Now, in the
steamy confines of Tracy Pert's hotel bathroom, with the piercing
baby-blue peepers of the nation's top glamour girl fixed upon him,
he felt seriously embarrassed. His smart new jacket lay in a soggy
heap on the floor and he hopped awkwardly on one foot as he pulled
off a sock.
Tracy lay back
in her still-foamy bath, her magnificent curves entirely hidden
from view, a critical smirk spread across her pretty features.
'You look a
right prat,' she said cheerfully. 'It's funny how a woman doffing
her togs is dead sexy but you guys haven't a clue how to go about
it.'
Billy angrily
ripped open his shirt, sending a button pinging against the mirror
over the sink.
'Doh, that's
more like it,' said Tracy. 'You've got a nice chest. I don't like
them too muscley.'
'Neither do
I.'
'Oh, I know
what you like.' And she sat up, cupping her breasts in her hands,
the soapy water running down the valley between the creamy hills.
She jiggled the plump gourds on her palms, lifting and spreading
the damp pink tit-flesh, revealing them to his hungry gaze in all
their glory.
'Oh, Tracy,'
Billy groaned, transfixed by the sight of her. Her slender fingers
moved over the quivering opulence of her bewitching bosom with
practised ease. Now she began to pinch her nipples, pulling the
bright pink nubs erect, giving herself evident pleasure.
'Well,' she
said, her voice suddenly low and husky, 'aren't you going to help
me? Or are you just going to stand there till I've shrivelled up
like a prune?'
With shaking
hands Billy unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers to the
floor. His thin white cotton briefs could barely contain his
excitement. For his part, this was not a shrivelling situation.
'Ooh,'
murmured Tracy in appreciation, 'there's more to you than meets the
eye.'
Billy said
nothing but shucked the inadequate garment down his thighs and
kicked it beneath the sink. The time for talking had passed as far
as he was concerned.
'Ere,'
squawked Tracy as he dropped to one knee and plunged his arms into
the bath, one sliding under her thighs, the other circling her
back.
'Oy,' she
shouted but he fastened his lips over hers, cutting off the sound.
Her mouth was warm and welcoming and those eyes he had once
dismissed as vacant now blazed into his. She kissed him back
avidly, hooking her arms round his chest and hanging onto him as,
in a great torrent of foam and water, he pushed himself to his feet
lifting her bodily out of the bath.
She squealed
in surprise and pleasure as he carried her out into the bedroom and
tumbled her onto the big double bed. Then they were all over one
another, squeezing and groping and giggling. He buried his face
between her breasts, taking first one nipple between his lips then
the other as she cradled him to her.
Both were in a
hurry now and there wasn't time for finesse. She had one hand on
his cock and the other between her legs as she spread herself
beneath him. She aimed, he thrust and both groaned with pleasure as
his cock slid in one smooth movement deep into her dripping
pussy.
It didn't last
long. Billy was already at fever pitch but so, thank God, was she.
She had her ankles wrapped around his neck as he began what was
meant to be a disciplined shafting and soon turned into a wild ride
way off the road and out of control. Her wicked little tongue was
in his mouth and her fingers were raking his back as he humped into
her, holding her fast by the bum cheeks, diddling her bottom hole
with his little finger.
He groaned out
loud as she took her lips from his and sank her teeth into his
neck. He pushed his finger into the ring of her anus. She bucked
her loins furiously back and forth, revelling in the sensation of
cock and finger filling her at the same time. He dipped his head to
her breasts and she hugged his face to them as he nibbled and
sucked and licked deliriously, his mind a jumble of lewd visions.
He shot his spunk deep into her just as she came too, shrieking her
pleasure into his ear.
They lay in a
tangle of limbs, panting, wet from the bath and the sex, unable to
speak. Tracy planted a gentle kiss on Billy's bruised neck. Finally
she whispered, 'If you're not Maurice - who the bloody hell are
you?'
'I think we
should start,' said DCI Spicer, 'with an inspection. Why don't you
show me the equipment you will be using to lure Britain's most
wanted man into custody?'
'Ma'am—'
Sophie was standing to attention on the Turkish rug in front of the
sofa. Back straight, heels together, arms by her side - in her
off-duty best of crisp turquoise blouse and cream silk skirt, she
felt distinctly silly. And vulnerable.
'Take off your
skirt.'
'Oh ma'am,
please.'
'Off with it,
Stark. I want to have a good look at the Metropolitan Police
Force's secret weapon.'
With trembling
hands Sophie unzipped and slid the feather-light garment down her
long legs till it pooled in a discreet ring around her gleaming
black stilettos. 'You do know what I'm talking about, Sophie, don't
you?'
'No!'
'Come off it,
Starkers. You know just what I mean. I want to see what it is that
all these street-smart villains are prepared to risk their liberty
for.'
And she leaned
forward and fixed her beady stare straight ahead of her on the
sumptuous form of DS Sophie Stark clad, from the waist down, in
just a pair of high-heel shoes and a wisp of panty cut high on her
glistening hip, describing a deep white V over the dimpled plain of
her belly. Sophie knew the dark thatch of hair in her groin was
clearly visible through the thin cotton and, though bereft of only
one garment, she had never felt so naked in her life. And she knew
what was coming next.
'Off,' ordered
Ambrosia.
Sophie opened
her mouth to protest but it was useless. Her panties joined the
ring of material around her feet.
Ambrosia
leaned further forward till her nose was just six inches from the
thick chestnut thatch that concealed Sophie's most secret nooks and
crannies.
'Feet apart,'
said Ambrosia.
As if in a
dream, Sophie obeyed.
'Now, show
me.'
'Ma'am,
please!
'
'Show me,
Sophie. I want to see this special place of yours. Every detail of
it. I want you to demonstrate to me that your equipment is in full
working order for the greatest assignment of your life.'
'Oh God,' said
Sophie but her fingers were already at work, gently opening herself
up, spreading the pearly pink lips along the length of her split,
automatically delving between them to emerge glistening with her
own juices. Her knees trembled. She was violently aroused.
'Good girl,'
said Ambrosia, as if she were praising a favoured child. 'Run your
finger all the way round, just on the inside.'
'God, ma'am, I
feel such a—'
'Slut?'
'Yes.'
'If I were a
man I dare say I'd agree. But I'm not and you aren't. You're a
hot-blooded woman with a gorgeous body and an enviable lack of
inhibition. You should be proud of yourself.'
'Oh, ma'am -
do you really think I'm gorgeous?'
'I wouldn't
lie to you, Starkers. Now, slide your finger up your cunt. To your
clit.'
The tiny pink
nub of flesh stood proudly visible between Sophie's rhythmically
moving fingers.
'That's right.
Keep doing that and use your other hand as well. Push your fingers
inside.'
'Oh. Ohh.' The
little cries came bubbling from Sophie's throat. She couldn't help
herself. 'You're very wet, aren't you?'
'Yes, oh
yes.'
'Faster.
Harder. Another finger.'
'Ohhh.' Her
knees were shaking as she manipulated her sopping pussy shamelessly
before the other's all-devouring gaze.
'That's it,
Sophie, that's beautiful.'
'Oh God, oh
God!' Her busy fingers were a blur.
'You can come
now, Sophie—'
'Oh, OHHH!'
Sophie's legs gave way.
'—if you
haven't already done so, that is.'
There was
silence, broken only by Sophie's heavy breathing as she squatted in
a heap at Ambrosia's feet. Then Ambrosia leaned forward and began
to stroke Sophie's tangled mane of auburn hair.
'That was very
impressive, my darling.' One elegant, ringless hand slid round to
the nape of Sophie's neck and gently urged her head forward.
'Unfortunately, I need you to run through your entire repertoire
before I can end the inspection.'
'Oh, ma'am—'
but Sophie's protest was terminated by the firm application of a
pair of lips to her own. The kiss was prolonged. Ambrosia Spicer
tasted faintly of Martini and cigarettes but as the slippery,
knowing tongue invaded her mouth Sophie trembled with pleasure.
Billy was
adrift on a sea of pink and gold, his face nuzzling into the
slender neck of Tracy Pert, damp blonde tendrils in his mouth, his
oh-so-relaxed body buoyed up by the pneumatic perfection spread out
beneath him. As his cock reluctantly melted in the warmth of her
honeypot, he was already contemplating the myriad carnal delights
ahead once batteries were recharged and sap rose anew.
'Oh Tracy,' he
moaned, kissing the delectable porcelain-fine skin of her throat,
'you are adorable.'
'And you're a
bloody imposter,' she replied in less-than-loving tones. 'What do
you mean, pretending to be Maurice? Writing all those notes and
things - you've got a bleeding nerve. And you're bloody heavy.' A
small sharp fist whacked into his ribs. 'Get off.'
'Tracy,
darling, moments like this shouldn't be spoiled by contemplation of
the mundane...'
'I'll spoil
your face if you don't let me up.'
Billy
retreated to one side of the bed, taken aback by her sudden change
of mood.
'I suppose I
do owe you some sort of explanation,' he said, desperately trying
to think of one. 'I'm here on behalf of Orlando Verdi.' It wasn't
that far from the truth.
'Who?' said
Tracy, sitting up and fixing him with a beady suspicious stare.
'The Italian
film producer.'
'Never heard
of him.' She continued to glare at Billy, her outsize breasts
wobbling deliciously.
'He made
Dino the
Dolphin
.'
'Really?' The
fierce expression on her pretty face suddenly froze. 'So who are
you?'
'Billy Dazzle,
freelance film consultant and all-round factotum to visiting
dignitaries.' This was better, Billy was on home ground. He gave
her his warmest smile and moved a little closer. 'I'm a Mr Fix-it.
I get things done.'
'Well, that's
true.' She was visibly softening now and her eyes had strayed down
his body to his groin, where Billy's big tool, briefly refreshed
and inspired anew by her presence, was now perceptibly lengthening
across his stomach.
'Since I badly
needed to see you and we didn't have an appointment I just seized
my opportunity.'
'In more ways
than one,' she said.
'Can you blame
me? Every man in the country would kill to be lying here with
you.'
'You're a
bloody big fibber, Billy Razzle.'
'Dazzle,
please.'
She was
laughing now, her lovely titties shaking just inches from his face.
He leaned over and sucked a long pink nipple into his mouth,
rolling it between his pursed lips. She did not object, indeed she
slid one hand round his neck and pulled him closer; the other hand
coming to rest in the tangle of hairs on his chest. But the
interrogation was not over.
'So what does
this film director want me for?'
Billy had no
doubt what that fat lecher would want from a delectable young woman
like Tracy but he was certainly not going to tell her.
He placed his
hand just above her knee and idly began to trace patterns on her
satin-smooth skin.
'Is he going
to offer me a part?'
'Of
course.'
His lazy
fingers dabbled upwards to the baby-soft flesh of her inner
thigh.
'What
part?'
Biting back
the urge to say 'a nymphomaniac with big tits and no lines', which
Billy secretly supposed to be the truth, he began to improvise a
scenario which would at least ensure that he got the chance to fuck
her again.
'Shakespeare,'
he said, insinuating a finger into the soft blonde curls that
covered the plump mound of her pussy.
'Shakespeare,'
she repeated, her voice tinged with awe and puzzlement, at the same
time spreading her legs to allow ease of entry to his prying
hand.
'Actually,
Shakespeare's daughter. It's a historical drama set in
seventeenth-century England.' His index finger was swimming
knuckle-deep inside her now, her moist flesh engulfing it like a
hungry anemone.
'It's not
strictly historically accurate, of course, but you know what
Italian film directors are like. You play Shakespeare's unknown
daughter who inherits her father's talent but who is persecuted
because women weren't supposed to do that sort of thing then.'
'Blimey,' was
her verbal response, her physical one was to wriggle her loins
rhythmically as Billy introduced two more fingers into her cunt.
She had also, seemingly unconsciously, grasped hold of his prick
and was frotting it gently up and down.
Billy
continued his narrative. 'You see, your character writes all these
plays but no one will put them on because you're a woman. There's
only one thing for you to do - you form your own company composed
entirely of women, which was taboo in those days because females
didn't even get a look-in on stage.'