Hot Sheets (6 page)

"I'll go home,
eventually. I just need a break, a rest from it all."

"What made you
choose my hotel?"

"I took the
first train that came along and ended up here, in Norwich."

"Well, I'm
glad you came... came here, I mean."

"I see you're
in the local paper."

"Jesus... er,
mistaken identity. By the way, where's Trudie?"

"She's just
coming down. She's a lovely girl, isn't she?"

"Yes, yes she
is."

"She seems to
like baking potatoes."

"Does
she?"

"Don't you
know about that?"

"It's funny
you should mention potatoes because my chef was going on about...
oh, how rude of me! Would you like a drink?"

"Thank you,
neat vodka, please."

"Goldie!" Mike
yelled towards the bar. "Get your arse into gear and bring a large
neat vodka over for the... for Elizabeth, please!"

"There isn't
any vodka," the girl replied, pushing the colonel's groping hand
away from her firm breast. "And the gin's low."

"Then go
downstairs and get some! There's some duty-free... I mean, there's
a case in the cellar. God, you just can't get the staff!" he gasped
exasperatedly, smiling at Elizabeth.

"I like your
hotel, Mike," she breathed huskily, reaching beneath the table and
gripping his knee. "The service is very different."

"The service
is different, all right!" he laughed, his cock stiffening as the
slender royal fingers crept up his inner thigh. "Er... look, I have
things to do," he apologised, rising to his feet as loud groaning
noises emanated from behind the sofa.

"Yes, me too.
I'm going out to buy a couple of things after I've had my
drink."

"OK, I'll see
you later."

"I'll look
forward to it!" she beamed, her dark eyes sparkling with lust.
"I'll look forward to it very much!"

"So will
I!"

Dragging Paul
out from behind the sofa and hauling him to his feet, Mike marched
him through the door into the foyer and seated him at reception.
"Christ, you are a fucking pisshead, Paul!" he snapped angrily. "We
have a princess staying here, and you're out of your skull!"

"Sorry, Mike,
I... oh, my head!"

"Your hair's
all over the place and you look as if you haven't shaved for a
bloody week!"

"It was the
orphanage, they didn't teach me right from wrong."

"I thought you
came from a decent family?"

"I did, but my
mother couldn't cope with me. She took to caning her naked
buttocks."

"Caning her
naked buttocks?"

"Yes, in way
of punishment for what she saw as her dreadful failing as a mother.
Things went from bad to worse and she forced me to cane her naked
buttocks. I ended up in the orphanage when she disowned me -
pretended to social services that she'd never seen me before in her
life."

"Well, I can't
help your sad upbringing. Speak to a man of the cloth about it.
Look, there's work to be done, you'd better sober up. God only
knows why I employ you, you must cost me a bloody fortune in
booze!"

"I write all
my drinks down on my tab."

"Yes, but I
never see the tabs! Right, I'm going to check out room
sixty-nine."

"I've cleared
everything except the bed, as you asked."

"Good. I want
that room up and running ASAP. When you're in a fit state, come up
and I'll tell you what I want done. And bring my tools up from the
basement."

Midway across
the foyer, Mike stopped to hurl a verbal missile towards the
kitchen door. "Dave!" he yelled. "Dave, you incompetent prick,
where the bloody hell are you!"

"I'm here,"
the chef replied, peering round the door. "What's the matter?"

"As usual,
everything's the matter! A large mug of black coffee for Paul,
minus a shot of scotch! And remind me to kick you in the bollocks
later."

"Will do."

Climbing the
stairs, Mike rubbed his hands together gleefully as he entered room
sixty-nine. Making his plans, he decided to fit a new lock on the
door. Don't want Miss Chaste wandering in here, he thought,
imagining the old bag walking in on a lesbian spanking session.
Leather straps, he contemplated, gazing at the double bed. Chains
fixed to the walls, vibrators...

Realizing that
the punters would demand really gratuitous sex if they were going
to patronise his new business venture regularly, he thought of
constructing a sexual torture chamber. Think filthy, he mused,
picturing Trudie's naked body hanging upside down from chains fixed
to her ankles, her vaginal crack gaping, a cucumber protruding from
her abused bottom-hole.

"Ah, Trudie,
you little nympho - talk of the Devil!" he beamed as the girl
skipped into the room, tugging her microskirt down to conceal her
crimsoned pussy lips, her irrigating sex fissure. "Or, I should
say, the Devil's daughter! Welcome to my new business venture, room
sixty-nine."

"Sixty-nine?
But this is room..."

"By the way,
you've licked a real princess's cunt, tasted royal custard."

"Yes, I know,
we had a long chat after you'd gone."

"Show me your
cunt."

"Mike! You are
awful!" Trudie giggled, lifting her skirt and exposing her swollen
girl lips, her gaping sex valley. "What's all this about room
sixty-nine, and where's the furniture gone?"

"This, Trudie,
is going to be the sex room - room sixty-nine," Mike grinned,
focusing on the globules of sex sap clinging to her protruding
inner petals. "God, I could do with some casual sex! You can oblige
me later. OK, you said that you have lots of sex equipment, leather
straps, vibrators and..."

"Yes, I have.
May I pull my skirt down now, mate?"

"Yes, I'll
fuck you later for your insubordination."

"I haven't
been insubordinate!"

"That's
irrelevant. Right, go and get your sex gear and I'll plan the
transformation. Within a few hours, this room, a mundane hotel
room, will become a ten-star sexual torture chamber!"

"I'm not going
to be sexually tortured, mate," the girl gasped, clinging to her
breasts as if to protect them. "I had enough of that at school. The
gym mistress used to..."

"You'll do as
you're told or I'll sexually torture you without further delay. And
stop calling me mate. Go and get the equipment."

Realizing that he could only cater for one client at a time,
Mike rubbed his chin pensively. What would happen if six men all
wanted the services of the girls on the same evening, he had no
idea. To have only one man served by naked waitresses followed by a
night of intense lust wouldn't be financially viable. Why just
weekend breaks? he pondered.
Any night of
the week will do!

"Ah, Paul,
how's the head?" he enquired as the barman staggered into the room
with the tool bag.

"Aching like
hell!"

"I'm not
surprised! You are a fucking pisshead! Remind me to sack you later.
OK, what I want you to do is transform this room into a sex den.
Steel rings in the walls for handcuffs and chains, leather straps
fixed to the bed for restraining the girls, some kind of wooden
construction for naked buttock spanking..."

"Hang on, I
can't keep up with you! A wooden construction for naked buttock
spanking?"

"Yes, a padded
wooden frame or whatever for tying a girl over so that her bum is
positioned for a good thrashing - or an anal fucking. Just use your
imagination, Paul. Think dirty and you'll come up with something
dirty. Think of the most imaginative things you'd like to do to a
girl and construct the equipment you'd need to fulfil your
fantasy."

"Yes, OK. God,
I need a drink!" Paul gasped, manipulating his penis through his
trousers. "A quadruple vodka would go down nicely. You know, hair
of the dog."

"You'll have
hair of my balls in a minute! Have you still got an elastic band
round your cock?"

"Yes, I'd
better take it off - I think my foreskin's rolled over my knob and
covered the elastic band."

"Christ,
you're weird!"

"Talk about
the pot calling the kettle black! Or the knob calling the fanny
pink!"

"Yes, well...
OK, get on with it and I'll be up later to see how it's going. You
are what you think you are - think dirty and you'll be dirty!"

Leaping downstairs, his mind brimming with obscene ideas for
his sexual torture chamber, Mike wondered whether to turn the
entire hotel into a brothel. It would certainly solve the problems
the department of environmental health were causing him! he
reflected as he grabbed the phone ringing at reception.
Officious bastards!

"Good
afternoon, Stokepot Towers," he ventured wearily, flopping into the
chair.

"Do you have a
functions room?" a woman asked.

I have a sex room!
"Yes, I do. Is it a
wedding or..."

"No,
it's..."

"A wake?
There's nothing like a tragic death in the family to bring everyone
together for a good piss up!"

"Yoga."

"Yoga?"

"Yes, for our
yoga class. We used to meet at the scouts' hut but they've pulled
it down."

"The scouts
pulled their hut down?"

"No, the
council."

"Fucking
fascist bastards! Er... sorry."

"I run a local
feminist group and I'm looking for a fair-sized room for our weekly
yoga classes - there are twelve of us in all."

"Feminist
group?"

"Yes, we're
The Splash Bay Women's Association Against Men."

"Why are you
against men?"

"They're all
chauvinistic, oversexed, lying bastards."

"Oh, thank you
- thank you very much!"

"Don't take it
personally. So, about the functions room."

Fucking lesbian!
"Yes, I can help you
out there."
Christ, leotards, the lotus
position, gaping cracks
.

"Oh, good,
I'll come in and have a look. Can you give me a rough idea of the
cost? We'll only need the room for a couple of hours each
week."

"I'll work
something out for you. What's the average age of your girls?"

"The average
age? Your mind's not riddled with disgusting sexual thoughts, is
it?"

Damned right it is
. "I need to know
for insurance purposes."
For sexual
purposes
.

"Oh, I see.
Well, about twenty, I suppose."

Perfect!
"Right you are. What name is
it?"

"Miss
Cleft."

Miss cunt cleft
. "OK, Miss Cleft. I'm
here most of the time, I'll look forward to meeting you."
And your band of leotard-clad
birds
.

"Is there
anywhere the girls can change?"

Yes, in my bedroom
. "There's a room
next to the functions room, they can use that."

"Excellent!
Long live women! I'll be seeing you."

"Long live...
yes, right."

Replacing the receiver, Mike decided to persuade Trudie to
attend the yoga classes. I'd love to watch her curl up and lick her
own cunt out, he thought wickedly, picturing the girl with her head
between her thighs, her tongue lapping at her open sex hole.
I might even join myself - I could suck my knob,
give myself a blow-job
. "Splash Bay Women's
Association Against Men, my arse!"

"Good
afternoon," he smiled, rising to his feet as an attractive
middle-aged woman approached the desk. "How can I help you?"

"This is
somewhat complicated," the woman began, her green eyes focused on
Mike as she leaned on the desk.

"There's only
one thing in life that's not complicated, and women complicate it!"
Mike muttered under his breath.

"I'm
sorry?"

"Why, what
have you done?"

"I didn't hear
what you said."

"I didn't say
anything."

"Oh. Look, my
husband plans to commit adultery with a filthy young slut."

"Does he? Er..."
Lucky sod!

"He's going to
bring the repugnant little tart here."

"And you want
me to turn them away, is that it?"

"No, give them
a room."

"But..."

"Haven't I
seen you in the local paper?"

"No, you have
not!"

"Oh, the
likeness is amazing! Anyway, I overheard my husband talking to the
vile little strumpet on the phone. He plans to spend a night here
with the slag, adulterous pig that he is!"

"So, what do you want me to do?"
Give
you one up your arse by way of compensation?

"Let me into
his room so that I can catch him in his debauched act."

"Well, I
really don't know whether..."

"I'll have
witnesses with me, and a camera. Don't worry, there won't be a
scene. All I plan to do is catch him, take a few photographs, and
leave."

"Well, it's
somewhat unethical but I suppose it'll be all right. When's this
adulterous act planned for, do you know?"

"No, I don't -
I'll ring you when I find out. I really can't believe it! We've
been married for twenty-eight years, and this is what he does to
me!" the distraught woman sobbed, tears forming in her eyes.
"Twenty-eight years I've given him, body and soul, man and
boy!"

"Man and
boy?"

"Woman and
girl! How could he do this to me?" she wailed hysterically.

"Christ! Er...
please, don't cry."

"I've never
turned my back on him in bed; I've always gone along with his every
perverted whim!"

"Please!"

"I've even
lowered myself to the role of filthy common slut and allowed him to
bugger me!"

"Please, keep
your voice down!" Mike whispered urgently. "We have elderly
spinsters staying here, you'll give them heart attacks! Go home and
give me a ring the minute you find out when he plans to..."