Hot Sheets (34 page)

"Perhaps she
took the video tape?" he murmured, grabbing her handbag and
spilling the contents out over the bed. "Lipstick, hairbrush,
tampon, tissues, nail file, car keys, a letter... a letter?"
Opening the folded paper, he read the neat handwriting. "We've
booked in at Stokepot Towers hotel on the twenty-fifth, as you
suggested. I do hope all goes according to plan as I'd like to look
to the future and put this farce of a marriage behind me."

The letter
unsigned, Mike wondered whether it was from Mrs Gloom or Harold. If
it was from Mrs Gloom, then the implications were incredible -
Belinda was the assassin! If Harold had written it, then Belinda
was a private detective, as she'd claimed, trying to nail the
would-be killer. "There's only one way to find out," Mike muttered,
making his way to Harold's room.

Entering room
eight, he was surprised to discover that Harold had gone. "The plot
thickens!" he breathed, leaving the room. Pausing in the hallway,
he realized the henpecked husband might be in grave danger.
Dickwipe and his bloody raid were the least of his worries now. If
he had knowledge of a murder plot, he ought to say something. But
no, he decided. Belinda wasn't an assassin! She had a gun, but she
wasn't a killer! She must be a private eye. She had to be - didn't
she?

The clients in
the dining room enjoying their starters - and the pretty
waitresses' most appetizing naked bodies - Mike wandered into the
bar and suggested that Cecilia and Nancy strip off. "It's a new and
bloody ingenious idea," he imparted excitedly, smiling as he
watched the colonel's eyes light up. "I want all the women naked
whenever there are clients here. No matter whether you're in the
bar, the foyer, or the dining room, you're to be starkers."

"That's fine
by me!" Cecilia giggled, hurriedly unbuttoning her blouse,
impatient to display her luscious breasts, her sensitive
nipples.

"I'm game,"
Nancy declared, her long black hair veiling her pretty face as she
eagerly kicked her shoes across the room.

"By gad, so am
I!" the colonel chuckled, about to slip his tweed jacket off.
"There's nothing like..."

"No! Er... not
you, Colonel!" Mike interrupted urgently. "Just the women, not the
men."

"Oh, if you
say so, old boy."

Raising his
eyes to the ceiling as he imagined the colonel naked, his
shrivelled cock un-adorning his wrinkled ball bag, Mike shuddered.
That was no way to turn the punters on! he thought, watching the
women unveil their alluring temples. Blimey, if Dickwipe raided the
place now, he ruminated fearfully, following the colonel's wide
eyes feasting on the nude beauties. He'd have a bloody field
day!

"Seeing as I'm
number one client," Buckshot muttered, adjusting his bulging
crotch, "may I have a little fun?"

"Er... later,
Colonel," Mike smiled. "We have four clients in the dining room so
the women will be pretty busy for a while."

"I wouldn't
mind having some fun, too," Paul interrupted, helping himself to a
large vodka.

"No one's
having any bloody fun, apart from the clients!" Mike asserted. "And
write that drink down on your bloody tab!"

Disappointed
and rejected, the colonel leaned on the bar and sipped his drink.
The poor old sod could probably do with servicing, Mike ruminated,
but there was no time for that now. He would have his share of
fanny later, at a discounted price. No, full price.

Ordering the
naked women to go into the dining room and help the waitresses
entertain the clients, he walked over to the window and pulled the
curtain aside. Gazing through the glass, he could clearly see the
road blocks, the rows of red lights trailed across the street.
Dickwipe and his colleagues didn't seem to be watching the hotel,
so perhaps they were on some other business, although he very much
doubted it.

"I'm going to
my room, old man," the colonel announced, finishing his drink and
sliding off the barstool.

"Oh, so
early?" Mike asked, surprised.

"Er... yes,
there's something I want to watch on television."

"All right,
I'll see you later."

Wondering why
the randy old sod had chosen to watch TV when there were naked
women crawling all over the hotel, Mike frowned. "Er... Colonel,"
he called, a perverse thought coming to him as the man neared the
door. "You're not going to watch a video by any chance?"

"Er... yes, as
it happens, I am."

"What's it
about?"

"Well... I
really can't remember. Wildlife, I think. Yes, that's it - the wild
beasts of the African plains."

"Would you be good enough to put the tape back into my video
recorder when you've watched the
wildlife?
"

"Oh, er...
yes, right you are."

At least that
was the problem of the missing tape solved! Mike thought as the
flushed-faced man scurried out of the bar. Dirty old sod! Deciding
to check the sex rooms before the punters retired to the fourth
floor for their night of rampant filth, he made his way to the
lift. He didn't want any hitches - everything had to run as smooth
as clockwork.

Walking down
the hall, he peered into each sex room to evaluate Paul's handiwork
- the beds, leather straps, spanking frames... Four clients, eight
hundred pounds! Entering the original room sixty-nine, he froze,
staring wide-eyed at Wendy Widegroin.

"Jesus
Christ!" he gasped. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh!" the
ravishing policewoman cried, turning to face him, her angelic face
reddening, her mouth hanging open. "I... I was just..."

"Just bloody
what?"

"Er... I came
to collect something. I left my..."

"You came back
to gather evidence, didn't you?"

"No, I forgot
to take my... my shoes."

"No, you
didn't."

"Yes, I
did!"

"Don't argue!
Why isn't Prickwipe here?" Mike demanded, closing and locking the
door.

"Inspector
Dickwipe is... I'm not at liberty to discuss confidential police
business."

"But I am at
liberty to take liberties with you, WPC Widegroin. Strip off!"

Watching the
terrified woman tentatively unbutton her blouse, Mike wondered why
she'd returned. The plot was more than thickening, it was bloody
well solidifying! But nothing made sense - the road block,
Widegroin returning, Harold Gloom disappearing, Belinda... Belinda
was the most puzzling, he mused - no one else had stormed into the
room wielding a gun!

"Why did you
come back?" Mike asked as Wendy slipped her white silk blouse off
her shoulders, exposing her naked breasts, her erect nipples. "And
what's the road block all about?"

"I can't tell
you," she replied softly, her long blonde hair cascading over her
pert breasts as she hung her head.

"I'll force
you to tell me, Wendy. I have instruments of sexual torture."

"Instruments
of..."

"I have a
special bamboo cane, thin and very flexible. It's for thrashing a
certain naughty part of the female body - the vaginal lips. Oh, and
I now have some other interesting sexual equipment. My barman has
created a fascinating machine, a copulating machine. It fucks women
mechanically, their fannies and their arseholes simultaneously. We
also have nipple clamps and..."

"Please, I'm
under oath."

"You'll be
under my pubic growth in a minute! Anyway, I know something that
you don't."

"What?"

"This is no
longer a hotel. I'm free of most of the problems I had, apart from
you and Prickwipe."

"No longer a
hotel? But..."

"Stuff that up
your fanny and fuck it, Miss clever clogs! Do the road blocks have
anything to do with me?"

"I
can't..."

"OK, have it
your way. I'm going to push my tongue up your wet cunt, and up your
delicious bottom-hole. I'm going to wank over your face and come in
your mouth. Oh yes, Miss Widelegs, I'm going to have some real fun
with you! Now, strip off!"

"But..."

"I might
consider roughing you up unless you do as you're told!"

"You can't do
that, I'm a woman!"

"Well, I might
rough your bum up a bit - give you a good spanking."

He'd get the
truth out of the woman if it was the last thing he did, he promised
himself. Again placing himself in Dickwipe's shoes, he came up with
a theory. The cops were planning to storm the hotel and Widegroin
had obviously returned to be stripped and sexually tortured to
worsen his situation. It was one thing being busted for pimping,
but another to be arrested for kidnapping and raping a policewoman!
Good filthy fun though it was!

"Get dressed!"
he ordered the perplexed WPC. "I know what your game is!"

"Game?" she
echoed, slipping into her blouse and veiling her succulent milk
teats. "I'm not on the game!"

"Huh, you lot
think I'm daft - well, I'm not! OK, you're going into the
cupboard!" he bellowed, twirling her round and pulling her arms
behind her back.

"Into the
cupboard?"

"Yes, the
broom cupboard."

"But I'm
claustrophobic!"

"Good! In that
case, you'll find it therapeutic."

Grabbing a
pair of handcuffs from the bed, Mike secured her slender wrists.
With Widegroin's arrival, he was positive that Dickwipe was about
to raid the hotel. But the only way to the top floor was by the
fire escape. Jam the fire door shut, and that would be that! And
with Widegroin bound and gagged in the hall cupboard, hopefully,
the raid would fail miserably.

"OK," Mike
grinned, grabbing a pair of girl-wet panties from the floor and
stuffing them into his prisoner's pretty mouth. Who the hell do
they belong to? Opening the door and marching the woman into the
hall, he bundled her into the cupboard. "That'll keep you quiet!
And don't masturbate, I've banned masturbating in cupboards!" he
laughed, closing and locking the door as she sat on a cardboard
box.

The situation
was getting out of hand, Mike decided, wondering whether to tell
Dickwipe about Harold Gloom's possible imminent demise. At least
Belinda hadn't got the gun, he reflected. Her and her bloody
demands! She'd grass him up, he was sure. After all he'd put her
through, she'd see him banged up for years! Unless he could trick
her into returning to the hotel. Take her prisoner and... Christ,
and what?

Grabbing a
length of rope from the sex room, Mike walked to the fire door,
noticing that it had been left open. Lashing the rope to the handle
and tying the other end to a radiator, he rubbed his hands
together. "That'll keep the bastards out!" he breathed, realizing
that the door had deliberately been left ajar in preparation for
the raid. "Fuck the fire regulations!"

But now what?
he wondered. The clients would be finishing their meals soon and
bundle into the lift, eager to get to the sex rooms - to the girls'
wet cunts. Dickwipe, no doubt, was biding his time, waiting until
Wendy was naked and bound to the frame and the punters were fucking
the naked girls' pussies. Bloody coppers! he mused.

Making his way
back to the foyer, Mike entered the kitchen to see how the meals
were faring. "No problem," Dave grinned, turning the sizzling
steaks.

"Christ,
they're fucking huge! I ought to kick you in the bollocks for
mismanaging my bloody money! How much were they?"

"Er... not a
lot."

"Come on, how
much? That reminds me, you still owe me for the new cooker."

"A couple of
quid each, that's all they cost."

"A couple of
quid? But they're at least sixteen ounces, Dave!"

"Yes, well,
they're not exactly beef."

"Not
exactly?"

"They're a
sort of blend of..."

The backdoor
bursting open, Mike froze as two men leapt into the kitchen
wielding machine guns. They weren't Dickwipe's men, that was for
sure! he thought, gazing at their deep-set dark eyes peering
through holes in their balaclavas.

"Where is
cunt?" the tall one yelled in a foreign accent, pointing his gun at
Dave. "We want cunt!"

"You want
cunt?" Dave echoed, raising his hands above his head. "I don't have
a cunt!"

"We want cunt!
You give us cunt!"

"You want
girls?" Mike asked, backing towards the door.

"Girls?"

"Yes, you
know, females with cunts."

"The man, Mike
Cunt, we come for him."

Blimey!
"Er... that's me," Mike
grinned nervously. "I'm Mike Cunt... I mean, Hunt."

"Ah, so you
cunt, eh?"

"Yes, me
Hunt."

"You touch
daughter of our King!"

"No, no I
didn't touch her! Well, not exactly. You see, what happened
was..."

"Shut up! We
come for you, we kill you."

"Kill me? You
can't do that!"

"Why? Why we
not kill you?"

"Well, it's
not the done thing. When in England, do as the English..."

"We here in
England to take cunt!"

As Trudie
jangled into the kitchen with chains hanging from her erect nipples
and a huge candle emerging from her vaginal crack, she stared in
horror at the men and gasped. Lowering their guns, the villains
gazed in disbelief at the naked beauty, her gaping vaginal slit,
her painfully distended nipples.

"What is
this?" the shorter man asked, glancing at Mike.

"Er... this is
girl."

"Girl,
eh?"

"Yes, and
that's her cunt," Dave broke in, pointing at the huge candle
emerging from Trudie's dripping sex slit.

"Why she have
no clothes?" the other man asked.

"It's an old
English custom," Mike smiled. "We have more cunts... I mean, naked
girls. Would you like..."

"Shut up! We
come for you, cunt!"