of my career. The transaction of government business...'

‘What am
I
, chopped liver?' Gloria snapped. ‘What sort of business have you been transacting with
me
this past fortnight?' They were on their way back from Barbados, a fact-finding trip, so to speak, funded by the taxpayer and the British Council.

‘Margaret undertook,' here his voice took on the usual air of gravity and fulsomeness it did when he was speaking into a microphone, ‘certain imperatives that the usual ministerial aides cannot be called upon to handle.' He cleared his throat.

‘And what have I been sucking?' Gloria asked sarcastically.

‘Don't be vulgar.' He looked out of the window again. ‘It's not like that.'

‘I can do anything she can.'

‘Are you sure?' he asked the scenery.

‘Absolutely. I can do anything she can, and I can do it better, too. Haven't I been better for you, love?'

‘It will be over between us the moment you fail me,' he warned mysteriously.

‘Just try asking me to do something I can't do,' she said. ‘If you can find something, then you can go back to her.'

‘I can't go back to her. That's the point. If we make this official, you are the designated second in my ministerial work.'

‘I can't wait,' she said breathlessly, flushed with success.

‘All right,' he said, looking at her again, ‘you asked for it. It's the street if you refuse to do anything I tell you to. We get divorced, and I'm finished with you.'

‘What could I possibly refuse?' Gloria felt as though her entire body was grinning. She could taste victory like a bottle of sparkling wine poured directly over her naked skin.

‘Let me speak to Tony,' he said into his mobile phone. ‘It's the Secretary of Defence.'

 

She followed the Secretary, Derek, into his private flat in Bayswater. She had the run of his ministerial digs, and of course of his private member's accommodations. She had handled his dry-cleaning, his laundry, his late night hand-jobs, etc. etc., but she had never seen his private flat. It was a basement one-bedroom off a side-street at the bottom of a flight of leaf-strewn steps, with a thick, dark curtain drawn over the one iron-barred window.

He switched on the overhead light, and she was overwhelmed by the smell of perfume. It was as if gallons of it had been spilled across the carpet. It was a small but plush pad very much like his ministerial residence, only here the bedroom was almost puritanically plain. The sheets on the wide double mattress were white, and only one pillow was propped up against the black iron bedstead. Hooks dangled from the four bedposts, and the only other furniture in the room was a tall dark wardrobe.

‘What are those hooks for?' she asked.

‘No time for that now,' he replied. ‘We've got a briefing with the Chinese ambassador in twenty minutes and you have to prepare.'

‘Prepare for what?' She was wearing a mini-skirt and a tight sweater with no bra. She couldn't imagine what a Chinese diplomat would want that she couldn't flaunt before him in this attire while fetching Derek's documents. That's all briefings were, rustling folders and clinking glasses.

‘We're having that dinner with him later this evening to announce the arms sale. We don't have time for this,' he snapped. ‘Get out the drinks.'

Gloria left the bedroom and found the drinks cabinet in the sweet-smelling living room. She opened the small built-in fridge, and snapped some ice cubes out of their trays into a small bowl before reaching for the bottle of vodka. Maybe Derek would calm down a little after he had a drink. Surely this briefing was nothing special, just the usual exchange of boring information and intoxicating fluids.

There was a knock at the door.

Gloria looked up.

‘I'll get it!' Derek hissed. ‘You get into the bedroom. And remember,' he added, ‘I haven't divorced Margaret yet. There's still time for a reconciliation if you don't perform.'

‘Perform what? I'll flash my boobs as I pass the glasses, like I always do. What more do you want me to do?'

‘Just wait in the bedroom and open the wardrobe.'

Gloria went back into the bedroom, and opened the black wardrobe while out in the living room she heard the front door being opened, followed by a hushed exchange during which she imagined the two men bowing to each other in the Oriental fashion. But something seemed strange... she did not hear a third voice. No interpreter had been brought to the briefing. What matter could they possibly be discussing that was so clear to both of them that there was no need for an interpreter?

She was not sure what she expected to find when she opened the cupboard, perhaps some fetish clothing, perhaps some lacy lingerie Derek wanted to see her in after the diplomat left and he felt like celebrating. He always celebrated a bit of business by looking at her bare bottom. He loved to admire it and pat it and kiss it, although she had not let him enter it, not yet, not before she signed on the dotted line.

What she found inside the narrow black cupboard were scarves; black scarves, yellow scarves, red scarves; the wardrobe was full of multi-coloured scarves hanging from hooks. There was also a small pair of slippers lying in the corner that appeared to be made of black leather. She turned when she suddenly heard the two men step into the room behind her.

‘Ambassador, may I present my
wife
, Gloria Pryde.' He held out his hand as if showing him a particularly fine car at a dealership.

The small, sleek-haired gentleman in a grey Mao suit bowed deeply in her direction.

Derek said in an undertone, ‘Bow!'

Gloria blushed as she bent forward at the waist, flashing some cleavage at the ambassador in the process, but as she straightened up she saw that he wasn't interested in that. He was alternately staring behind her at the scarves in the cupboard and down at her hips.
Obviously, another arse man
, she thought.

Derek then began showing Ambassador Loo the wardrobe he was admiring. He ran his hand through the scarves hanging on the left side, and the visiting diplomat looked delighted. He also reached out to caress the scarves with both hands, feeling the silky cloth.

‘Get us some drinks, Gloria,' Derek said through a fixed grin. ‘I've said you're my wife, and you'll have to act like you are now.'

‘Right.' She slipped out of the room, and tipped vodka into two tall glasses filled with ice. There was a lime in the fridge drawer. She cut a slice and slipped it in Derek's drink. He loved the tang of citrus in his vodka.

‘Nothing for me,' Derek said when he stepped back out into the living room with the ambassador in tow and she turned towards them with their drinks. Ambassador Loo was holding four scarves in his two small hands, a yellow one and three black ones. They all appeared to be made of silk, and the black ones were embroidered with golden dragons. She had not noticed them in the cupboard and she wondered if they might have been in his pockets as he too shook his head at her offer of a drink.