Hot Sheets (37 page)

"Stokepot...
er, good evening," he replied, almost forgetting that the place was
no longer a hotel.

"Mr Hunt, it's
me."

"Who the
hell's me? God, I'm not bloody psychic!"

"Miss
Chaste."

"Oh, Miss
Chaste, how are you?"

"I don't know
where I am."

"No, I said
how are you, not where are you."

"I'm in
town."

"In town?"

"Have
you?"

"Have I what,
Miss Chaste?"

"Been into
town?"

"No, I thought
you said that you were in town?"

"I'll be back
soon."

"What,
here?"

"Where?"

"Here, the hotel."
Bloody hell, she's
nuts
.

"Yes, I won't
be long."

"But I
thought..."

"Have I missed
breakfast?"

"Breakfast?
It's the evening! Look, Miss Chaste, you can't come back here."

"Oh, good.
I'll see you soon, then."

"The hotel is
closed."

"Oh, when does
it open?"

"It's no
longer a hotel. You'll have to go back to the loony... to the place
you've been staying at."

"Yes, I'll do
that, Mr Hunt. I'll see you in the morning."

"In the
morning?"

Replacing the
receiver as Miss Chaste hung up, Mike sighed. That was all he
needed! he thought, wondering whether to call Dickwipe. "Mike,
there's no hot water," Dave complained, peering around the kitchen
door.

"Fucking hell!
Use your initiative, use the bloody kettle!"

"The bloody
kettle doesn't work."

"Use cold
bloody water, then! Jesus bloody Christ!"

"Cold bloody
water?"

"Yes, cold
bloody water! You just wait until I get my hands on that fucking
plumber! Christ, I'll set fire to his pubes and fry his cock!"

Grabbing the
ringing phone again, he prayed that it wasn't Miss Chaste. "Yes?"
he bellowed, pressing the receiver to his ear.

"Mike, it's
Belinda."

"What the hell
do you want?"

"I need to
contact Harold Gloom, do you know where he is?"

"Why do you
need to contact him?"

"It's
private."

"Er... he's
staying here."

"Is he? Oh,
well... I'll be over in the morning to see him."

"I'll look
forward to seeing you again, Belinda."

"No funny
stuff, Mike. I just want to see Mr Gloom about... about some
private business. I'll have someone with me, waiting outside for
me, so you needn't think you can lock me up."

"I wouldn't
lock you up, Belinda!"

"You did
before! Anyway, I'll be over in the morning."

A stroke of
luck, Mike mused. If Belinda was Harold's would-be killer, he'd
lock her in room sixty-nine and save the poor sod's life. If she
was a private dick, he'd still lock her in room sixty-nine. Either
way, he'd sexually torture the woman! But did he need these
problems? he wondered. Widegroin and Belinda handcuffed on the top
floor? There was no choice, he decided. Besides, the more pussy the
better.

Bound with
rope to the chair, her ankles cuffed to the legs, Mike watched
Wendy munching scrambled eggs on toast. She was an eminently
attractive woman, he thought, gazing lasciviously at her firm
breasts, her vaginal slit, perfectly displayed by the cut-out in
the seat of the chair. But she was also a horrendous problem.

"You can keep
me here for as long as you like," she said nonchalantly, finishing
her breakfast and pushing the small table away. "But it won't do
you any good because the day will come when I'll escape. Either
that, or Inspector Dickwipe will..."

"There's no
way Prickwipe will discover you," Mike interrupted her, focusing on
her succulent inner lips projecting invitingly from her pussy slit.
"And you won't escape because my barman's screwing the fire
door..."

"Screwing the
fire door? You can't have sexual intercourse with a door!"

"He can have
sexual intercourse with any inanimate object, believe me!"

"But where
would he put his..."

"He's screwing
the door shut. You'll never escape, there are no stairs to this
floor and the lift's operated by a..."

"There's the
window."

"What? You'd
try climbing out of a fourth-floor window? Apart from the fact that
you're naked, you'd probably fall to your death and die!"

"Fall to my
death and die?"

"Yes, or
worse."

"I'd go to
heaven."

"Good God,
perish the thought!"

"One day I'll
get out of here, you'll see," she returned confidently. "Good
always wins over evil."

"Have you
always been good?"

"Yes, of
course!"

"You've sucked
my knob, did you think that was being good?"

"I... you
forced me to do it!"

"Yes, but you
loved it, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't!
Anyway, as I said, the day will come when I get out of here."

She was
probably right, Mike reflected, but he had other problems on his
mind. Urgent problems, such as Belinda's imminent arrival! Walking
across the room, he gazed out of the smashed window, wondering
about his ex-wife, her threats to expose him. Tie the bitch up and
give her a damned good arse fucking? he mused. It was bad enough
having to feed Wendy, lead her to the bathroom and keep an eye on
her. With Belinda imprisoned, too... No, perhaps it wasn't a good
idea!

"Wendy, if I
were to release you..." he began, turning to face her.

"I wouldn't
say anything."

"What about
your job? What would you say to your superiors?"

"I wouldn't go
back to work. The police force isn't for me, I realize that
now."

"The question
is, do I believe you?"

"Only you can
answer that."

He wanted to
believe her. After all, having prisoners on the top floor would
jeopardize his business venture. It had seemed that the phone
hadn't stopped ringing that morning, with six clients already
booking for the evening. The business was booming, the cash pouring
in, and Wendy and Belinda were standing in his way.

"No, I can't
let you go," Mike said decisively. "Thanks to the will of God, and
my girls' wet pussies, for the first time in my life I'm earning
decent money. I have no worries, no problems - other than you. Why
did you come back?"

"Because..."

"Dickwipe
doesn't know you're here, does he?"

Shifting
uneasily on the chair, Wendy concealed her gaping femininity with
her clasped hands. If he was right and Dickwipe didn't know where
she was... Why not allow Dickwipe to have his wicked way with her?
he pondered. No, he didn't want Dickwipe involved. The last thing
he needed was a corrupt copper demanding free sex!

"I've screwed
the door," Paul announced, leaning in the doorway. "I'll go and
make copies of the tape."

"Right," Mike
acknowledged, not really listening to the young man.

"If you give
me your credit card details, I'll place the ads."

"Er... yes, in
the desk drawer."

Gazing out of
the window again, he turned his thoughts to Belinda. He'd have to
tell her that Harold had gone. Whether or not she'd carry out her
threats, he couldn't be sure, but he'd send the woman packing. One
prisoner was more than enough! Turning back to Wendy, he asked her
again why she'd returned to the hotel.

"I told you,"
she replied softly, her inquisitive blue eyes looking up at him. "I
left my shoes here."

"Why should I
believe that you won't say anything about my escapades? You lie
about coming back for your shoes so..."

"All right, I
came back because I wanted my things from my room - my clothes, my
police radio alarm and..."

"Why didn't
you tell Dickwipe about this place, about the top floor?"

"Because I'd
decided to leave the police force. I didn't want to get involved in
prosecuting you, the paperwork, the court case... I'd have been
sitting at my desk forever and a day."

"But you've
been held prisoner, stripped, whipped, fucked... there's no way
you'd walk out of here and keep quiet! You were treated abomin...
abominab... I never could pronounce that word. You were treated
despicably."

"Abominably."

"Exactly.
There's no way you'd keep quiet."

"If that's
what you think, then you'll have to keep me here forever, won't
you?"

Moving to the
chair and pulling her arms behind her back, Mike cuffed her wrists.
He'd decide what to do with her later, he mused, kneeling before
her and focusing on her bulging vaginal lips, her protruding inner
sex folds. There was no point in coming to a hurried and possibly
wrong decision. Slipping three fingers between her parted labia and
deep into her hot vagina, he gently massaged her wet inner
flesh.

"You have a
nice cunt, Wendy," he grinned, his penis stiffening, bulging his
trousers. "A very nice cunt. I wonder whether I could get my fist
up your cunt? Would you like a fist-fuck?"

"Be as crude
as you like, it doesn't bother me," she replied, looking down at
her fleshy pussy lips stretched around his thrusting fingers.

"The whip
bothers you, doesn't it? The thin leather tails lashing your
beautiful bum cheeks until they turn a fire-red, until..."

"Why whip me?
You know why I came back, you know..."

"I like
whipping girls' buttocks, it gives me a sense of power - and a
sense of orgasm! Whipping girls' buttocks gives me a rampant
erection. Anyway, I know something that Dickwipe doesn't know."

"Do you?"

"Yes, I know
where you are."

"Don't be too
sure that he doesn't know where I am."

"If he did,
he'd have been here by now. Christ, he wouldn't add the job of
rescuing you to a list of menial tasks such as making the bloody
tea. Obviously, he hasn't got a clue where you are."

"You're right,
he doesn't know," she finally conceded. "Look, why not let me work
for you? I'm leaving the force so..."

"You don't
think I'll fall for that, do you?"

"Try me. Allow
me to work for you and..."

"Mike, your
ex-wife is here," Trudie announced as she entered the room.

"Shit! OK,
I'll go down," he sighed, slipping his wet fingers out of Wendy's
hot vagina.

"And I'll stay
here and play with our prisoner!" Trudie giggled, kneeling before
the woman as Mike left the room. "God, she's got a nice cunt!"

"Please!"
Wendy cried. "Mike, please! I'm not a lesbian!"

"No, but I
am!" Trudie giggled as Mike left the room.

Emerging from
the lift, Mike smiled at Belinda. Play it cool, he thought, leading
her into the bar. There was no point in riling the bitch. Eyeing
her long legs, he pictured her shaved pussy lips, her beautiful
vaginal slit. She hadn't had the pleasure of the whip, he
reflected. She'd had the leather tails forced deep into her rectal
sheath, but not lashing her firm buttocks!

"Harold's
gone," he said, sitting opposite her at a table.

Her eyes
widened with suspicion. "Gone?" she echoed.

"Yes, he
checked out earlier. You've got nice tits."

"Don't start
that!"

"What did you
want to see Harold about?"

"Er... nothing
of importance."

"I'm surprised
you came back. I'd have thought that after the beautifully
perverted things we did to you, you wouldn't come within a mile of
this place."

"Beautifully
perverted? There's something very wrong with you, Mike."

"Yes, I'm
close to insanity."

"You've always
been close to insanity!"

"How's your
shaved cunt, Belinda? I'll bet it's wet and juicy, ripe for a
damned good..."

"Don't be so
disgusting! I only came back to see Mr Gloom. If you're going to be
crude and..."

"Sorry, but I
have a natural tendency to be crude. Tell me the truth, Belinda,
why did you come back?"

"I've already
told you, I had to see Mr Gloom. As he's not here, I'll be
going."

"I didn't like
your threats, Belinda. I like your tits, but not your threats.
Christ, fancy demanding half my earnings! No, I didn't like your
threats at all."

"Don't worry,
I'm not going to expose you, Mike. Frankly, you're not worth the
trouble."

"The letter in
your bag - was it from Harold or his wife?"

"Er... from
Harold. He... he wanted me to..."

"If it was
from Harold's wife, then you were out to bump him off. It said
something about ending the farce of a marriage - by murder, no
doubt."

"Bump him off?
Murder? Don't be ridiculous!"

"You had a
gun, Belinda. Guns are for bumping people off. Look at the
evidence, it speaks for itself. Harold overheard his wife talking
of his imminent demise over the phone, there's the letter in your
bag, you had a gun..."

"I told you,
I'm a private detective."

"OK, I'll take
you to see Harold. I had to be sure, you see. I didn't want you
shooting the poor sod! As you'll appreciate, the last thing I need
is a homicide in my hotel."

"He is here,
then?"

"Yes, I'll
take you to see him."

Belinda
wouldn't have risked returning to the hotel just to talk to Harold
about his wife's adultery, Mike was sure. His intuition telling him
that she was out to kill the poor man, incredible though it seemed,
he led her to the lift. Taking a gun on an adultery case? No, she'd
only need a gun if she planned to shoot someone. Perhaps she'd got
hold of another one!

"Harold's
staying on the top floor," he imparted as they entered the lift. "I
really do like your tits."

"I hope this
isn't a trick, Mike," Belinda murmured pensively, her green eyes
catching his. "And stop going on about my tits!"