Metropolitan Police to foot the bill.
Or don't you drink while you're on duty?' Pandy was enjoying
herself. Her hand was by now quite at home on Sophie's right thigh,
roaming over the firm bare flesh, probing and squeezing as
pruriently as any male suitor about to effect a boozy
seduction.
'Actually,'
said Sophie, eagerly raising the flute of pink sparkling liquid to
her mouth, 'I only say no when I'm in uniform.'
'I should like
to see you in uniform,' said Pandora, taking the hem of Sophie's
skirt and slowly raising it upwards to her waist. The journalist
studied the exquisite picture thus revealed, of creamy white thigh
flesh and gently curving belly barely concealed by black lace
panties. The bulging mound of Sophie's bush was clearly delineated
beneath the thin material.
'I've always
wanted to look at a policewoman's cunt,' she said.
Sophie
returned her gaze. She was obviously being tested. 'You mean, in a
public place? Like the dining-room of a club dedicated to the
memory of women's suffrage?'
'Quite,' said
Pandora, letting go of her skirt, leaving it bunched around
Sophie's waist.
'It looks like
your lucky day, doesn't it?' said Sophie, pulling the gusset of her
panties to one side and exposing a thatch of auburn pussy curls and
the long crinkly lips of her pink quim. She held her other hand to
Pandora's lips and pushed two fingers into her mouth. 'Lick them,'
she ordered, 'make them nice and wet.'
Sophie lowered
the moistened digits to her cunt and slipped them inside herself,
pushing obscenely in and out, then sliding them to the top of her
crack, splaying them in a vee, revealing her long erect clit to
Pandy's eager gaze. The ripe smell of pussy rose in the air. Pandy
sniffed it in eagerly.
'You're a
little saucebox, aren't you? You must want to see Patsy Fretwork
very badly.'
'I want to see
her husband very badly,' said Sophie, continuing to play with her
clit, the colour rising in her cheeks, her breath already beginning
to shorten.
Pandy removed
her spectacles, then slipped to her knees beneath the table and
positioned herself between Sophie's open legs.
'Won't someone
notice?' said Sophie. 'Or doesn't anybody care what you do in a
place like this?'
But there was
no reply from Pandy. Her mouth was otherwise engaged.
Chapter
18
Billy returned
to his office. There wasn't much point in going home; he knew he
wouldn't be able to rest as planned. Frustration and humiliation
were burning him up. His erection throbbed in his trousers, a
painful reminder of the ignominy he had suffered at the hands of
Candy Kensington. Yet it was an unnatural sort of hard-on,
iron-hard and unrelenting. Something funny was happening to him and
he couldn't work it out. How come he had been so hot for Candy
after an energetic night with a sex queen like Tracy? In other
circumstances he would have been overjoyed at this evidence of his
virility. But now, having suffered the bum's rush from La
Kensington, he was well and truly pissed off.
Suddenly the
phone rang. He had been reconnected - well, that was something. He
snatched up the receiver.
'You blew it,'
announced the ice-cool tones of Katie Crisp. 'Candy's been bending
Imogen's ear for the last half an hour. You're off the pay
roll.'
'Well...'
spluttered Billy, 'what about Tracy and Orlando Verdi, shouldn't
I—?'
'Don't do
anything. It's all covered. And you're out of it. Don't bother to
invoice us, you've been paid enough already.'
'In that case,
Katie,' said Billy swiftly, his tumescent state calling to mind her
perky posterior and milky white thighs, 'now I'm not working for
you, why don't we meet up later for a drink?'
But she had
already rung off, the bitch. He chalked up another insult to be
avenged.
Billy quickly
dialled Tracy's hotel.
'You rat,' was
the first thing she said, 'you didn't tell me you were working for
Imogen.'
'How could I,
Tracy? My job was to build bridges and I've done that, haven't I?
Look, about Orlando Verdi—'
But
Or don't you drink while you're on duty?' Pandy was enjoying
herself. Her hand was by now quite at home on Sophie's right thigh,
roaming over the firm bare flesh, probing and squeezing as
pruriently as any male suitor about to effect a boozy
seduction.
'Actually,'
said Sophie, eagerly raising the flute of pink sparkling liquid to
her mouth, 'I only say no when I'm in uniform.'
'I should like
to see you in uniform,' said Pandora, taking the hem of Sophie's
skirt and slowly raising it upwards to her waist. The journalist
studied the exquisite picture thus revealed, of creamy white thigh
flesh and gently curving belly barely concealed by black lace
panties. The bulging mound of Sophie's bush was clearly delineated
beneath the thin material.
'I've always
wanted to look at a policewoman's cunt,' she said.
Sophie
returned her gaze. She was obviously being tested. 'You mean, in a
public place? Like the dining-room of a club dedicated to the
memory of women's suffrage?'
'Quite,' said
Pandora, letting go of her skirt, leaving it bunched around
Sophie's waist.
'It looks like
your lucky day, doesn't it?' said Sophie, pulling the gusset of her
panties to one side and exposing a thatch of auburn pussy curls and
the long crinkly lips of her pink quim. She held her other hand to
Pandora's lips and pushed two fingers into her mouth. 'Lick them,'
she ordered, 'make them nice and wet.'
Sophie lowered
the moistened digits to her cunt and slipped them inside herself,
pushing obscenely in and out, then sliding them to the top of her
crack, splaying them in a vee, revealing her long erect clit to
Pandy's eager gaze. The ripe smell of pussy rose in the air. Pandy
sniffed it in eagerly.
'You're a
little saucebox, aren't you? You must want to see Patsy Fretwork
very badly.'
'I want to see
her husband very badly,' said Sophie, continuing to play with her
clit, the colour rising in her cheeks, her breath already beginning
to shorten.
Pandy removed
her spectacles, then slipped to her knees beneath the table and
positioned herself between Sophie's open legs.
'Won't someone
notice?' said Sophie. 'Or doesn't anybody care what you do in a
place like this?'
But there was
no reply from Pandy. Her mouth was otherwise engaged.
Chapter
18
Billy returned
to his office. There wasn't much point in going home; he knew he
wouldn't be able to rest as planned. Frustration and humiliation
were burning him up. His erection throbbed in his trousers, a
painful reminder of the ignominy he had suffered at the hands of
Candy Kensington. Yet it was an unnatural sort of hard-on,
iron-hard and unrelenting. Something funny was happening to him and
he couldn't work it out. How come he had been so hot for Candy
after an energetic night with a sex queen like Tracy? In other
circumstances he would have been overjoyed at this evidence of his
virility. But now, having suffered the bum's rush from La
Kensington, he was well and truly pissed off.
Suddenly the
phone rang. He had been reconnected - well, that was something. He
snatched up the receiver.
'You blew it,'
announced the ice-cool tones of Katie Crisp. 'Candy's been bending
Imogen's ear for the last half an hour. You're off the pay
roll.'
'Well...'
spluttered Billy, 'what about Tracy and Orlando Verdi, shouldn't
I—?'
'Don't do
anything. It's all covered. And you're out of it. Don't bother to
invoice us, you've been paid enough already.'
'In that case,
Katie,' said Billy swiftly, his tumescent state calling to mind her
perky posterior and milky white thighs, 'now I'm not working for
you, why don't we meet up later for a drink?'
But she had
already rung off, the bitch. He chalked up another insult to be
avenged.
Billy quickly
dialled Tracy's hotel.
'You rat,' was
the first thing she said, 'you didn't tell me you were working for
Imogen.'
'How could I,
Tracy? My job was to build bridges and I've done that, haven't I?
Look, about Orlando Verdi—'
But
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