Lust Under Licence (9 page)

Immediately
following Tom's accident, the Metropolitan Police had invaded the
penthouse, searching for clues to Tom's mysterious fall. They had
soon been replaced by Claire Quartermain and her shell suited goons
who had not confined themselves to the top floor.

'This a
special trip to see you,' said Claire, making herself comfortable
on the sofa. She kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the
low table in front of her, pushing aside a pile of computer
print-outs in the process.

The sight
infuriated Petra, as did the memory of what Quartermain had
supposedly said about her to Tom. She decided to seize the
initiative.

'I take it
you've come to apologise, Inspector, for making indelicate remarks
about me to Mr Glass.'

'Oh dear, did
I? What did I say?'

'I cannot
repeat it, Inspector, but it was highly personal and deeply
insulting. In the circumstances I must ask you to state your
business and leave at once.'

Claire
appeared not to hear.

'It's strange
but I can't remember what I said about you, Ms Rosewater.'

'You said she
had a cunt that tasted like spun sugar, guv,' offered her companion
with a smirk.

'But that's a
compliment, my dear! Or is it not true? Thank you, Sergeant Tooth.
She has a good memory for these things,' she added
confidentially.

'Get out!'
shouted Petra. 'Leave my office instantly, you fascist
bitches!'

The moment the
words were out of her mouth Petra knew she had made a mistake. Not
that she cared, for the adrenaline was pumping.

'Amy,' said
Quartermain in a tone of weary resignation and suddenly Petra found
herself pinioned from the rear, her arms twisted up behind her in a
grip of steel.

Petra's shout
of protest was cut off by a gloved hand that was clamped to her
mouth.

The inspector
rose slowly to her feet, taking her time to put her shoes back on
and smooth down her skirt. She took a position directly in front of
the immobilised Petra.

'Oh dear,' she
said, 'I was hoping we could have a civilised conversation and now
look what you've done. However, it does give me the chance to
satisfy my curiosity...'

As Petra
became aware that the policewoman was undoing the buttons of her
blouse she tried to struggle free, twisting her body and stamping
her feet. But Amy Tooth had a hold like a vice.

'You're very
pretty when you're angry,' observed Quartermain, pulling the shirt
wide open and flipping the cups of Petra's white lacy bra above her
breasts. 'My, my, what have we here? Oh such adorable brown
nipples! That's right, shake those pretty titties - what a sight
you make! I bet your Tom just creams his pinstripes whenever he
looks across the boardroom table and imagines these little beauties
in his face. Would you mind terribly if—'

And the
inspector bowed her head to take a nipple in her mouth, first one
then the other, rolling them between her lips, palpating the meat
of the breast as she did so. She did it gently, knowingly, then
more forcefully.

'Why, Amy,
would you believe her nipples are erect? I think she must like
me.'

A muffled
squeal of fury escaped from Petra's captive mouth but the
policewoman ignored it. She unzipped Petra's skirt as she mouthed
her breasts and let it fall to the floor.

'I mustn't
forget what I came here for,' she said, now pinching the hard
kernels of Petra's nipples between her fingers. 'I was going to
tell you politely, Ms Rosewater, but there doesn't seem much point.
Get off Madeleine Flint's back. Leave Glass where he is. Don't make
waves. All right?'

Claire's eyes
were drilling into Petra's, expecting some kind of response. She
nodded her head as best she could. This was probably the most
humiliating experience of her life.

'Good,' said
the policewoman, 'and now we've got the business out of the way I
think I'd better check one more thing.'

The moment
Petra felt the woman's hand on her hip she knew what she was going
to do. She collapsed at the knees but Amy Tooth held her up as
Quartermain stripped her panties down her thighs.

'I knew you'd
have a pretty one,' came the awful sound of the inspector's voice
as she slithered down Petra's exposed and defenceless body. 'Such a
neat little muff, such gorgeous black hair. Do you trim it
yourself? Or do you ask your lovers? You must have lots of
lovers.'

The voice
ceased its sly catalogue of degradation for a moment and Petra
found herself holding her breath.

She felt the
heat of Quartermain's mouth before it closed on her exposed vulva.
And then a gentle, insistent exploration of her sex with lips and
tongue and probing fingers. She tried to press her thighs together
and repel the invader but the sergeant's leg was planted between
hers from the rear, holding her open.

'Oh!' The
voice was her own but she scarcely recognised it as it escaped her
lips. She realised her mouth was no longer restrained, she could
shout for help if she wanted to. 'Oh God,' she heard herself say
softly, 'don't do that to me...'

'She's got a
wicked mouth has Inspector Quartermain,' whispered Amy Tooth's
voice in Petra's ear as her pelvis went into spasm on the insidious
probing of Claire Quartermain's tongue.

Amy began to
toy with her naked hanging breasts and Petra's hands, now free,
clutched at Claire's silky brown hair, pulling her face into the
fork of her body.

'I hate you,'
she murmured. 'You loathsome perverted lesbian bitches. Oh, God,
you're going to make me come!'

And then she
began to sob silently, bracing herself against the woman behind
her, her legs apart as Inspector Claire Quartermain did things to
her vagina with her mouth that robbed her of her sense of self.

Afterwards
they buttoned Petra's blouse and laid her on the sofa almost
tenderly. She lay as if in a trance, her naked legs spread
carelessly.

Amy Tooth
surveyed the jewel between her thighs with a mischievous glint in
her eye.

'Well, guv,
what's the verdict? Sweet, is she?'

Claire
grinned, her lips swollen and wet. 'Pure candy floss,' she
replied.

Tom woke from
his dreams in the thick heat of the late afternoon. His head was
leaden and his throat was parched. Eve Biscuit poured him a glass
of water and he drained it in one.

'Why are you
always here when I wake up?' he said. 'I'm out of danger now, Eve.
You can go and save lives elsewhere.'

'I've got to
keep an eye on you, Mr Glass,' she replied. 'Dr Flint's
orders.'

Tom grunted.
His headache intensified as he registered the ever-present thump of
rock music from the next room. 'What is that bloody awful racket?
It never stops.'

'That's our
other celebrity patient. Luke Hailsham. He has that music on all
the time.'

'Who?'

'You know.
From Half Cut.'

'Is that a pop
group?'

'Of course it
is, Mr Glass. Everybody knows Luke Hailsham. He's in to have his
vasectomy reversed. Now his wife's gone off with the kids he wants
to have another lot with his new girlfriend. He says he knows you.
He used to record for your record label.'

'Oh.'

'You don't
remember much, do you, Mr Glass?'

'Some things,
Eve, are coming back to me with crystal clarity...'

The group took
him back to the flat they shared by the river. It was a large space
over an old warehouse and they had the place to themselves.

'It's great,'
said the drummer, whose name was Patty. 'We can make as much noise
as we like.'

'And we can do
what we fucking well like, too,' said Ange, the keyboard player,
producing an enormous spliff.

'And what we
like to do is fuck!' shouted Patty.

'Don't listen
to them, they're all talk,' said Sam the lead guitarist and took
hold of Tom's hand.

Shani and
Christina had melted away into the darkness and it dawned on Tom
that this was the real test of his ability. An initiation test
alone in the dark with three smashed and randy musicians.

Sam led him to
a far corner of the room. Mattresses had been laid out side by side
beneath an enormous window. The stars were bright in an inky black
sky and, below, the river lapped against the barges and houseboats
moored on the dock.

'This is
incredible,' said Tom.

'We lie here
at night and get stoned,' Sam murmured. 'We take our clothes off
and let the river breeze blow over us. On hot nights like this it's
the coolest place in the city.'

She tugged him
down to the mattress. He wasn't sure how she had managed it but she
was already naked, her limbs glowing pale in the half light. Quick
fingers unbuttoned his shirt.

She made him
kneel up to get his trousers off and she slipped her hot lips over
his cock the moment it was free. Her mouth was small and tight and
his tool stuck halfway into her face. She sucked on it happily, one
hand on his shaft, the other clutching his arse.

He watched the
bobbing spikes of her hair and thought it was strange that she was
mouthing his cock when she hadn't even kissed his lips.

There was a
rustling behind him and he turned to see Ange and Patty by the bed.
Ange was naked, puffing on the joint, a dark mass of hair in the
delta of her crotch. Patty was pulling a thin slip over her head,
her little breasts jiggling as she did so.

Tom felt
somehow disconnected from his body. A woman he didn't know was
lying naked between his legs, giving him the most intimate caress
imaginable. And two others, it seemed, were lined up for their
turn, nude and willing. He looked down the graceful bow of Sam's
spine to the flaring white curve of her buttocks and ejaculated
down her throat.

Sam drank his
seed down then lifted her head.

'Where's that
joint?' she said and Ange placed the cigarette to her sticky lips.
She inhaled and held it in. Then she hooked an arm round Tom's neck
and kissed him, blowing the smoke deep into his lungs. He rolled
back onto the bed, his head in a spin.

The others
were on him then. Ange knelt over his head pushing the soft curls
of her quim into his face. He buried his hands in the firm flesh of
her buttocks and, as his tongue found the satiny lips of her pussy,
other hands completed the removal of his trousers.

Tom had never
partied quite like this before. Not with the dope. Not with three
brazen women hungry for his body. Not - as he was later to realise
- when a few million pounds and a record company were at stake.

He brought
Ange off in seconds it seemed and reached for Patty. He humped her
on her back with his tongue down her throat and a finger on her
clit. She seemed to like it. He made sure he didn't come.

He had Sam and
Ange kneel on all fours in front of him. He smacked their jutting
white bum cheeks with his rock-hard tool and also with his hands.
He put his cock into Sam and then into Ange. He compared the
velvety handshake of each pussy and toyed with their slick-wet lips
and the firm buds of their clits. Then he rode Ange to a climax,
pulling and clutching her big hanging breasts as he did so.

Sam complained
as he lay on his back, catching his breath. 'I wanted you to come
inside me. Why did you choose her?'

'Because I'm
saving you up,' he heard himself say. 'I'm going to bugger your
arse in a minute.'

And he did,
stretching the elastic hole of her anus with his big penis, working
himself in and out between her smooth white buttocks, while
diddling her gaping pussy with his fingers until she howled her
orgasm into the cradling arms of one of the others.

They did
everything he wanted them to, everything he could think of. They
kissed and sucked each other, mashing their tits and pussies
together at his whim, sixty-nining in a chain, bringing themselves
off tongue to quim, nipple to clit, just as he directed. He felt
like a pasha in a harem. And all the time he wondered whether Shani
of the midnight black eyes was out there in the darkness, watching
and judging.

She appeared
in the morning, bringing a mug of coffee to him as he lay on
rumpled semen-stained sheets in the harsh light of day. There was
no sign of his companions of the night.

'OK,' she
said, 'we agree to give it a try. We know you know nothing but
that's no different to the other managers we've had. At least you
don't pretend you do.'

They shook
hands.

'From now on,
it's business,' said Shani. 'Last night was a one-off. You're never
gonna screw my girls again. Agreed?'

Tom
agreed.

'And in
particular you won't try anything with Tina. Right?'

'Right.' What
choice did he have?

Tom was
feverish when he woke. It was evening now but still hot and humid.
Though he had slept for most of the day he was exhausted.

Nurse
Biscuit's eyes were big blue pools of concern.

'Christ, Eve,
I'm having some weird dreams. It's like my life is being played
back to me. I'd forgotten about those three.'

'Those three
who?'

'The Shagbags.
A group - you won't remember them. I'd forgotten some of the crazy
things we got up to.'

'Such as?'

'I can't tell
you.'

'Oh, like
that, was it? Go on, I'm not a virgin, you know.' She leaned
forward and took his hand. The blouse of her tunic gaped just as it
had the moment he regained consciousness the day before. He looked
with longing at the upper slopes of her milky white breasts, his
mind and loins still afire from his memories.

She placed his
hand in the neck of her shirt and smiled at him.

'Oh, Eve,' he
groaned, 'you won't leave me alone in here, will you?'