1 comments/ 5113 views/ 2 favorites The Pink Orchid Ch. 01 By: DickLarson Dick Larson, Private Detective, had lived a lot and worked a little in Liverpool since 1984. He had moved there soon after finishing college in Salford where he scraped a second in criminology and a first in pub culture. At the time he had used some of the criminology and psychology skills that he learned and also applied some of his own logical reasoning to decide which city to locate himself in. Not wanting to live too far from his small home town of Cockermouth, he had chosen Liverpool with its reputation for having a mature criminal underworld. Such a city would need a private detective to solve the crimes that the police couldn't or the crimes that were never reported, because the victim did not want the police involved. Dick had rented a tiny two room office suite on the first floor above a massage parlour close to the city centre and lived in an equally small, two room flat above his office on the second floor. That had been twelve years ago and he was still just making ends meet. Dick was having another dull day. The phone hadn't rung since a week from last Monday; his secretary was doing her nails for the third time that morning and the mail consisted of phone bills, free internet offers and a reminder that the local blood bank would be operating in his vicinity this Thursday. "Bollocks!" Dick swore at his laptop, "I need a God dammed case, and soon." "Jessica, you brainless bimbo, come in here and take a letter!" he shouted out of his office door. "God damn it, that girl's useless," he cursed again when he heard no response from the reception room, "Bloody Youth Training Schemes aren't what they used to be." "Jessica, where the hell are you? I need you to dictate a letter, like now," he shouted again. "I knew I shouldn't have hired a blonde," he grumbled to his laptop, "if I was paying her, I'd cut her bloody hourly rate down to somewhere near her IQ. Jessica!" Jessica was twenty one and had been working with Dick for the past five weeks, during which time she had become used to his bellowing. However, the only useful experience she was gaining was how to bend over and around various pieces of office furniture. She supposed this was just part of the job of being a personal assistant to a city-slick detective in the nineties. Jessica was eccentric in her dress sense. Today she was wearing a tight fitting, pink lace blouse with a plunging neck line. Her bosom swelling up like two waves about to break upon a beach, was tantalizingly obvious in the red-patterned bra she wore that was visible through the sheer fabric; delicate, black silk gloves stretched almost to her elbows. The tight, short, deep purple skirt and calf high black stockings completed her sexy outfit. Her looks were the only reason why Private Dick Larson had hired her in the first place; she had passed the interview as soon as she walked through the door. Jessica didn't mind Dick's sexual advances. Her boyfriend was always complaining that she demanded too much sex from him, and Dick's interest in her had calmed the lustful desires that seemed to dominate her thoughts throughout the day. With her heels clicking across the wooden floorboards, her note pad and pencil in hand, spectacles balanced on the tip of her nose (as all good secretaries do), she walked through from the reception room into the office to confront Dick. Standing provocatively in the doorframe, sunlight streaming around the contours of her hourglass figure, the sight of Jessica was enough to make Dick suck air in-between his teeth. He was re-installing Windows 3.1 on his clapped-out old laptop. Jessica bit down gently on the rubber tip of her pencil. Hmm, she thought, I like the way he fingers that mouse. "Right, Jessica. Since my laptop has gone down on me again... Ha, Ha," Dick laughed at his own coarse joke, "we are going to have to do it the old fashioned way. Sit yourself down on my knee, Lass, and let's get cracking." Jessica smiled sweetly as she walked over to Dick's desk, her bosom deliberately bouncing as she crossed the floor. The clean, distinct scent of apricot followed her like the wake from a passing yacht. "Right, Lass, it's for the editor of Liverpool Echo. I'm going to invent a cracking good story about how I solved a mysterious case of a man's wife disappearing; something good enough to print, that will have my name known all over town and bring in some new cases." Dick's right hand was stroking Jessica's smooth bare thigh as she sat perched on his knee; the warmth of her soft, plump bottom spread over his lap like melting butter. Thoughts of the letter he had planned on dictating to her were being pushed further and further to the back of his mind. They were being replaced by thoughts of caressing the smooth, billowing form of her bosom, and these new thoughts were rapidly taking over more and more of Dick's diminishing mental capabilities. A small, sudden movement from Dick's crotch indicated that his thoughts had transmitted themselves down his spine and into his loins. Jessica squirmed gently as she sat across his knee; she had felt his genital awakenings and wanted to encourage his arousal. "Hmmm," she sighed suggestively, as she dropped her left hand down in-between Dick's legs and stroked the top half of his calf and inner knee. Leaning back against his chest, she breathed in, expanding her bosom in front of his face. She too, was in the mood for some office Olympics. Dick grunted to show his appreciation of her touch. He ran his hand up from Jessica's bare thigh across the taut material of her short skirt to the delicate rippled material of her blouse; his fingers pushed gently into the soft flesh of her tummy as his hand rose up to rub the smooth firm surface of her bra's silky cup. Dick leisurely explored across from the peak of one soft mountain into the dividing valley between and then up to blunt summit of its identical twin. He did this several times before he undid the top two buttons of her blouse and slipped his hand inside the fabric; cupping her bra, lifting it slightly, feeling the warm weight and firmness of her young mammary. A short beep from the laptop indicated that it was ready for the next disk. With the hand that was currently not groping Jessica's silk cupped breast, Dick ejected the floppy disk and inserting the next, struck the return key, allowing the machine to continue its installation. As he turned back to Jessica's impressive, pouting chest, their eyes met. Recognizing each other's hunger, their heads turned and tilted until their lips touched. They kissed wetly and were soon lost in a swamp of tactile stimulation. Jessica slipped her hand up Dick's thigh until she spread her fingers around his bulging crotch, she pushed the palm of her hand up against his balls, compressing them against his groin and was delighted to feel his cock stiffen and straighten in response. Jessica ran her finger nails along the underside of his swelling staff and coaxed it around from where it was growing down his trouser leg, upwards across his thigh until Dick's erection was lying vertically up towards his belly button. Dick's right arm had curled around Jessica's back and had pulled her torso in close to him, crushing her left breast into his chest, but her right breast was angled out from him and his left arm was mauling the malleable mound through her bra. "Dick," she whispered, "Take me from behind. You know how hard I cum when you give it to me from behind, Dick." Jessica did cum aggressively when taken from behind, partly because she loved that position, but also because she didn't have to look at Dick and could let her imagination run away with her, pretending it was her boyfriend, Ready Steady Eddie, sliding his length into her. Eddie knew just how hard and deep she needed to be fucked, to bring her to an eye-crossing orgasm. He knew then, how to slow to a steady thrusting, keeping her on the boil until the next, and the next, and the next orgasm came rushing up to her like a train coming out of a tunnel. "Ooh," she quivered at the thought of her Eddie, feeling that familiar buzzing sensation between the legs. "Over the fax machine then, Lass. You look a picture bent over my fax machine." Jessica hopped up and walked flirtatiously over to the cabinet where she was about to be impaled. The noise of her heels on the wooden floor was now charged with sexual anticipation, like clicks on a metronome steadily forcing time, and Jessica, onwards to the other side of the office and her escape from the mundane fabric of this Tuesday morning. Placing her hands on either side of the cabinet, she bent over and pushed her buttocks into the air. She could feel her pussy throbbing; already wet from the thoughts of her boyfriend Eddie and the impending penetration. Dick feasted on the sight of this young temptress, her beautiful legs curving upwards and vanishing just inches below her soft, warm mound. The fabric of her skirt stretched tight as she tried to widen her stance on the floor. He walked over to her, watching as she pushed her buttocks up and from side to side; flaunting the shape of her round behind at him and rubbing her swollen pussy lips together; gently stimulating herself and heightening her arousal. Dick reached down and let his hands run up the outsides of her bare thighs, feeling the taut warmth of her smooth muscles. Jessica moaned as her skirt was raised the short distance to the top of her thighs, exposing her sex. She had given up wearing knickers to work after her first week's trial with Dick. The sweat beading on her labia glistened; her lips were flushed deep pink with the rush of hot blood. Dick squeezed the outer curve of her buttock with his left hand while his right hand caressed across the back of her thigh and slipped between her legs. He cupped her soft low mound with his hand, rubbing it forward and back. His fingers reaching up to the base of her smooth little stomach, her lips leaving a smudge of juice across the palm of his hand, the wetness of her sex thrilled him as he coaxed out her honey. She pushed gently back against his palm, dropping her pelvis onto his fingers as they rubbed past her pleasure button. Jessica's head hung down between her arms, watching her own pussy being massaged. She was becoming even more turned on seeing how brazen she was being; her skirt hitched up around her hips, her trimmed light brown fringe, moving forwards and back against Dick's hand, and the glisten of her lips as they moistened and swelled. As Dick drew his hand back this time, he positioned his thumb so that, on the next stroke, it slid effortlessly inside her. He continued rubbing her mound, but now filling her wet hole each time he pushed forwards; bending his thumb as he withdrew it to rub against the ribbed back of her pussy wall. "Ooh," she whinnied. Jessica knew that, for at least the next ten minutes, the world was going to be a wonderful place. As she closed her eyes, the sensation of her G-spot being strummed like a classical guitar, and the electric jarring as his hand passed over her clitoris, overwhelmed her mind. Dick had her blouse undone now and was looking down over her shoulder, both her mounds pushed out towards the office wall, all shiny and pretty inside their red encasing silk molds. He eased one soft breast out of its warm nest; holding the underside of her flesh gently in the palm of his hand Dick used his thumb to rub across her small soft flat pink stud and teased the young nipple into its harder and wrinkled nib form. "You have the most gorgeous tits, Jessica," Dick said, being as romantic as he knew how, but Jessica was lost in her own, pink, fuzzy world and did not respond. "Beep!" the laptop was ready for its next fix of noughts and ones, but the two humanoids were oblivious to its need. Dick released his manhood from the confines of his boxer shorts; he was now aching for the warmth and softness he knew he could find between Jessica's young thighs. Holding his tool with one hand, his other gripped Jessica's waist, squeezing the smooth flesh, and holding her firmly in place. Jessica knew what was coming next, that hard grip in the soft fleshy spot just above her hip bone meant that Dick was about to stick his cock in her and she was not to move. He could become quite passionate and insistent when she had him properly aroused. He played the tip of his purple helmet, gently along the crease of her sex, parting her slender lips around his glands, just brushing his hard tip against the inner seal of her sex before letting her lips close again as his stroke moved up between her buttocks. "Oh, Jess, oh, my fine Jess," he murmured. Jessica moaned loudly from the back of her throat, mouth open with her tongue wetting her lips. She twisted her head round to look at Dick. "Please," she whispered. "Please." "Beep!" The laptop reached out to the world again. It was ignored. Dick couldn't deny her any longer. What an angel, what a beauty, and so sweet with her desire. Sliding his cock down the groove of her buttocks again, this time he slipped half his length slowly into her. Jessica's legs shook and he had to restrain her from dropping down and sucking in his full length. Such a honey-sweet, high pitched sigh, released itself from Jessica's soul. Dick felt crude next to her delicate femininity. He withdrew from her and watched her lips close themselves behind him as he left. Another seductive murmur, from Jessica, speaking of satisfaction, pleasure, and of annoyance! "Beep!" The old laptop could sense the data stacking up in its hard drive, in organized, categorized, and polarized rows and columns. Its File Allocation Table was building up correctly. It knew what the time was and in which country it was, but it was ignored again. Dick considered nipping back to the desk to give the laptop its next disk in the series of twelve. "Don't you dare," warned Jessica, feeling his indecision. Dick thought briefly, and decided instead to insert himself back into Jessica; this time with the full length of his shaft. He pushed deep into her; her wetness coated the length of his cock and gave him a smooth ride in. Here, he held fast, as fully embedded into her as he could be. Jessica exhaled with a long sighing moan. Dick held them both motionless, as deeply connected as they could be. Jessica began to shake; tiny tremors rocked her spine; the muscles in the tops of her thighs started to spasm and her knees shook underneath her. Still Dick held her hips so her buttocks were locked against him; his spearhead pressed into her soul. He imagined the sexual charge he was delivering deep inside her. Jessica's orgasm had been triggered and was now overwhelming her. Dick held her tight until the first wave had passed over her. Then his left hand slid up across her stomach, up to her exposed left breast. He brushed past her nipple and dragged her left breast across to her right breast, until he could squeeze both of them into one hand. Once he had her whole bosom gripped, he used it to pull Jessica up and away from the wall. She turned to meet him as their pleasure acknowledged itself via their wet mouths, lips and tongues. Dick held his position deep inside her, and Jessica pushed back gently, quivering as she did. Their embrace broke. Jessica folded at the waist, gripping the side of the small table that the fax machine was sitting on and Dick moved his hands down to either side of Jessica's buttocks. He withdrew and re-entered; withdrew and re-entered; pulling back until his hard hat almost emerged from the depths of her; he withdrew and re-entered, thrusting firmer and quicker, Jessica's moaning became more ecstatic and primal. "Beep!" This was the laptop's last chance of attracting attention. It had the use of only four beeps until its programming would lapse into standby mode. It knew about its built in ink-jet printer and LCD display; it was eager to finish of its self-diagnostics, but after reaching out to the world in the only way it was capable of and receiving no response, it was now helpless, paralyzed until its user gave it its next dose of data. This time, Dick didn't even hear its cry for help. Jessica was blessed with a hair trigger orgasm and could feel the shaking, tight sensation building between her thighs again; the heat and spasm of her muscles focusing her mind on that intoxicating, overwhelming pull that tore her into the black, harsh, uncontrollable abandon of her climax. Dick had had a few women in his time, and even, he thought, made a few of them cum once or twice. But nothing he had experienced came close to Jessica's orgasms, they made him feel like a king. Over the past few weeks, he had learned to play Jessica's young body like a musical instrument. She would orgasm underneath him or on top of him; she would orgasm if he played with her pussy using his fingers, or if he played with her using his tongue. In fact she seemed to orgasm in just about every position he could devise, which left him free to amuse himself in whatever fantasy took him that day. Dick would have barely started to get into his thrusting rhythm and she would be climbing the walls; grinding her pussy back against his manhood; tossing her hair around, moaning and shouting. Every time they had had sex, she came and came and came. His ego was cruising around in a stretch limousine; one with a Jacuzzi, a bar, and personal masseur. What a woman. She made him feel like The Man. As Jessica descended back into her body, she could still hear Dick repeating his appreciations like a stuck record. "Oh, Jess! Oh my, Jess! Oh, Jess! Oh. Jess!" His hands gripped her hips firmly and, by the speed and tone of his mumblings, Jessica knew that she had time for at least one more climax before Dick reached his peak. She steadied herself on her feet again, and gripped the side of the table top; adjusting the fan, so its air stream blew across her chest, causing her blouse to billow open and cool her glistening skin. She thought of Eddie, wearing his old jogging pants, and bringing her a cup of coffee in the morning before they made love. He would set the mug down on the table next to her and she would push herself up against the headboard to sip the steaming brew, as Eddie dived under the covers from the other side, parted her legs and began to nibble his way up the insides of her thighs. By the time he had reached her labia; her fingers would have slid down the front of her night slip and parted her lips so Eddie could lick gently at her pink pastel. Soon, Jessica was riding that runaway train again; lashed to the front of the engine, hurtling across the old, tattered, wooden bridge that spanned the abyss of her orgasm; her soul being tossed around in a raging, electric sea of ecstasy. She adored sex. That day in the barn with her first lover, had changed her life forever. She knew then what she wanted out of life, and she was equipped with everything she needed to ensure a steady supply. Dick released his grip of her hips, reached round and held a breast in each hand. Pulling her up again from the cabinet, they kissed deeply. This was Dick's climax; he always kissed her as he came. A nice touch, she thought. Jessica clenched her pussy muscles, squeezing his cock as he continued to thrust into her, causing him to hang onto her breasts even tighter as his pleasure was heightened. "Oh, Jessica" said Dick. "Oh, Dick," said Jessica. Jessica enjoyed another smaller, more comfortable orgasm, as Dick spewed his sticky seed into her. They remained coupled for a while longer, as their breathing returned to normal. Dick withdrew from her; kissed her on the back of the neck and shoulders and, wiping his dripping member on his shirt tails, zipped himself up and walked back to his desk. The Pink Orchid Ch. 01 Jessica retrieved a paper hanky from her skirt pocket and pressing it between her legs, tottered off to the loo to freshen up, still a bit shaky on her feet. "Right, now! What the hell was I doing?" said Dick. His laptop was staring back at him with a sullen expression. As if to spite Dick for his lack of attention and to make its point, the screen suddenly blacked out and it powered down into standby mode. Dick continued to stare at the blank screen. He was still, mentally, 'up to the hilt' in Jessica's jeweled scabbard. Mmm, he thought. She has certainly livened up the old office. "Jessica. Pet? Could you make us a brew?" he shouted out into the empty reception area. He reached over to the desk drawer and pulled out his old coconut mixing bowl, containing his tobacco pouch, a short stick of Moroccan black cannabis, blue rolling papers, and strips of cardboard he used to roll into filters. In a short time, he had himself a single skin reefer put together. He revolved around on his chair, opened the window, and inhaled deeply on the illegal cocktail of Marijuana and tobacco. "Smokin' da herb," as he called it, was a habit he had picked up as a student, and something he had never got bored of. The drug seeped into his brain and drained him of what little thought there was left there. Looking out of his office window, the street below was busy, dirty, and uninteresting, but Dick stared down at it, transfixed, lost in a timeless world, where nothing needed to be done, and not doing it was definitely the best thing to do. A large, colourful hat, similar to those worn to Ladies Day at Aintree horse races, was being cat walked down the street by a very shapely pair of legs. A sparkling multicoloured handbag, swung from a bespoke tailored suit jacket, and cigarette smoke rose from under the brim. Dick's eyes followed the lady as she walked confidently down the scruffy street. She crossed the road and disappeared into the lobby of his building. Shortly after, there was a rapping at the office door. Dick snapped out of his mellow daze. "Bloody hell," he said. "That's the hat and legs for sure." "Jessica. Jessica. Where the hell are you?" "Coming, Mr. Larson." Dick smiled to himself, and was just dipping back into the memory of the last ten minutes, when there was another knock at the door, and this time it opened. The Pink Orchid Ch. 02 Seven of Nine The hat with legs had tired of waiting and let herself in. "Good morning. Welcome to the office of Mr. Larson, Private Detective. How can I help you?" Jessica recited, as the lady strode into the office. "I require the services of a good detective. Is Mr. Larson a good detective?" "Yes. Yes. A very good detective," Jessica managed to respond, to the attractive and flamboyantly dressed lady. The lady's assertiveness and direct approach were quite unsettling. Adding to Jessica's discomfort was the sensation that a small amount of the recently exchanged bodily fluids was threatening to make an escape from between her still shaking legs! "If you will take a seat," Jessica said, "I'll just go and see if Mr. Larson is available." Dick had extinguished his reefer and was desperately trying to get his mind into gear. The first piece of business to walk into his office in a month, and he was stoned. Bollocks! His laptop was still only half way through loading up. Bollocks! He swore again at the tormenting device. Dick didn't know much about computers; didn't even have any work that needed to be put onto a computer, but it was the nineties and he felt that a modern detective agency would have some sort of computer, for filing clues away and writing up cases. Since he had bought the thing, he had mastered Solitaire and was just getting his head around Mine Sweeper. After a whole morning of messing around with files and a free floppy disk that came with his morning newspaper, he had managed to install a rather cool 'Simpsons' screensaver. Then, after a short, frenzied attack on the mouse buttons, he had deleted some sort of DLL file and his screen had gone all funny. So he was doing the only thing he thought might work and was re-installing the whole of Windows from disk one upwards. Jessica knocked and walked into his office; she sniffed the air and frowned at Dick. She liked her job, and wanted to keep it, but she couldn't understand how Dick was going to continue in business if he sat around his office smoking dope and staring out of the window all day. "There's a lady here who wants to know if you are a good detective." Jessica said. Dick detected the edge in her voice but relaxed back into his black leather chair. He knew she didn't approve of his habit and she had got quite upset the time he had offered her a puff, but people were entitled to their views, and he to his habit. "Well, show her in then, Jessica." Jessica turned on her heels and walked back out to the reception area and returned almost immediately following the Hat and Legs into Dick's office. Dick tapped on one of the laptops keys, waking it from its short hibernation. It was still waiting for the next disk, so Dick obliged it. He looked up to see a very striking lady, striding confidently towards his desk. She wore a pale green, linen three piece dress suit. Tall heels molded smoothly into delicate ankles and elongated up to form shapely calves. The dog tooth pencil skirt stretched neatly down to three inches above the knee. The skirt's waist band was decorated simply with three large black buttons running vertically down its centre. Under the immaculate pale green fitted jacket was a matching fluted blouse, the woman's breasts were just large enough to push into her blouse and cause her jacket to swing open pleasingly. Wow, she looks like the sexy Borg lady, Seven of Nine out of Star Trek Voyager, he thought to himself. "Pardon?" said the woman out loud; smelling the air, detecting the faint odours of sexual sweat which were almost hidden under the stronger smell of smoke, before she looked interestingly around the office. "Er... Nothing," said Dick. "Well, then. I'll come straight to the point, Mr. Larson. I am a woman of considerable means, and I need a detective; one with a keen sense of observation, alertness, and an open mind." She looked directly into his stoned eyes and having never met Mr. Larson before, she had no idea that these two fried eggs staring back at her were a result of the recently smoked Ganja cornet. But she did realize these were not the inquisitive, nimble, searching eyes she had been hoping to find in a detective. Being high on marijuana, sensitized Dick's mind and in close proximity with certain people he could hear snippets of their thoughts. Never judge a book by its cover, she thought. "What book?" asked Dick. "I never mentioned a book," said the lady. He could do with a haircut, she thought. Who could? thought Dick. "Who could, what?" asked the Lady of Considerable Means. Both of them were now somewhat confused. "What, exactly, do you have in mind Mrs...?" "Mrs. Larindale," she offered, "I am throwing a masquerade ball with a twist," she said, "It's also going to be a Murder Mystery night. I have hired a troupe of actors who are going to mingle in with my guests. One of them ends up dead, and I want you to solve the crime." Dick started to mull this information over in his mind and got stuck in a mental loop, where he just stared at the lady, locked in the wasteland of his own consciousness, oblivious of the seconds ticking away and the rising tension in Mrs. Larindale. Mrs. Larindale wasn't sure if the man was trying to flirt with her or if he was in deep thought, preparing his next astute and detective like question. "Beep!" Dick's hand went out automatically, to swap the disks over in the laptop. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" He asked. Mrs. Larindale, relieved to be out of the embarrassing silence, agreed. "Jessica, love. Two cups of coffee." "Yes, Mr. Larson," Jessica replied as she walked from the office excitedly; this was one of the few times anyone had actually visited the detective Agency and Mrs. Larindale seemed like just the kind of client Dick needed right now. "An attractive secretary you have, Mr. Larson. Is she your daughter perhaps?" "Er, no. No. she isn't. Yes, er, very attractive; a pleasure to have around the office," he smirked. "A masquerade party, you say, Mrs. Larindale? A murder mystery, masquerade party you say? Sounds very grand; and I'll be the Detective?" "Yes. You would be dressed up like Sherlock Holmes; tweed clothes; deer stalker hat and a pipe, of course." A pipe, Dick thought. It's been quite a while since I smoked any herb through a pipe. This could be fun. His mind raced back to a summer in Tenerife, when he had made a peace pipe out of a manta ray's skull bone; fourteen inches of two inch wide plastic tubing; a clay chillum and several meters of red, green and yellow thread. Bloody hell! That pipe would blow your mind away, thought Dick. The local dealer used to come down to his van on the beach, in the afternoon heat; pack the pipe full of the best hashish on the island and suck on the beast like a desperate hooker. Dick passed many an afternoon with his mind reeling from the effects of smoking the killer pipe, while sitting in the shade of the van's awning, watching his dealer friend juggle stones he'd picked up from the beach and staring at the surf crashing down onto the volcanic reefs. Mrs. Larindale suddenly had images of white beaches, black rocks and a blue, rolling ocean running through her mind for no reason she could think of. Snapping out of her little day dream, she observed that Mr. Larson appeared to be under some sort of hypnotic trance. "Mr. Larson? Mr. Larson!" Mrs. Larindale said raising her voice. She had become irritated watching him stare catatonically at the blank wall across the room, and jarred him out of his reverie. Jessica arrived with the coffee. They both watched her set the coffee, milk, and sugar down on the low coffee table; her round bottom, pushing out at the fabric of her skirt. Hmm, thought Dick, just peachy. Hmm, thought Mrs. Larindale. Their thoughts collided and sparked back to their respective owners. Mrs. Larindale looked at Dick. Dick looked at Mrs. Larindale. A tiny switch clicked on in Mrs. Larindale's mind. Great arse, thought Dick. Yes and such a tiny waist, thought Mrs. Larindale. Appreciate a woman's figure, do you? asked Dick silently. I'm partial to all sorts, Mrs. Larindale indicated with a wink. Dick smiled. Mrs. Larindale smiled back at him. The link broke, as Jessica offered a cup of coffee to Mrs. Larindale. Dick coughed, and Mrs. Larindale looked around, distinctly bemused. She took off her jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair in front of Dick's desk, sat down, crossing one very slender and toned leg on top of the other and sitting straight backed with her hands resting on her lap. Dick was impressed with Mrs. Larindale's athletic but feminine physique, pleasantly defined muscles rippled subtly across her shoulders, her arms were tanned and delicate, her small biceps and forearms defined through horse riding or tennis deduced Dick; her bosom was neatly contained under the thin linen blouse and the stomach rounded naturally between her hips. Jessica offered a Liverpool football club mug of coffee to Dick and smiled sweetly as he patted her bottom before turning to Mrs. Larindale with an Everton football club mug, steaming with instant coffee. Mrs. Larindale's couldn't quite hide her indignation and disappointment at firstly being handed a mug to drink from and secondly that the brew it contained had obviously not spent twenty minutes passing from stage to stage through something similar to her gold plated, bean to cup, coffee making machine at home. Dick noticed a slight wrinkling at the top of Mrs. Larindale's nose and the discreet and barely noticeable rising of her brow as she sniffed at the dirty looking puddle water that the mug contained. "Would you perhaps be more comfortable drinking from the Liverpool mug, suggested Dick, wrongly assuming that it was Mrs. Larindale's allegiance with the other of the city's great football teams that has caused her discomfort. "I have not sugared it yet, so we could just swap mugs. I'm not that really into football," continued Dick, "but people expect me to be and the conversation nearly always seems to be dragged in that direction, so I bought a couple of mugs to show willing and to try and fit in a little." "No Mr. Larson I am quite comfortable drinking from the Everton mug. I too find the whole business of football quite dull but as you have found, living in Liverpool one needs to support one or the other so when I am asked which team, I answer Liverpool," explained Mrs. Larindale as she again admired Jessica's unusual and eye catching outfit. Mrs. Larindale, suggestively, smoothed down an invisible crease across the side of her blouse, as she complimented Jessica on her slim figure. Jessica's eye was attracted to the movement and wondered if Mrs. Larindale had deliberately pushed the side of her breast inward causing her cleavage to move between the open collars of her blouse. Jessica looked up from the fleshy display and blushed. "That's a beautiful hat you are wearing Mrs. Larindale," Jessica said recovering her composure quickly as she exited the office with her most sexy walk. Dick and Mrs. Larindale watched her exit. The young girl aroused them both with her fluid curves. "Ah, yes. The Masquerade party.... well, my fee would be £150 for the night and I would need my secretary along as well; she would be another £75." "Fine," said Mrs. Larindale agreeing immediately. Damn, thought Dick, I should have asked for more. "I'm sorry," said Mrs. Larindale. "Did you say something?" "No," said Dick. "Oh," said Mrs. Larindale, feeling confused again. The arrangements were made and Jessica was delighted to be asked along to such a prestigious event. Mrs. Larindale signed a cheque and gave Dick the address of the fancy dress agency where he and Jessica could be kitted out. The Pink Orchid Ch. 03 Glasshouse Gasses Mrs. Larindale's party was the big event in Liverpool's social calendar that month. Her family wealth could be tracked back over three hundred years to when Liverpool was one of the busiest shipping ports in the world, her ancestors had risen to notoriety and fortune on the backs of thousands of African slaves, a family history that she obviously kept as quite as she could but was known widely amongst the other old families of the city, many of whom were here tonight. Loraine had lost her parents to cancer when she was still a young woman in her twenties and had managed the family's estate ever since. She was briefly married to the father of her son until a heart attack at the young age of thirty eight had taken him from her also. Her guests were mostly gathered in the main reception room which had been emptied of furniture and had had its elaborate rugs rolled up to reveal beautiful old varnished wooden floorboards. A five-piece set of modern art tapestries hung on the wall, consisting of a sequence of vertical panels that may have been trying to portray what a bumble bee would see from inside a red rose. Heavy dark curtains hung from ceiling to floor across three large bay windows that would look out onto the gardens during the daytime. A small crowd had gathered around an enthusiastically burning fire set in an enormous black marble fireplace that dominated one wall; preening women checked their makeup and hair in the arched mirror that hung above the mantelpiece. In one lonely corner a DJ had set up camp and was quietly filling the room with some gentle jazz as two sets of traffic lights flashed impotently from red to amber to green either side of his spinning decks. Mrs. Larindale, Jessica and Dick, were stood close to the open double doors leading into the disco room. Mrs. Larindale was meeting and greeting her guests as they arrived. Dick knew many of the faces, but not so many names. Jessica knew only Dick and Mrs. Larindale, who had been terribly attentive to her and introduced her to many exotic looking people. Everybody was dressed to impress. It was the most sophisticated party Jessica had ever been to and she was excited just to be there. Dick made quite a good facsimile of Sherlock Holmes, in an all tweed suit with a matching deer stalker hat and ridiculously oversized smoking pipe. Jessica, at Dick's request and not to Mrs. Larindale's annoyance, was quite the sauciest Dr Watson either of them had ever seen. Jessica's hair was pulled back into a neat and formal looking bun at the back of her head, showcasing her white, slender neck; a frosting of freckles danced down from her hair line towards her shoulder. A stethoscope's contoured metal arms framed her delicate neck; its black, rubber trunk resting across her bosom and the mirrored chest-piece nestled enviously between her breasts. Her white doctor's jacket was generously unbuttoned at the neck and gathered into her waist by a wide, black belt; her thighs and bottom flourishing outwards from its constrictive grip. Black, high heeled shoes, and slender stocking clad legs, rocketed up from the floor to disappear mid-thigh beneath the starch white of her jacket. Exactly what Jessica was wearing under the jacket was a thought that was passing through nearly every man that saw her. Dick already knew just how good Jessica looked, and felt, under that jacket, having already downed a swift pint, poured from her love bar, at the office before they left for the party. The outfit had a practical purpose, more than just fulfilling his fantasy, and Jessica was looking forward to carrying out his instructions. Mrs. Larindale's lithe body was exhibited in a full length opened-backed, black sequined gown which created the illusion that liquid oil had been persuaded to cling to her without flowing downwards to the floor. Her breasts moved freely under the dress without a bra to restrain or distort their natural shape, her small nipples distorting its shimmering surface and acting as tabooed focal points for the careless eye. Her long deep auburn hair had been neatly tied into a complicated French braid that hung down almost to the middle of her contoured and delicate back. It was nine o'clock and, dramatically, an argument broke out between three of the guests. Two men and a woman were shouting at each other, the woman speaking in a thick, French accent. A hush fell over the room and a space appeared around the threesome; everybody watched eagerly as the first of the evenings, Murder Mystery scenes, was enacted. The larger man, Mr. Tackle, addressed the woman as Ms Bouché, announcing that she had seduced him, in order to steal his rare and very valuable Chia Lin Pau hybrid pink orchid and sell it to Mr. Block. Ms Bouché denied the accusation, saying that she was in love with Mr. Tackle and wouldn't know an orchid from a rose. "I have never seen this woman before in my life," bellowed Mr. Block at Mr. Tackle. Mr. Block then turned to Ms Bouché and said, "I suggest you leave the emotionally stressed, and delusional Mr. Tackle to calm down and escort me outside to the terrace for some cool air and a cocktail, before he insults me again and I am forced to swing for him." At which point, mincing into the clearing stepped a small Spanish looking man; dressed in red suede and ribbon piped kitten heel shoes, black leggings, a mauve tank top exposing skinny hairy arms and several different hand bags all hanging off one shoulder. "Yes?" bellowed Mr. Block. "What the fuck do you want?" With one hand on his hip and the other pointing at Ms Bouché, the small man said, "Well, Ducky, if you're going to shout, I won't feel obliged to tell you what I know about Sally!" "Sally? Who the fuck is Sally?" Mr. Tackle asked, infuriated at being called Ducky by this legging wearing, eight stone weakling. "Sally is that woman there," said the little Spanish man, and again pointed at Ms Bouché. "Sally Duckett, the woman you are being so beastly to." "Her name," said Mr. Block, "is Yvonne Bouché and she is from Paris, you pathetic little man." Dick guided Jessica over to where Mrs. Larindale now stood, tapped her on the shoulder and whispered to her, asking if she could look after Jessica for a short while. Dick then indicated to Jessica that she should stay with Mrs. Larindale and wandered off to the other side of the hall, where he discreetly left the room and headed for the front door. Mrs. Larindale smiled at Jessica and linked arms with her. Jessica appreciated this; she suddenly felt rather alone and out of her depth as Dick strode out of sight. The two women stood shoulder to shoulder as they watched the actors develop their plot. The small, mincing man, had just explained that Yvonne Bouché was, in fact, Sally Duckett and had been working in his florist shop for the past year. Sally, or Yvonne, was denying this, but her accent was starting to slip. Outside Dick headed into the garden and down to a glasshouse he had seen as they had driven up the long gravel drive earlier that evening. It was a wet and windy night, and he needed some shelter. The glasshouse was a large, Victorian structure with wooden shelves running around the sides at waist height and a central bench for working on. It was strewn with terracotta seeding pots, split bags of compost, trowels and water trays and potted plants of various varieties. There were wooden handles that turned cast iron worm drives which could open window panes in the roof for temperature control; all very old world and decadent; a functioning environment that serviced the house's extensive gardens. Once in the warm and humid atmosphere of the glasshouse, Dick tapped out the remnants of tobacco ash, from his pipe. He then put in a fresh bed of tobacco and reached in his pocket for a small tin. Opening the tin with care, Dick tapped out crumbled grains of Hashish, and spread them evenly over the bed of tobacco. "Hmm," he sighed, anticipating the sudden hit this large dose of hash, once lit and inhaled, would deliver to his brain. He spread his weight evenly between his feet and leaned back on the wall, forming a tripod. This position offered good stability and would need very little mental effort to sustain whilst he enjoyed the effects of his smoke. Two, small puffs on the pipe was all it took until the whole area of hashish glowed red within the pipe bowl, followed by a third, long, slow suck on the pipe. Dick inhaled a lung full, of almost neat hashish and, once locked inside his chest, this cloud was now delivering its considerable, psychotropic pay load into his blood stream. The sensation of the drug spread out like a bomb blast from his brain. Drool started to seep from his lower lip as he exhaled slowly, his eyes closed and his mind expanded. Dick could feel a deep, pulsing resonating from within his body and he let this rhythmic beating seduce him. Not a single thought formed in his mind. Nothingness enveloped him. "Flight control to Captain Dick, Your spacesuit's tweed and your pipe is lit." Dick's subconscious was as bad as Dick when it came to remembering lyrics. A short time later, Dick recovered from the initial shock wave, and he became aware of his body again. The noise of the rain droplets pounding on the glass roof had intensified. Dick noticed it had become possible to hear the impact of each individual droplet explode against the glass, and then, he focused in on the length of time between that rain droplet and the sound of the next. That gap seemed to have a tangible substance and, if he tried, he could feel himself being drawn into the quietness in between the impacting rain drops. Dick, realized he was losing himself into the abyss, and shifted his awareness. He had jumped down that white rabbit hole once before and remembered the consequences; 'Dick in Wonderland' had been a psychotically painful chapter in his life; a drug fuelled, chaotic and emotionally created landscape, driven by the wild conjuring of his imagination where the dreaming world had become as real as the waking world; where the soap opera of his life continued uninterrupted whether he was asleep or awake. Dick had explored both and felt trapped by the laws and rules that restrained him in each. Eventually, sat high up on a cannabis wall, the waking world on one side and the dreaming world on the other, Dick had jumped and fallen a long way; all the king's horses and all the king's men had then made a very reasonable and incredibly time consuming effort of putting him back together again. Dick shivered to his core remembering the time and knew he didn't want to explore that rabbit hole again. He focused back inside the glasshouse, listening to the full symphony of subtly different sounds that were surrounding him; the rain pouring into the water butts outside the glasshouse, the wind in the leaves of the trees above him and the soft dripping of the glasshouse's irrigation systems. The humidity of the warm, sticky air and the smell of the soil and plants became overwhelming. A union formed with his surroundings, and this oneness mollified him. He stood there motionless, blinking occasionally; enjoying the intimate connection he had made with the external world. Unconsciously, he had stopped breathing, whilst the wave of intoxication engulfed him. Now a small finger of doubt tainted his mellow reverie. Slowly, he recognized that this pang of unease was his brain, asking for more oxygen and he inhaled deeply. "Hmm," he sighed, re-asserting himself back into reality. "Aark!" He coughed loudly, trying to jolt his consciousness back into his body. "Hmmm," he sighed again, now feeling comfortable and acknowledging his appreciation of the experience. Bloody hell, it has been a while since I had a hit like that, he thought. Right, what is going on here? Ah, yes, the party; Jessica and Larindale. I wonder how those two honeys are getting along. He had high hopes that he might somehow persuade Jessica and Mrs. Larindale into having a threesome with him, but there was the murder to solve first and that really depended on Jessica extracting the information from one of the actors before the end of the night, and for him not to get too trashed, to remember what it was he was doing there. A very real possibility if the party started to rock, as he hoped it might. Wet Pussy from the Good Lord Back inside, the actors had finished their first flurry of accusations, scene setting, and character developments. Guests were returning to their socializing and the DJ was playing the first painful disco disasters, trying to tempt someone onto the dance floor. Jessica and Mrs. Larindale were, in fact, getting along like gin and tonic. After being introduced to a dazzling array of masked guests, Jessica was thinking that this was just the best party she had ever been to. There was a sexual element to Jessica's excitement, she wasn't sure why but she was quite turned on. Her Champagne glass was getting close to the half way mark when for the third time that night it was re-filled, by a rather dashing and well built, curly blonde haired waiter with the most striking blue eyes, who smiled calmly at her as he poured her drink. Mrs. Larindale was positively beaming as she showed off her stunning new friend to the social elite of Liverpool. Jessica was enjoying the possessive grip of Mrs. Larindale as she guided her around from bar to social group and back past the buffet. Jessica's waist was slender and supple under her Doctor's jacket, her bottom swinging like a peach pendulum below the black waistband as she walked. Mrs. Larindale was acutely aware of the movement of Jessica's young hips as she draped her arm around Jessica's waist, escorting her through the crowded room. Jessica thought that Mrs. Larindale's touch was slightly more than just guidance and her suspicions were confirmed when Mrs. Larindale's hand slipped down from Jessica's waist and explored her hip, following the line of Jessica's suspender belt. Jessica tensed nervously as Mrs. Larindale ran her fingers over the groove between her buttocks. Jessica shifted her weight slightly until her hips made contact with Mrs. Larindale. A short look between the two women and a smile established their bond, Jessica relaxing now under Mrs. Larindale's caress. They were standing facing the crowd; a small group of women were braving the vacuum on the dance floor. Jessica had boldly put her arm around Mrs. Larindale's waist, whilst Mrs. Larindale's hand was sending shivers up and down Jessica's spine as she traced Jessica's contours with her finger nails. With the Champagne and music washing over her and Mrs. Larindale's hand producing waves of exciting new sexual possibilities, Jessica had completely forgotten about Dick Larson, who was still in the glasshouse, happily rolling a few heavily laden, grassy joints to pass around the party. Mrs. Larindale took Jessica's hand, and guiding her discreetly towards the back of the room, slipped them both behind the heavy curtains that hung in front of one of the bay windows. The two women turned to face each other in the shadowy recess. Rain pattered noisily against the glass, forming thousands of tiny black snakes, slowly winding themselves down the panes. Jessica was trembling with excitement; she had kissed a girl before back in sixth form, just to make the boys excited, but had never seriously been with woman, although she was ready for the experience and felt comfortable in the obviously practiced hands of Mrs. Larindale. "You are shaking, my dear," cooed Mrs. Larindale. Jessica stared back in silence, wondering what to do. Mrs. Larindale stepped closer and leaned forward until their breasts met and molded together. Mrs. Larindale slowly reached around behind Jessica's neck and undid the clasp that held her hair up in its tight neat bun. Shaking her curls loose, Jessica felt the tension disappear from her scalp as her hair bounced freely onto her shoulders. Mrs. Larindale looked at her for a moment and then, tilting her head slightly to one side, lent in towards Jessica's face. Jessica's heart was racing; her lips found their counterparts, full and swollen, moist with lipstick. Mrs. Larindale's kiss was warm and soft, her mouth open; her lips gentle in their welcome. Their tongues touched, and shivers of excitement were sent racing down Jessica's spine. Mrs. Larindale murmured as she kissed and pulled Jessica's head in tighter with her hand cupping the back of her neck, her fingers spread out like a comb in Jessica's hair. Jessica ran her hands down the open back of Mrs. Larindale dress, loving the feeling of her smooth, soft, female skin, and the slender, delicate curves. The sensation of touching a woman's body was radically different to that of the male lovers Jessica had experienced. She stopped as her hands reached waist level, realizing again, that this was a woman she was with and how different this body felt. Was she really going to do this? Jessica didn't hesitate for long and continued, spreading her hands out and around to rest on Mrs. Larindale's hips. Mrs. Larindale kissed her deeply, re-assuring Jessica of her caring intentions. She believed that this was Jessica's first time with another woman and desperately didn't want to scare her away. Mrs. Larindale's breasts rubbed across Jessica's erect nipples as they protruded through her Doctor's jacket. Jessica's knee rose slightly, and Mrs. Larindale's legs parted slowly, letting Jessica's stocking-clad limb slide smoothly between her own sheer stocking-covered thighs. Mrs. Larindale's hand caressed Jessica's buttocks. The pair of them were lost in a rush of excitement and exploration. Mrs. Larindale was kissing Jessica's neck, running her fingers through her hair and then letting them slide down her back to her bottom. Again she traced Jessica's suspender belt under her doctor's uniform, to the hem of the jacket. Her fingers curled under the starchy white hem, her thumb catching hold of the material as stroked her hand upwards, dragging the jacket up above the stocking to Jessica's bare thigh. Jessica let out a sigh and buried her head into Mrs. Larindale's neck, biting gently at the nape as Mrs. Larindale's fingers inched round, claiming her naked buttock for their reward. There were no panties to challenge the advance of the adventuring fingers. Feeling the hollow just above Jessica's bottom, Mrs. Larindale's palm stroked across the small of her back, around her waist to her young tummy as far as her reach would allow; then she stroked her lover back the other way, deliberately caressing Jessica just inches above her pubic area. When her hand returned to the small of Jessica's back, she let it slide down across her bottom, but this time with the finger tips running down between Jessica's peachy mounds. Jessica whimpered and hung her head onto Mrs. Larindale's shoulder as the fingers stroked the back of her pussy. Her legs were shaking; she couldn't remember when she had been this turned on. Mrs. Larindale's touch was subtle and delicate and made her sex ache to be found. Fat, lazy, rain drops splattered against the windows. Sounds of disco music and people laughing just a few feet away, behind the heavy drape curtains, were dangerously close. A black, wet, and empty night to one side; the bright, crowded, and vibrant atmosphere of the party to the other, but Jessica felt they were in another world, a private enclave with just the two of them in it. But they weren't as alone as they thought. Dick had stopped on his way back to the party to drain the main vein, and was carelessly watering the rose bed when he noticed the two figures in the bay window. "Bloody hell, will you look at that hot, lesbian action. Christ, that's horny," he said out loud to himself. The Pink Orchid Ch. 03 Dick hastily shook his sleeping little man dry and zipping him back up inside his trousers, made his way forward through the flower bed to improve on his viewing angle. By now the two women were totally enthralled with each other; their hands were caressing each other's bodies without inhibitions; pleasure waves flowing from one body to the other. "Christ. It's Jessica and Larindale." Dick exclaimed when he had stumbled close enough to recognize the two women. "Wow." Mrs. Larindale pulled away from the embrace and left Jessica wide-eyed and wet-mouthed, looking back at her with a wanton and hurt expression because she had terminated their progression of arousal. Mrs. Larindale moved forward, her chest gently pushing into Jessica's until she yielded coyly, taking a step backwards, trapping herself against the side of the alcove. Jessica's bosom was heaving and her eyes were sparking with excitement. Mrs. Larindale dropped her hands slowly down each collar of Jessica's jacket, the two women gazing into each other's eyes. Jessica's hair was falling carelessly around her shoulders whilst Mrs. Larindale's was tied, tightly in sophisticated plat down to one side; they were both smiling. Mrs. Larindale's eyes followed her hands down, until they met at the first clasp of Jessica's jacket. Moving her hands outwards around Jessica's tits, they squeezed, lifting their firmness and accentuating her cleavage. Jessica's smile broadened; her nipples were crying out to be kissed and were answered with circular strokes from Mrs. Larindale's thumbs. Standing with her back against the wall, her legs slightly parted and looking out against the night with the rain slipping its way down the windows, Jessica succumbed to Mrs. Larindale's touch, craving more stimulation. Suddenly, from close outside the window, there was the unmistakable spark and flash of a cigarette lighter being struck. Again and again it was struck, as someone tried to make the gas ignite against the wind and rain of the night. Jessica's gasped as she realized that there might be an audience to their sweet union. She gasped again as Mrs. Larindale squeezed her breast firmly, pinching her nipple and lowered her face into Jessica's fleshy chest. Mrs. Larindale ran the tip of her tongue up across one bosom, pushing it between those warm mounds of flesh pressed so firmly together. The tongue changed to lips, kissing the side of her neck and back to a tongue as it rounded the underside of her chin and pushed its way into Jessica's mouth. The two women kissed deeply again. Jessica tried to say something to warn her lover of the intrusion to their intimacy, but was muted as Mrs. Larindale reached round behind Jessica's back, running both of her hands up into Jessica's thick hair. Mrs. Larindale then wound two pony tails of Jessica's blonde locks around two fingers on each of her hands, creating reins from which she could control Jessica's head movements. Mrs. Larindale pulled back gently on these reins, forcing Jessica's head to tilt further and further backwards until her mouth opened naturally. Jessica was looking up at the ornate Victorian cornice work that ran around the join between the ceiling and the walls of the alcove, quivering with anticipation. Mrs. Larindale took a moment to drink in the sight of her young lover pressed back against the wall. Jessica's pretty face was pointing up at the ceiling, lips parted, obediently waiting for Mrs. Larindale to do as she pleased with her. Jessica's exposed throat demonstrated her willing submission to Mrs. Larindale's desires. The young woman was still shaking, her breathing short and rapid. Mrs. Larindale knew Jessica would enjoy everything she was about to do to her. Mrs. Larindale kissed her open mouth, maintaining the pressure on the reins, so that Jessica couldn't move her head to kiss her back. She pushed her tongue into Jessica's mouth, slipping it behind her top lip and in front of her teeth, running it around the back of her lip, from her top jaw all the way around and down across the inside of her lower lip. She then sucked Jessica's lower lip into her mouth and used the reins to move her head from side to side letting Jessica's lip slip through her mouth. Once she had mouthed across her lower lip from side to side, she released it only to trap Jessica's top lip in the same manner and repeated the process. Jessica's young and impatient erogenous zones were demanding to be stimulated and waited hungrily, while Mrs. Larindale leisurely savoured Jessica's other beautiful features. Mrs. Larindale kissed her cheek and the side of her face; she kissed the small sensitive area right beside Jessica's ear lobe and blew gently into the ear. She continued to lay kisses inch by inch, higher upwards around the side of the eye, across the bridge of her forehead, and back down the other side of Jessica's face. Each kiss was so brief and lightly placed on the skin that Jessica imagined a butterfly was gently landing on her skin and lifting off again. Jessica was trembling with excitement and arousal, she desperately tried to keep still and quiet not wanting to miss a single gesture that Mrs. Larindale might favour her with but her nipples and clitoris and vagina were demanding attention and starting to take control of her supporting muscles; she could feel herself pushing forward with her pelvis, her labia trying to make contact with any part of Mrs. Larindale's body that might give her some relief to the burning feeling between her legs. Mrs. Larindale took hold of both pony tails with one hand, still restraining Jessica's head and keeping it tilted backwards towards the ceiling. With the other hand she deftly opened the top press-stud of Jessica's jacket. She slid her hand inside, cupping the silky warm form of Jessica's straining bra. She pushed the breast upwards, whilst lowering her head down to where the bra's lacy edge gave way to smooth, warm skin. Open mouthed she let her teeth drag gently across the skin, moving upwards over the billowing, deep flesh of Jessica's bosom until her teeth grazed the firmer sinews and muscles of Jessica's shoulder and slender neck. Jessica had succumbed completely to her lover; she stood motionless, with her arms by her sides, palms spread flat against the cold wall. The thought of the unknown voyeur watching as her body was being so expertly turned into a mass of tingling erogenous zones, excited and only added to her arousal. This third person had changed her role from submissive participation, to one of possible power and control; she was now a director and actor in her own expose. How much would she show her audience, how brazenly would she flaunt herself in front of the one-way glass and its unknown eyes. Mrs. Larindale was unaware of their audience; Jessica could turn her around and slowly peel off her gown, to tease and show the voyeur her hidden treasures; she could drop to her knees and bury her face between her thighs, or would it be more fun to let Mrs. Larindale do that to her, whilst she stared accusingly towards the burning cigarette, acknowledging the presence of their un-invited audience and daring them to admit to their voyeurism? Soon her own breasts would be exposed, her nipples in full view of the windows. Soon Mrs. Larindale would be sucking on her pert, wrinkled pleasure studs and for a reason she didn't understand she knew she wanted to share her pleasure with this stranger in the dark. Jessica loved every aspect of her situation. She shifted her weight onto her right leg and raised her left foot up onto the low window sill. Her inner thigh was now angled towards the window; her pink, swollen love curtains were pouting in the cool air and deliberately presented towards their voyeur. Mrs. Larindale felt Jessica's legs part and taking this as an invitation, she dropped her hand down to just above Jessica's knee moving up quickly across the smooth flesh of her inner thigh, and gently brushed across Jessica's aching petals. "Wet pussy from the good Lord," choked Dick on his reefer as Jessica responded by running one hand up the naked back of Mrs. Larindale whilst lifting up her full length skirt with her other hand as she stroked the hostess's bottom. "Fuck me sideways," exclaimed Dick, as his eyes grew wide as a bullfrog's, straining to capture and memorize every frame of the scene to which he was witness. Dick was treated to a double whammy of stocking clad legs and suspenders. One frontal view of Jessica having her pussy lips stroked whilst her raised leg gentle beat open and closed in apparent, absent minded wantonness. A second view, from behind of Mrs. Larindale's shapely legs, being revealed from under her long ball gown as Jessica raised one side of her skirt. He could just see part of Mrs. Larindale's plump bottom, cleft in two by a black G-string. Dick had to restrain himself from whipping out the old boy and throwing a quick one off the wrist. He had seen this sort of thing many times on his collection of Lesbian Liaison blue video's but this was Jessica, and this was real; and this was happening right in front of him. He rubbed himself through his trousers as his cock meat swelled and straightened inside his boxer shorts. The two women were kissing lavishly; Jessica had worked her hand round to Mrs. Larindale's wet hole and was applying some of her own masturbation techniques to her swollen clitoris. Mrs. Larindale was probing the inner walls of Jessica's pussy. Both women were consumed with their mutual masturbation. Jessica started to mimic Mrs. Larindale's every move, stroking when Mrs. Larindale stroked, probing when Mrs. Larindale probed, and when Mrs. Larindale eased a second finger into her own wet hole, Jessica eased a second finger into Mrs. Larindale. Jessica's breathing was coming in gasps now, her orgasm just moments away. Her attempts to match Mrs. Larindale's moves failed as her stomach clenched and knees started to give way. Mrs. Larindale pushed her chest firmly into Jessica's, holding her up against the wall while continuing the assault on her clitoris. Gasping and moaning, Jessica held onto Mrs. Larindale for support, kissing her neck as she struggled to cope with the aggressively efficient administrations of her lover; finding her escape for the first time through the affections of another woman, Jessica nuzzled down into Mrs. Larindale's neck, and cried out painfully as her soul was exposed to the cruel dark world. Mrs. Larindale reduced her stimulation, to a gentle stroking as Jessica's orgasm ricocheted around her body. "Ok my dear?" Mrs. Larindale asked a few moments later. "Wow. Yes. That was fantastic, Mrs. Larindale," simpered Jessica. "Loraine, dear. Call me, Loraine," Loraine said. "We had better be getting back to the party before we are missed." Loraine kissed her gently on the lips, smiling as she started to pull down and button up the front of Jessica's jacket, fussing over the young woman's attire, smoothing back her blonde hair before adjusting her own dress and makeup.