Hot Sheets (35 page)

"That's no way
to speak to my boss!" Trudie objected. "You can't come barging in
here calling people cunts, it's not nice!"

"Shut up, or
you die slow death! Why you have chains there?"

"Because I
can, mate. They're my nipples so I'll..."

"You mad!
English girls all mad! OK, cunt, you come with us. We take you back
to Skythuania and we kill you - slowly!"

"Er... sorry,
but my passport..."

"You no need
passport, cunt."

"Look, can't
we come to some arrangement?" Mike asked shakily, wondering how to
alert Dickwipe. "You can have some sexy fun with the girls."

"Sexy
fun?"

"Yes, you can
fuck them."

"Fuck? What is this
fuck?
"

"Sex, you can
have sex with my girls."

"OK, we have
sex, and then we take you."

"You'd better
come with me, mate," Trudie grinned, slipping the wet candle from
her vaginal sheath. "Come upstairs and we'll fuck."

As Trudie led
the tall man out of the kitchen, Mike watched the other one out of
the corner of his eye. This was bloody marvellous, he thought. With
four clients about to go up to the fourth floor, the last thing he
needed was bloody machine-gun-wielding terrorists occupying the
hotel! "You, cunt - you go with them," the short man ordered Mike,
prodding him with the gun. "We go and watch sex."

Entering the
foyer, Mike thought it odd that the villains should leave Dave
alone in the kitchen. Praying that his chef would have the sense to
call Dickwipe as they took the lift to the top floor, he wondered
why Princess Christina had told her father about her depraved
escapades in England. Perhaps she could save him, he thought,
wondering what Skythuania was like.

Dickwipe was a
fat lot of use, he reflected. Bloody road blocks set up, armed
police hiding in bushes - and terrorists storming the hotel right
under their noses! But that was life, he concluded. Whenever you
want a blue boy, there's never one around!

"This way,
mate," Trudie smiled, leading the men along the hall to room
sixty-nine. "OK, who's going first?" she asked as the men walked
across the room and gazed out of the window.

"What is
this?" the tall man gasped. "It is police!"

Smashing the
window, the trigger-happy terrorists began firing at the road
blocks. As Dickwipe's men returned the fire from the bushes across
the street, Mike and Trudie dashed from the room and made for the
lift. Machine gunfire reverberating throughout the building as they
reached the ground floor, Mike bolted out of the lift, bumping into
the girls and the naked clients.

"Er... all go
back into the dining room," he ordered as calmly as he could,
forcing a smile. "I'll have the main course sent in."

"What's going
on?" Goldie squawked as the front of the hotel was sprayed with
bullets. "Who's shooting at us?"

"It's all
right, there's nothing to worry about," Mike assured her. "All go
into the dining room."

"Nothing to
worry about?" one of the clients gasped, his wet penis deflating as
his libido melted with terror.

"Er... they're
making a film. Go back into the dining room."

"What's
happening, Mike?" Dave called, hiding behind the kitchen door.

"Christ
knows!" Mike yelled as the girls ushered the clients into the
dining room. "You'd better take the steaks through, that'll keep
the clients happy."

"Have the
gangsters gone?"

"No, they're
upstairs. Just keep the clients happy and let me worry about
the..."

As the firing
ceased, Mike wondered whether the terrorists had been shot. Christ,
now the whole bloody world will know about room sixty-nine, he
mused as Dave closed the kitchen door. Rubbing his chin, he decided
to go upstairs and see what had happened.

Reaching the
top floor and noticing that the fire door was open, he was relieved
to discover that the men had left the building by the fire escape.
"Thank God for that!" he breathed, closing and securing the door as
shooting began in the street. Deciding that he'd better check his
prisoner, he opened the hall cupboard and hauled Wendy out.
Removing the wet knickers from her mouth, he led her into the sex
room and stood her before the frame.

"What was the
shooting about?" she asked as he unbuttoned her blouse.

"Terrorists
and Dickwipe," Mike replied, slipping her blouse over her
shoulders, revealing her firm breasts. "It's a good job your lot
were out there or I'd have been taken away and..."

"That's what
they were there for," she enlightened him.

"What, they
knew about..."

"Yes, they
did. We received word that the King of Skythuania was sending his
henchmen here to kill you. His daughter told us."

"His daughter?
So, the road blocks, the armed police, they were..."

"Yes, they
were there for your safety."

"Dickwipe
should have told me!"

"You'd have
panicked."

"Damn right I
would! So, what am I going to do with you? No doubt Dickwipe will
be here shortly and..."

"You'll have
to let me go."

"No, I don't
think so," Mike grinned, tugging her skirt down to her ankles. "You
know far too much, Wendy. I've kidnapped you, I'm running a
high-class brothel, I'm..."

"I won't say
anything."

"Of course you
will! You're a policewoman, it's your duty to say something."

Tying the
flailing blonde to the frame, Mike moved back and surveyed her
naked body, her full rounded breasts. He should never have taken
her prisoner the first time round, he reflected. Screwing the
princess, taking the WPC prisoner and knobbing her, having his
ex-wife stay at the hotel - he'd made one dreadful mistake after
another!

Suddenly
realizing that the four clients would be coming up to the fourth
floor at any time, he left the room, closing and locking the door
behind him. The thing to do next was to go and see Dickwipe and
determine what had happened to the terrorists, he thought as he
entered the lift. At least the hotel wasn't going to be raided!
Thank God for small mercies, he reflected, stepping into the
foyer.

Opening the
main doors as the bell rang, he was stunned to see Gill standing on
the step. "What do you want?" he demanded as the objectionable man
pushed past him. "I thought you'd have been rotting in jail by
now."

"You, Mr Hunt,
are a bastard of the first degree!" Gill stormed. "I thought I was
a right little bastard, but you take the biscuit!"

"Compliments
will get you nowhere," Mike laughed. "My God, you rape women
and..."

"The police
know that I was framed," Gill returned, walking into the bar. "I'm
out on bail at the moment but..."

"Framed? How
do you work that out?" Mike asked, following the snide man. "You
were caught with your cock out, struggling with a naked girl. Would
you like a duty-free vodka?"

"Duty-free?"
Gill echoed, his beady eyes alight.

"Yes, I have
gin, vodka, whisky, cigarettes... all duty-free."

"By your own
admission, Mr Hunt, you're blatantly breaking the law. I shall go
and find a policeman and..."

"I'm not
breaking the law, Mr Gill. This is a private bar in my private
house."

"This is a
hotel. You have a barman and..."

"Paul, this is
Mr Gill," Mike introduced as the barman swayed in his alcoholic
haze, leaning on the bar to steady himself. "This was a hotel, but
it's now my private residence. Drink, Mr Gill?"

"I'll have a
scotch, please."

"Certainly!"
Mike smiled, watching Paul take a glass and pour the whisky
straight from the bottle.

"How much?"
Gill asked as Paul slid the drink across the counter.

"We don't
charge, Mr Gill. As I said, it's a private bar - there's no till,
no money changes hands."

"You think
you're clever, don't you, Mr Hunt? Well, let me tell you that I'm
going to nail you if it's the last thing I do!"

"Ah, Nancy!"
Mike beamed as the naked beauty wandered into the bar. "This is Mr
Gill, he's a rapist."

"A rapist?"
she gasped.

"I am not a
rapist! Why... why are you naked?" the little bastard asked, eyeing
Nancy's long brown milk teats. "Where are your clothes?"

"Why wear
clothes?"

"Well,
because..." His words tailing off as the vision of Cecilia
appeared, her shaved vaginal lips wet and swollen, her inner petals
distended, he turned his glazed gaze back to Mike. "What is this?"
he asked incredulously.

"This is
Cecilia. Mr Gill, why don't you spend some time with one of the
girls? I'm sure you'd like to..."

"A brothel!
That's what this place is, a brothel!"

"No, no it's
not!" Mike laughed. "We're having a private party, having some fun.
Relax on the sofa over there and Cecilia will pleasure you. Nancy
and I will leave you to it. Paul, I'm sure you have something to do
while... oh, he's passed out!" Mike sighed as the young man
crumpled to the floor. "Drunken bastard! We'll see you later, Mr
Gill. Cecilia, will you do the honours?"

"Yes, of
course! Come on, Mr Gill, to the sofa!"

Watching the
naked girls and clients bundle into the lift as he entered the
foyer, Mike waited until they'd safely reached the top floor before
answering the doorbell. "Ah, Inspector Dickwipe. Please, come in,"
he invited as he opened the door.

"Is everyone
all right, Mr Hunt?" Dickwipe asked, walking into the foyer. "I'm
sorry we had to shoot your hotel to pieces. At least we caught the
terrorists."

"It's nothing
that a coat of paint won't put right. I hope you're going to give
those villains a good going over. Bursting in here like that - who
do they think they are?"

"They'll be
dealt with, don't worry. We received word that the King of
Skythuania was sending his henchmen..."

"Yes, I
know."

"How do you
know, Mr Hunt? It was a well-kept secret, you couldn't possibly
have known about it!"

"Er... no, I
meant... come through to the bar, Inspector."

"My God!"
Dickwipe cried as he tailed Mike into the bar. His erect penis
sticking out of his trousers, his hands crudely molesting Cecilia's
naughty bits, Mike followed the inspector's horrified gaze to the
fornicating Gill.

"Christ, he's
at it again!" Mike gasped as Cecilia leapt to her feet. "Cecilia,
are you all right?"

"Er... yes,
I'm fine," the raw beauty replied, her sky-blue eyes mirroring
puzzlement.

"Rape, that's
what it is!" Mike exclaimed, turning back to Dickwipe. "He's a
serial rapist!"

"OK, Gill,
you're coming to the station, and this time there'll be no
bail!"

"No, you've
got it all wrong!" the hijacked weasel protested, concealing his
sharp-shooter in his trousers. "This place is a brothel and..."

"My God, he's
delirious," Mike breathed. "He's mentally insane. I'd have him
thrown in the loony bin if I were you, Inspector."

"Don't you
worry, Mr Hunt, I'll lock him up and throw the key away!" Dickwipe
growled, grabbing the right little bastard and marching him out of
the hotel.

Grinning at
Cecilia, Mike rubbed his hands together, ordering the naked beauty
to fill two glasses with neat vodka. That was the last he'd see of
the weights and measures man, he was sure! Installed at the bar, he
pondered on the remaining problems. Belinda was still on the loose,
and he'd not yet discovered whether she was a private dick or a hit
woman.

Why hadn't
Dickwipe mentioned Wendy Widegroin? he wondered. She must have told
the inspector about the illicit top floor, her imprisonment, the
enforced knobbing. There was something going on, he knew - but
what? Deciding to sexually torture Widegroin as Cecilia passed him
his drink, he thought of shaving her pubic hair off.

"I could cut
her nipples off," he fantasised aloud.

"Cut whose
nipples off?" Cecilia asked, shielding her erect breast buds with
her hands. "Not mine, I hope!"

"No, Wendy
Widegroin's. Cecilia, I have to discover what the hell's going on
in Dickwipe's mind. I don't understand why he's not made a move. I
mean, Widegroin must have told him what I did to her."

"Not
necessarily," the blonde cracker replied pensively. "She might have
come back here to arrest us without the inspector knowing."

"Why would she
do that?"

"Promotion.
Think about it, she'd receive all the praise and..."

"No, I can't
see that she'd risk..."

"Do you have a
better explanation?"

"No, I don't.
If that is the case, then Dickwipe must still believe that she ran
off with Harold Gloom. OK, so Gill's taken care of and we'll assume
that Dickwipe isn't looking for Widegroin - that just leaves
Belinda. By the way, she rang and threatened me. I told her that I
knew what she was up to. Hopefully, she might have fallen for my
bluff and leave me in peace."

"Don't take
anything for granted, Mike. You can't be too careful."

"You're right
there!" he replied, slipping off the barstool and moving to the
window.

The road
blocks had gone, much to his relief. The King of Skythuania would
probably send more thugs to deal with him, but he'd cross that
bridge when he came to it. The immediate problem was WPC Widegroin.
Walking back to the bar, Mike stared in disbelief at Cecilia
sitting on the counter with her legs wide open.

"What the hell
are you doing?" he asked, focusing on a wine bottle emerging
between her swollen cunny lips.

"Oh, God,
that's heavenly!" she gasped, thrusting the bottle in and out of
her bloated cunt. "Ah, ah! Oh, my cunt!"

"Bloody hell,
look at your pussy lips! Christ, they'll split!"

"This is
nothing!" she breathed, pushing the sex-slimed bottle deep into her
inflamed lust duct. "I've managed to push a drainpipe up my fanny
before."