Lust Under Licence (34 page)

It was the sudden certainty that had taken root in his mind as
he had listened to the litany of his so-called sex crimes - the
certainty that, in a weird and twisted way, Prosecutor Hawk was
right. He
was
all
those things she accused him of being - a moral degenerate, a
selfish manipulator of women, an empire-builder fuelled only by
greed and self-gratification. That most of his victims - if they
could be called that - were fair game and had a thirst for sensual
pleasure as profound as his own, was no excuse. He swore to himself
that, however he emerged from this ordeal, he would police his
future behaviour himself.

He threw
himself on his mean bed and, with the wind still rushing through
the corridors of his mind, succumbed to sleep.

The Chief
Executive's penthouse was on the tenth storey of the Glass Mountain
building. During the week Tom lived above the shop, as it were. It
was very convenient. Personal visitors used a separate entrance and
were rushed to the top floor in an express elevator.

The door
buzzer took Tom by surprise. It was nearly nine in the evening and
he'd just come upstairs from the office. Everyone else had long
gone. Even the cleaners had finished their stint.

'Tom, it's
Christina,' said the voice through the intercom. For a moment he
couldn't think who that could be. He hadn't seen Tina for many
years. Not since Chas Cross had spirited her away to his island in
the Bahamas and the Shagbags split up. He pressed the button to let
her in.

She'd changed
somewhat. Her face was fuller, her figure too. But her eyes were
the same caramel brown and her hair, now cut to her jaw, the same
lustrous blonde. A pretty teenager had blossomed into a lovely
woman.

Tom began to
say as much but was frozen to the spot when another figure stepped
out of the lift.

If anything, Shani had changed less than Tina. She wore a
smart white business suit and carried a briefcase. Below the hem of
the short skirt, her long legs were as thrilling as ever.
Their
cafe au lait
sheen set Tom's heart thumping as of old.

Numb with
shock, Tom ushered his unexpected guests into his spacious living
room. The sun was going down and light flooded through the glass
wall which gave onto the balcony. It was so bright the breathtaking
view over the City streets and down to the river was blotted
out.

'Would you
like a drink?' he asked.

'No,' said
Shani. 'We've come for a business meeting.'

'Oh,' said
Tom. Their business together was done with years ago.

Temporarily
blinded by the sun, Tom could not see clearly what Shani was doing
as she set her briefcase on a low coffee table and opened it. She
picked something out of the case and pointed it in his direction.
The light glinted on metal and Tom knew exactly what she held in
her hand. It was a gun.

'Don't say
anything, Tom,' said Shani's low mellifluous voice. 'I don't want
to shoot you but if I get angry I might.'

'What is there
to get angry about, Shani?' Tom was sincerely puzzled and sincerely
afraid. 'The lawyers finished business ages ago. You both agreed to
the settlement.'

'That was
then,' said Shani. 'We've had time to think about it and we think
you owe us a bit more. Now shut up and do what I tell you. Take
your clothes off.'

'But,
Shani—'

'Do it,' she
hissed, a red spark flickering in her midnight black eyes. Tom's
stomach turned over. He began to unbutton his shirt.

Naked, with a
pistol pointing at his stomach, Tom had never felt so vulnerable -
or so small.

Shani laughed.
'Memory plays funny tricks, I guess. When I last looked between
your legs things were built on a different scale. You'd better give
him the stuff, Tina.'

Tom watched
with alarm as Tina took a surgical cuff and hypodermic syringe from
the briefcase. 'Don't worry,' she said as she tied off his arm and
made him bend it. 'I know how to handle this. Just keep still.'

Tom would have
thrust her aside but for the thought of the mad glint in Shani's
eyes and the little gun shaking in her fist. He said nothing as the
needle sank into his flesh.

Within
seconds, it seemed, he felt a glow seep through his veins. A
drowsy, soppy glow like the effect of a hot bath and a large gin.
Suddenly the tension and stiffness had gone from his body. He felt
weak and rubbery and relaxed. 'Wow,' he heard himself say, far off,
as if he were someone else.

'That's
better, isn't it?' said Shani, and when he looked into her face
this time he didn't see rage and resentment but a ripe, tempting
sensuality. Those black eyes seemed to be brimming with carnal
promise. He ached to kiss her dark full lips as he had once done.
She had been incandescent in bed, it came back to him vividly.

'Look at him
now,' said Tina and he realised she was gazing at his cock. It
reared up from his loins as eager and stiff as a teenager's.

'Then let's
get on with it,' said Shani.

Tom sat in a
daze as the two women spread a plastic sheet on the floor. Shani
removed her jacket and pulled on a thin cotton overall and rubber
gloves. Tina hauled him to his feet and he realised as Shani rushed
to help that he could hardly move a muscle of his own volition.
With some difficulty they laid him on his back on the sheet.

Tina rubbed
ointment into his penis. Her fingers were like flames on his skin
as she smoothed it in and the sensation was exquisite. His big
erection bounded in her hands, by far the most frisky part of his
body.

Then it was
Shani's turn. From a plastic bag she took lumps of what looked like
clay, a soft and malleable material that she moulded around his
loins. Soon his genitals were completely encased in the stuff. The
women looked at him with satisfaction. He grinned back stupidly. He
couldn't help it.

'It will take
an hour to dry,' said Shani. 'In the meantime, we need your
signature.'

Tina took some
papers and a pen from the case. Somewhere in Tom's confused head a
red alert sounded.

The last thing
he must do, he knew, was sign anything.

Shani propped
him up and pulled the table close so that he could reach the
papers. On his belly the congealed mass of gunk was drying on his
tumescent cock. She took care not to move his lower body.

'I... won't,'
he said carefully, his tongue thick and useless in his mouth.

'Oh yes, you
will,' said Shani and lowered her lips to his. She kissed him
gently, like a soft summer breeze. The smell of her, rich and
intoxicating, filled his nostrils.

'You'll sign
for us,' said Tina smoothing a small slender hand across his chest,
leaving a trail of tingling sparks in its wake.

Together they
worked on his heightened senses, every touch and caress sending a
crackle of electricity through his frame. He had never felt so
sensually alive - and yet so helpless. Then Shani produced a
feather. Each touch was like a lick of fire. Exquisite torture.

'Sign,' said
Shani.

'No,' said
Tom, his mind and body in turmoil. When they put the pen in his
hand they couldn't make him grip.

'We'll spend
the night with you,' said Shani. 'You can have us together. We'll
do anything you want.'

A memory
bubble burst in his head: Shani's glistening brown body lying on a
bed, her black hair on a pillow tangled with Tina's blonde tresses,
the sight of Shani strapping a pink dildo to her dark loins, the
pair of them crying out in endless singing climax.

Tom's
resistance broke. He signed. They took the dried gunk from off his
loins, carefully cutting the mould away with a gleaming scalpel. He
lost no blood, just a few hairs, and his cock stood up free,
flaming pink and as stiff as an hour before.

Laughing, they
produced stockings and suspenders and a camera. They put the
underwear on him with some difficulty, and posed him on the sofa.
Tom tried hard to spoil the shots but he was helpless. He couldn't
even remove the vacant grin from his face.

Tina stripped
to her knickers and posed with him in some of the pictures. He
noticed she kept her face out of the frame. Then she took her
panties off and put them on his head. Shani clicked away, with Tina
naked by her side, Tom gazed at the fluffy bush between the
blonde's legs and cursed the pair of them. He was being set up and
he had no control over events at all. On his belly his rock-hard
cock throbbed in torment. They took lots of close-ups.

Then, worst of
all, they ignored him. Tina put her clothes on and Shani cleared
away the plastic sheet and took off her overall and gloves. Tina
disappeared and returned after some time with two mugs of tea. She
did not offer Tom anything. He lay on the sofa with stockings on
his legs and Tina's knickers on his head. She didn't even bother to
retrieve them.'

So they
weren't paying him any attention when he escaped. He'd been aware
that the paralysis of his limbs was coming to an end. He wondered
if he should make a grab for the gun but it was on the table just
by Tina. He didn't think he'd manage to claim it. He wasn't sure he
had the strength to do any more than make a run for it.

He thought
that if he could get into the lift then he'd be whisked down to the
street. Maybe he could raise the security guard from the office
entrance next door in time to apprehend the women when they
followed him. At least that way he'd have a witness. What the hell,
it was worth a try. He didn't really think they'd shoot him.

He ran for it,
springing off the sofa, lunging for the door, stepping out into the
dark. But his bearings were awry and the instructions from his
brain somehow became scrambled. He knew he'd blown it even as he
lurched through the wrong door, onto the balcony and over the
edge.

And now, as he
tumbled through the night air, past the windows of his own office
building, down into the street below - he remembered nothing...

'Oh no,'
wailed Petra as she opened the front door of her flat.

'Oh yes,' said
Kelvin, taking her by the arm and leading into the kitchen. The
table was laid and pans bubbled on the hob. A bottle of rich red
wine stood on the table. Kelvin poured two glasses.

Petra looked
at it all in dismay. Another night - almost any night during the
previous three months in fact - she would have welcomed a domestic
evening with Kelvin. But not tonight, not after the traumas of The
Primrose Court.

'We have to
talk,' said Kelvin, pressing the glass into her hand.

'Yes but not
now. I don't have time. I've got to prepare a defence for Tom
Glass.'

Kelvin beamed
at her, that familiar lop-sided grin suddenly taking her breath
away. It had been a long time since she had seen it.

'That's why we
must talk,' he said. 'I have his defence right here.' And he held
up an audio cassette with a grin of triumph.

The two voices
echoed around the little kitchen. There was a lot of background
hiss but the words they spoke and the sounds they made were plain.
Petra sipped her wine and the rosy encroachment of intoxication was
enhanced by the wonder of Kelvin's revelation.

The first
voice was male, a confident northern foghorn.

'By gum,
Harmony, you're a handsome woman for your age.'

'You're not so
bad yourself, Mr Oates.' The second was female and more refined,
possibly from Edinburgh. Petra sucked in her breath - she knew that
voice all too well.

'You've got
better tits on you than lasses half your age. And your arse isn't
bad either.'

'Do you have
to be so coarse, Bill?'

'I do when I'm
with you, your ladyship. It brings out the gamekeeper in me. Tell
you what, if you let me spunk off between those big knockers of
yours, I'll bung another ten grand into your fighting fund.'

'That's a
disgusting suggestion. I've never heard of such a thing.'

'Come, come,
Harmony, don't tell me your Archie hasn't put his sword in that
scabbard from time to time.'

'What a man
does to his wife is another matter entirely. Besides it's a messy
business.'

'OK, I'll up
the price. Ten grand a tit.'

'Really, Bill
- ooh!'

'You like
that, don't you? My second wife liked having her pussy lips pinched
too. She had long ones like you.'

'Bill, please!
Do stop talking and get on with it, if you insist.'

'Well, I do
insist. And so would you if you had agreed to pay nigh on half a
million for the privilege of not being harassed and put upon by a
crew of silly bitches who want to stop a man running his business
how he chooses. I don't hold with it and well you know it.'

'Bill, don't
get excited.'

'I'll get
excited how I like from now on. I've paid for it and you conniving,
money-grubbing witches from The Petticoat Court or whatever you
call it are not going to stop me!'

A rasping
cough, followed by loud panting and spluttering, interrupted the
dialogue.

'Bill Oates
has got a heart condition and he must be twenty stone,' said
Kelvin. 'He almost flattened me when he got into bed.'

'What do you
mean?' asked Petra.

'I was
underneath. Ssh, now listen.'

'Are you all
right, Bill?'

'Yes, lass,
I'm OK now. Thank God for you, that's what I say. You might come
over as a tight-arsed lesbian like the others but I know
better.'

'Do you now?'
She giggled - Petra found it a disturbing sound - and there was a
silence, interrupted by bumps and slithers, as of bodies moving on
sheets.

'You see,
underneath you're just a horny Scottish cow who likes a big
prick.'