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Appleby Blush Ch. 01

By: hal_tee



Chapter 1: The Case 

Sandra Wilson wasn't happy. But then, she hadn't been happy since the whole DeVere-George Blair business. Okay, it might have been an operation that the Vice squad shouldn't have had any part of. But they'd prevented murder, killed one of the most dangerous assassins in Europe and avoided a full-scale scandal. What was their reward?

Heads had rolled! 

It had become political, fast. Donny Webster, Head of London Met's Vice team, had been forced into early retirement. Taffy Boyd, the Narcotics wireman who'd surreptitiously helped them, had been transferred to some stick-in-the-mud hamlet. 

And Jack Palmer had almost got thrown in jail. The only thing that had saved him was his hasty resignation and signed documents confirming he'd never publicly discuss the case. It was so unfair. Jack had been a fundamental part of their achievements. Now he'd been reduced to working as a private investigator, whereas she'd been promoted to take charge of Vice.

Frankly, it stunk.

So did the rumours reaching her ears right now—about a certain Donald Appleby. The apparently legitimate global businessman had been mentioned too many times for her liking. There were too many loose ends, all seeming to point to some sort of involvement. They had so many Vice cases on the go and almost without exception, Appleby's name seemed to crop up somewhere or other.

The brunette had Jack Palmer to thank for her instincts. Her friend and ex-fellow cop had mentored her well. Those same gut feelings had led the team to Dominic DeVere, and to George Blair, of course, even though they eventually hadn't been able to pin a thing on the Labour leader. The Commissioner's decision to break-up their team had seen to that but Blair had been heavily involved all the same. 

Thank goodness he hadn't won the General Election, although had the British public seen those compromising photographs of Alistair Brinkley-Jones before they'd voted, in all likelihood it would have been Blair and not the Conservative leader who'd taken power.

Brinkley-Jones reign as Prime Minister had been the shortest in political history and that was no more than the scumbag deserved. Sandra Wilson had brought lots of criminals to justice for their involvement in vice, but those in high places always seemed to find a way out.

She wasn't going to allow that to happen with Donald Appleby... 

She couldn't prove a thing—yet—but her antennae had gone up and intuitively she knew this was something she should follow up. A secretive phone call to Taffy Boyd had seen the Welshman do some checking behind the scenes. He'd confirmed that Appleby was on their list of people Narcotics were interested in, but with nothing more than a few unusable comments from contacts to support that curiosity.

She helped herself to a coffee from the machine and glanced at her watch. It would be another couple of hours before her team arrived. God, she hated these ridiculously early starts but her workload didn't give her much choice

At times like this she wished the old team were still together. What she'd give for Donny Webster and Jack Palmer to be working on this with her. She still had Alex Goodwin, of course—good old reliable Alex. The barrel-chested man had taken the splitting of the team hard, too and some of the fire had gone out. Although he continued to keep himself in great shape, he was pushing sixty and his main objective nowadays seemed to be reaching retirement. 

They hadn't spoken much recently. The barrier that had been between them ever since she'd ended their affair had solidified once he'd married Sally. Their sudden wedding had surprised her, even though Goodwin had known the female chef for a long time. Six months later he was separated again and although she could have asked him about it, opening up some old wounds was the last thing she wanted.

Alex was still loyal to her, of course. She knew that. He'd run through a brick wall if she asked. That's why she'd ask him to help on this case. She needed someone she could trust, especially with the rumours of bent cops still being whispered throughout the Met. 

It wasn't just that, of course. The two female cops she had set up to work undercover with her needed some protection. Kirsten was sufficiently experienced to take care of herself, of course. But Alice was new to all of this. The twenty-four year old female Detective reminded her so much of herself at that age. Alice had the same eagerness and fearlessness as a young Sandra Wilson and despite her stunning looks, had a sharp brain on her. This was no stereotypical blonde!

Still, it would be her first real case and she'd need some extra guidance. And who better to provide that than Alex Goodwin. Having the two of them working in the same Unit was unusual and this would be the first time they were both involved in the same case. But the more she thought it through, the more sense it made.

Alice had been okay with the idea when she'd told her she was going to involve her father, too. She'd assess Goodwin's reaction when she spoke to him before the team meeting.

***

"Angela, pop into my office," Donald Appleby instructed.

Replacing the phone before she could answer, he unfastened his belt and worked his trousers and boxers around his knees. It would save time. Reaching forward, he unscrewed the top of a small phial and allowed a single drop of the liquid to splash into the drink he'd just poured. It settled in seconds, turning the white wine into what appeared to be rosé. 

A blush wine would have been a better term. Appleby Blush.

The large floor to ceiling window behind his desk framed the London skyline as if it were an oil painting. It wasn't the scene behind him that his secretary's gaze fixed on as she entered his office. It was the way her pony tailed employer was idly fondling his erect cock. 

The lewd scene always aroused her.

Walking across to the impressive desk, the young woman took the glass he held out to her and threw it down in one go. He never got tired of looking at her, a cross between Demi Moore and Jeanne Tripplehorn, though her jet black hair was much shorter than either. She loved the way her employer always offered her wine before their lovemaking sessions. The drink even seemed to increase her arousal... 

She was already unbuttoning her white blouse as she made her way around to his side of the desk, her deep brown eyes focusing on the semi erect cock that grew larger with every jerking stroke of his hand. 

"Let me help," she breathed in that upper class voice as she rounded the desk and ripped the cups of her bra upwards. Her Playboy-like breasts bounced free. 

She fed one to his mouth as her hand replaced his, corkscrewing her fingers around the shaft as he immediately took one of her pink nipples between his lips. Her free hand found his pony tail, gripping it tightly as his teeth playfully pulled on the hard bud.

Appleby felt his manhood grow further under her expert touch. Young flesh was the fifty-year-old man's lifeblood. There was never a shortage with his status and his secretary was as hot as they came. The recently developed liquid aphrodisiac she'd just consumed always turned her from a shy but voluptuous looking woman into a sex crazed bitch.

The drug brought out the animal in a woman, arousing them beyond anything they'd ever experienced. A single dose generally kicked in for a two hour period, but with some females it seemed to last much longer. A couple of drops kept the woman on heat all night.

Appleby Blush, they'd christened it. It would make him millions...

Reluctantly easing his lips from her breasts, his attractive secretary sank to her knees and took his hardness between her talented lips. She was almost salivating as the need overpowered her.

Appleby placed a hairy hand onto the back of her head as he moaned, tightening it in her short, dark locks as she began to mouth-fuck him. Damn, this woman was good. Every bit as good as any he'd ever had—except maybe for Carmella of course. Closing his eyes, he reflected on how wonderful life was. Not that he hadn't worked hard to put himself in this position. He had—very hard. That was why he was in his office at seven every morning. 

It was his office... his building... his business.

From humble beginnings, he'd built it into the multi million pound organisation it was today—remarkable for a business founded on prostitution. But he'd learnt very early that real success came from control and his girls had provided him with that control. Clients quickly came around to his way of thinking when he presented them with photographic evidence of their indiscretions. 

Especially the most powerful of them. But, of course, they had the most to lose...

He didn't survive simply by extortion, of course. He rewarded his clients, too. The party he was hosting in a couple of nights would be the biggest and grandest yet—an opportunity to thank existing contacts and provide a tangible demonstration of the incentives available to the new contacts he was attempting to cultivate.

All the girls who worked for him would be on duty at the party, providing their services to carefully selected guests. The action, naturally enough, would be recorded on the hidden cameras around his mansion and used as appropriate going forward. 

More than anything however, if his talks with Joseph Nmobu went well over the next couple of days, the party would crown his greatest achievement. Negotiating a contract for the mass production Appleby Blush was the final step in his master plan. A combination of the aphrodisiac and narcotics would see him able to rapidly expand his business interests throughout Europe. Then worldwide...

His scientific team's discovery had been a complete accident. Seeking a cure for something he could no longer remember, they'd stumbled across an aphrodisiac so strong that it virtually turned woman into sex-crazed nymphomaniacs. It worked equally well with men, but Appleby knew his fortune would be enhanced by its application to the female sex. 

Like the sexy bitch on her knees between his legs right now.

Angela was a sophisticated woman with a body to die for, even if there wasn't much between her ears. She'd resisted his early advances for some time—she'd only recently married, after all, and would never dream of cheating on her husband. In Appleby's world, any such resistance invariably meant an early exit from their well paid job. But this stunning bitch was so stylish, so classy, so sexy, he'd seen her as a challenge.

He wasn't sure whether she would have eventually given in and nor did he care. A single drop of Appleby Blush had made the question hypothetical, as well as rewarding his foresight in keeping the refined woman on his payroll. Not only had she displayed a wild side he could never have imagined, she'd proved to be an insatiable bitch.

It was just as well he prided himself on his stamina. 

Even at fifty years of age, the bespectacled Appleby maintained a sexual appetite the equal to any younger man. But then, he thought of himself as young at heart. The way he pulled his silvery grey hair back behind his head into a ponytail gave him a youthful, rebellious look and even under the expensive looking dark blue suit his muscular build was clear. 

His hand went to Angela's jet black hair, gripping it tightly between his fingers. Fuck, he was congratulating himself on his sexual prowess and yet if the sexy bitch kept sucking him like that, he'd cum soon. And he hadn't fucked her yet. 

But that pleasure was only moments away... 

He reached across her bobbing head and opened the small silver box, wetting his finger with his tongue before scooping up the white powder. He rubbed it across his lips before dragging her upwards and smiling encouragingly as her fevered eyes stared into his.

"Open up," he softly told her, nudging her pink lips with the side of her finger. 

As her mouth obediently widened, he rubbed the wet remains of the white powder into her gums, mixing it with the saliva that hung from her lips and trailed down onto his towering manhood. The sex crazed bitch sucked on his finger like she had on his cock. 

One day, he'd fully initiate her into the delights of cocaine, but maybe not yet. One step at a time...

The recent interests he'd established in Columbia and the Middle East had added narcotics into his business mix—swelling his earnings potential and providing a tool to support his prostitution and money laundering activities. Now, with Appleby Blush to support his other activities, the possibilities were simply endless. The ethical question had never been an issue for him or for any of those who worked at the highest level of his business. Where money was concerned, people lost their morals quicker than Essex girls lost their virginity.

Angela was an Essex girl. And right now, she had him on the verge of blowing...

***

"God, you're a sexy bitch," the young man groaned. His voice sounded strained as the cute, dimpled blonde grinded her body down on him. They'd continuously made love since they'd woken and yet she still wasn't satisfied.

"You don't want to fuck again?" Alice Goodwin teasingly murmured as she rotated on his cock. Her long blonde hair swayed seductively and her hands on his chest dug in harder. "I didn't hear you complain last night."

He grunted, reaching up to cover her bouncing breasts with his palms. The half light that covered the bedroom added to the eroticism of the scene. 

Alice moaned. She knew that one night stands were frowned on in the Met but she didn't have time for a steady boyfriend and with such a high sex drive, her need for relief was constant. So picking up a guy in a bar and then going back to spend the night at his place was the perfect way of satisfying her needs, particularly as she made a point of keeping her identity secret. Without exception, she never saw her one-night lovers again.

"Just trying to work off some energy before I leave you," she teased, tightening her velvet vice around his hardness.

He groaned again at the sensation, arching his back on the bed and staring down at their union. A thin blonde landing strip guarded her labial lips and the sight of them stretching around his manhood brought another moan. 

"Geez, Belinda," he mumbled, starting to caress her breasts again. 

Alice's smile sexily touched the corners of her lips. She always used that name. As well as preserving her anonymity, it was fun pretending to be someone else. Since Sandra Wilson had told her about the undercover Appleby case, her sex drive had scorched into the stratosphere. This was her first real chance to prove herself. Her dad hadn't wanted her to become a cop, and always went on and on about the dangers involved. He meant well, but for God's sake sometimes he made her head ache. 

She was twenty two, not an immature teenager!

Every objection only firmed her resolve. She had her mind set on a successful career in the Met and try as he might he'd never been able to dissuade her otherwise. 

She paused in her movements, holding her lover inside. "That's nice?" she teasingly asked, raising herself until just the head of his cock was inside her. 

"I'm close," he told her, his fingernails digging into her hips as he tried to hold back.

She grinned down at him in that cute way of hers. The timing was perfect—as much as she was tempted to prolong the session, she needed to get into the office for Wilson's team meeting. Sandra would be telling her dad right now about Alice's involvement in the case and she could just imagine his reaction. On top of that, he'd be pissed that she hadn't confided in him, but Sandra had made it clear that she wanted to be the one to break the news.

"You're close?" she mimicked, returning her attention to the man beneath her. His breath was coming in short, heavy pants. "I guess Belinda is just too hot for you, eh?"

He shook his head but his narrowed eyes gave the game away. They were filled with arousal and she tightened her internal muscles on him again. 

"Geez, Belinda,"

"Want to cum for me, baby?" she whispered, bracing a hand on the nape of his neck and pausing to look down at their union. Perspiration covered their bodies and her lover's chest was rising and falling as if someone was pumping adrenalin through him. 

Leaning forward, her lips found his and she flicked her tongue across his mouth like a cat licking at cream. It was time to build up the pace. She started to move, softly at first and then powering down on him. As he grunted she began to grind down even faster. She moaned with each rapid down-thrust, becoming lost in the moment as the sound of their skin slapping against each other juddered through both of their bodies. 

The smooth flanks of her inner thighs were aching from their night of sex but she ignored the minor discomfort. She changed direction, now rotating her hard buttocks in circles on his cock. His hands found her breasts again. Her nipples were deliciously hard against his palms, but the speed of her movements was such that he was unable to keep hold of them. Her hips worked faster as she took him towards the finishing line.

His body bounced on the bed. Her tits danced an erotic dance. His groans increased. Her inner thighs tightened around his sides, controlling him like a rodeo rider on a bucking bronco. She threw her head back and gasped, tightening the walls of her pussy around him as she gave him the ripple. 

"Belinda..." he gasped, confirming the moment had arrived. "Oh fuck—"

Alice came with him, groaning aloud as his orgasm fired hers. Life really couldn't get much better...

***

Kirsten Tobin awoke with a start. At first she thought she was hearing things, but her boyfriend's elbow in his ribs confirmed it was the phone. 

The brunette glanced at the clock. Eight thirty. It had been three in the morning when she'd finished the report for Sandra Wilson. Her boss had told her to email it to her when it was finished and then take the opportunity to grab some extra sleep before arriving at the Met this morning. As long as she was there for the team meeting, she'd said.

Rubbing her eyes, she reached for the phone as she lifted the crumpled white sheets and swung her bare legs over the side of the bed.

"Miss Watson, please." 

Miss Watson? Damn, it was a wrong number. She was just about to hang up when realisation suddenly hit her. Her heart leapt.

"Yes? That's me."

"Miss Watson, my name is Tony Daly. I'm calling from Appleby Modelling." 

"Yes, hello..." she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You recently answered one of our adverts and requested an audition."

"Yes, yes I did." 

"We'd like to see you," the deep voice continued. "Sometime this afternoon. I'm assuming that will be convenient?" 

Kirsten's heart beat faster—Sandra would be delighted. They'd dangled the bait and now they had their second nibble. Alice had been invited to the Agency and now she was too. But Alice's was tomorrow, wasn't it?

"That will be fine," she answered. "What time did you have in mind?" 

"Three thirty," came the reply, the tone suggesting there was no room for negotiation. 

"That will be great, Mr. Daly. Should I ask for you or Mr. Appleby when I arrive?" 

The voice laughed softly. "I deal with the modelling side of the things, Miss Watson," he explained. "Appleby Productions is only one part of the Appleby Empire."

"Yes, yes, of course," she answered, smiling to herself. Making him think she was dumb would give her an advantage.

"Good. I'll see you later this afternoon." 

As the dial tone filled her ear, Kirsten stared at the phone for a moment, lost in thought. She was at the crossroads in her career with the Met, she knew that. Okay, it had been her childhood ambition, but the force wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Other people had told her she had the looks and figure to be a model, so it was ironic that their current case should focus on a modelling agency. Maybe a side benefit would be that she'd get an insight into whether that sort of future was possible?


Appleby Blush Ch. 01



"Well?" she heard her boyfriend's voice.

Her deep brown eyes betrayed her excitement as she struggled up in bed and replaced the phone. The white sheet dropped away to display her full breasts. "This is what we've been waiting for, Matt," she told him. "That was Appleby Modelling."

He blinked at her. "The case you told me about?"

"Uh-hum." The smile on her cute face broadened. "Alice got notice of her audition yesterday and we thought we'd have to settle for that. This gives us both a chance of getting in there and snooping around."

"That's good, honey," he shrugged, turning to look at the clock. He'd taken the day as holiday and was due on the golf course in a couple of hours. "So... what time do you have to be in the office?"

Kirsten grinned at the look in his eyes. She'd never been able to hold down a relationship for more than six months and in truth, she'd been wondering about her and Matt recently. But she had to admit, he was just what she needed in bed. "And why do you ask, kind sir?"

"Well," he huskily said, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek as he ran a hand across her exposed breasts. "As you have the audition, I was thinking we might celebrate."

"Mmm," she moaned, as his thumb flicked a brown nipple. "Tonight, baby. I really need to get moving right now."

Matt roughly pulled her back as she began to leave the bed. As she giggled, he slipped his hand between her thighs. "You're sure?"

Kirsten moaned again as he pulled her into a kiss. Her fingers found his hardening cock under the sheets. "Maybe we have time after all..." 

***

Alex Goodwin lumbered into Sandra Wilson's office. It had been a surprise when she'd asked to see him. Since she'd ended their affair eighteen months ago they hadn't had much to say to one another. When he'd married Sally, he'd thought his feelings would settle down. They never had, of course. Maybe that was the reason why his marriage hadn't lasted that long? They remained friendly enough, though he didn't see her often.

It wasn't only his and Wilson's personal lives that had suffered, of course—it was their professional interaction, too. The conclusion of their personal relationship had coincided with the DeVere fiasco. Sandra had been coerced into taking over from Donny Webster and they were big shoes to fill. Webster had been Vice Squad. And this had been his office. 

He let out a deep sigh. It all seemed so different now. Whereas his ex-boss's small desk had looked like a combat zone, Sandra Wilson had everything neat and tidy, in its own place. 

He didn't like the small, rectangular, black-framed glasses she pulled off as he entered. They made her look like a librarian. As usual, her straight black hair was tied into a knot high on her head. She still looked sexy, though. 

He watched her closely as she rose from the desk and pushed the door closed behind him. The black, skin-tight jeans she used to wear had long since been replaced by less provocative trousers, and her snug tops no longer had a button too many undone. In Vice, anything went in a dress sense, but there were limits when you became a Senior Officer in the London Met. 

Her gun was holstered right up against her tailbone, but it was the two peach-like buttocks that Goodwin found himself focussing on. For a thirty-five year old, the divorcee still had a great ass. Even at her age, she could pass for a model. He sighed softly to himself. 

These were thoughts he shouldn't be thinking. Not anymore.

"Grab a seat, Alex," she softly told him, pushing back into her chair and slipping her glasses back on as she picked up a file.

He grunted. It wasn't just for her—a grunt was Goodwin's normal response nowadays. Retirement couldn't come soon enough. "How's it going?" 

"The normal," she told him with a sigh. "There are mountains of paperwork to get through. Every Divisional Head has their own agenda and it's all too political for there to be any cooperation anymore. And the courts continue to hand out the minimum sentences so the villains we catch are back on the streets before we can return to the office."

Goodwin grunted. "Bad day then?"

"No, Alex, as I said, it's normal" she repeated, laughing as she flashed those topaz coloured eyes at him. 

He felt his body shiver at the sound. It was a soft noise, one he remembered so well. What he'd give for another session with his ex-lover, but that wasn't going to happen. She'd made that clear enough. All he had to look forward to now was an easy passage into retirement and he'd have taken it already had it not been for Alice. His last meaningful act in the Met would be to help her come to terms with the job.

He'd been completely against his daughter joining the Met, but she was stubborn as well as bright. And good looking, too. She had the body of a model and he'd often suggested she should try and head in that direction. So far, to no avail.

"What about you? Busy?"

He realised that Sandra was talking to him again and he shrugged.

"Stupid question," she conceded. "And don't worry, Alex. I haven't got more work for you. But..."

"But?"

Her smile turned softer as she removed her glasses again. She held up a file. "I could do with some help."

"From me? Why?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Various reasons, Alex. I find myself looking round nowadays, wondering who's in who's pay. It's getting worse."

"Bent cops? You think?"

She snorted. "I know, Alex and so do you. We just don't know who. Apart from Kirsten and Alice, you're the only one I can really trust around here."

"You trust me?"

"Of course, I do," she snapped, the irritation all too evident in her voice. "Hell, Alex, I trust you with my life. I just need you to get back some of the spark you had, forget about retirement for now and get your act together."

Goodwin grunted. "You were never one for smooth talking, Sandra."

"And you were never one for moping around, Alex. It's that hard exterior that drew me too you in the first place..." She paused. The way his eyes had suddenly brightened made her realise she was sending out the wrong signals. "That's behind us," she quickly said, "but you're a good friend and a bloody good cop. And right now, I need you."

He uncomfortably pushed a hand through his greying hair. It used to be white until he began to dye it. Sally had wanted him to. The act caused considerable mirth amongst his colleagues but he didn't care. He didn't like them much, anyway. Young kids who thought they knew everything...

"How can I help?" he asked, thinking more about the woman than the problem. Wilson would trust him with her life? That was the nicest thing she'd said to him in over a year. She was quite right to feel that way, too. Despite their split, he'd still do anything for her. He watched as she dropped the file in her hand back down on her desk. It wafted a few sheets of notepaper onto the floor and he bent to pick them up. 

"I've been reviewing a number of cases—trying to find patterns, inconsistencies," she said. "And there's one thing that's come up time and time again."

The big man eased himself into the chair opposite her desk. He hadn't felt comfortable enough in there to take a seat. Not until now...

"What's that?

"It's a name. Donald Appleby."

"Donald Appleby? The Donald Appleby?" 

"Not the man," she replied. "But one of his companies—Appleby Modelling. Now why would that name appear in every case I've reviewed?"

Goodwin nodded thoughtfully. He didn't believe in coincidences either, and he'd come to appreciate that Sandra's hunches were invariably correct. But Appleby was a well-respected, legitimate businessman. It was inconceivable that he could be involved in anything shady. Wasn't it?

"What else?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Not a thing, Alex," she said, stretching her body and rubbing her eyes. 

Goodwin felt the old familiar stirring as her flowery blouse pulled too tight across her breasts. In his mind's eye he could see them—small and firm, capped with round little nipples that stuck out like eraser tips. The erection that had started when she'd said she trusted him grew further...

"In some ways it reminds me of the DeVere case, Alex. Jack's wife got sucked into Erin DeVere's modelling agency, didn't she? We couldn't prove anything, but I'm still sure there was more to the business than simply producing models. Maybe it's the same with Appleby?" She tapped the file in front of her. "Perhaps that's why his name crops up so often in these reports?"

"Maybe," Goodwin nodded. "So, what you're looking for from me is...?" 

"I need your support, Alex. Someone to bounce things off. You'll always been a good foil for me and it's always helped to talk things through with you..."

She paused and he realised he was blushing. Damn—as soon as she gave him some praise he was taking it as a personal thing between him and her. Despite the eighteen month gap since they went out together, some things never changed. 

"But not only that," she quickly added, sitting up so that her pose was more formal. It was as if she'd recognised his reaction and wanted to put a barrier between them. "I have Kirsten working on this case with us."

Goodwin nodded. "Good choice. She's experienced enough."

"Exactly. And she's attractive enough to secure a modelling audition at Appleby's. That will provide an opportunity to nosey around and see what she can pick up."

"Makes sense. When's the audition?"

For the first time in their conversation, Wilson looked uneasy. There was more to this, he could sense it.

"She hasn't heard back from them yet. But Kirsten's not the only one on the case and this time we do have an audition confirmed.

"That's good—" Goodwin stopped mid sentence. Realisation hit him. "No."

Wilson set her jaw. "It's a great opportunity for her."

"Great opportunity?" he half shouted, then lowered his voice. "Look Sandra, undercover work can be dangerous. Alice isn't ready for it yet."

The brunette leant back in her chair and tapped a pencil on her teeth. "Alex," she slowly drawled. "You've just said that it makes sense for Kirsten to go in. Alice knows her stuff. All she has to do is keep an ear open for anything untoward and report back. You have to stop wet nursing her. Try acting like a cop and not a father. How else is she going to get the experience?"

Goodwin stared silently at her. He knew that Sandra Wilson was right but that didn't make it any easier, nor did the fact that Alice hadn't confided in him. The two of them told each other everything so why should this be any different? 

"Because I told her not to," Wilson said, demonstrating she hadn't lost any of her ability to read his mind. "This is an unofficial mission and the last thing I need is for anything to leak out."

"You think I would have—"

"Don't be stupid," she snapped, giving him that no nonsense look she'd developed over the past twelve months. "We're both too long in the tooth not to realise that the fewer people who know the better. Besides, you would have been a negative influence on her. She needs to know you believe in her, not talk about her lack of experience."

Goodwin gave a long sigh as he spread his legs out and rested his forearms on his knees. Ever since he'd known her, Sandra Wilson spoke good sense. "You said unofficial," he said, rubbing a hand across his chin. "Turner doesn't know?"

She shook her head. When they had something, she would raise the case with her boss. He'd close down the investigation before it started if she took it to him. Appleby was too important a figure to upset. There'd be a complaint straight through to the top and Turner would be in the firing line. "No, not until we have something concrete."

Goodwin nodded. He knew Colin Turner was putting the heat on Wilson, firing more and more paperwork at her just to get it off his desk. That wasn't the only reason he hated the man. Turner was instrumental in breaking up the team eighteen months ago, in getting rid of Donny Webster and Jack Palmer, in making them scapegoats. As far as Goodwin was concerned, he'd like to see something nasty happy to the bastard.

"What I'm doing is asking for your help, Alex," she continued, breaking into his thoughts. "I want you on this case. I need you to give Alice some confidence. And I need you to look after her like you used to do with me when we were with Donny and Jack. You know what I mean—a word in her ear when necessary, a nudge in the right direction if her enthusiasm gets the better of her. And I need you to help me, Alex. Because this is hush-hush, I need you to watch my back."

He stared at the brunette and slowly nodded. It wasn't just that she made sense. Nor was it simply that Alice was his daughter. He couldn't refuse this woman anything.

***

His secretary grunted as Donald Appleby's firm hands bent her forward over his desk. His immaculate trousers were around his ankles and his tailored shirt bunched up at his waist. Angela grunted again as his hard cock continued to thrust inside her.

"Good?" he murmured, as he slowed his pace. The hand in the middle of her back held her down against the desk, her naked round breasts pushing against the soft leather top. This woman was so fucking tight. "You like that, my little slut?"

"Ngh... fuck... yes," she gasped, her breath a harsh rasp. 

Appleby grinned. Her posh accent came through even more when she was cursing. He imagined it would be how royalty spoke when they were on the job. Perhaps he'd have a chance to find out one day? The thought made him grow another inch and he lost timing for a second as he revelled in the thought. 

"Fuck, c'mon..." she cursed again, when his juice-slicked cock accidentally withdrew. Her hand dropped underneath her body to slot him in again.

"Impatient little bitch," he playfully laughed, regaining his focus. 

Her superb body felt warm and alive as began to fuck her again. With each thrust, the desk rocked on its legs. He leaned into her, his caressing hands savouring the feeling of the soft body that was firm and thick in all the right places. One hand slapped across her ass as he drilled her, creating a red mark. A second slap followed. When she moaned in half-hearted protest, his hand drifted down between her young legs. His experienced fingers softly rubbed her clit.

Angela groaned loudly as his fingers flicked at her sensitive nub. Her legs spread themselves even wider as her skimpy black thong stretched to its maximum around her ankles. 

The way her young internal muscles squeezed his manhood sent a surge down to his balls. Burying his face against the top of her back, he gently bit at her shoulder. His teeth left a mark on her skin as he tasted her perfume and sweat. It broke the code between them but so what? She'd find a way to explain that to her husband. 

Sliding both hands up her body onto her ripe tits, he loved the way her nipples felt between his fingertips as he cupped them. They grew harder as he upped the pace. 

"Yes, Donald... oh, fuck..." her classy voice grunted.

The pony tailed man moved like a machine. He was sweating hard now as his groin slapped against her ass, maybe showing his age? One of her hands found his and dragged it down to her clit again. He grinned at the recollection that the upmarket bitch had originally turned down his advances...

He wanted her orgasm before his but he wasn't too far off. The way she was pumping her sweet ass backwards against his thighs to meet his forward thrusts was really getting to him. Leaving her breasts, he wrapped some of her short, dark hair in his hand and yanked her head up from the desk. He held it suspended in the air as he went for broke.

"Cum, you bitch," he grunted, thrusting hard enough for the heavy desk to move a couple of inches. 

With one final backward shove of her aching legs and hips, she held herself still. For a moment, their flesh was super glued to one another in a remarkable stillness. As she came, her tight sex spasmed and contracted vice-like around his throbbing cock. Her thighs shook and trembled as she crested in her release and her entire body began to shudder. Pulling her head free from his hand, she sunk forward onto the desk as her orgasm rumbled through her.

The millionaire had paused to allow the little bitch to enjoy her moment, but now he wanted his reward. She knew that, too. With experience that belied her tender age, she kicked her thong free of an ankle so that she could plant her legs even wider to accommodate him. 

"Yes, baby. Now..." she gasped, raising her ass and pushing back.

He pumped like a madman, racing himself to his orgasm. His young secretary made no effort to help, other than stiffening her body to allow maximum penetration. He grunted. She moaned. He whimpered. She groaned.

"Come on, Donald," she urged. "Come on..."

His balls tensed from her encouragement and with a grunt he sent two quick streams of cum into her clutching body. He anchored the soles of his feet on the floor, feeling his calves ache as he continued to fire. Each diminishing burst grew shorter, allowing him the chance to catch his breath. Holding onto her hips, he sank back down into his chair, exhausted from the effort. 

Angela went backwards with him, her tight sex still gripping his cock as her weight fell onto his thighs. She delicately rested herself on his lap, keeping her legs spread wide.

"That was wonderful, Donald," she whispered, beginning to gyrate on his softness. There was an instant response. "That was good, baby," her classy voice murmured as she began to grind his manhood back to a state that would satisfy her again. "

The businessman grunted as his hands found her heavy tits again. Dominating women was his speciality and now that he'd broken this one in, his mid morning breaks were becoming a regular feature of his business day...

***

"Okay, people," Sandra Wilson said once they were all together. The women took the seats and Goodwin leant back against her closed office door. "I don't have much time so let's keep this as short as we can. Let me set out where we are so that everyone is clear..."

She paused, watching the look that Goodwin shot his daughter. There was something endearing about the way he wanted to protect her. His warm smile indicated that he'd listened to her counsel. For a second, she could see him standing there, eighteen months ago. Donny Webster too, and Jack Palmer. Webster would have a stack of files scattered across his desk and would be thrusting the half eaten sandwich into his mouth while he attempted to take a drink from his plastic cup at the same time. God alone knew how many shirt fronts he'd stained. But things were different now. This was her bag...

"First problem... this is unofficial," she went on. "If Turner or anyone else gets wind of it there'll be hell to pay, so let's keep it tight. Second problem, we have absolutely nothing to go on—just a string of coincidences where Donald Appleby's name continues to crop up. We don't have anything specific, but there are far too many references for my liking."

"Why are we doing it if Turner would object?" Kirsten naively asked.

Wilson and Goodwin exchanged glances. The young brunette was the only person in the room who was unaware of the history between them and Turner. The DeVere case was six months before she'd joined the division. Even Alice was aware of the background—her father had taken a lot of convincing not to resign there and then. Only his loyalty to Sandra Wilson had seen him decide to continue with Vice.

"Because this is proper police work," Wilson said carefully, stepping around the issue. She ran her fingers through her straight black hair, fiddling with the knot tied high on her head. "Turner is more intent on keeping the politician's happy."

Kirsten looked at the three faces staring at her. "Okay," she smiled, holding her hands up. "It was a stupid question."




Appleby Blush Ch. 01



"Yeah, stupid," Goodwin grunted, grinning at her when she gave him the finger.

"So here's what we're going to do," Wilson continued, ignoring the interplay. "Alex is going through all the files again to see if there's anything I've missed. Something specific we can follow up. Alice has her audition tomorrow." She turned her head to look at the blonde. "Just keep your eyes and ears open and suss out anything you can, anything we'd be interested in."

"What if I pass the audition?" she asked, pulling her hair onto the top of her head and struck a pose. "See, who could resist such a cutie?"

Everyone laughed, even Goodwin, although the roll of his eyebrows sent her a 'don't embarrass me' look. Alice just grinned back at him. 

"If you pass the audition, that gives us the opportunity to get in even deeper," Wilson replied. "Hopefully we'll get a response to your Kirsten's application too—"

"It came this morning," the brunette interrupted. "A guy named Tony Daly called me—"

"He was the guy I spoke to," Alice jumped in.

Kirsten nodded, glancing at her watch. "He must have liked my photos better than yours. In a couple of hours, I'll be strutting my stuff or whatever girls do at this type of thing."

"No way," Alice said, sending them that sweet smile that touched the corners of her lips. "Maybe I'm not such a cutie after all? Hey, what d'you think, Kirsten, maybe you'll get a black model to work with?"

The brunette sent a scorching look at her young colleague. Alice was one of only a few people who knew that she'd fantasised about being with a black man ever since she'd seen Wesley Snipes is some movie or another. One Night Stand? It had made her look at black men in a different light. Heck, she'd even masturbated to those fantasies.

"Black man?" Goodwin cut in, his eyes immediately lighting up.

"Forget it," Kirsten snapped, forcing a smile at him before shooting Alice another look. There was a time and a place for such things and this wasn't one of them. Sandra Wilson recued the moment. 

"You're two cuties," she told them. "But this is perfect, just perfect. Two bites of the cherry. Listen carefully, people. This may be our only chance of getting inside the organisation so let's make the most of it." She glanced at Goodwin, and then back at the two women. "Get a feel for anything we might be interested in. If we find anything, we discuss it and decide on the next steps. Understood?"

"Sure thing," the women chorused.

"And if we don't find anything, Sandra?" Goodwin asked.

"If there's nothing," Wilson replied, sending a meaningful stare around the room. "Then I'll close the case and we'll all get back to official work."

For a few seconds, the room fell silent. It was Goodwin who spoke next as he pushed up from the door and rested his elbow on the filing cabinet. "How do we all stay in touch?"

"Meetings here in my room at eight each morning," Wilson told them. "I want to give Kirsten and Alice as much flexibility to be there whenever the Agency want you both. That means an early morning meeting might be our only chance to get together as a team. Also, I want a phone call from each of you if you can't make that meeting, or as soon as you find anything, or last thing at night just to check in. Okay?"

Alice gave a soft chuckle. "To check in? You sound just like my dad."

The three women laughed at the exasperated look on Goodwin's face. He pushed a hand through his greying hair and grunted.

"As for us, Alex," Wilson continued, turning to him. She pulled off her small, rectangular, black-framed glasses and swung them in one hand. "We'll grab a quick coffee in the middle of each day, even if there's nothing to report." She glanced around at the keen faces staring at her. "I'm giving us a week. We either find something concrete in that time or we back off completely."



Appleby Blush Ch. 02



Chapter 2: Kirsten's Audition

The taxi pulled up outside the sumptuous looking building that boasted Appleby Modelling in red across the cream façade. Next to the words was the smaller red apple symbol that connected all Appleby businesses. Kirsten had spent an hour on the computer researching as much as she could before leaving the Met. Now she was on her own.

She raised her eyebrows as the driver told her the fare—was travelling to Croydon really that expensive? Maybe she should have taken the car after all, but then she'd have been worried about traffic, getting lost, being late. Still, there was no way Sandra Wilson would allow her to claim that amount on her expenses. 

Not unless she came up with something useful... 

The clean white foyer was surprisingly empty, with only a directional sign indicating the location of the reception. The heavy lift took her up three floors and opened directly into a spacious reception. The clinical white walls surprised her. She'd expected something different, more vibrant—maybe prints of successful models or photo shoots? Instead, only a single imposing framed picture on the opposite wall disturbed the equilibrium. 

She knew from her internet research that the man smiling down at her from the wall was none other than Donald Appleby. He looked an imposing figure and she momentarily wondered if he was the successful businessman the financial world thought? Or a criminal mastermind who'd so far gone undetected?

With a confidence that she didn't really feel, she straightened her back and turned towards the curly haired receptionist. The near perfect make-up the woman wore made her look attractive enough to be a model herself and those thick red curls that sat just above her shoulders and matched her beautiful freckled face. The woman had no inhibitions about showing off her curvy body in that short, light blue dress—look at those tits!

What was she doing behind a desk when she looked like she'd be more at home in front of a camera? Was that the standard she'd have to compete with? Any thoughts of passing the audition drifted away immediately like a straw on the wind. If Appleby's employees looked so hot and sexy, what would their models be like?

"Kirsten?" the woman asked, shooting her the brightest of smiles. 

Wow, that was impressive. They knew who she was. "Yes."

"You're expected," she softly said. "Just take a seat and Tony will be with you shortly. He's on his way."

"Thanks... Marcia?" she said, smiling back. Maybe she could gather some information before the audition commenced? Who better than a receptionist to have an insight into the workings of a business? 

"Yes, that's right," the girl acknowledged, crinkling her nose. "You're welcome."

"Tell me—" Kirsten began, but as the young woman's eyes flickered over her shoulder she realised there'd be no room for conversation.

Swinging around, her heart almost stopped. She was face to face with an ebony bodied Adonis. Wesley Snipes, eat your heart out...

"Hi Kirsten," the deep voice boomed. "I'm Tony."

Kirsten felt a soft shiver flutter through her body as she shook his hand. He was definitely fairly muscular beneath the jeans and casual white shirt. Just her type.

"Tony Daly," he continued. "We spoke on the phone. Come on through."

Her eyes covered his butt as she followed his rolling gate along the corridor. Even in the jeans, it was obvious his ass was hard and muscular. She idly wondered what reaction she'd get if she pinched it. Giggling under her breath, she decided against telling Matt that particular thought.

Like the reception area, the large room they entered was minimalist in appearance. Apart from the heavy desk that contained a telephone at one end and a computer beside it, the only other furniture consisted only of a couple of chairs and a glass cabinet that seemed to be filled with videotapes and cd's. 

The room needed a woman's touch...

"Centre of operations," he smiled, pointing to a seat and then casually perching on the edge of the desk beside her. It creaked ominously as he eased his muscular frame down. "Drink?" he asked, twisting around and reached for two glasses without waiting for a reply. He handed the one with the pink liquid to her.

"Thanks," she smiled, accepting the drink and taking a sip. All going smoothly so far, she told herself. 

"First," he said, resting one hand on his knee, "we don't stand on ceremony here. We're a typical agency, short on the niceties but we're the best in the world at promoting our models. We're looking to find someone with the potential to be a real supermodel. Another Gabrielle Dubois, Alicia Styles, Kelli Palmer..."

She felt her throat catch. Daly had just named three of the most sought after women in the modelling world. It would be a short audition before they threw her out, she told herself. As for all this nonsense that had gone through her mind about trying to make it as a model rather than continuing in the Met. A girl could dream, couldn't she? But the harsh reality was that she'd never be able to compete at this sort of level.

"You're not tied to an agency?" 

"No, not at all," she told him. Wilson had briefed both her and Alice on their stories and she had it off by heart. "I've done quite a bit of small time modelling but nothing in your league."

"Just what we're looking for," he answered, his keen gaze not leaving her sparkling brown eyes. "We need new, fresh talent, and for the successful few we offer a very competitive contract. And our organisation offers all the support to keep you on the right track—contracts and so on."

"That sounds great," she answered, taking another sip. She tried to place the drink but couldn't. It tasted kind nice, though. If she played her cards right, maybe she could get an insight into the business from Daly before the audition was finished? She could feel the start of a lick of heat between her loins just from looking into those dark soulful eyes.

They beamed at her. "It's all standard stuff. Depending on how things progress, we can agree the details later. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, I like to start with a positive but its one step at a time. You'll know, of course, what today's all about? You'll have auditioned plenty of times. We're no different."

"Yes," she confidently lied to him. It couldn't be that difficult could it?

He rested his hands on the desk behind him and leaned back. "I have to say, Kirsten, the photo you sent with your application impressed us. And I can tell you that you match up to my expectations."

She smiled at him—he was smooth as well as cute. No doubt he was giving her the same spiel he gave everyone else at this stage, but it did her confidence no harm. "Thank you." 

"So we're off to a good start," Daly grinned. "Next step is the audition itself. I'll take some photos of you in the studio. How you look infront of a camera will determine whether there's any point in taking this further." 

"Okay..." 

Reaching behind him, he flicked on his computer. "I see hundreds of models every month, Kirsten. They're all beautiful and all have great bodies. The camera will tell me if you're something special." He suddenly swung his gaze away from the screen and back to her. "Are you?"

The question took her by surprise and she took another sip of her drink, feeling it hit that spot between her thighs. "I... don't really—"

"Whoa," he laughed. "Modesty has its place, but not in this business. If someone asks you that sort of question, you tell them you're the most special thing that's ever walked this planet. Okay?"

Kirsten laughed. She'd expected the whole process to be much more formal but Daly's free and easy style made her feel comfortable. Maybe that was why she was suddenly starting to feel horny, she wondered, taking another drink? Well... that and his muscular black body! "Okay," she agreed, crossing her legs as if that would contain the heat she was feeling.

"Good. Now then, let's see if the bod matches your looks. If so, we'll bring you back tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow?" 

"Sure," he told her, fiddling with his computer. "We'll take a few photos that can be used for a couple of magazines we work with. So that'll bring you a small fee. But more importantly, it will give us a clear view of whether we think we can work with you going forward. Then we're into serious talks. How does that sound?"

"Sounds wonderful," Kirsten replied. He spoke so positively that she wondered if she was in with a chance after all. Or was this an act he put on with all the women he auditioned? Maybe she was writing herself off too soon? Could it be that she might actually have a chance of changing career? Calm yourself, she chuckled inwardly. Play it cool and then quiz him for more information before she left. And she'd chat to Marcia in reception, too. She had a job to do.

"Do I get to meet Mr. Appleby?" she casually probed, flicking her fingers through her dark wavy hair as she finished her drink.

Daly laughed. "Mr. Appleby? No, I'm afraid he has far more interesting things to occupy his time than the day to day running of his business. You will meet Carmella, though."

"Carmella?" 

"You must have heard of her. Everyone who takes an interest in fashion has heard of Carmella Santiago..." 

"Carmella Santiago!" Kirsten gushed. "She was Miss World before she became a supermodel, wasn't she?"

"Miss Universe," Tony Daly said, winking at her. "That was well over fifteen years ago—amazing isn't it? Another ten years of success as a supermodel and since then she's worked for Mr. Appleby. She manages the Agency and that's another reason why we're the best in the business. This is the chance of a lifetime, Kirsten."

The brunette nodded—the whole world had heard of Carmella Santiago. It was inconceivable anything untoward could be happening here if such a world renowned former supermodel was in control of the business. Wasn't it?

"Okay, Kirsten," Daly continued. "Time for the shoot. You're feeling good?"

"Very," she smiled at him. Much better than she had been when she'd walked into the place. Then she'd felt the buzz that always accompanied undercover work. That buzz was still there, but it was accompanied by a feeling of excitement that was parading between her thighs. The sensation worked itself up a couple of notches at Daly's next words.

"The bikinis are in the dressing room," he said, jumping energetically to his feet.

Bikinis? Neither she nor Sandra Wilson had anticipated that one.

"Something wrong?" he suddenly asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Hey, I've seen a thousand of beautiful women in bikinis. But listen, Kirsten, to get through to the next stage, you've got to impress me. Show me something different. Ready?"

Kirsten hoped the smile she shot him portrayed more confidence than she was actually feeling. Her body was in pretty good shape so what was she worried about? Besides, the thought of displaying her body was actually quite a turn on. All she'd have to do to get through the session was to imagine he was Wesley Snipes. "Sure," she smiled.

"Good girl." He nodded at the door. "Okay, let me show you the way to the dressing rooms. If you shower first and then choose either of the bikinis, we can get down to business..." 

***

Carmella Santiago was renowned for being one of the sexiest of supermodels, rather than the outstanding businesswoman she was today. The lavish party Donald Appleby was throwing in a couple of days was to celebrate her fortieth birthday—as well as being a vehicle to enhance his business interests, of course. She'd shared those interests ever since she'd left the catwalks behind her to oversee the running of his modelling agency. 

Even now, the Columbian woman still turned heads wherever she went, and she'd made it a policy to stay low key publicly so that very few people realised she was the driving force behind one of Appleby's most crucial of companies. 

She'd proven even more successful in the business field as she had in the fashion industry and had soon turned it into a successful agency in its own right, too. That gave it an air of legitimacy although it wasn't the primary purpose, of course. It was a wonderful vehicle through which they could entice young women into his escort and prostitution operation, and use the best of their unsuspecting prey in their lucrative online porn operation.

The business magnate had always appreciated talent whenever he saw it and his unerring eye had settled on Carmella during his time as a judge on the Miss Universe competition all those years ago. Offstage, they'd clicked immediately. It wasn't only her age, beauty or body that had attracted him—her IQ exceeded the rest of the contestants combined. 

The Columbian beauty had won the competition hands down and had thrown herself into her Miss Universe duties for the following twelve months with her usual drive. Fulfilling those obligations had also allowed her to seek out and build up contacts that would be of value to her—and Donald Appleby—in the future. 

Her foresight had been rewarded with a trusted place at the heart of his operations. Who else knew him and his business interests inside out? Who else had proven themselves to be so trustworthy and faithful over such a long period? Who else watched his back at all times? And who else fucked him with such abandon whenever he crooked his little finger?

It had been so romantic the way he'd flown her by private jet to Monte Carlo the morning after her Miss Universe success. She'd anticipated staying in one of the principalities top hotels but it turned out he had his own private villa, complete with servants. And making love in one of the four-posters overlooking the Mediterranean Sea had been unbelievable. 

It had been the first of many such visits to the French Riviera.

Pushing the door closed behind her, the striking beauty flicked on the various screens dotted around the console, wanting to catch up on anything new. Her business trip to the Bahamas in Appleby's private jet had been fruitful as well as enjoyable, but had left her out of touch with developments over the last few days. Tony Daly would brief her, of course, but right now he was busy with one of their first time auditions.

Flicking a switch, she honed in on yesterday's online broadcast. Daly had auditioned the blonde the day before she'd left for the Bahamas and it appeared she'd been a great hit with the regular followers of Tony's show. 

As the screen flickered into life, Tony Daly's onscreen head flopped back on the floor as the blonde took him inside her mouth, working his monster of a dick with all the enthusiasm of a young cheerleader. Smiling to herself, she ruminated that life was so much easier with Appleby Blush to smooth away any concerns their victims might have. 

The aphrodisiac not only instantly heightened a woman's sexual need to fever pitch proportions but it swept away any inhibitions, too. Even when the sex crazed women knew it was wrong, it was impossible for them to resist the itch that the drug had created. That meant they would invariably follow any sort of direction or suggestion. 

Bitches on heat, she laughed to herself. That was the name of the online show that Tony Daly starred in and that they broadcast live several times a week. Bring in new women who wanted to be models, give them some Blush, and then fuck them for the rest of the afternoon while broadcasting it on pay-to-view internet had proven an irresistible formula.

Bitches on heat. Even the name for the show was her idea.

And of course, once they had videos of their models performing with Tony, they had all the blackmail material needed to ensure the women stayed with them, often moving onto escort duties when a client needed to be satisfied, or a contact needed to be trapped.

They'd got it down to a fine art...

Her eyes returned to the large flat screen on the opposite wall, drawn there by the almost hysterical moans of the onscreen blonde. The woman was now on her hands and knees and Tony Daly was taking her doggie style. Blush was like that. It aroused women beyond anything they'd ever experienced and the young blonde was willingly having her brains fucked out by the black photographer cum porn star. 

Photographer—now there was a misnomer if ever she'd heard of one. She'd seen some of the stuff he shot and it was amateurish in the extreme. But that wasn't the point. The hidden video cameras scattered all around the studio and dressing rooms were what really mattered. The camera in Daly's hand was simply a means to an end.

Her head jerked back to the action. "Harder!" the onscreen blonde was grunting. 

Daly was raised up on one knee now, and his shaved balls bouncing lewdly across her wet labial lips. His large black hands left the woman's white hips and reached underneath her bent body to grab the gravity defying tits that demanded attention. She screamed at him again as she worked her clit, her voice becoming little more than a high-pitched shriek.

Carmella's hand dropped to her expensive slacks and eased the zip down before snaking inside. She had to admit it—Tony Daly might not be much of a photographer but he was a very good fuck. His shows had reached cult status in the underground porn market and their foresight in using an assumed name—Solomon Sloane—in his shows ensured the connection between him and the modelling agency was closely protected. 

Maybe she'd allow herself to experience that black cock one day, despite her resolve never to mix business with pleasure. Even before her climax had run its course, the out of control woman had Jermaine on his back now, slithering her body down on his so that she could ride him like a rodeo bull.

Carmella ran her finger tips across her smooth mound and down into her wetness as she took one final glance at those bouncing tits. She needed to check on today's girl. Flicking another switch, the onscreen picture changed to a brunette in the shower. Perfect timing! The hidden cameras would remain on her throughout the audition... the live feed would continue to broadcast to their growing audience... and the more hits they had, the more money that would instantly find its way by credit card to the Appleby account. 

The formula was simple yet potent.

From the way the brunette's hand was working across her shaved mound, the Columbian woman knew that Daly had already fed her a dose of Blush. The woman really was a sexy thing, a rare combination of heady beauty and a fabulous body. Carmella's fingers probed further inside her slacks, pulling the side of her thong out of the way so she could reach her clit. 

The trip to the Bahamas meant she hadn't had sex for a few days. She'd be addressing that tonight as soon as she saw Donald.

***

Her orgasm in the shower had settled Kirsten's nerves, although she couldn't quite understand why she was feeling so aroused. Masturbating like that, in the tiled shower—she'd never done such a thing in her life. Was it the thought of slipping into one of those skimpy bikinis and showing her body to Tony Daly? 

The dressing room was empty other than for the long the rack and the two skimpy bikinis that hung from it seemed out of place. Naked, her body was reflected in the large mirror that covered the entirety of the far wall. Only the flashing red lights at either end of the room disturbed the blandness. They must be for security?

Kirsten's eyes ran across her reflection in the mirror. Even if she said it herself, her curvy body didn't have an inch of excess fat and she nodded in appreciation as her dark eyes covered the contours of her full breasts, flat stomach and wide hips. She raised her hands to the thrusting swells that sat so beautifully high breasts and her thumbs casually flicked across her dark nipples. Despite her recent climax, a shiver of arousal flooded her body. 




Appleby Blush Ch. 02



God, what was wrong with her? 

Turning back to the rack, she picked up both of the bikinis in turn. God—neither left much to the imagination. 

"Okay, Wesley," she muttered, slipping into the one that seemed to offer most protection. Even so, the tiny aqua bottoms covered virtually nothing and had she not been clean shaven it would have presented a problem. When her full cleavage thrust over the flimsy top, she giggled. If Daly wasn't impressed, he wouldn't be human. 

The door to the left took her out into the studio and she was caught by surprise as she found him waiting for her, camera in hand, was as if he'd known she was about to leave the dressing rooms. Her nipples hardened even further than they already were...

"Flaunt it," he instantly barked, clicking off shots from the moment she entered. "Walk across the room. Then back. Look sexy. Think sexy."

Kirsten already was. The heat inside her body helped her give everything she had, supported by mental images of that scene in the movie where Wesley Snipes takes his wife doggie style. It had been some time since Matt had fucked her that way—maybe it really was time to move on, after all. They'd have been together six months next week. Much longer and it would be a new relationship record.

"More," Daly shouted at her as she walked. He followed her, crouching at different angles, never more than a few feet away. "Sexier..."

She put her heart into it, no longer a cop on an undercover mission but instead a supermodel wannabee who needed to impress her photographer. After three circles of the room, she obeyed his final instruction and stopped in front of him, one leg in front of the other and hand on her hip. The way his eyes devoured her breasts sent huge surges of arousal through her body. Did he look at every model that way? 

She shook her dark wavy hair, knowing that the full breasts that spilled out of the skimpy aqua top in every direction would bounce and sway. Another puddle of desire formed between her thighs. God, she'd have to give these bottoms back...

"Impressive, Kirsten," Daly said as he dropped the camera to his waist. "Now go try on the other bikini. And put the heels on, too."

She beamed at him as she nodded, wondering if she had time to masturbate again before she returned to the studio again. Knowing his eyes would be on her ass, she put an extra sway in her hips as she walked, heading back towards the door that led to dressing room. 

His deep voice made her glance back. "And walk out with a little more attitude when you return. I need the sexiest you've got...."

***

"Hey, Alex," Kaminski said. "What's up?"

The Homicide cop grinned to himself as Goodwin nearly jumped out of his seat. He'd been so engrossed in something on his computer that he hadn't seen Brendan approach. Despite the barrel chested man's clumsy effort to close down the screen as soon as he heard the voice, Kaminski had seen all that he needed to know. 

Donald Appleby's name.

How big a coincidence was that? All Brendan Kaminski had wanted was to check if Goodwin was attending a late night party for Smithy's sixtieth. Living so close to one another, he could save some cash by sharing a taxi or even taking Goodwin's car. Instead, he might have stumbled across something that Mr. Appleby would pay good money for. If Vice were looking at something to do with Appleby, he needed to know.

"Fuck, Brendan, don't do that."

"Don't do that? Don't do what?" Kaminski joked, casually perching on the edge of the desk.

"Scare the shit out of me," Goodwin grunted, reaching for the white paper cup and pulling a face when he realised the coffee was lukewarm. "Creeping up on me like that."

"I didn't creep up," Kaminski said, shooting Alex that shifty smile of his. He adjusted his position on the desk slightly. "You know what—it's because you're guilty."

"Guilty?"

"Sure. Whatever you're up to," he said, tapping the top of the computer monitor, "is unofficial. I can tell. Hell, Alex, you even have your monitor turned towards the wall. How much of a giveaway is that?"

Goodwin swallowed the last of the tasteless coffee, giving himself time to think. He'd known Kaminski for a while but the swarthy cop was known as a bit of a loner. What the fuck was he doing over this part of the building?

"Come on," Brendan said, leaning forward conspiratorially as he watched the grey haired cop try and think of an excuse. "Own up..."

"Own up? To what?"

"You tell me," he said, fishing for information. "You'd better be careful, though—Sandra Wilson will have your guts for garters if she finds out you're moonlighting."

"Don't be stupid," Goodwin snapped, stabbing a button and watching the monitor fade into darkness. "I'm not moonlighting. This is for Wilson..." He trailed off, as if he realised he'd said too much. 

Kaminski nodded and stretched. Don't look too eager, he told himself. "God, I'm stiff Alex. Met a little Mexican gal at a club last night—man, she was hot..."

Goodwin smiled wryly and shook his head as if he was thinking about what he'd give to be Kaminski's age again.

"So," the swarthy cop laughed. "It's a secret mission for the boss, eh?" He thought quickly—this was a situation he could take advantage of if he played his cards right. That was definitely Appleby's details he'd seen onscreen. "That's okay, Alex, I don't mean to pry. But look, I have a case I'm working on. That's why I came over to see you. It's pretty much hush-hush but I know I can rely on you to keep things under your hat."

Goodwin nodded. The surprised look in his eyes told Kaminski that the barrel chested cop was taken aback that he was prepared to confide in him.

"There'll be hell to pay if anyone finds out that I've spoken to you or anyone else," he continued. "But I know I can trust you, Alex—you've always seemed to be a straight guy to me." He theatrically glanced around, and then leaned further across Goodwin's desk. "The name of the guy I'm investigating will shock you. Donald Appleby."

The look on Goodwin's face was a picture. Schmuck, Kaminski thought.

"Donald Appleby?"

"Yup," the Homicide cop murmured, hopping down from the desk and sidling around to Goodwin's side. It gave him time to think of a believable proposition. Planting his palms on the desktop, he leant forward. "We don't have anything on him, Alex. But his name's cropped up a couple of times..."

The sudden look in Goodwin's eyes told Kaminski that he'd stumbled on the answer. Vice had nothing on Appleby, only suspicions. But they were looking into him. Why? 

"I know cross divisional cooperation is a thing of the past at our level," he went on, pressing home the point before Goodwin had time to think. The barrel chested cop was reliable enough but he'd never been the sharpest tool in the box. "But that's crap. I know I can trust you, Alex. What I was wondering was whether Vice had anything concrete on the guy?" 

He carefully watched the expression on Goodwin's face. He was definitely interested but seemed reluctant to respond. Under orders to keep it quiet, no doubt. Still, Donald Appleby would still pay Kaminski for letting him know of Vice's interest and in the meantime he could continue to work on this schmuck. 

"I mean, he's too big a name for me to fuck up," he continued, trying a different tack just in case. "I'm going to have quiet word with Narcotics next, Alex. I'm desperate to find someone with a similar interest in Appleby, someone I can work with. You know, pooling information for the greater good. If my boss finds out I'm dead, but you know what, Alex? If we can't trust one another, what's the point?"

Goodwin paused, his brow furrowing as he stared back at Kaminski. The swarthy cop could only guess at the thoughts going on in the big man's head but was astute enough to know he couldn't push things further. Not unless he threw in something else...

"I'm getting some inside information, Alex," he lied, his narrow eyes focused on every reaction from the Vice cop. "Can't say anymore, but if you are investigating, I can help you as much as you can help me. We can help one another."

Bingo. Goodwin's expression changed instantly. Was that a look of relief that passed over his craggy face?

"You've got someone on the side?"

Kaminski nodded. He could bluff that through easily enough. Besides, Appleby would give him misinformation to feed back. That was for sure.

"I'm worried about Alice," Goodwin grunted, glancing around the room to check that their conversation wasn't drawing attention. He thought for a few moments, his eyes darting nervously between Kaminski and Sandra Wilson's office across in the far corner. "Someone on the inside would be a big advantage."

"Alice?" Kaminski's face creased in puzzlement. He crossed his arms and pushed up on the side of the desk again. Sitting there with his slicked back hair and beaming smile, he made sure he fired out a sympathetic look. "What about Alice? She's involved?"

The look on Goodwin's face confirmed the answer. Kaminski nodded slowly. If he had this sort of luck when backing horses, he wouldn't still be in the force. 

"Looks like I can help you, Alex," he said, dropping a hand onto Goodwin's arm. "Where your daughter's concerned, you can't be to careful. Tell you what, I've got half an hour. Why don't I get two fresh coffees and we'll bring each other up-to-date? That's as long as we keep this between the two of us. Not even Wilson can know we're helping each other and my boss will string me up if there's even a whisper..."

***

Tony Daly smiled to himself as he watched the image on his computer. 

Standing in just the Brazilian-cut red thong, Kirsten had wet two of her fingers in her mouth and was running them around her dark nipples, teasing them to an even harder state of erectness. When she slipped those majestic breasts into the skimpy red top, the two enticing buds poked through the flimsy material like two organ stops. 

He clicked the screen into darkness when she gave a final look at herself in the dressing room mirror and turned towards the door. She'd been hot enough the first time but his request for a little more attitude always made the model give that little bit more. 

"I need the sexiest you've got...." was a line he always used at that stage. He liked to push their boundaries, see how far they would go in their desperation to get through to the next stage. Not that it was simply desperation—the Blush he fed them during their pre-audition discussion always ensured they were willing to give their all. 

Occasionally he had to back off from fucking them there and then, so eager were some of the little hotties he discovered—but that would never do. That would happen at the next stage, when the cameras were running and they'd pre-advertised the session over the net. Over the years, Carmella had taught him the best way to maximise revenue...

Picking up from where he'd left off, he began to photograph her as soon as she entered the studio. This time she wasn't taken by surprise, in fact she acted as if he wasn't there. Sashaying past him with one hand on her hip, those hard asscheeks swung from side to side as her fabulous tits threatened to explode from their flimsy covering.

Fuck, this one was even hotter than he'd thought...

He watched her tits bounce as she paraded around the room, snapping off photographs from all angles, attempting to capture the moment. Maybe he'd even get some good shots he could keep? If she kept this up for another ten minutes, those losers watching on pay-per-view would be queuing up to pay to watch him fuck her tomorrow. 

"More attitude," he encouraged as his cock hardened at the thought. 

Without pausing, she swung around and crossed the room diagonally, one foot in front of the other as both adrenalin and confidence surged through her. Daly grinned. There was nothing sexier than a woman who knew she was hot, especially when she lost her inhibitions. Appleby Blush made his life so much more interesting. 

Her glossy dark locks danced loosely around her tanned shoulders as she walked. The skimpy bikini top that only just covered her full breasts allowed them to sway seductively with each step. Hands on her hips, she stopped to provocatively stare at the camera, her her perfect nipples proudly pointing at him through the flimsy red material. 

Daly's huge cock lengthened further and it was all he could do not to stroke himself as she began to walk towards him with that sexy sway of her hips. Her sparkling brown eyes were focused on him rather than the camera. 

"Take the top off," he grunted, dropping the camera to his waist as her hands went to the back of her top. Without even a second's hesitation, she pulled loose the tie and whipped off the flimsy garment, dropping it behind her. 

Daly's eyes instantly covered her naked breasts. He'd seen similar images so many times before and normally he only thought of how much money he would earn at this stage. This time it was different. Her tits bounced erotically with each step, but it was the way she arched her back to thrust them proudly in his direction that made his mouth dry. 

With the aphrodisiac inside her, he knew only too well what her reaction would be if he unzipped himself and offered his cock to her here and now. Fuck, he was tempted... 

Nodding his head approvingly, he reluctantly contented himself with the certainty that such a pleasure awaited tomorrow. Business came first at all times and the live pay for view feed would significantly increase both ratings and revenue. Even so, it had been a long time since he'd anticipated the thrill of fucking a woman as much as he was with this one... 

***

Brendan Kaminski watched the smoke float away on the breeze as he took another drag from his cigarette. The tobacco made him feel better. He didn't often meet with Donald Appleby but when he did, it always gave him goose bumps. The businessman wasn't a man to be trifled with.

Despite the rarity of their face-to-face meetings, Appleby always arranged a different venue. And he always had that bodyguard with him. Man, that driver of his resembled a grizzly bear. Today's meeting place was a quiet bank overlooking the Thames. He wasn't sure how the businessman knew such solitary places, but as ever there wasn't a soul around. That made him shiver, too.

He'd nearly finished the cigarette when the Silver-Grey Mercedes pulled up. He flicked the butt into the Thames below him as the man himself alighted from the back of the car. Hell, even the confident way Appleby walked across to the iron railings beside him was impressive—full of power.

"Brendan..."

"Mr. Appleby."

"And how are things in the Met?"

"It's the same as usual, Mr. Appleby, full of shit."

The businessman's glance told the Detective to watch his language.

"Sorry," Kaminski murmured, feeling like he'd just been banished him to the corner of an imaginary room. He slinked there like a dog with its tail between its legs.

"I trust my monthly retainer is coming in useful?" Appleby asked, pulling his stylish black coat more tightly around him as he cast his eyes out over the water. The couple of small ships were some distance away, but anyone onboard with binoculars would have the two men in full view. He turned away and rested his back against the iron railings.

"Very," the cop replied, with a hint of deference. This was Appleby's way of reminding him he was an employee.

"You know..." the impressive man began, pulling out a cigar and taking his time in lighting it. "You really shouldn't squander so much of it the way you do."

Squander? How the fuck did Appleby know about his gambling habits. "I—"

"Horses," the businessman continued. "And greyhounds. Such a waste..."

"Mr. Appleby—"

The pony tailed man held up a hand while he sent a plume of smoke curling into the gentle breeze. "If you want to invest in something on all fours, I know of a good little whorehouse in Soho, Brendan. But then, that's your choice..."

"I don't always lose," Kaminski defensively said, keeping his voice low so that Appleby didn't think he was arguing.

"Oh, yes you do," the smiling man retorted, turning sideways to flick some ash over the edge of the railings. "But that's one of the things that keeps you in my employ, Brendan, isn't it?"

Kaminski ground his teeth. If ever he won big, then...

"Your call said you have something for me?" Appleby murmured, staring at the front of his cigar. He blew on it until the orange embers glowed brightly. "That's good, because I pay you very well for the little I get back in return..."

Kaminski knew it was true. Things had been quiet lately. But this was payback time and Appleby would love him for this. "There's a woman in the Met, Sandra Wilson."

"Wilson? Sounds familiar. Should I know her?"

"She's runs the Vice division..."

"Ah yes," Appleby nodded as the recollection returned. "She got the job by default when Webster was forced out. Yes, that's right... just after poor Dominic's murder. You know, Brendan... you can't be too careful nowadays."

Kaminski shrugged. That was a long time ago now and things had moved on. "She's started to investigate you," he said, returning to the point. That's what would earn him money.

If Appleby was surprised he didn't show it, other than the pause while he allowed the news to sink in. He rolled the smouldering Havana between his fingers and then puffed hard, savouring the taste of the smoke on his tongue before allowing it to ease from his lips. "Investigate what exactly?"

"That's the thing, Mr. Appleby. She has no real idea. All she's done is see a pattern emerging with your business linked to various Vice cases. It's made her curious."

Appleby sucked his lips as he nodded. "And we all know that curiosity killed the cat. How many people are working on the investigation?"

Kaminski pulled a sly face. "Four of them, but it's completely unofficial, Mr. Appleby. There'll be hell to pay if her boss finds out. I suggest that you lean on someone and—"

"Leave the thinking to me, Brendan," the businessman dismissively murmured. "How do you know all this if it's unofficial?

"I caught a cop I know in Vice checking you out, Mr. Appleby—Alex Goodwin. It took me a while but I convinced him that Homicide had an interest, too and that we should work together." He curled his face into a disdainful grin. "The schmuck agreed to exchange information."

"Very perceptive of you, Brendan," Appleby dryly said, staring across the Thames. "What form is this so called investigation taking?"

"Two female cops have managed to get themselves an audition with your modelling company. They think they can get under your skin. Find things."

"An interesting approach," the businessman commented thoughtfully, turning to look directly at the Detective for the first time in their conversation. "Auditions..."

"One of those was today, Mr. Appleby," Kaminski gushed. "That's why I tried to get through to you earlier. She's called Kirsten Tobin though I think she's gone under the name of Watson for the audition. And get this—the other," he paused while he sniggered, "Is Alex Goodwin's daughter—a cute little blonde without any real experience. He's shitting himself that she might get in over her head."

"Then we'll have to make sure we look after her, won't we Brendan?" Appleby mused, rolling the cigar between his fingers. He glanced out over the Thames again. From the look of the heavy skies, a storm was brewing. "We'll have to make sure they're both looked after. Tell me, Brendan—is there any chance of getting to Goodwin?"

Kaminski snorted. "Nah, the guy can't be bought. He's—"

"In that case we'll have to think of something else," Appleby interrupted. "I take it you're staying close to this?"





Appleby Blush Ch. 02



"Yeah, I agreed to meet with Goodwin every day and share information. I might need something to give him, Mr. Appleby, just to maintain my cover. I said I knew someone on the inside."

The businessman nodded thoughtfully and flicked the cigar from his fingers. They both watched as it curled in the air and then somersaulted over the top of the railings and down into the murky waters below. "Even better. That way we can keep them moving in the wrong direction. I'm impressed, Brendan."

"Thank you, Mr. Appleby," Kaminski said smugly. Giving Appleby something useful would ensure that his retainer would continue for a long time yet.

"That's a cool wind, Brendan," the business magnate murmured as he began to fasten his coat. It was clear the meeting was over. "I need to think this through and will get back to you. But Brendan..."

"Yes, Mr. Appleby?"

"You've done a good job so far. Keep that up and there'll be a bonus in this for you..."

***

Sandra Wilson's phone call arrived as soon as Kirsten was seated in the taxi and on her way home. Her body was still tingling from the audition and the interaction with Tony Daly. Had she really flaunted herself like that? Had she really so uninhibitedly shown him her tits? Was that the way all models felt infront of the camera? Did they have an overwhelming urge to fuck their photographer the way she did?

The Wesley Snipes fantasy she'd always had played a part, of course. There was no doubt that Daly was just as well built as the movie star and would fit into any of the masturbatory fantasies she had of being with a black man. Maybe that was why the modelling test had quickly changed in her psyche to an opportunity to show off her body to him?

God, what was wrong with her? She'd never flirted like that since the days she was single, and even then she hadn't so blatantly displayed that wanton side that she kept hidden. Her only excuse was that she needed to do it for the mission, to convince Daly she was worth bringing back for the next stage. It had worked. He'd immediately told her she'd successfully passed the audition and arranged for her to return in a couple of days.

But it was more than that. A part of her had let go in there. And Daly had reacted, too. She could see it in his eyes and in the ever present bulge in his trousers. God, if she had been single she would have... never mind, she wasn't...

"Hi Sandra," she said, sliding closed the glass window that separated her from the taxi driver and settling back in her seat. She lowered her voice to ensure she couldn't be overheard. "Good timing."

"How did it go?"

"Very well," Kirsten responded, running her hand down her shin and brushing away some imaginary piece of fluff.

She heard Wilson's voice brighten instantly. "That's great. Don't keep me waiting..."

"It's not going to be easy to pick anything up from just the audition," she explained, pushing her body back into the seat again. "There's a receptionist who might be worth another chat to. I tried to get some background from her before I left but she was preoccupied with something Daly needed. Maybe Alice might have more luck."

"Who else did you see?"

Kirsten felt her heart quicken. How silly was that? "Someone called Tony Daly. He's their photographer and the guy who called both Alice and I to set up the audition."

"What did you get?"

"Not much but..." Kirsten felt her voice rise a little. She was proud of making it through to the next stage and why not? Amateur models with far more experience than her wouldn't have made it that far. "But I was successful, Sandra. He wants me back there in a couple of days."

"Good girl, now that is impressive!" 

Kirsten grinned to herself as she heard Wilson's chuckle. The warmth in her boss's voice made her feel good. Heck, it was an achievement to be invited back...

"That will give you a chance to dig deeper."

Kirsten paused—damn, for a moment she'd lost sight of the main prize. This wasn't to do with her making a success of a modelling audition or flaunting her married body at a muscular black man. It was all about the case and finding as much information as they could on whether there was anything shady about Donald Appleby's business operations. The arousal running through her body was making her lose sight of that.

And Matt was away overnight, which meant she wouldn't be able to satisfy herself in his arms. God, she felt like she could fuck all night—her vibe was in for a busy time. If she could rid herself of some of this sexual energy, maybe she'd feel calmer at tomorrow's shoot. She wondered what that would look like. Daly still hadn't explained...

"Exactly," she replied, staring blankly out of the window as she collected her thoughts. "If I get the chance to meet a few people there, maybe a couple of other models, I'll be able to get a feel for the place and what goes on." 

"Good progress, Kirsten," Wilson told her. It made the brunette smile—any praise from Sandra Wilson made her smile. Her boss was fair but didn't hand out compliments easily.

The most obvious thing of all hit her. How could she have forgotten that? "Oh yes, there's one other thing."

"Yes?"

"Carmella Santiago runs the agency."

"Carmella Santiago? The Carmella S—"

"The very same," Kirsten laughed and ran a hand through her dark, wavy hair, fluffing it up. "Though I can't imagine her being mixed up in anything untoward..."

She heard Wilson's sigh even as the words left her mouth. "How long have you been a cop?"

Damn, that was a stupid thing to say. The headiness of the last couple of hours seemed to be colouring her judgement. Too long, might have been a good answer, though not a smart one. Sandra Wilson already knew she was becoming disillusioned with the Met, even though they rarely talked about it.

"Well, the good news," she began, trying to cover her discomfort, "Is that if I get through tomorrow's stage I get a chance to meet her. That should make it easier to suss out what's going on."

"Good. I've been called to see Turner tomorrow, so our eight o'clock update won't last long. I take it you'll be able to make tomorrow's

"Yes, no problem. I'm not due at the Agency 'til ten." She hesitated. "By the way Sandra..."

"Yes?"

"I thought it made sense to get a taxi to the studio and back. But the fare is more than I anticipated. I was wondering—"

"Just this once," Wilson cut in, a hint of amusement in her voice. "That's because you got another crack at the place. But next time, drive there. Okay?"

***

Carmella Santiago looked up into Donald Appleby's eyes as he thrust down into her sinewy body. "Oh yes, Donald, I so missed this while I was away."

"Me too," he grunted as her heels forced him deeper. 

"Really?" she murmured. "How's Angela?" 

He smiled down at her. They both knew he fucked who he liked and when he liked, but his dalliance with his secretary was becoming a running joke between them. "Not in the same league as you, darling," he answered, his eyes sparkling into hers. 

"Good answer."

"Though she is a sexy little bitch..."

She let out a squeal of mock annoyance and playfully pulled his pony tail. "Does she do this?"

He grunted as she clenched her vaginal muscles around him. If she kept that up he wasn't going to last much longer. 

"I thought not," she murmured, her ocean blue eyes fixed on his. "Tell me more about Joseph Nmobu. You have a meeting set up?"

"With him and his brother," he gasped, painfully dragging his ear away from her teeth. She really was a wild, sexy bitch when she was in this mood. For a moment his pace slowed while he thought about the negotiations. The discussions with the African were crucial to both of their futures. After a series of delicate discussions, the Prime Minister had offered to mass produce quantities of Appleby Blush in his country. The cheap labour, facilities and the wherewithal to keep the production completely secret were all essential ingredients.

"He doesn't know what Blush does?"

"He has no idea," Appleby answered, easing up onto his knees. The new position allowed him a breather while still sliding softly into her velvety softness. "Though he's trying very hard to find out," he panted. "But as long as I can come up with the right price, I'm sure he'll go for it."

"The right price?" she responded, stroking her fingernails down his spine.

"Oh fuck, that's good," he whimpered as the nails dug in. "He wants a million a year for him and his brother."

Carmella broke out into laughter and reached up to grip his hard butt. Even at fifty her lover was in great physical shape. "Is that all? Donald, you are a genius as well as such a good fuck."

"A good fuck?"

"Oh, very," the Columbian beauty smiled at him, squeezing his manhood with her vaginal muscles again.

"You too, my dear..." he grunted, feeling his cock react. He began to pant a little harder. "But let's not count our chickens quite yet," he murmured. "Then we have this temporary problem to take care of."

"Yes," she murmured, pulling his head down to meet hers again. The kiss was longer, harder, telling him she was almost ready to continue their sexual journey. A few beads of sweat formed on his brow and he burrowed his face against her shoulder, wiping them on her skin. When he raised his head again, she lightly blew across his perspiring forehead. "I already have some thoughts on that."

"You have?"

"Mmm," she softly murmured, deciding on a whim to change positions. Twisting from underneath him, she pushed back the loose strand of blonde-brown-copper hair from across her left eye. "Here, let me on top, darling. You need to rest..." 

He grunted at the joke but allowed Carmella to slither across his body and easily mount him. The dangling, diamond stars from her belly piercing caught the light as she settled over him and as she sank down and sheathed him, she sexily raised both hands above her head. He gasped out loud.

"Good..." she said, though it was unclear if it was a question or a statement. She undulated slowly, eliciting an upward whimper as she slowly gyrated on him. He groaned again, reaching up to fondle her swaying breasts. Their delicious fullness always excited him.

"You're thoughts on the cops?" he reminded her.

"Well, I'd say this Wilson woman requires a more imaginative solution, whereas the two undercover cops need more immediate attention. Want to hear more?"

"Yes..." he grunted, but her increase in pace stopped him. Leaning backwards, arms resting on his shins, she did an impression of a jackhammer. Her grunts with each short, fast down thrust mingled with his. He reached for her hips in an attempt to steady her movements otherwise he was going to blow...

"I'll tell you later," she whispered, slowing down briefly and allowing the air to return to her lungs. "Right now we need to finish what we're doing."

Leaning forward this time, her warm breasts pressed into his sweaty chest as she jerked her hips down hard. Once, twice, three times. Appleby tried to speak, but when she repeated her jackhammer impression he succumbed to the inevitable.



Appleby Blush Ch. 03



Chapter 3: Alice is initiated

Sandra Wilson glanced at Kirsten first and then Alex. "Where's Alice with the coffees?"

Goodwin craned his neck to peer out of the open door. "There's a queue at the machine. And the stuff is hardly drinkable. Can't we get another machine?"

"I'm campaigning for it," Wilson said dryly. "I'm due to see Colin Turner at half eight and he wants to brief me on how to complete 'his' quarterly report. To present him in the best light of course. Then he'll change a couple of commas and semi colons and pass it off as his work. Maybe that'll be a good time to mention it?"

Goodwin exchanged glances with Kirsten but wisely didn't respond.

"No?" Wilson asked. "Well maybe when I've got the report completed, assuming you can put up with the slosh they serve here until then?"

This time she stared at the two cops sitting in her office, as if wanting to provoke them into an answer. Geez, she sounded more and more like Donny Webster each day—although her ex boss wasn't quite so subtle. She knew what the problem was: she'd been in the office since six again and was beginning to feel the pressure. 

The early mornings wouldn't bother her had they been fruitful, but instead the long hours she was working were necessary to keep her head above water with Turner's inane demands and had nothing to do with putting criminals behind bars.

Plus the fact that last night's pointless function had gone on far too long and tonight she was attending a ridiculously long seminar arranged on the back of the Government's new initiative to crack down on Vice in its Capital city. It was all rapidly becoming a joke.

Maybe that was why she was taking such an interest in Donald Appleby? It was a chance to get involved again, do what she was good at?

It wasn't just the job, of course. With her workload it wasn't possible to form any sort of lasting relationship and the need to fend off the not too subtle come-ons from smarmy politicians and fellow senior colleagues in the Met had become all too regular. Occasionally she thought that she should just give in and go with the flow—there were limits to the satisfaction that could be gained from her vibrator—but a series of meaningless affairs with married colleagues or connections was the last thing she needed.

She stood and stretched, catching her reflection in the small window that looked out into the alley. For a brief second, she caught Alex Goodwin's reflection and if she wasn't mistaken, his eyes were on her ass. If it weren't for the fact he'd want something more from their relationship, she'd even consider hooking up with him again just for the sex.

She glanced at him again as Alice returned with the coffees. No, getting it on again with Alex would be far more trouble than it was worth...

"Okay," she began, even as Alice passed around the coffees. "I have twenty minutes before I have to visit his Lord and Master. Let's make them meaningful. Alex—what do you have to report from yesterday?"

For a moment, she saw a flicker in his eyes as if he had something to disclose. But then the flash was gone again as quickly as it had appeared. "Nothing positive," he grunted. "I've been through all of the files again and there's nothing you've missed. Lots of mentions of Appleby Modelling but nothing individually that could lead to anything untoward."

Wilson felt the disappointment inside. "You think this is a wild goose chase?"

"No, I'm not saying that," he instantly responded, thinking of his conversation with Kaminski. There wasn't smoke without fire and with both Vice and Homicide interested, they were sure to find something eventually. He wanted to be the one that helped Wilson make the breakthrough. 

"Then what?" She could tell from his expression that maybe she was riding him too hard, but hell, she wanted some good news if only to help her get through the meeting with Turner.

"Like you, Sandra, I'm not a great believer in coincidences," he slowly said, holding it in. "There's something there, I can smell it."

"My dad's sense of smell is powerful," Alice told them, trying to lighten the mood. That endearing smile touched the corners of her lips as she sent a grin around the room. She'd only been gone from the room for a few minutes to get the coffees and she'd returned to tension that you could cut with a knife. 

Wilson nodded as she glanced at the young blonde. Alice had the same cute dimples as her father although that was about the only similarity she could think of. He was gruff and she was demure. He was slightly slow witted and she was bright. But on the other hand... both had hearts of gold.

"Okay," she murmured, turning to Kirsten. "Tell us how your audition went, Kirsten. Especially what Alice needs to know for her session today."

"I've briefed her already on what to expect," the brunette began. It was better to keep the details vague with Goodwin there, especially as Alice had insisted she make no mention of the bikini test in front of her father. "I passed the audition—" 

"You passed the audition?" Goodwin interrupted. "How'd you do that?"

Kirsten batted her eyelashes at him but gave the finger as she turned towards him. "I thought of your best quality, Alex, and so I charmed them into submission."

"Touché," Alice laughed, grinning at her father as he sent a growl in her direction.

"While I didn't get anything specific yesterday," Kirsten continued, shuffling on the chair. "It's set things up going forward. The agency is run by Carmella Santiago and I'll get to meet her if I get through the second part of the audition."

"Carmella Santiago?"

Kirsten paused to look at Goodwin. "She was a supermodel years ago, Alex. When you were in your sixties..."

Wilson ignored the quip and glanced at her watch. Usually she loved the interplay but right now she only had another five minutes. "Go on..."

"If I can get really close to them, I'll have the opportunity to dig deeper. And there's a bubbly redhead at reception—Marcia—who'll be worth talking to. I've told Alice to look out for her, too."

"Okay, keep probing but be careful. I don't want them getting wind of anything," Wilson said, standing up and gathering her papers. "Alice, is there anything you want to cover before your audition?"

"Not a thing," the young blonde chimed. "I'm looking forward to it. And if all else fails, I inherited dad's sense of smell."

"Funny," Goodwin grunted.

***

"She's a cop?" Tony Daly repeated for the third time as he paced across his office floor. "That's unbelievable."

"It's true," Carmella breathed in that sexy Columbian accent. She looked stunning, sitting back comfortably in the chair, one hand brushing through her silken hair. Her short pleated skirt displayed her olive skinned legs to perfection, and the Kirsten Stiles tailored purple blouse that clung to her breasts left very little to the imagination.

"I can't believe she fooled me," Daly said, taking a deep breath to shake off his nerves. "I should have known, should have suspected something..."

"How could you?" she calmly responded. "Anyone would have been fooled in the same circumstances. That's why Donald invests in so many connections, so that we don't have too many surprises."

"What do you think the cops know?"

"Tony," the beautiful woman purred, pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her wavy hair. Her ocean blue eyes glimmered sexily at him in the cool, white light of the office. "Have a seat and stop fretting." 

She waited until he crossed the room and plonked his muscular frame in his chair. It wasn't like him to react as nervously as this. There was frustration as well as anger. 

"Okay, listen to me," she said, her unwavering brown eyes staring at him. "They're doing is slipping two undercover women in as models—"

"Two?"

"I'll come to that," she said patiently. "They know nothing at all. Not a thing. That's why they're trying to position the women inside the agency. In the hope of finding something."

"So we throw them out? Tell them they've failed the audition?"

"Not at all, Tony." Despite her sweet smile, Carmella's business head had been working overtime since her conversation with Donald last night. She had a clear plan of action. Who was it that said 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer? "What would that achieve—they'd only look at other ways to infiltrate us."

"But—"

"No buts, Tony. The plan is simple—we draw them in and feed them false information. That way we control what happens and we control them."

Daly's face changed as the simplicity of what Carmella was saying. 

"Sounds good," he murmured.

"And we slowly bring them into the fold..."

He looked up at her quickly, a confused look on his face. "We do?"

"Of course," she huskily murmured, fluffing up her hair. It hung long and wavy over her shoulders. The colour tended to change dependant on her mood and today it looked sensational highlighted in hues ranging from light blondes to copper. "We just have to be a bit smarter as the chances are they'll compare notes."

"Smarter? How?"

"The other cop is called Alice and she's in reception now. Don't worry, I've asked Marcia to look after her for the moment so we have plenty of time. I want you to go through a normal audition, and be very careful. But if there's an opportunity to safely get usable information on video then I want it taken. Understand, Tony?"

Daly ran a black hand over his shaved head. "Okay..."

"Good. After the audition you tell her we want her back again but then leave it to Marcia and I from there. It's important we tackle the two of them in different ways."

He nodded again. "And the other one—Kirsten?"

His eagerness struck a chord with the Columbian woman. "So that's it, Tony," she said with a chuckle. "I do believe you're actually looking forward to servicing the brunette."

Daly's grin confirmed the accuracy of her observation.

"How silly of me," she laughed, holding up the papers in her hand. "Well, well... that explains a few things. These are the stats from yesterday. The viewing figures and ratings are the highest yet. And the advanced bookings for your forthcoming show with have exceeded all records. If she can turn my main stud on like that, it explains why we're getting such a huge reaction from our viewers."

"She's hot," he said, a sly look appearing on his face. "And the fact she's a cop adds a bit more spice..."

"Indeed," Carmella smiled, feeling her body react to the way he was talking. Watching her black stud fuck their new women each week was always a sexy sight, but seeing him with someone who genuinely turned him on should be something else. "But slowly does it. The last thing we want is for things to backfire and bring down the London Met on us."

"Slowly? What do you mean?"

She couldn't help but smile at his tone and the look that settled on his face—like a child who was being denied sweets. "Use the next session, Tony, to get her worked up again. No more than that. I want to make sure we have her gagging for it so that she practically begs you fuck her. Only once I'm sure she's ripe for plucking can we let loose the Daly beast..."

"But—"

"Patience, Tony," she murmured. "Some things are even better when you wait, don't you think? For example, I've always wondered about that black cock of yours."

His eyes narrowed. "Wondered? Wondered what?"

Carmella smiled at his slowness. Despite her long session with Donald last night, she was definitely feeling it. "Is it really a beast?"

His disdainful face stared into hers, as if she'd just insulted him. "Yeah, of course."

The Columbian woman grinned at his cockiness. "Are you hard right now, Tony?"

He nodded slowly as realisation dawned on his face.

"Come here and show me."

The way he jumped to his feet made her smile. It was amazing after all this time working together that she hadn't sampled the goods. That hadn't been her intention when she'd walked into his office but now it seemed an irresistible idea. When he made his way around the desk and stood in front of her, his hands went to his belt.

"That's it, Tony," she breathed. Her Columbian accent always thickened when she was aroused. "Show me."

Pulling the belt free, he yanked down his zipper and pulled open his jeans. With a triumphant grin, he dragged out his member and fisted it infront of her.

"Here, let me do that," she throatily told him, taking his impressive black flesh in her palm. He was so big she couldn't wrap her fingers around the thick girth. He was everything she expected and her searching brown eyes looked upwards to meet his. "Oh yes, Tony. It's every bit as big as it looks on screen."

Daly grunted as she slowly began to jerk him.

"Tell me, Tony," Carmella asked, licking around his large crown. "Have you ever dreamed of this?"

Before he could answer, she spat on his shaft and then linked a second hand to the first around the base. When her wet mouth descended, she took it slowly at first, savouring the sensation. She's waited a while to act out her fantasy and now the moment was here she wasn't going to be rushed.

"Good?" she murmured, coming off him long enough to spit again down one side of his length and then the other. The way he grunted in appreciation added to her excitement. She worked the saliva into his veiny flesh with both hands, corkscrewing them around his black shaft while her piercing gaze studied every expression on his face. 

"Yeah," he grunted, dropping a hand onto her hair. He wrapped a few stands around his fingers. "Oh yeah..."

"Looks like you're about to blow..." she teased, sexily lowering her head again and taking the stiff member as deep inside her mouth as she could. Onscreen he could last for ages but she hadn't yet met a man who could resist her technique.

She sucked harder, her hair bouncing on her shoulders with each bob of her head. The way he raised his butt from the chair to shove himself deeper into her throat made her growl. Her intention had been to see if she could take him to the edge and then pull away just before he exploded. But now all she wanted his hot cum.

She yanked her head from him and looked up into his eyes. "Nearly there, Tony? Come on, baby... you've always wanted your Columbian mistress to give you head, haven't you? Want to cum in my mouth, Tony? Come on, give me what I want." 

"Oh fuck," he moaned as her mouth covered him again. A combination of her words and sucking mouth was doing the trick. "Oh fuck... oh fuck..."

She sucked him hard for a good minute before slurping off his shaft again. "Come on, Tony. Or is it Solomon?" His porn name. He throbbed in her hand. "Come on baby," she encouraged, jerking him in both hands. "Give me it..."

His breath caught. Her lips covered him and her hands jerked him once, twice more. It was enough for him to burst like champagne from an uncorked bottle, sending the first blast of cum down her talented throat. Then he was pushing his hips forward, firing round after round inside the sexiest mouth he'd ever encountered. 

Carmella almost choked, such was the creamy tide and the wanton way she'd instinctively taken what was hers. She accepted it all, swallowing his cum like the expert she was. Her hands continued jerking his cock to make sure she had it all. Satisfied, she wiped her mouth as she sat back. 

Next time, she'd have to let him fuck her...

***

Alice was determined that nothing would prevent her from succeeding in her first undercover job and so when the red haired girl at reception apologised for the delay and offered her a drink, she jumped at the opportunity to engage her in conversation. This was Marcia, no doubt, and the chance to find out some background to the agency was perfect.

Kirsten hadn't oversold the woman's attractiveness. The curvy beauty looked stunning in that chocolate coloured top and the way her breasts bounced as she slid from behind the reception desk confirmed she was braless. Her glossy red lips added to her overall charm and her face reminded Alice of a Kayden Kross, Destiny Davis or Heather Kozar.

So did those magnificent breasts.

She might not be into the feminine sex, but Alice could appreciate a sexy woman when she saw one and she had to admit the redhead was something out of the ordinary. Quite why she was sitting behind a desk rather than in front of a camera left her dumfounded.

Her eyes fell to the rounded globes of Marcia's buttocks as they swung them from side to side as the redhead walked along the corridor. Alice tried to imitate the sexy sway so that when it was time for her audition she'd be able to replicate the movement. Kirsten had been asked back again and it was important that she was, too. Maybe then she'd be given some respect rather than being considered the inexperienced kid on the block?

Marcia kept glancing over her shoulder, making idle conversation as she led the way to a small coffee area. She took a glass of pink looking liquid from the small fridge and handed it to Alice. "My fruit energy supplement," she explained, nodding towards the small black sofa. "All the models here drink it. See what you think."

Alice took a seat and then sipped at the drink, trying but failing to place the distinctive taste. "It's good."

Marcia laughed, nodding at the glass. "Drink up. It'll help calm you for the audition, too. Even Carmella takes it."

"Carmella?"

"The boss," Marcia explained, folding her tanned arms beneath her large breasts as she leant back against the wall. They spilt even more over the vee of the chocolate coloured top. "So, you want to be a model?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Alice asked, returning the redhead's warm smile. "It's always been a dream of mine."

"Yeah. Mine too."

"But you're perfect, Marcia. How come you're at reception..." She paused for a moment, realising what she was in danger of appearing condescending. "Sorry, I mean, I'm sure it's a great job. I just meant that..."

The redhead laughed happily at her discomfort. "Oh, I do modelling, too, Alice—topless mainly. Here, what do you think?" 

Before the blonde could react, her hands went for the bottom of her tee shirt and yanked it over her breasts. The large swells bounced before settling and Alice tried to contain her gasp. Marcia's tits were pretty much perfect—full, round and high, with the sixpenny sized light pink nipples melding naturally with her freckled, tanned skin. 

"Hey, don't look so shocked," Marcia giggled. "You need to get used to some female nudity if you want to make it as a model." Stepping forward, she took one of Alice's hands and pulled it to her right breast. "Don't be shy," she laughed, those green eyes boring hypnotically into the young cop. "You can't tell the difference, can you?"

"Difference?" Alice stuttered, feeling the wonderfully soft flesh in her hand. Those nipples were so hard. For an absurd second, she was unable to stop herself from gently squeezing the flesh before shyly removing her hand. 

"You were supposed to check it out, not fondle it," Marcia grinned, dragging the tee shirt down again. "But you have a nice touch. You wouldn't think they weren't real, would you?"

"Not real?"

"Nah. I had them done a couple of years ago." She stood with her hands on her hips. "Okay, you're turn."

The suggestion made Alice blush. "My turn?"

"Yeah, sure, we're all girls together. Like I said, Alice, this is a modelling agency and we're always dressing and undressing beside one another. Come on, I want to see yours, too."

She waited until the blonde had drained the rest of her drink and then took the glass and placed it on the side of the black sofa. Pulling Alice to her feet, the redhead's hands went immediately to Alice's blouse, making sure to stand just inside the girl's comfort zone. She grinned mischievously as she flicked open the buttons as casually as if she were peeling an orange. 




Appleby Blush Ch. 03



Alice let her, her arms dangling down her sides. What else could she do? She could feel the heat between her thighs as Marcia pulled open the cream blouse. 

When the redhead whistled, she felt her blush turn a deeper shade of red.

"Geez, they're fabulous," Marcia murmured, cupping a breast in both hands. Her thumbs stroked across each nipple as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "They'll look great on camera, honey. Sometimes I think mine are too big but yours are perfect."

"Th... thanks."

When Marcia's thumbs circled her nipples again Alice felt a shiver all the way down to her sex. This wasn't natural, even in a modelling agency, was it? Then just as suddenly the hands had pulled away and the redhead was buttoning up the blouse. "Tell me, are you into women?"

"Into women?" Marcia had said it so naturally...

"Yeah. My last girlfriend had tits like those." The receptionist giggled again. "I couldn't keep my hands off them."

Alice sat back on the sofa, trying to take in what was happening. This girl was like a whirlwind; she hardly had time to catch her breath, let alone think. She'd never been sexually attracted to women, of course, but there was no denying the sexual impulses dancing around her body right now. And her throat was so dry. 

"Do you think I could have another drink?" she croaked.

"Water this time," Marcia told her, swinging around to open the small fridge door. Pouring Alice a drink from one of the large bottles, she handed her the glass. "Well?"

"Well what?"

The redhead laughed. "Are you into women, silly?"

Alice took a moment to compose herself. She'd never quite met anyone as vibrantly forward as the redhead and it was impossible to tell if she was coming on to her or whether this was normal girly chat in the modelling world. She decided to firmly set out her stall. "No, I'm not into women, Marcia. Men have always been my thing."

"Too bad," the redhead laughed, leaning back against the refrigerator. Her nipples were piercing the thin material of her chocolate coloured top. "We'll talk again after you get some experience in the modelling world." She winked. "So, how important is it for you to get through the audition?"

Alice paused, taking a long sip of the water. It didn't help quell the heat she was feeling between her thighs but it eased the dryness in her throat. "It's... it's something I really want to do," she gabbled, looking up into those sparkling green eyes.

"You've come to the right place, we're the best around," Marcia smiled. "You want to know anything, just ask me. And by the way," she added, her smile widening, "do you want a tip on how to pass the audition?"

The cop's ears pricked up. "You bet," she replied, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Damn, she was feeling horny again. Maybe she'd have to pick up someone again tonight?

"Act sexy. Be sexy. Tony loves that. That's Tony Daly—he's the photographer. If you have any inhibitions, honey, get rid of them—for the audition at least. Imagine you're the hottest diva on the planet and act accordingly." She winked, taking Alice's empty glass and topping it up again from the bottle. "Think you can do that?"

Alice nodded. The unaccountable surge of sexual adrenalin running through her body shouldn't make that too difficult. "If that's what it takes..." 

"Believe me, it is. Sex is always in the air in a studio. The trick is not to be fazed by it, Alice. Like all the top models, use it to your advantage. Outside of the studio you can be yourself. Inside, you should become that sexiest vamp that always lurks at the back of every woman's mind. And don't be afraid to let go. Always remember, what happens in the studio remains in the studio. You're safe there."

***

Donald Appleby could feel the frustration inside as he found his journey slowed by even more road works. Travelling by car was unusual for him nowadays, but the six monthly overhaul to his private jet had been brought forward due to some hydraulic problems. 

If the work wasn't completed in time for his return from Edinburgh tomorrow there'd be hell to pay. How the hell did the roads ever get into this state? There was only one consolation and that was the woman sitting next to him. Angela had been dozing for the last twenty minutes and when she awoke he'd be giving her the first of the tasks he'd set for her while they were away. His cock flexed at the thought of her mouth on it...

He'd keep her out of the way during his business discussions, of course. But given his libido, her eagerness to please him during their leisure time made her presence essential.

He used the delay to prioritise his thoughts. First, there was the most lavish of celebratory functions which would shortly be held at his mansion. It would be the biggest and grandest party he'd ever held—a fitting tribute for Carmella's fortieth birthday. All of their friends had been invited of course, along with their key business connections and a good number of the new potential contacts he and the Columbian beauty were cultivating.

Chief among those connections was Joseph Nmobu and his brother Emmanuel. The Prime Minister of the African country was close to signing a contract for the mass production of Appleby Blush and Appleby' would make billions from the arrangement. Armed with copious quantities of Blush, he could entice and trap politicians all over the world into granting lucrative deals to extend his business activities in their countries.

The ironic aspect was that the Nmobu brothers were only negotiating for a one million a year fee—cash that would be paid directly to the two men's Switzerland account rather than to the impoverished African country. Appleby had quickly sussed out in their preliminary negotiations that Emmanuel Nmobu was the power behind the throne and their meeting tomorrow would be a positive step forward to sealing the deal. 

Holding the meeting inside the Scottish Parliament was a brilliant idea. Who would suspect anything untoward being carried out in the full glare of the legislative offices? It would be seen as a simple coincidence that Emmanuel Nmobu and Donald Appleby were at the Holyrood location at the same time and Sir Douglas McPherson would ensure they had half an hour together in a private meeting. 

McPherson had benefited immensely from Appleby's support over the years and his knighthood was due in no small measure to the businessman's use of a couple of his women with two members of the Royal family who should have known better. 

The Scottish knight owed Appleby big time.

As to the party, it would be the most extravagant they'd ever held and despite the function being in her honour Carmella was the driving force behind all arrangements. Donald was well aware it was the sort of environment in which she excelled and she already had marquees erected and the caterers and the party organisers working diligently to her instructions

What would he do without his long term girlfriend? She was worth her weight in gold...

Then there was the investigation by the London Met. It was a minor inconvenience, but with the Nmobu negotiations being so advanced it was one he could do without. Carmella's suggestions on the way forward were as enlightening as ever and even as he drove north she was implementing her plan. In addition, Kaminski's inside information would ensure there were no nasty surprises. He hated surprises...

The shrill ring of his phone disturbed his thoughts as he followed a diversion and pulled to a halt at the temporary traffic lights. Even his advanced satellite navigation system had been unable to find a way around the constant road works.

"The motorway is a combat zone," he snapped, touching the front panel of the car so that the conversation continued through his headphone. His Essex born secretary remained asleep in the seat beside him but he had no intention of risking her overhearing anything. "Do people really travel like this nowadays?" 

"Only those without your sort of money," Carmella answered, her soft laughter floating down the line. "We can use the time by me giving you a brief update?"

"Of course," he answered, his mind clicking back into business mode. "You've spoken to Daly?"

"I have," she told him. "I've explained where we're coming from and what his role is."

"He understands?" Appleby asked, straightening his Armani tie in the driving mirror.

"Fully, though he was a little frustrated before I gave him his reward."

Appleby caught his breath. "You did?"

This time the laugh over the line was much louder. "Uh hum. You know how I've always wanted to sample the goods, darling? It was a blowjob only, of course, I'll sample the main course for some other time."

"Hmmm..."

"Hmmm indeed, Donald," her voice purred. 

He engaged gear and followed the queue of cars ahead along towards a dual carriageway. "Maybe I should be jealous?" he mused. "Fooling around with the hired help..."

"Hired help?" she asked. "That reminds me. How is Angela?"

"Touché," he conceded, glancing at the dozing beauty. Carmella always had a way of trumping him. "She's asleep right now."

"Really? Shouldn't she be on the job?"

Appleby laughed softly. "She will be soon. Sometimes I think she's wasted as my secretary. I'm quite sure we could have her corrupting an official somewhere or other..."

"Possibly," Carmella responded. "But then we both deserve a little fun sometimes, don't we? Just think of her as your own reward, darling."

"Reward for what?"

"For being you, of course—the sexiest and smartest man I know."

"True," he jokingly replied and they both burst into laughter. "So tell me darling, what's happening with our two Vice cops?"

"Kirsten returns tomorrow and I'll make sure we initiate her slowly. We agreed last night to take them down different paths at the right pace. As for Goodwin's daughter, she's here now. She's a cute looking blonde and there's no doubt both women will appeal to our target audience. Marcia's already made contact with her. Watch this space..."

"Watch this space," Appleby laughed, honking at a dawdling woman in the outside lane before putting his foot on the accelerator and roaring past a BMW that only just got out of his way in time. He loved Carmella's exuberant approach. 

"By the way, darling," she added. "I need the jet again."

"You do?"

"Absolutely—I have to fit in the Paris trip. There's this wonderful clothes shop on the Champs-Élysées that is screaming for my attention and I need another dress for the party."

"Another dress...?"

Carmella laughed again. "But of course. You do want me to look at my best?"

"You always look at your best," he chuckled. 

"Why thank you, darling. And if everything goes to plan, this Kirsten woman will be accompanying me..."

Appleby smiled to himself. "Ah, yes. To see Pierre Laroche, I presume?"

"The very same," came the laughing voice.

"Consider it at your disposal, assuming it's ready in time. If I have to do this return journey tomorrow I'll pull my hair out. Oh fuck..."

"What's wrong?" 

"More road works," he spat unreasonably, gunning past the slowing Merc so he could get to the head of the queue and then jerking recklessly to a halt. "Our British roads are so quaint."

"I'll leave you to concentrate and we can continue this conversation later," she thoughtfully told him. "Drive carefully, darling..."

"As ever..." he told her, ending the call and gunning the engine. The traffic lights had changed and he was on his way back onto the motorway again before the Mercedes behind was even in gear.

He heard the dark haired woman stir beside him and glanced at her as she stretched. When her sleepy eyes smiled at him, he reached for his zip.

"Just in time," he grinned.

***

The bikinis were much skimpier than she'd anticipated, though in reality she realised that she'd worn less as she'd wandered topless along the Copacabana beach in the summer. Her slender body was fabulous, she knew that. Okay, she wasn't as curvy as Kirsten, but her athletic frame held a different kind of appeal. And Tony Daly's eyes had practically popped out when she'd sashayed around the studio.

Things were going well and if they continued that way she'd be called back again the way Kirsten had been. Nobody would be able to complain she was the inexperienced partner any more. Wilson would be proud of her and so would her dad.

She'd taken her time during the bikini change, admiring her figure in the mirror as she'd tried to control the sexual heat inhabiting her body. Modelling was such a turn on! Marcia had told her that sex was always in the air in a studio and now she could understand why. Use it to your advantage, the redhead had said, like all the top models do. That wasn't difficult, especially with the way that Tony Daly kept looking at her between shots.

Sending a sultry smile at the camera, she pulled her long hair on to the top of her head and then allowed it to flop back down as she turned one way and the other. Dressed in just the tiny red bikini and tall black heels, she shifted her weight from foot to foot, allowing Daly to admire the perfection of her body. He'd taken enough shots by now, surely, but each subsequent click of the camera sent stronger and stronger jolts between her thighs.

Adrenalin surged through her slender body as she swung around to show him her ass. The bottoms of her round cheeks escaped the thin red thong in a wonderfully tantalising tease and she placed her hands on her hips as she cheekily shook her booty at him. 

A part of her reminded her that she was a cop and that she shouldn't be acting in such a flagrantly uninhibited way. But the heat inside her body had other ideas... 

Turning back, hands on hips, her nipples were hard and visible through her skimpy top. She didn't need to glance down to know that. Her perky breasts may not be as large as Kirsten's but they were big enough to draw admiring glances whenever she went topless on holiday. Men had often said that her succulent nipples looked like they were begging to be sucked. Maybe she should drag off the top and let Daly really see what was on offer? 

God, she felt on fire. What would he do if she stripped naked? 

***

Tony Daly grinned to himself. This one would be even easier than normal. She'd pouted, flirted, and her soft blue eyes had pretty damn near fucked the camera lens. Blush affected all women, but with some, a single dose didn't just remove their inhibitions, it deepened and enhanced their wild side. There was no doubt the blonde cop fell into that category. 

Those sexy dimples and her smile that just barely touched the corner of her lips couldn't disguise she was a hot little bitch. She hadn't just been modelling for him—she'd been flaunting her body, pushing his reaction to the limits. It was a shame that Carmella had other plans for her. He hadn't the slightest doubt she'd be an amazing fuck.

"I need more," he snapped, moving closer. "If you want to pass this audition then I need more!"

She reacted the way he knew she would, putting even more exuberance into her poses. If he couldn't fuck her, then maybe he could push her to the limit?

"Don't you want this?" he rasped, as if what she was offering wasn't enough. "I have an idea.... one last chance. Get on the stool."

She looked startled, as if she was unable to fathom what she was doing wrong. That's right, Daly thought, get them off guard. He watched as she glanced around her and quickly grabbed the small white stool next to the table.

"The wall," he snapped, keeping up the pressure. Keep her off balance and don't give her time to think. He'd seen that dreamy look in her eyes many times before. Push the right buttons and she'd be putty in his hands. "Put it against the wall and sit on it."

Alice quickly moved into position. The smell the white paint covering the brick wall was strong but she forced herself to concentrate on the camera. It was a last chance, he'd said.

"That's better," he told her, alternating between carrot and stick. "Sexier. Give me more." 

He clicked off one shot after another as she responded, knowing his memory card must be nearly full. That didn't matter; the hidden video cameras would be catching every move. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt the spell he'd started to weave.

He dropped the camera to his waist, standing with his hands on his hips to convey the impression that he remained unsure. Then he nodded, as if he'd made a decision. "Sit back and face me," he told her, dragging a small box from underneath the table. He positioned it to her left. "Open your legs wide. Put your left foot on the box..."

She eagerly followed each instruction without hesitation, not caring about the provocative pose in those tiny bikini bottoms. He could clearly see the outline of her sex under the material and the small wet spot was evidence enough of the way she was feeling.

"Better," he encouraged, clicking away again. "Much better. Remove your bikini top—no, don't, drag it up with one hand so that the camera can see your breasts. Quickly..."

His cock lurched as her trembling hands dragged it under her chin. Fuck, that was hot... Legs lewdly spread, breasts exposed—this was way beyond anything they'd done so far and she'd followed each instruction without a second thought. He had her...

"Better, better. Look at the camera... make love to the camera... fuck the camera..."

Her dreamy gaze narrowed. The blonde cop wasn't just following directions, she was feeling them.

"Yes, hold that thought," he snapped, wondering what sexy image she had in her mind's eye. He grazed his hand across the bulge in his crotch, making sure she saw the movement. It was essential to keep up the pace, make everything fast and instant... 

"Put your hand in front of your pussy... thumb on the top of the thong, fingers pointed down."

Her sexy blue eyes half closed as her palm touched her soft flesh through the thin material. Her expression was right out of a porn magazine—smoky, glistening, heart-shaped navel piercing, tussled golden hair. The look of a sexy babe who promised everything. It was all she could do not to rub herself. 

Perfect...

Taking three steps towards her, his thick fingers pulled loose the tie on the left of her bikini thong and then the right. Like a magician with a tablecloth, he pulled the garment from under her before she realised what was happening. He was really pushing the boundaries but his instinct for such things had never let him down yet.

His eyes zeroed in on the thin, blonde landing strip and beneath he could see her arousal all to evident across her glistening sex. "Perfect, Alice. Stroke yourself..."

Her hesitation surprised him. For a moment he thought he'd been mistaken and had gone too far. But just for a moment. Then her hand returned to her sex, covering herself with her palm and gently beginning to rub herself. A soft moan escaped her lips as her eyes closed. Then her hips began to move. She was his...

When she bit down on her lower lip, he increased the pressure. "More..." he instructed. "Faster." 

There was no holding her back. Her teeth began to grind as she rubbed herself harder, her fingers circling her clit. Her hips began to undulate faster and the front legs of the stool lifted from the floor. He was a genius—once they were into it they couldn't stop. 

The idea of masturbating in front of him and being photographed doing it was akin to a lemming leaping over the edge of a cliff. The Blush made it inevitable.

Her eyes opened and then closed again, tighter this time. Was she thinking that if she couldn't see him, he couldn't see her? He heard the wet sloshing sound of her fingers before he realised that two of them had found their way inside her. 

He'd long since dropped the pretence of trying to photograph her and was now rubbing himself through his jeans. Her knees came up as she somehow planted the soles of both feet on the edge of the stool. Head back against the wall, she was groaning in that way some women had just before they reached their orgasm.




Appleby Blush Ch. 03



"Like that... like that..." he blurted, not that she needed any encouragement. 

She was in a world of her own...

The hand holding her bikini top had long since dropped to a breast, pulling and pinching on her nipple. The top hung at an angle, covering nothing. Her muscles tightened around the two fingers inside her—trapped them, held them and then released them again. Her breath came in short gasps. Her fingers moved harder, faster. A few strands of sweat-dampened blonde hair fell across her eyes as she began to tremble. 

When she groaned out her orgasm, it was only the fear of Carmella's wrath that prevented Daly from dropping his jeans and fucking her there and then on the studio floor...

***

"I feel better for that," Sandra Wilson appreciatively murmured, pushing her empty plate away. The Slug and Lettuce pub had the benefit of being close to their New Scotland Yard premises, just the other side of the St James's Park Underground Station. It also served sensational food.

"Yeah," Goodwin grunted. "But two sausages with that curry?"

"Well, you know I have a healthy appetite..."

For a few seconds, the silence hit them like a sledgehammer. They both knew she wasn't only referring to food. Wilson groaned inside. If ever there was a comment that was inappropriate given their circumstances... that was it. 

It had been her idea to go for an early meal straight from work. After all, if she and Alex were going to be working closely together again, she had to make an effort, didn't she? There'd been enough barriers between them during the previous eighteen months and it was time they were removed.

"So," she said, quickly changing the subject. Work seemed to be safer ground and Alex had had two days now to check and double check the files she'd given him. Surely he'd come up with something? "How have you gone today?" 

His shrug flattened her. "I've been through everything you gave me a couple of times," he ponderously said, thinking things through in that way of his. "And I've followed through every lead I could find, however tenuous. Let me tell you Sandra, there's nothing to find in there."

"I get the feeling you're not really into this, Alex," she snapped, immediately regretting the words. She instantly held both hands up. "Sorry, Alex, that was stupid. I take it back unconditionally. I'm... I'm just frustrated, I guess. I spent an hour with Turner this afternoon and he's driving me mad."

Goodwin kept the pained expression on his face but nodded. He knew Sandra's boss was proving to be a pain in the proverbial and his desire in promoting his own career ahead of looking after their interests was well known. "What's up?"

Wilson let out a long sigh as she debated whether to get into this with Goodwin. It was a bit too early to be sharing her wider frustrations with him. Still... this was Alex, wasn't it? "Budgetary cuts are his latest idea," she murmured sadly, throwing a hand in the air in exasperation. "He thinks that if he reduces costs by ten per cent he'll be in the frame for the Commissioner's position when Sir Peter moves on."

"Ten per cent?" Goodwin asked, reaching for the remaining chunk of crusty bread and wiping the remains of the gravy from his plate. When he saw Wilson grimace, he held it up. "The best bit." 

"I'll take your word for that," she told him, shaking her head in an exaggerated fashion but grinning all the same. "But be careful, I'd hate to think of you getting fat."

"No way," he grunted, gulping down the bread. His daily regime at the gym kept him in good shape and despite the way the punishing schedule got harder with each passing year, he was damned if he was going to change it. "Anyway, what's Turner thinking about? We don't have enough now to fund what we need to do. How the fuck's he going to achieve that figure?"

Wilson blinked at him. "He's not," she flatly said. "He wants me to—" 

"You're kidding?" 

The sympathetic look on his face as he stared disbelievingly at her was somehow comforting. She reached up to tighten the knot in her hair. "He's given me a week, Alex."

The barrel chested cop shook his head, pulling a face as he licked the gravy from his fingers. "Bastard." 

"Bastard is about right," Wilson sighed, nodding at the brown stain on Goodwin's shirt cuff. "Were men born messy eaters?"

He grabbed the crumpled blue paper serviette and rubbed at the damp mark. "Yeah, I guess so..." 

Wilson smiled at him, then sat back and folded her arms. "Sometimes I feel like telling him to just stick the job, Alex."

"No," he cut in, becoming animated for the first time. He rested a large hand on her arm. "The division can't do without you, Sandra. Let me tell him where to shove his job instead..."

Wilson laughed. It felt good to have her friend so unreservedly on her side again. For a few moments she looked fondly at him but then reality kicked in. "Okay," she said, reaching for her wine. "Lay it on the line for me, Alex. Do you think we're wasting our time?"

Goodwin quickly shook his head. "Something's up," he answered, thinking back to his conversation with Kaminski. If Homicide were onto Appleby too, that just confirmed Wilson's instinct. Brendan had promised to get back to him once he had more information from his contact on the inside. That was a day ago. "No doubt about that. It might just take a little time to pinpoint it..."

***

Donald Appleby had been thinking of his secretary all evening. They'd fucked as soon as he'd arrived in Edinburgh but then he'd had to get ready for his dinner with Sir Douglas McPherson and leave her on her own in the suite.

Her dark brown eyes had stared into his as he'd left the room and he could see the sparkling desire in them. She'd licked those pink lips and whispered exactly what she was going to do to him on his return. His cock hadn't been the same since. 

Douglas was a key business contact but my God, he could bore for Scotland. Once they'd covered everything necessary regarding tomorrow's arrangements, the knight of the realm had gone on endlessly about his plans for entering politics, grouse shooting on his estate and some insane plan to invest in a diamond mind in Outer Somewhere-or-other. 

But that was behind him now... 

Returning to the suite, the blood raced through his veins as he pushed through the door and saw the look in Angela's eyes. He'd expected her to be naked—after all, he'd left her with a glass of Blush so that she'd be fully on the boil when he returned—but instead she was still fully dressed and provocatively leaning back against the far wall.

He'd taken three steps across the room towards her when the phone rang. Carmella?

Diverting to his right, the pony tailed businessman held a finger to his lips when he heard the voice. "Joseph. What a wonderful surprise. How are you?"

"I'm good," the deep African voice responded. "I thought a quick call was in order before your meeting with my brother tomorrow."

"Of course," Appleby softly murmured into the phone, glancing across the room at his secretary. Her body was swaying sexily. 

The businessman flopped down in the heavy leather chair facing her, listening to the African Prime Minister's voice but with his eyes glued to the gently undulating woman. It was as if the little minx was dancing to some imaginary music, sexily moving her made-to sin-body as she began to unbutton her crisp white blouse. 

So that was it... she wanted to strip for him! His cock lengthened...

"Indeed," he said, as Joseph Nmobu confirmed how important the meeting was to them both. 

"An opportunity to meet both our needs," the Prime Minister was saying.

Closing her eyes, it looked like Angela was pretending that she was up on stage, dancing like one of those hotties in the clubs he occasionally attended. Her hips swayed sensually to the imaginary music as she walked towards him. With each long step, one leg in front of the other, she looked as hot as he'd ever seen her. 

Where the hell had the Essex woman learnt such moves? 

"Do you forsee any stumbling blocks?" Appleby asked, cutting to the chase. The sooner he'd ended the conversation, the quicker he'd get his prize. Angela's blouse was now over the back of a chair and had been joined by the white bra. She was cupping her ripe breasts, raising one to her mouth and circling the erect, deep pink nipple with her tongue. 

His cock felt like it was going to burst from his expensive trousers.

"I think we're nearly there," Nmobu told him as Appleby watched those buoyant tits bouncing erotically with each sway of her hot body. She knew better than to interrupt him when he was engaged on a call but right now the hot little bitch looked like she was about to break all the rules. When she was only a couple of feet away, she shimmied out of her dark skirt and dragged her thong down her legs. 

Appleby ran his tongue along his bottom lip. The sophisticated woman really did have a body to die for. He idly wondered whether she showed the same lack of inhibition with her husband.

"Nearly there?" he queried, feeling his temperature rise further at the sight in front of him.

Head back, Angela's tongue was running across her pink lips as she stood so close he could reach out and touch her. Those undulating hips were swaying even more sensually to the imaginary beat. She didn't need to speak, her curvy body was telling him to end the call. Her hands rose to her neck and then slowly began their downward journey, across her cleavage, cupping her breasts. Those long nipples looked so incredibly inviting. 

He momentarily cupped the phone. How could he concentrate on a deal that was worth billions when she was teasing him like this? "Angela..." he hissed.

The look on his face must have told her he couldn't resist. Normally she'd obey any instruction but right now she was intent on one thing only. The Blush had really got to her this time. Widening her stance to bend once again at the waist, she swung her hips left and then right. Her hands ran down to her inner thighs, caressing them before locking behind her back, allowing the businessman to see her full, swaying body in all its glory. The smooth folds of her pussy, under the thin dark landing strip, were swollen and moist.

"I see," he panted down the phone as his eyes devoured the feast on offer. Nmobu still wanted to haggle on the price and he was showing an unhealthy curiosity in what they'd be producing. Neither aspect provided that much of a problem, not if he played his cards carefully.

"I thought it only right I should prime you before your meeting with Emmanuel," Nmobu continued. "That's only fair, after all..."

"Thank you," Appleby huskily said as Angela wordlessly sank to her knees, pulling down the zip of his trousers. She knew enough not to speak, and instead just smiled up at him, running her tongue over those pink, oh-so sweet, suckable lips. His cock was already erect, rising from his thick expanse of black, curly hair like a mini tower. 

"I'm sure we can satisfy one another sufficiently to reach a successful conclusion," he grunted, placing one large hand on the back of the Essex woman's head and tightening it in her short black hair as she began to mouth-fuck him. He regularly reached agreements with people who negotiated for a living. The Nmobu brothers wouldn't be a problem. 

"Good," he heard the reassured voice at the other end, but he really was struggling to concentrate now. Angela's tongue was making its way up one side of his shaft and down the other, bathing his length in her slippery saliva. She toyed with the ridge of his swollen head, all the while looking up at him with those playful, dark brown eyes. 

He only just managed to stifle a gasp. 

"I'm sorry I won't be available tomorrow," Nmobu continued. "State duties can be tiresome. But Emmanuel represents us both."

"Of course," Appleby grunted, trying to keep his voice even. His shaft pushed against her throat as his hot secretary slid her pink lips all the way down to the base. His body was already succumbing to her working mouth. Maybe he needed to take some Blush, too, if she was in this mood? Just to see him through the night? 

"Good," Nmobu repeated. "Here's to a successful conclusion, Donald."

"Yeah," Appleby grunted. The sexy bitch was deep-throating him like an expert. He cupped the phone again to disguise his moan, and squeezed his eyes closed as she took him to boiling point. Angela's daring eyes danced upwards into his again, her eyebrows arched as if suggesting it were time to end the call. Don't cum, he told himself, desperately attempting to stave off the inevitable. Don't cum... 

"See you at the party?" he managed to murmur.

"Of course," Nmobu responded. "That will be an enjoyable way to cement our partnership. And from what I'm told, your parties are fabled for their unique entertainment. I hope you'll have something lined up for Emmanuel and I?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Prime Minister," Appleby said, with a sigh of relief. Angela was sliding to her feet. For a moment he thought he had some breathing space but when she swung her body around he realised exactly what she had in mind. "I guarantee you won't be disappointed."

"That's good," Nmobu said as Angela reversed her sensational body down on his throbbing manhood. "Goodnight, Donald."

Easing her hand onto his cock, the sexy beauty slowly and sweetly guided him against her, teasing herself with his cock like a dildo. Two strokes along her soft channel, two taps against her excited button, and she had him impaled inside her hot body. 

"Goodnight Mr. Prime Minister," Appleby managed to grunt before dropping the phone back in its cradle. Angela threw her arms back behind her and wrapped them around his neck. She gently began to gyrate her ass in sweet, delectable circles.

Oh fuck...

***

Alice dropped the mobile phone back into her bag. She'd called Wilson first, of course, and then her father. Both were delighted that she'd made it through the first audition and had been invited back again, although her father's congratulations had been tinged with relief that his little girl had emerged unscathed.

Unscathed? If he only knew...

Even now, it was difficult to comprehend that she'd actually masturbated in front of another man, especially when he was capturing every moment with his camera. It may have been the most thrilling sexual experience of her young life—in truth her body was still buzzing with excitement—but it was a dangerous step beyond anything she'd done in seeking partners for her one night stands.

Okay, when he'd told her she's passed the audition, he had also confirmed that nothing would be used without her agreement. She'd need confirmation of that when she returned tomorrow, and would also make a point of asking Marcia what was likely to happen to the photographs. There must be some standard process...

Right now, she decided to bury the thought to the back of her mind. Sandra Wilson was delighted with her, not only for passing the audition but also for establishing contact with Marcia. And the sexual buzz inside her body still needed feeding.

She turned back towards the bar and smiled at the two dark haired young men staring in her direction. She'd gone there with the intention of picking someone up for another one night stand and meeting twins had been beyond her expectations. The only question that remained was which of the two she was going to let ravish her body tonight.



Appleby Blush Ch. 04



Chapter 4: Tightening the grip

Jimmy was the older of the twins by less than a minute. He was also the more dominant of the two and his energy had been amazing. Tommy was a different kettle of fish. He needed a little longer to rest than his brother and wasn't so aggressive. Together, they were perfect. Alice had been able to go throughout the night, serviced by one and then the other, and had lost count of the numerous orgasms she'd experienced.

Despite her lack of sleep and the early hour, when the younger twin returned from the bathroom and glanced across at her, she crooked her finger. Her experience in the studio seemed to have triggered a passion inside her that just wouldn't go away.

"Come here," she sexily breathed. 

Like his brother, Tommy's cock was an average size, but the sight of it swinging from his naked body as he returned to the room was irresistible. She reckoned she had an hour available before she had to leave to return to the office for her early morning team meeting and she intended to make the most of every single minute.

Even before he reached the bed, she heard a slithering noise behind her. Hands turned her from her side and onto her stomach. "Still up for it, Belinda?" Jimmy whispered in her ear as he raised her ass and positioned himself against her. It took a single thrust to bury himself deep inside.

The feel of Jimmy's cock as he began to take her doggie style made Alice groan. That was the thing with the older twin, throughout the night there'd been nothing subtle with him, just raw, unadulterated fucking. He grabbed her long blonde hair as Tommy approached, roughly pulling her head up like he would the reins of a horse. 

Where was his whip, she giggled to herself? 

Using his momentum to twist her body towards Tommy, she waited until the younger twin knelt beside her at the foot of the bed, his hard cock once more in front of her face. With a snarl, she wrapped a hand around the base and pushed herself up higher onto her knees, angling the hard cock into her mouth. Jimmy clutched her hips harder, his throbbing shaft pumping easily with the new position. 

Her nostrils flared as she felt so wickedly, deliciously horny.

She couldn't remember ever being as turned on as this. Her session with Tony Daly had lit a fire inside her. Why hadn't she tried two guys before? Even though she'd insisted they could only have her one at a time, she'd never felt so used or dirty. Jimmy's grip on her hair tightened and he slapped her asscheeks with the flat of his other hand. She pumped back harder with each stinging slap. 

"That's it, Belinda," Jimmy growled into her ear. "Show the Thompson twins exactly how much you love their cocks..."

Her lean body bowed like a suspension bridge between the brothers. Saliva drooled down Tommy's shaft before her jacking hand rubbed it into his hard flesh. Her left arm—her supporting arm—shook under the strain, but held her up enough so she could corkscrew her mouth around this young man's cock.

"Mmm!" she groaned, muffled, as Jimmy's spanking grew more aggressive. This was new, but she kind of liked it. She released his brother's cock from her mouth and slithered her tongue along the outside—more so that she could catch her breath than pleasure him, but he didn't seem to mind.

Jimmy, behind her, finally got serious. He took control of her slim hips, thumbs digging into her firm buttocks, and started yanking her back with each thrust.

Sensing a mutual orgasm, she slipped his brother's cock back into her mouth. Jimmy lunged forward, causing Tommy's cock to bury itself in her throat. She nearly choked before she was able to regain a pretence of control.

Pretence, because that was all it was. And she loved it. Holy shit, she loved it. She was their toy. Their fuck toy. She'd never felt so wrapped in pure virility. The masculinity assaulted her nostrils and saturated her. 

"Oh fuck, you bitch!" She wasn't sure if it was Jimmy or Tommy who cried out. Someone grabbed her hair, pulled it hard. Someone—both of them—sandwiched her between them. A three car pile up. A spine numbing, earthshattering crash.

Her own orgasm exploded in her ears. The brothers pulled out in union. Before she could protest, she felt their hot tribute strike her face. Her ass. Her lower back. It went everywhere. She felt it run through her hair and down her neck. She felt it cool on its path between her taut cheeks.

Exhausted, nearly unconscious, she collapsed between them. At last, satisfied.

***

It was an hour and a half later when Alice rushed into the meeting. 

"Man, you look rough," Kirsten told her.

The blonde shot her a look suggesting that the comment wasn't helpful infront of her dad.

He picked up on it straightaway, lumbering across to her. "You okay?" 

She smiled sweetly. Her father had never been able to resist her dimples. The frown on his face was familiar and she didn't intend to go through any detailed explanations. "Of course, Dad," she softly told him, and then glanced at Wilson. "Sorry I'm late, Sandra. I was at one of my friend's hen night last night. It was quite an evening."

"Apparently," Wilson simply said, her disapproving eyes forming an instant opinion. Despite Alice's best efforts to appear casual, it wasn't difficult to work out what the young blonde had been up to last night. She'd have to have a quiet chat to her at some stage. Maybe she'd shied away from that due to her situation with Goodwin, but the fact Alice was single made it even more important to understand the girl's life outside the Met.

"Where did—" Goodwin began, only for Wilson to cut him off.

"Let's get on with things," she interrupted, saving Alice from any fatherly inquisition. "I don't have much time, so let's start with Alice."

The blonde shot her a grateful look. "Like Kirsten, I got through the first audition, too. They want me back at the studio today." She turned to her brown haired colleague. "You're there, too, Kirsten, aren't you? What time?"

"Not until lunchtime."

"Me too." She swung back to look at Wilson, excitement in her young eyes. "And I had a good chat to Marcia, the receptionist. We said we'd catch up again today and I'm sure I can get some information from her, find out some background to how things work." 

"Sounds positive," Wilson said, nodding thoughtfully. Maybe they were getting somewhere after all. "What happens today? More photos?"

Alice shrugged. "I assume so. I really have no idea what the next stage is. They just said to be there by noon and we'd take things from there."

"What about you?" Wilson asked, absent mindedly pointing a pencil at Kirsten. Alice was the girl-next-door, but the dark haired cop—with her high cheekbones dark eyebrows and shiny, brown hair—was the shoo-in to play the fashion model. "Any idea what the second audition will entail?"

"A few more photos, I think. And then they'd decide if they wanted to do a shoot with me. I'll ask Tony Daly a few more questions, just to get a feel for what goes on, and see if it throws up anything worth following up."

"Sounds good," Sandra Wilson acknowledged, dropping the pencil back onto her pad. Their only legitimate hope of making a breakthrough was if either woman was able to sniff something out and they'd both made an encouraging start. "Anything to add, Alex?"

The barrel chested man shook his head. "Nah, nothing positive. I've been through the files twice now and followed up a few new areas but there's nothing so far."

"I guess it's down to us two girls finding something worth following up," Kirsten said, grinning at Alice. "There's not much new there, is there, hun? Or d'you think they'd have any use for a sixty-year-old male model? Of the grumpy variety, of course."

Wilson chuckled to herself as Goodwin snorted. Even back in the Donny Webster and Jack Palmer days, Alex had never been big on repartee. 

"Take no notice, Dad," Alice chimed. Her cute smile touched the corners of her lips as she gazed affectionately at her father. "I think you'd be great in front of a camera. Just think... Richard Gere, Sean Connery, George Clooney and now—" 

"Don't," Goodwin snapped, "push it..."

Wilson's approving glance ran across the three of them. Alex Goodwin wasn't used to playing second fiddle in an investigation and the banter would make him even more determined to turn something up. She needed that.

"Okay," she murmured, pushing to her feet and resting her hands on her desk. "I have a report to write. Be careful in there today, I don't want Appleby's people getting suspicious. The last thing we need is a complaint to Turner. But dig deep and see what you can find. We have until the end of the week to turn up something or we pull the plug."

***

Donald Appleby glanced over Emmanuel Nmobu's shoulder as they shook hands and watched Douglas McPherson carefully close the door behind him as he left the room.

"Good to see you again, Emmanuel," he said, pointing to a seat. "So what do you think of the Scottish Parliamentary building? Quite impressive, yes?"

"Very," the deep African voice boomed. His smile was warm and friendly. Like his brother, he was in his late forties, maybe, with crinkled black hair and an oval shaped face. The gold coloured suit was garish but undoubtedly expensive. "I had a tour of the Royal Mile earlier. And something I believe they call Arthur's seat. It's a beautiful location."

"I understand your country is beautiful also," Appleby said, reaching for the coffee that McPherson had arranged. "I hope you'll show me around when I visit."

"Of course," the African boomed as he lowered his powerful frame into the heavy chair. Appleby was aware that the African's eyes didn't leave him as he filled two cups and handed one to his guest. 

"A barrier between us, Emmanuel," he said, tapping on the table top and then sitting opposite the African. "Hopefully today's meeting will see that barrier removed. We're almost at the end of our journey, Emmanuel..." 

Nmobu took a sip from his crested china cup as he nodded. "Joseph and I have the same wish, Donald. That's why he took the trouble to call you last night, to show you our commitment." The African glanced at his watch. "My understanding is that we have half an hour before Douglas returns and ten minutes has already elapsed. Perhaps we should get straight down to business?"

Appleby smiled shrewdly. Emmanuel wasn't one for small talk, but then neither was his brother. "Joseph tells me that the fee remains the only outstanding point," he slowly said. "I thought we had an agreement?"

"The fee," Nmobu repeated, with a slight incline of his head. It was clear he didn't intend giving anything away. "But also we require an understanding of exactly what it is that we'll be producing."

"Ah," Appleby murmured, pursing his lips. So that was it. "That's a problem, of course. Commercial sensitivity prevents me from going into too much detail. I'm sure you understand?"

"Of course," the African said, sitting straight backed in that statesmanlike way of his. "Just as you'll understand, Donald, that we need more than that. We couldn't even begin to allow the production of something that would—how should I put this?—compromise any international laws. You'll understand we are an honest country. Our people and our government believe in doing the right thing—always."

"Of course," Appleby said, nodding deferentially. It was difficult not to smile at such a barefaced lie. So that was why Emmanuel and his brother wanted the money paid to their private bank account in Switzerland? "And I can assure you—"

"Assurances count for very little in today's world, don't you think," Nmobu interrupted, leaning forward and steepling his fingers. "Joseph and I need something much more tangible than simply assurances to provide the comfort that we—and our Government—require in order to proceed."

The smile on Appleby's face remained, despite the African's stubbornness. He'd always known that he'd be pushed on the point and had his story ready. Even so, it was important that Nmobu thought he wasn't giving in too easily. "Tangible," he mused, tapping the tabletop with his fingers. "Okay, Emmanuel, you drive a hard bargain. I'm prepared to disclose our business interest on one condition."

"Condition?" the African repeated. "We don't deal in conditions, Donald..."

Appleby smiled respectfully. "Of course, Emmanuel, I understand that. Just as you know that a partnership spreads both ways, does it not? My condition is simply that what I'm about to tell you remains between you, your brother and myself. That's all."

Nmobu's expression changed instantly. "You have my word."

Of course I do—until it suits you otherwise, Appleby told himself. If Nmobu thought that he trusted either of them he wasn't as bright as the businessman thought. But this was a game he was used to playing and he sent the African a beaming smile. "Thank you for your word, Emmanuel. The truth is, I'm manufacturing a perfume."

"A perfume?" 

Appleby smiled to himself at the shock written all over the African's face. 

It was partly true; all good lies were. His scientists had found a way to develop Blush into both a perfume and an eau de cologne. That would significantly increase the ease of using the aphrodisiac. But that development would take place in England, after the African's had developed the large quantities needed. 9

"Have you any idea how much the perfume industry is worth, Emmanuel?" he continued, leaning forward across the table to emphasise the point. "Millions. That's why I can afford to pay you the fee you're demanding." He threw his arms out wide in a beneficial gesture. "It significantly eats into my profits of course, but I believe it's important for us all to have a vested interest in the success of our venture."

Nmobu laughed aloud. "Have no doubts, Donald, as long as my brother is in power we share your interests. The combined fee of two and a half million is fundamental to ensuring that Joseph maintains control in our country."

"Two and a half million?" Appleby smiled to himself. He'd anticipated that the African would push for three million. "I distinctly remember we agreed one million each..."

The African spread his arms wide. "Let's call it inflation. The first payment is to be made in advance, of course."

Appleby frowned as if he was being presented with a major problem. Then he shrugged his shoulders, like a man who had been backed into a corner. "This is difficult for me," he slowly said. "I have lots of backers, of course, and need to balance everyone's interests. I need to give them something, so how about this? I agree to the revisions to the fee... and I'll pay half the money up front. In return, you bring the date for the first shipment forward by three months. Miss that date and we return to the original fee."

When Nmobu stared at him, Appleby shrugged his shoulders. The sound of the door opening interrupted the moment and both men glanced across the long room to see Sir Douglas McPherson's face peering at them. "Time is up, I'm afraid," the tall man nervously told them, glancing over his shoulder. "There's another official party on its way."

Appleby stood up and held his hand out towards the African. "It's the best I can do," he lied, staring firmly into Emmanuel Nmobu's dark eyes. 

The African's pause lasted no more than a few seconds and then he reached out to shake the proffered hand. "It seems we have a deal, Donald..."

***

Kirsten was sure she'd seen Alice's car when she'd parked, but her blonde friend was nowhere to be seen when she'd entered the building. Not that she'd had much time to think about it. Almost as soon as she'd arrived, Tony Daly had met her and instantly escorted her towards the changing rooms.

"It's a heavy day," he'd said, leaving her at the door. "Have the usual shower before you put on the outfit and make sure you finish the drink I've left for you. It'll calm your nerves and the last thing I want during the shoot is for you to get dehydrated. Okay?"

She'd nodded and got on with it. Her mouth was dry anyway and the drink always seemed to help settle her, help her get into the mood to portray the sexiness she felt. Whatever the reason, she hadn't been able to resist touching herself in the shower again although this time she'd stopped just short of an orgasm. Keeping herself on edge, she reasoned, would bring out the best of her during the session. 

What he'd omitted to tell her—deliberately?—was that the so called outfit consisted of just a skimpy thong. Rather than scare her, it simply enhanced her arousal. If only they knew that the hot brunette posing topless for them was a cop? The thought excited her and yet, if Sandra Wilson ever found out she'd be in for some heavy duty trouble. And if the Met discovered what was going on then her career would be at stake. 

And then there was Matt...

That was a different story. She had no idea what it was in her, but holding on to a stable relationship seemed an anathema to her. She had itchy feet. Maybe the thrill that came with the audition was simply confirming that it was time to move on? Well... that and the fact that Tony Daly had replaced Wesley Snipes as her number one masturbatory fantasy. The muscled photographer was hot...

She'd stood in front of the huge mirror, posing on one foot and then the other, swivelling to check out her tight ass. Her hand went to her long dark hair, pulling it up onto the top of her head and then allowing it to fall. Dropping a hand to her hip, she practiced the coquettish look she planned to give Daly during the shoot.

She loved her curvy body. One of her boyfriends had said it gave truth to the hourglass expression and she was proud that her deep tan didn't betray any visible bikini lines. She knew the effect that her thrusting breasts had on men, too. Daly was no different. She'd seen the look in his eyes when she'd whipped her top off during the previous audition. They sat so beautifully high and her brown nipples were already hard. The anticipation of the expression on his face when she flounced into the studio made her shiver...

***

Alice Goodwin had thought she'd more or less be called straight into action when she arrived at the studio. Instead, it was Marcia who met her in reception with a warm hug. 

"Come on through," the curly haired redhead said as she linked arms and led the young cop back to the same coffee area as yesterday. 

"Drink up, girl," Marcia told her, reaching into the small fridge and removing a glass of Blush. She passed it to the blonde. "We need to keep your strength up if you're going to be a top model."

"Top model," Alice repeated, taking a sip. "Yeah, right!"

"You don't like the drink?" Marcia asked as the cop pulled a face. "It's the fruit energy supplement you tried yesterday."

"I like it," she answered, smiling sweetly. "It's just that it's cold."

The freckled redhead nodded slowly—for a moment she thought they had a problem. Then she grinned at the blonde. Alice was adorable. Like a living doll with her big blue eyes and round face. And she had no idea what came next...

"What time is my test?" Alice asked, taking a longer sip this time and allowing the pink liquid to warm her insides as it slid down her throat.

"You don't have a test," Marcia casually told her, pushing her body away from the fridge and plopping down on the sofa beside the girl. She tapped Alice on her exposed thigh, just below the hem of her skirt. "Yesterday was enough for you to convince them you have what it takes," she said, winking at the blonde. "And from what I hear, it seems like you took my advice."

Alice felt goose bumps. "Took your advice?"

Marcia's throaty laugh was infectious. "You put on quite a show, babygirl," she told her, squeezing Alice's thigh. Everything would appear to be innocent to the cop, she knew, but with the Blush already inside Alice's body and the fresh drink she'd just given her, the redhead knew only too well that any touch would enhance the young woman's arousal. "You had Tony in quite a state," she continued. "I had to relieve him afterwards."




Appleby Blush Ch. 04



"You had to..."

Marcia chuckled at the look of surprise on that cute face. "Yeah," she laughed. "He wanted a blow job but you can't always have what you want. I jerked him off."

The surprise turned to shock. "You..."

Marcia's fingers danced across the pale thigh. "Oh, Alice, you're such an innocent. Models and photographers get worked up all the time. That's only natural. So we relieve ourselves or get someone to help." She laughed again. "One good turn deserves another, you know?"

"Marcia...!"

The redhead tugged on the hem of Alice's skirt. "You know what, babygirl? I love that cute innocence of yours. Come on, finish your drink to celebrate. You're one of us now."

"One of us?" Alice asked, swallowing another mouthful.

"A model," Marcia laughed, pulling her hand away from that soft flesh and taking Alice's hand. "You're an Appleby girl. Congratulations."

Alice stared in disbelief. "You mean... just like that?"

"Just like that," Marcia told her, linking their fingers. Carmella had told her to keep things moving fast, make sure she kept the young cop off guard. "Today you'll get to meet Carmella Santiago, of course. And sign your contract."

Alice's sea-blue eyes grew wide. "Sign? I..."

"You told me how much this means to you," Marcia said with a frown. "Doesn't it?"

"Yes... of course..."

"Then don't put on that look when you meet Carmella. If you show any doubt, she'll throw you out. Do exactly what she asks and you'll be fine. Keep listening to me, babygirl, and I'll guide you through all of this..."

She watched the blonde's changing expression as the ramifications filtered through her mind. Just as Carmella had suggested, the young cop was itching to take advantage. She could practically feel the need flowing through their linked hands. She threw the blonde another line.

"What is it? You look puzzled."

Alice leapt at the opportunity, almost too eagerly. "I was just wondering... could you tell me everything that happens here? I mean, from what you've already explained, it's clear I have a lot to learn. What does the life of a model look like? What sort of things do we get involved in?"

"I'll tell you everything," Marcia said, her green eyes gleaming at the girl as she reeled her in. "Stick with me and I'll let you into all the Appleby secrets. How about that..."

"Fantastic." 

Marcia giggled at the blonde's enthusiasm, finally unlinking their fingers and casually sitting back in the sofa. She studied the young woman. Alice's nipples were clearly visible through her bra and the thin green material of that blouse. The redhead didn't need to wonder how they'd taste in her mouth—she had a very good imagination...

"By the way, you told me yesterday that you'd never been with another woman?"

She watched the girl nervously pushed her blonde hair across her right shoulder, holding onto it as if for comfort as she shook her head. "No..." Alice said, a little too quickly. She were trying to prove something to herself, something Marcia knew would eventually break. She shifted on the sofa a little uneasily. "I mean... I'm not..."

"Well..." As Marcia dropped her hand to the young girl's thigh again, Alice's eyes followed the movement. It was no longer an innocent, casual touch. "If you ever change your mind..." Her fingernails crawled up the inside of her thigh to the edge of her skirt. "I'm sure there'll be plenty of opportunity..." 

Her green eyes flashed at Alice as she spoke. She paused long enough to let the implication sink in. 

And the sexual tension was gone, replaced once again by that friendly touch. Those welcoming eyes. "And incidentally, the photos from your session yesterday were hot." Alice shifted, most certainly conscious that her hand was still riding the blonde's knee softly.

Then the words Marcia had spoken struck her. She'd seen them?! The girl might as well have spoken the words of shock aloud. The blush flared up Alice's neck and consumed the entirety of her face. She hadn't anticipated that Marcia was fully aware of what had happened. 

"The photos were sensational, Alice," the curly red-haired woman continued, giving another of those deep, throaty laughs. "No wonder Tony and Carmella want you on the team."

Her words brought the response Marcia expected.

"What happens with them?" Alice rasped, a despairing frown covering her forehead. "If they ever got out..."

"They won't," the redhead comfortingly explained, raising the hem of Alice's skirt and then allowing it to drop again. "We've all had compromising shots taken and you're no different. As long as you're an Appleby girl, no one will see the audition photos..." 

As long as...? 

Marcia could see a bead of sweat appear on Alice's. For the first time, the young cop would be beginning to wonder if she was getting in over her head.

*** 

Kirsten's body was so aroused she could scream. 

The shoot had been far hotter than her first audition and in that thin, short sleeved tee shirt, Daly looked every inch her dream man. The black colour matched his dark skin and from the constant visits her searching eyes had made to his crotch in those tight jeans, she was sure he was feeling it the same way that she was. 

The effect was that she'd put an extra oomph into her performance. The whole situation had gradually swung away from the need to gain approval so that her undercover mission could progress to the overwhelming need to tease him...

The sudden break helped ease the sexual tension. Daly had to change his camera, he'd explained, and he'd wanted her to oil herself for the finale to the audition. He'd only been out of the room for a couple of minutes and yet when he'd returned, she realised her thoughts had ventured to places they really shouldn't go. 

"Come on, Kirsten," he snapped, the changed camera dancing at his waist from the straps around his neck. He pulled it off and laid it on the table before grabbing the bottle of oil from her. "Is that the best you can do?"

"Sorry—" she began, but he was already unscrewing the top from the bottle.

"I told you I need you gleaming," he said, emphasising the last word. "Raise your arms above your head and turn around."

The oil felt cool and invigorating as it hit her back. No wonder he hadn't been happy with what she'd done, he was using half the bottle. His hands were spreading it across her flesh, rubbing it in thoroughly as if it were sun tan lotion. 

"That's better," Kirsten heard him say, and she tried not to purr. 

Arms in the air and his hands on her body sent a shiver down her spine. All the way to her aching sex. She felt weak around him. Submissive. A soft sigh escaped her parted lips as his fingers dug into her lower back, running along the top of her thong before dipping underneath. She bit her lip. 

When his hands cupped her asscheeks under the thong, digging into her flesh as he spread the oil across her skin, she involuntary moved her legs apart. For a startling, delicious moment she thought he was going to dip between them...

"Turn around, Kirsten," she heard him say in her ear, her hot breath on his neck. She almost tripped as she swung to face him, temporarily dizzy from the thought of what might come next. He wasn't going to... was he?

She moaned again as the oil hit her skin. His dark eyes held hers as he held the bottle high above her chest, allowing the liquid to splash onto her flesh. It traced its way down her skin, sliding in rivulets across her breasts and around her hard dark nipples before dripping in slow motion onto her stomach.

"Good," Daly asked. His breathing was almost as heavy as hers. His dark eyes searched hers as she gave another moan.

Kirsten nodded. They way her breath caught in her throat made it impossible to speak. Did he mean the effect he was creating for the rest of their shoot was good? Or was he referring to the feel of his hands on her body?

Was she being seduced?

The way he moved around behind her provided the answer. When his hands slid around her waist, the moistness between her thighs turned into a pool of desire. They felt remarkably soft as he caressed the oil in sweeping circles into her stomach. When his erect cock pressed against her taut backside, it was like leaning back against a tree trunk.

It settled in the crevice between her buttocks as his hot breath warmed the back of her neck. The heat that had been building between her thighs reached a fevered pitch. She told herself she was a cop and this was enemy territory. You didn't do this sort of thing on a mission. But when his oily hands slid under hers, unashamedly cupping and caressing her naked breasts, it was impossible to resist.

"Just go with it," she heard him breathe into her ear. He tugged on her nipples and she was arching her back and feeding her swells into his palms? "You need this..."

He was right, she did. Her head fell back onto his shoulder. He whispered something else into her ear but she couldn't quite take it in. She couldn't hear anything, only the sound of his panting breath on the side of her cheek. Kirsten grunted. One hand had left a breast and was slithering down her stomach. It was heading lower than it should. 

She turned her head to explain that was a step too far but no words would come out.

Glancing down, she watched transfixed as his oily hand slip down inside her skimpy thong. The sight of his black fingers on her tanned flesh looked so incredibly erotic. God, she was close to an orgasm and he hadn't reached her throbbing sex yet. With one final burst of defiance, the cop in her tried to twist away. This was a mission and... and...

His muscular arm held her tight, his totem pole of a cock pushing against her buttocks. His hand reached her sex, spreading oil across the smooth mound. She gave in to the inevitable.

The first orgasm consumed her as he curled a finger into her slippery folds. The soles of her feet pressed into the floor as she bent back into him, spreading her legs as wide as possible as he slid a second finger inside. Her hands went behind her, meeting around his neck. The movement opened up her whole body to his hands. 

One hand pulled on her nipple again while his fingers gently fucked her. When his thumb circled around the wet flesh of her clit, she knew she was in the hands of an expert. She had to stop this, she told herself... just... just... not yet. Her brow furrowed. Her face twisted. Her moist lips panted beneath the heavy lids of her eyes. 

"Go with it," a deep voice from behind whispered into her ear.

Kirsten shook her head but despite herself, her body was somehow arching backwards. She could feel more of that wonderful cock pressing into her ass. She hadn't told it to do that! Her breath was so erratic she couldn't speak, but the moans were coming one after another. Her hips were thrusting forward on those probing fingers, creating a back-and-forward momentum despite the haze engulfing her. Teeth bit down on her earlobe. 

This was too much... too much... and then she was cumming again... 

***

"I thought..." Alice began, looking around the empty dressing room. "I thought..." The large bulb lights of the make-up station were off. The bottles of perfumes and creams neatly organized, each brush and pencil in its place.

"Carmella has been held up," Marcia explained behind her. Alice felt her breath tickle the exposed lines of her neck. "But the paperwork is ready to be completed before you leave. There's just one other thing..." 

Alice followed her gaze towards the bowl of water and some shaving implements sitting on the small stool beside the swivel chair.

"You have the one thing no Appleby girl is allowed," the freckled redhead chuckled, wrapping an arm around the young woman's waist. "Sorry girl, but if you're going to sign that contract, it has to go."

Alice began to blush again. Despite her all night sex with the twins, her body was burning again and that familiar itch needed satisfying. Maybe she could look them up again tonight? No, that would break every rule she'd set for herself. 

It would have to be someone new.

"I like my look," she slowly said, glancing nervously around the room. There was no doubt what Marcia was referring to and yet she loved the look of her thin blonde landing strip. How often had a man told her how sexy it was?

"I'm sure you look hot," Marcia convincingly murmured, her fingers gently caressing the tapered hollow in the small of her back. "But so is the bare look. You'll feel like a new woman, girl, believe me."

Alice tried to hide her reluctance. This was a mission and she had to do what she had to do. She could always grow it back again. "Okay, I'll do it," she reluctantly said, swinging her gaze back away from Marcia to the shaving implements.

The redhead gently prodded Alice towards the seat. "No, babygirl, I'll do it."

Alice felt the lick of heat start between her thighs and then circle her body. It took a few moments for her brain to comprehend Marcia's meaning but the wicked grin on Marcia's face confirmed the worst. "You'll... no... why—"

"First, it's kind of a tradition. Second, those are my instructions and I've already explained we never disobey Carmella. And third, I'll make a much better job than you could. Now just slip your clothes off and we'll make you feel special, okay?"

"My clothes?"

"All of them," Marcia said, giving one of those deep, throaty laughs that made the young cop's spine tingle. "You'll feel better that way, believe me."

Alice slowly turned away, wondering how she could escape from the moment—whether she wanted to escape. Getting naked in front of the redhead was almost as embarrassing as the thought of being shaved by her. But there was no denying the warmth that was growing between her legs. 

She glanced up, realizing that Marcia would see everything in the wide make-up mirror. Their eyes met and Alice drew a trembling breath. She could do this. One hand went to the first button of her top. The redhead gave the briefest of nods. After that it became a little easier. Defiantly, she held the other woman's gaze as she stripped.

The curvy redhead picked up Alice's clothes when she'd finished undressing, placing them on the table. "Okay, sexy," she giggled, swinging back to her and placing her hands on her hips. "Sit in the chair." 

Alice felt another shiver run through her. Marcia's tone, the look on her face, and her whole demeanour suggested she was taking pleasure in Alice's discomfort. Or was she just intending to enjoy her work? 

"Nervous?" she heard the woman ask. She nodded, averting her eyes as she heard that throaty laugh again. "Here, this will help."

Her heart leapt into her throat. When she looked up at her new friend in the mirror, the redhead was holding out a small container of white powder. Wait until Wilson heard about this... 

"Don't tell anyone," Marcia chuckled softly, pulling a small stool to the chair and easing down onto it. "Carmella doesn't approve and I'll lose my job. This is my own personal stash." She uncapped the container and ladled a small pile out on a tiny spoon. With a quick stiff, it was gone. Alice watched the redhead close her eyes and breath deeply. "It'll help you relax, believe me." 

Pin-pricks of heat danced across Alice's scalp. She was in over her head. Drowning. She forced herself to breath. To concentrate on other things. To go to that rational part of her brain which was becoming harder and harder to reach.

Carmella didn't approve? OK, that was something to think about, just... just not now. For future reference, perhaps. There was something there, right? It didn't fit with the picture they were building up, but... but something. It might explain why it was proving to be so difficult to pin anything on the agency. Could everything be legitimate, after all?

Marcia had slotted the dipper back into the vial and held it out for Alice.

"No, thanks," she softly breathed. "I... I don't."

"You should," Marcia laughed, placing the container down beside her. "No one's going to judge."

In the modelling industry, maybe, Alice thought. For her, the thought was next to inconceivable. She was the law. There was little grey area for her, everyone judged. She was glad she had Marcia. The woman would be the perfect companion for helping her to understand more.

"Okay, spread 'em..." The words hit Alice between the thighs and then the redhead was laughing again. "You should see your face. So innocent. So sexy..."

Her hands slid along Alice's naked thighs and gently eased them apart. It was time to get started...

***

Marcia sat at an angle on the small stool so that the cameras would capture everything. She'd done this so often she could work blindfolded. There was no doubt how hot Alice was feeling—her labial lips were already glistening with arousal. Looking upwards into the blonde's face, she waited until Alice's gaze found hers and then winked.

"Enjoy," she breathed as she ran her fingers along the soft skin of the young cop's thighs. 

For a few seconds, she gently glided her fingertips back and forward, allowing the heat to build inside her victim's body. In other circumstances, it would have been impossible to resist the urge to dip her head between those wide-open thighs and taste the elixir on offer, but she had her instructions. Picking up the warm cloth, she began to apply just the right pressure in the right places. Women could never resist that first touch. 

"Hey, there," she grinned upwards, as Alice began to squirm. "You've got to sit still..."

Applying some shaving cream to the brush, she lathered the blonde's mound. Alice took care of herself and all that really needed tending to was that sexy blonde strip, but Marcia wasn't going to deny herself the full tease. She made her movements slow and sensual, listening to the soft sighs above her.

She picked up the razor and began to use it with the expertise of a master barber. Her fingers gently touched, rubbed and caressed the newly shaven parts after each stroke. It was as if she was testing progress, rather than the deliberate teasing... 

As she pulled the slippery flesh taut, Alice's body began to shake.

"You have to sit still," Marcia said again, roughly pushing the cop's legs further apart and pulling that pale, slender body forward. "I'm almost finished." The final strokes removed the last blonde curls. The curvy redhead made two more passes, one up, one down, and was done.

Picking up the wet cloth, she made a show of cleaning the residue of shaving cream from Alice's now smooth mound. "How does that feel? Good?" 

Alice whimpered as the redhead replaced the cloth with her fingers, tracing a soft pattern across the soft flesh. The girl's sex was a thing of beauty. Her swollen lips were small and tight, like the rest of her body, blossoming open around her pearl just enough to hint at the slicker pink inside. Marcia avoided touching her there, but only just so. She glanced up at the young cop, who had her eyes closed and was biting her lip.

"Here," Marcia softly, reaching for the small container beside her. One hand curled along the inside of Alice's chin, drawing her head up. The other finger was covered with coke. "Open your mouth." 

Alice's eyes jerked open. Her slender body was rising and falling with the heat of the moment and the effect of the Blush. "I can't—" she began. 

As her mouth opened to voice her objection, Marcia's finger slid between those soft lips and gently rubbed the cocaine on the woman's gums. Alice's mouth closed but it was too late. The wicked finger continued its work.

"That's it," Marcia sexily whispered, taking advantage of the moment as she worked her finger around the inside of Alice's mouth. "Suck on it... like that..." 

Almost immediately, any resistance was gone. The mouth that had closed on Marcia's finger began to move, gently at first but then sucking on the digit as if it was a cock.




Appleby Blush Ch. 04



"Good girl," Marcia breathed, a little envious of the explosive feeling the girl was experiencing. Coke had the most profound effect when mixed with Blush. Like lights of pleasure, pushing her higher along the spectrum of arousal. If Marcia wasn't under strict instructions to only tease, she'd join her.

Exploiting the moment, she reached for the shaving lotion and began to caress the white balm into the newly shaved area. Alice arched herself up off the chair, trying to connect her sex to the caressing fingers. Marcia twisted her body so that her head was level with those perky breasts.

"Your nipples look so suckable," she sexily whispered, her hand sweeping up and down just above Alice's clit. This was one of the moments she liked best—capitulation. Tilting her head, her flicking tongue circled the cop's right nipple as her fingers did the same to her sensitive little nub. 

When Alice whimpered like a baby animal, she sucked in the hard nipple at the same time as her fingers swirled around her captive's sex. At first she restricted her movements to the newly shaven rise of her mound, but then allowed her thumb to brush the cop's clit.

Alice's body jerked instantly at the touch. She sucked harder on the nipple, sliding two fingers inside. As she'd hoped, the blonde had a wonderfully tight pussy.

"Going to cum for me?" she murmured, pulling her head up from those perky breasts so that she could look into Alice's hazy eyes. "Come on, babygirl. Cum for Marcia. Now!!"

A flick of her thumb across that sensitive clit was enough to detonate the orgasm.

Her intense eyes savoured each expression on the young woman's face, committing them to memory as the climax overwhelmed her. When the blonde woman's hands found her curly red hair, gripping it tightly as her trembling body jerked and twisted, Marcia could feel the heat between her own thighs.

It made the anticipation of knowing what was eventually going to happen all the better...

***

"Have you got a minute?" Alex Goodwin asked as he put his head around Sandra Wilson's door. Her hands were flying over the keyboard as she stared at the computer screen.

Her instant smile as she pulled off her rectangular glasses made him feel better. "Sure, Alex. Come in."

He lumbered into the small office, turning and closing the door behind him before sliding his heavy frame into one of the two chairs opposite the desk. "How are things going with that report for Turner?"

"Report?"

"Yeah, the budget cuts."

Wilson's nodded at the screen. "I seem to have a dozen reports to do," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Turner likes to keep me busy. But that one can wait..."

Goodwin frowned. Hadn't she told him it was urgent? Maybe Turner was backing off? "It can? I thought—" 

Wilson pushed back in her chair and coupled her hands behind her head. While she stared thoughtfully at the ceiling, Goodwin's gaze ran across her body. Her breasts were perfectly outlined under the stretch of her blouse. This was ridiculous, he thought, forcing his glance away. Time had moved on. Just accept the fact.

"It's a dilemma," she eventually said, shifting her body in the chair and leaning forward again. "It's not the report that's the problem, Alex, it's the fact that I can't manufacture those cuts out of thin air. Okay, there are definitely some administrative savings to be made, but to reach Turner's targets means losing front line people."

Losing people from the front line? That was bad news. They needed more as it was. "How many?"

The brunette shrugged. "One is too many, Alex. How can I recommend we cut numbers? It's simple, I can't."

"So..." he hesitated, trying to catch on. "You've thrown it back at him?"

She gave a wry laugh. "Yes, and he's passed it back to me again. I think we're at stalemate. Each time we discuss it we argue. He shouted at me this morning. If I won't do it, he'd bring in someone who would to replace me."

"Replace you?" He stared at her. "He's not serious."

The look on Wilson's face confirmed that the bastard was and Goodwin felt the anger surge through him. All Turner was interested in was feathering his own political nest at the expense of anything or anyone who got in his way. Sacrificing Wilson was nonsensical. 

"I told him it was his decision," she went on, shrugging her shoulders.

"Sandra," he began. "I'm so sorry—"

Her expression changed. "I don't need sympathy, Alex."

The barrel chested cop took a mental step back. That was a typical Sandra Wilson response. Ever since Webster and Jack were forced out, she'd felt the need to take on the world by herself.

"You don't need to fight me, too, Sandra."

"Sorry..." She sighed after a few seconds. "He's demanded a report detailing the cuts by Tuesday. He won't get it so watch this space..."

Silence fell on the two of them as Goodwin tried to find the right words to say. He wasn't good with words and didn't want her snapping at him again if he came out with the wrong thing. If Turner did force Sandra Wilson out of the division, then he'd go, too. But first he'd make sure he got an appointment with Sir Peter Richardson so that he could tell the Commissioner a few home truths. What would he have to lose?

"Anyway, Alex," Sandra Wilson began again, interrupting the thought. Her tone seemed heavy with disillusionment. "I take it you didn't just come in here to discuss Turner and budgetary cuts?"

"No," he said, looking at his feet and then back at his boss again. This wasn't easy. 

Since their meal together last night, he'd known that he should have mentioned Kaminski. She'd been adamant he shouldn't mention their investigation to anyone else and he knew she'd feel betrayed if he confessed about his conversation with the Homicide cop. But... it just felt dishonest not to—he shouldn't be keeping anything from this woman. 

He sought out a compromise. "I've been thinking..."

Wilson's tired eyes widened. "Yes?" 

"How do you feel about me checking with a couple of other divisions to see if they have anything on this guy, Appleby? I'd do it quietly, of course? But we're relying too heavily on Alice and Kirsten, putting too much pressure on them. If we can—"

The look of dismay on Wilson's face stopped his suggestion dead in its tracks. For a few seconds, Goodwin thought she was going to explode in rage. Then she pushed back in her chair, shaking her head at him before crossing her arms in front of her. "Alex," she slowly said, as if talking to a child. "After our conversation about Turner, you're suggesting we broadcast what's going on? You know how quickly word spreads..."

"Yeah, I know, Sandra," he answered, clutching at straws. Maybe he hadn't phrased that too well. "But think about it. How many times do different parts of the Met working on the same thing without others being aware..."

Her narrowed eyes told him it wasn't a line she was about to fall for. "Why would others be working on Appleby?"

He hoped his hesitation didn't give the game away. "He may be into other things," he tried, hoping it didn't sound too lame. 

Her curse brought with it the realisation that he'd badly misjudged the situation.

"Alex," she began again, fighting to stay calm. "I've explained to you that Turner wants my head. Word of this getting out will give it to him. I've even been thinking that maybe we should just pull the whole thing so that he has no excuse. But why should I? That means he wins. This is our job, Alex. This is what we're being paid to do. But I'm not going to commit suicide along the way..."

Goodwin grunted, trying but failing to think of some sort of response. Instead, he simply nodded and ran his fingers over his two day growth of stubble. He might have been a fool for sharing things with Kaminski, but he was still convinced that if the Homicide cop helped get the breakthrough they needed, Wilson would see the sense in what he'd done.

He just had to make sure that Kaminski continued to keep everything to himself meantime.

***

Kirsten Tobin knew that she should have returned to the Met after her afternoon at the studio but how could she face that? She'd have to report in to Sandra Wilson and her boss would immediately be able to see from her face that something was wrong. 

Instead, she'd headed home and thrown herself on the bed, burying her head into a pillow. What had she done? She could still feel Tony Daly's breath on her neck, his hard cock against her ass, and his fingers inside her. He'd made her cum three times before telling her they were finished for the day.

She was there as a cop and shouldn't have allowed her personal feelings to come into it. Instead, she'd given in to the sexual arousal that had lodged in her body ever since she'd met Daly. Was it the Wesley Snipes fantasy that had led to this? Was that why she was constantly aroused? Was the long held craving she'd had for sex with a black man turning from imagination to reality?

After her end-of-shoot shower, he'd been waiting for her in reception and told her they wanted to employ her as a model. That she'd passed the auditions. He'd told her the photos were terrific and given her a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek before sending her on her way. Same time tomorrow, he'd said.

The calm demeanour he'd displayed afterwards was as if the incident hadn't happened. Or perhaps it was a normal occurrence in the world of fashion?

She hated that thought. As stupid as she knew her feelings were, she hated the thought of this being a predetermined approach. She wanted him to want her, not take advantage of her the way he did with all new models.

Though... he hadn't taken advantage of her, had he?

She would have allowed him to do anything to her after he'd finger fucked her. As difficult as it was to admit it, he... he could even have fucked her, she was so worked up. Worse than that, the thought of that cock still had her aroused. She could imagine the wonderful feeling as she took him inside her mouth, his hands on her hair as she gave him a blow job, the sensation of him beginning to throb and then blowing his load down her throat. 

She twisted onto her back on the bed and slid her hand down inside her jeans. It was very easy to imagine that the hand was a different colour, thicker, coarser. That it belonged to Tony Daly, not her. God, she was so wet...

If Sandra Wilson or anyone in the Met found out what had happened, her career could be at an end. Maybe she should seek out Wilson and explain? It had been on the tip of her tongue to confess when she'd called her boss from her car and given her an update on this afternoon's happenings. Instead, she'd made it sound so straightforward and had simply told her that they wanted her as a model and had arranged for her to return to the studio tomorrow. 

And what had Wilson said? That she'd done a fabulous job and should stay as close as she could to Daly to see what she find. How ironic was that?

She pulled her working fingers out of her jeans and swung onto her stomach again. Maybe she should stop being so hard on herself and follow Wilson's instructions? If getting closer to Daly led to any other encounters, she could rationalise things as doing whatever was necessary to make a success of her mission. Her duty came first and that meant she should explore any opportunity.

Allowing herself that comforting excuse for the time being, her thoughts turned to Matt. They were heading to the theatre later tonight—how could she look him in the eye? Maybe all of this was some sort of sign, confirmation that it really was time to end that relationship?

Flopping over onto her back for a second time, her hand slithered back between her legs again. She could think about Matt later. Right now, she needed relief again...

***

Alice felt only relief when she returned to the Met and found that Sandra Wilson had left for the evening. It was some official function to do with the Lord Mayor's office, apparently, and Turner had asked for a full turn out of his senior officers.

"I'm proud of you," her dad said, patting the back of her hand. She smiled at him over the rim of her coffee cup. The Met restaurant was quiet but it seemed an ideal refuge after the events at the studio.

She'd made up her mind that when she'd returned to their offices, she'd confess to Sandra Wilson everything that had happened over the past couple of days. Instead, her father had cornered her and she'd found herself telling him half a tale. 

And here he was, telling her he was proud of her...

"Why dad?" she rasped, returning the cup to the saucer and plonking both elbows on the small table as she defiantly stared at him. How could he say that when all she felt was guilt? And that damn arousal that just wouldn't go away. 

"Why?" he grunted, reaching across the table and squeezing her hand. "Because I doubted that you had the experience to be thrown head first into this thing. And yet you're our best hope."

Alice wouldn't, couldn't let it go. "I am? Why?"

As far as she was concerned, she'd masturbated in the studio owned by the man they were investigating. And been photographed while doing it! She'd allowed herself to be shaved and then finger fucked to an orgasm by a woman she'd only met a couple of days earlier—the same woman who'd fed her cocaine.

Was all that something to be proud of? Worst of all, she liked it. All of it. She'd never felt so drunk with lust.

"Sandra said we pull out if we don't have anything concrete by the end of the week," he calmly explained, pausing as another couple of cops wandered by. "So far, I haven't found a thing at this end and while Kirsten is making inroads, we all know this sort of thing takes time."

She sat back in her seat, pushing a loose strand of blonde hair away from her eyes. For an instant, she wondered about telling him what had happened, seek his advice. But how could she? For the first time in a while his eyes seemed alive. The dull greyness that had characterised him since the DeVere-George Blair fiasco seemed to be lifted. 

"But why am I our best chance?" she softly said, needing something more concrete to assuage her guilty feelings. "How do you work that one out, dad?"

Goodwin grunted again. "From what you've just explained, this Marcia woman seems to have taken you under her wing. You said she was prepared to show you the ropes, explain what the life of a model looks like—an Appleby model. That's the information we need, honey. That's our best hope of finding something to help decide whether to make this official or let it go."

Alice nodded slowly. Suddenly, she didn't feel quite so guilty. Maybe she'd been too wrapped up in the sexual side of things to think clearly? But he was right. So what if she was drawn into the sexier aspects of the modelling world? What was wrong with that? Perhaps she was having doubts because Marcia was a woman? Could that be it? Alice wasn't bi, never had been, but there was no doubt that the curvy redhead knew how to push her buttons...

"Go with it," her dad continued, squeezing her hand again. "You're doing great, honey. Go with your instinct."

She nodded again, but this time she smiled back into his eyes. It was good advice. Marcia was an opportunity to help Sandra Wilson crack the case and she wouldn't be doing her duty if she allowed it to slip by. That meant taking Marcia up on her offer to go clubbing together tomorrow night.

***

Sandra Wilson nodded to the various dignitaries as she circled the room. She made sure that any conversations were brief and then moved on. Tonight was pretty much a carbon copy of other functions. Jason Wilkins had already hit on her again and Simon Bradshaw had offered to run her home. Then there was Adam Bradford, always grinning at her and giving her the eye. 

And they were all married, of course.

Evenings like this brought out the worst in her. She was only here to make Turner look good and the strutting peacock had ignored all of his direct reports in order to hobnob with Sir Peter Richardson and his senior colleagues. It was pathetic. She hated him and the ridiculously long days and heavy administrative workload he'd forced on simply to further his own interests. 

She was beginning to hate the job, too, and maybe it was just as well that the budgetary cuts argument was bringing matters to a head. Little had changed since Webster and Palmer had been unceremoniously booted out of the Met and she shouldn't have allowed herself to be persuaded to take on the job. 

Donny Webster had been forced into early retirement, but before he'd left he'd told her she could make a difference. Jack Palmer would have been thrown in jail were it not for his forced resignation and agreement never to publicly discuss the case. And he'd still taken the time out to endorse Webster's words. 

Both thought she could do a great job but they were wrong. The politics had become worse over the last eighteen months and Turner made a point of taking credit for anything positive and shifting the blame to others when something went wrong. Her working relationship with him was close to breaking point and it was becoming ever more impossible to disguise her disgust for the man. 

He didn't care about the police, the Met, or the Vice team. All he wanted was to advance his career and take over from Sir Peter when the Commissioner retired.

It constantly felt like she was wading through treacle and she knew in her bones it was time to move on, though what came after police work when that was all she'd known? Maybe she should call Jack and ask about the merits of following in his footsteps? At least PI work meant she wouldn't be sitting behind a desk.

In many ways, she envied Kirsten and Alice—what she wouldn't give for a chance to be involved at the hard end of an investigation again. But then again, it wasn't fair just to give them a few days to turn up something tangible. Undercover cases like this often went weeks or months before it was possible to achieve a breakthrough. Maybe she should just close the Appleby case now? 

Or was that the irrational thoughts of a tired mind?

She'd talk to the team about it in the morning, assuming she could somehow get through tonight. If another married cop whispered anything suggestive to her she'd most likely kick him where it hurt the most...

***

"You've been quiet tonight," Matt said with a smile as he drove away from the theatre car park. "Something's wrong?"

Kirsten tensed in her seat. The heavy rain that had begun to fall seemed appropriate in the circumstances. Should she tell him now? That she wanted to cool their relationship? Instead, she settled back in her seat and ignored him.

"Come on," he persisted, switching on the window wipers. "What's wrong?"

"Why would something be wrong?" she defensively asked. Now wasn't the time, she decided. It could wait until they got home.

"Why?" he queried, glancing across and grinning at her. "Because normally I can't shut you up and yet tonight it was as if you were auditioning to be Greta Garbo."

Can't shut her up? The brunette felt her hackles rise but allowed the comment to pass. Despite her masturbation on the bed earlier, that same cloud of arousal had returned and settled on her. It made sense to wait until she was calmer before they fought. "Greta Garbo?"

"Yeah, you know... the Swedish film actress. She was regarded as one of the greatest and most inscrutable of all movie stars."

Kirsten pulled a face. Had she heard of her? "Really? I don't think I've seen her. Was she in that movie with Reese Witherspoon?"

He guffawed. "Hardly, she's an actress from Hollywood's silent film period. That's what I'm referring to. You were quiet tonight."

Kirsten pulled her coat closer around her body, as if that provided some protection from her thoughts. If they argued now, she'd end up sending Matt home with his tail between his legs and that meant she'd be sleeping alone. In her current state, that wasn't a welcome thought. The more she thought of seeing Tony Daly tomorrow, the hornier she became. 




Appleby Blush Ch. 05



Chapter 5: Wilson receives an invitation

The soft pressure between Carmella's legs slowly brought her out of her sleep. Half conscious, she opened her legs wider so that the tongue running down the length of her labial lips had more room to continue its exquisite explorations. Arching her back, she thrust her hips forward to meet the lapping contact on her deliciously sensitive clit.

"Mmmm, yes, baby," she murmured, her lips parting as the pleasure shot through her. Her hands found the head between her thighs and she stroked her lover's ponytail.

"You like?" Donald Appleby murmured, pausing momentarily to stare up into her face.

"Oh yes, baby," she purred, luxuriating in on the sensations radiating around her sex. Her body arched higher and her hips pushed upwards. "Don't stop..."

She felt his fingers dig more tightly into her thighs as he held them apart, shuffling to make himself more comfortable on the oversized bed now that she was awake. Carmela rewarded him with another moan. Being brought out of her sleep like this was one of her greatest pleasures in life. 

They both had lots of lovers, but Donald was easily the most inventive.

"I take it we're celebrating the deal," she groaned sexily, yanking hard enough on his pony tail to bring his head away from her wetness. Instantly, she pushed it down into her wet folds again. "Did I say stop?" 

Appleby responded by reaching up and puling one of her legs over his shoulder. Carmella lazily curled her foot around his neck and jerked his hair again. He obediently worked his stiff and slippery tongue inside her and then began to thrust back and forward like a little cock. With each jerk of his head and pump of her hips, she could feel his morning stubble scrape across her skin. 

The Columbian beauty moaned again. "Oh yes..."

Today was going to be such a good day, she hazily thought through the pleasure. Daly would fuck the brunette cop and that would complete her initiation into the Appleby world. There'd be no turning back from there. Marcia would deal with the blonde, too, though with her father being a cop they needed to take that one a little more slowly. 

Then there was her plan for Sandra Wilson...

When Donald jabbed his tongue harder, faster, she moaned again. "Yes, there... just there..."

Her other leg bent at the knee as she planted the sole of her foot on the mattress and pushed her body even higher. Only her shoulders remained on the black bed linen. Her hands left his head and stretched out either side of her to claw at the sheets still crumpled from last night's lovemaking. Fortunately Donald's jet had brought him back home from Edinburgh in sufficient time for them to spend a good portion of the night fucking.

"Ah!" she cried as he rapidly shifted his focus to her clit. 

Her palms were damp as they clung on to the sheets and her lover held her thrashing body more firmly as she began to hump his face. She loved being submissive like this and sent out a series of approving growls as he slid his mouth across her wetness and sucked up her hot uices. 

"Yes... fuck, yes..."

Teetering on the edge, she felt his tongue go flat. God, she loved this moment. He knew just how to play her and he was so in control. She gripped his ponytail again with one hand, tighter this time, and whimpered like an animal on heat. 

He lapped over her swollen button again and again and she couldn't take it any longer. The foot around his neck pressed down to drag his head even closer. One clawing hand gripped the sheets and the other held his hair, keeping him there. 

Just there...

Squeezing his perspiring, juice stained face between her thighs one final time, she grunted in her native tongue as the orgasmic damn finally overwhelmed her.

***

"Still no sign?" Kirsten asked, swinging around to look at Goodwin as his head appeared in the doorway.

"She's still with Turner."

"It looks like the meeting's cancelled, then," Alice chimed in, glancing at the small clock on Sandra Wilson's wall. Ten o'clock. They'd been hanging around on and off for a couple of hours now. "What time are you due back at the agency?"

"Just after lunch," Kirsten answered, pulling a face. "I have an hour before I need to sort myself out." She glanced back at Goodwin. "Could they really still be talking about last night's do? For two hours?"

The barrel chested man leant against the doorframe. "No, the rest of Turner's reports left an hour ago. There's only Sandra in his office now."

The two women exchanged a nervous glance and then Alice turned to her dad. "D'you think Turner knows about our operation?" 

Goodwin shook his head. They'd have heard by now if that was the case. Besides, he was pretty sure they'd be talking about the budgetary cuts Turner wanted, not that he could confide that to the others. 

"I doubt it," he contented himself by saying. "I'm sure they have a million and one things to talk about."

"Doesn't sound like its good news, though," Alice persisted. "We all know how Sandra feels about that man."

"Half the force feels that way," Goodwin replied, pushing off the doorframe. "Well, I for one have some work to do..."

"Good," Kirsten grinned at him. "Close the door so that Alice and I can have a girly chat." 

She ignored the grumpy look he sent her and waited until they were alone before turning back to Alice. "I thought it might be useful to compare notes."

"Sure," Alice replied, shuffling in her chair. "Good idea."

Kirsten's eyes narrowed a little. Was Alice feeling uncomfortable? If she was, there could only be one answer and that was that Tony Daly had done the same with her. Maybe that's what this was about? The agency lured unsuspecting women to an audition and ended up by dragging them into some sort of illegal sexual activity. Was that why Daly had come on to her yesterday? 

The thought of being just another woman on his list hurt her more than it should. 

"Can I ask you something, Alice?" she tentatively began.

"Of course."

Kirsten disguised her concern with a smile. There it was again, a flicker of nervousness across Alice's face. "Did Tony Daly come on to you yesterday?"

There was no other way to ask the question other than just to come out with it. She'd made up with Matt last night after they'd returned home and later, in bed, their lovemaking had been gentler. But she still knew that the man behind her closed eyes wasn't her boyfriend. In the early hours, when she'd lain awake, the same question had gone through her mind a thousand times. 

For an excruciating second, she thought it was true. But after a momentary widening of those sea-blue eyes, her young colleague burst out laughing. "Come on to me? Heavens, no! I didn't even see Tony Daly yesterday."

"You didn't?" The brunette sat back, slightly shocked. How could she have got that so wrong? "I thought you were auditioning?"

"So did I." Alice turned squarer in her chair so they could face one another. "But Marcia told me I'd done enough the first time and that I was to meet Carmella."

"You met Carmella?"

"Well, no, not exactly. She was delayed somewhere."

Kirsten shook the cobwebs out of her head, trying to understand what Alice was telling her. "So what happened?"

"Marcia and I spent quite a while... chatting... and then I signed some pre-contract stuff."

"Good for you," Kirsten said, running a hand through her shiny, brown hair and laughing aloud. "You're making good progress, Alice."

As the two women grinned at one another, Kirsten gave a sigh of relief. Why did that conversation make her feel so much better? Was it because she wasn't just one of a number? That Daly just hadn't been able to resist coming on to her yesterday? That he fancied her? She had to admit that the thought did actually feel good. It was like having Wesley Snipes come on to you. 

What girl would be able to resist?

***

Alice let out a sigh of relief. For a moment she thought the game was up, that Kirsten knew about what had happened between her and Marcia yesterday. That would have been embarrassing, especially after her chat with her dad. 

She'd reflected on his words last night and come to the conclusion that the sexual turn of events should remain her secret. All they were interested in was results and no one cared how she achieved those. Okay, Marcia had shaved her, given her coke and finger fucked her... 

But that's what went with undercover work, wasn't it?

"You're making good progress," Kirsten told her, smiling warmly at her younger colleague. "I've hardly seen Marcia since I first went to the studio."

"She said she'd bring me up to date with the workings of the agency," Alice gushed, seeing a chance to justify what had happened in her quest for information. She'd earn her stripes if she could make a breakthrough and intended to hold onto that thought. "If I can find out what goes on in there, that'll give us something to focus on."

"Good girl. You're not back there today?"

Alice shook her head and then blew a stand of blonde hair away from her face. "No, they said they'd let me know. But Marcia suggested she and I hit the town one night. That'll give us the opportunity to have a long chat."

"You two hit the town while I'm slaving away at another photoshoot today," Kirsten quipped, her dark eyes dancing. "It's okay for you youngsters..."

Alice laughed with her. "Yeah, it must be tough at your age. Anyway, they're definitely happy with you if they're already getting you involved in things. Is it Tony Daly that you mainly deal with?"

When Kirsten nodded but blushed, suddenly it all made sense to Alice. "He's come onto you," she half shouted, then giggled as she covered her mouth and glanced at the door. The last thing they needed was anyone walking in on the conversation. "He has, hasn't he," she continued, theatrically lowering her voice. "That's why you asked me."

"Look..."

"Go on," Alice chuckled, turning right around in her chair so that she could peer into her friend's deep brown eyes. "You can tell me. He's asked you out on a date, hasn't he?"

Kirsten laughed nervously. "No, Alice... he hasn't."

"Well, there's something there, I can tell," the young blonde murmured, her eyes gleaming with delight. "This is great, Kirsten. You get what you can from Daly and I'll do the same with Marcia. There's only one thing..."

The brunette gave her a quizzical look. "Which is?"

"You've got a boyfriend, girl," Alice laughed. "So no kissing on the first date."

***

"Brendan, I trust you slept well?"

The Detective practically jumped up from his seat at the sound of the voice. Shifting the phone from one ear to the other, he glanced around him. None of the other cops seemed to have noticed his sudden reaction. 

"Can I call you back?" he softly asked, stifling his voice by turning to the wall beside his desk.

"Two minutes. No more."

"Hey Bren—" a voice shouted as he made his way across the room.

He turned. It was Flowers. "Give me five," he shouted back, waving his hand. "I have to make an urgent phone call. Something I shudda done but forgot earlier. Okay?"

"Your bookie?" the fair-haired Sergeant called after him.

Kaminski ignored the laughter that broke out. They were the schmucks not him. All putting their lives on the line for the pittance the Met paid. He was the smart one...

He took the stairs three at a time, heading down to the emergency exit beside the back loading bay. That's where he usually sneaked out for a quiet smoke. If the couple of others who also used that area were there, he was in big trouble. 

To his relief, other than a couple of police vans parked at the far side, the place was empty. He lit a cigarette and called the private number. It was untraceable, but this morning Donald Appleby would be on the other end of the call.

"Five minutes, Brendan" the businessman smoothly observed. "You said two."

No, you said two, Kaminski thought. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry, Mr. Appleby. It's not easy to get some privacy in here."

"You have some now?"

"Yes, I'm outside in—"

"Good, good. I've been pondering on our meeting, Brendan. I trust the bonus arrived?"

"Yes, sir. Most unexpected and I really appreciate it." The timing of the unexpected money was ideal. There were two horses—absolute certainties—running in the next few days. 

"I reward my employees, Brendan. Would you like to know what you have to do to earn it?"

"Yes, Mr. Appleby. Anything."

"You told this Goodwin you had someone on the inside."

"Yes, sir. He's been pushing me for something to help their investigation. I'm not sure I can keep—"

"Let me help, Brendan. Go straight to see Goodwin when we've finished this call. Tell him there's an open night at Appleby Modelling this evening. It's aimed at aspiring models over the age of thirty five."

"Yes, Mr. Appleby?"

"Think about it Brendan. How old is Sandra Wilson?"

"Er... around thirty five, I guess? You mean—"

"Indeed. There's no specific formula to the evening, just the opportunity to look around the premises, enjoy a glass of wine, and ask any questions that might be on their minds."

"Yes..."

"Ideal for someone who wants to see for herself what happens in enemy territory, don't you think?"

Kaminski smiled as the penny dropped. "I see, Mr. Appleby. And you want me to—"

"I want you to make sure Wilson attends, Brendan. For example, it could be that although attendance is strictly by invitation, Homicide had secured such an invite for one of its operatives. Unfortunately, they've now pulled that particular mission—I don't care why—and you can make the appointment available to Goodwin. He in turn should pass it on to Sandra Wilson."

"She might have other arrangements tonight..."

"She may, Brendan. In which case, we'll come up with something else. But think about it. She's investigating me and we're giving her an opportunity to check things out personally. Wouldn't you rearrange any prior appointments?"

***

Kirsten couldn't hide her disappointment. Why wasn't he there? 

It was Marcia who'd met her at reception and escorted her to the dressing rooms. That wasn't how she'd pictured it all morning. The wavy haired cop had expected Tony Daly to meet her with the same hug he'd given her when she'd left the studios last night. She'd anticipated the same kiss on the cheek and for him to lead the way to the dressing rooms, with her eyes on that cute butt.

The curvy woman had handed her the usual drink when she'd entered the changing area and had told her that she'd have her outfit available after her shower. 

"Drink up first," Marcia had told her in a way that suggested it was a requirement not a suggestion. "And then shower." 

That had been ten minutes ago. Now she was in the shower and the water cascading across her body made her think of last night. Matt couldn't understand what had got into her and neither could she. When they'd got back to her flat, she'd ignored his questions and taken him to bed. Their lovemaking had been gentler, but she and hadn't let up until early morning. 

Yet here she was, still horny...

She heard the door to the dressing rooms open and wondered what outfit Marcia would be leaving for her. One thing was for sure—whatever it was would cover more than yesterday. That skimpy thong had left nothing to the imagination and she was sure it was the way she'd flaunted her semi naked body at the photographer all afternoon that had kick started her arousal again.

Would it be the same today? And what would she be wearing? Maybe lingerie? 

She'd like to dress up in underwear for Daly -- something black and sexy, with stockings. The brunette gave a little giggle as she imagined the look on his face. She was getting to know from certain expression when he was feeling 'it' too, and knowing she had that effect was a real turn on. 

And Alice's admission that she hadn't seen the photographer yesterday made her feel much happier in herself. 

"Hey."

The voice took her aback and her turn to look at him was almost in slow motion. For a few seconds, she couldn't decide if it was his nakedness that shocked her more than the fact he was there at all. 

Whichever, Tony Daly's muscular naked body was even more impressive than she'd imagined. 

His rich, ebony skin gleamed in the bright light of the shower room and his well defined muscular torso reminder her of one of the Olympic swimmers she'd watched on television. Then there was his cock. It was huge and swung provocatively as he walked towards her. 

Just like she was, he was shaved clean—she'd never seen a man that way. The smooth effect was erotically surreal. So was the casual way he approached the shower and stepped inside, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

"Let me," he said, picking up the gel and pouring some onto his palms. 

Kirsten put a hand against the wall to steady herself as she watched him, stunned into silence both by his nakedness and his amazingly calm demeanour. He gave her that wide smile that displayed all his white teeth and she found herself wondering if this was normal activity in a modelling agency. 

It can't be, her puzzled mind argued with itself. But then he was stepping behind her and when she nervously swung her head around to follow his movement, his warm eyes seemed to be telling her it was okay

His touch seemed much lighter than yesterday and pin pricks of heat found their way around her body when he slowly spread the gel across her shoulders and back. When his hands covered her buttocks, caressing the soapy liquid into her hard globes with a languid ease, the pin pricks turned into a furnace.

Just as she felt the dizzy haze about to envelop her he was turning her body around. Her sex began to overheat at the thought of his hands on her breasts again and those wonderful fingers slithering down her stomach. 

Instead, he surprised her again. 

"Now me..." he simply said, handing her the gel.

Kirsten mechanically took it from him, aware that she hadn't yet spoken a word. Should she have objected when he appeared? Should she have said something to stop him entering the shower? It all felt too late now and the casual way he was acting as if this was normal almost made her belief that it was.

His hands took the gel back as she stared at him, unable to move. He tipped the bottle so that the liquid covered her palms and then placed them on his broad chest. "Wash me," he instructed, dropping his hands to his hips.

His skin was so smooth, Kirsten thought, as her hands began to move. She made a point of staying away from his huge cock—though all she wanted to do was touch him—even though it rose impressively with each sweep of her hands across his pecs. When he held the bottle out again she cupped her palms, allowing him to squeeze more of the liquid for her to apply to his muscular body.

"My back," he told her, although he made no effort to move position. 

It seemed he wanted her to reach around him and Kirsten obliged. His semi erect cock brushed against her as she caressed the liquid into his skin and she knew then there was only one outcome. Her hands flirted with the top of his ass and then, as if they had a mind of their own, dropped to his hard buttocks. When she worked the gel into the crevice, she couldn't contain herself.

She wanted this man, she needed this man and she was going to have this man. 

Both hands slid back around his body, one cupping his shaved balls and the other his huge cock. His grunts of approval set off a heat wave between her legs and, leaning forward, she ran her tongue around his right nipple.

Kirsten indulged herself for a few moments, switching nipples while slowly jerking his shaft. Then she was slithering downwards, his impressive hardness pushing against her body as she licked her way down his torso and dropped to her knees. The water cascaded over her like a waterfall, reminding her again of last night but this time the black man in her fantasy was real. 




Appleby Blush Ch. 05



She took her time as her head reached his cock, her eyes devouring every inch of his flesh like a child who'd been given a special treat. At first her tongue played around his crown—licking, sucking, tasting, teasing—and then with her eyes staring upwards into his, she took the black shaft inside her mouth.

At first she could only engulf half his manhood, but inch by inch she managed to accept more. When it became too much, she diverted her attention to his heavy shaven balls, sucking one and then the other into her hungry mouth. It was a journey of exploration—she'd never even seen anything this size before—and she savoured each fresh movement like a connoisseur relishing a fine wine.

She alternated between licking along the hard shaft, swallowing as much as she could, and sucking on the crown. Daly's hands went to her long wet hair, gathering the brown strands in his fingers and helping direct her movements. Not that she needed any help. Giving head was giving head, even to someone this size. It would just take longer because there was so much more to savour. 

She lost track of time. All the brunette knew was that his groans were building, getting louder, and she was at long last fulfilling her Wesley Snipes fantasy.

His hands ran through her wet hair, gathering more around his fingers and pulling her harder against him. When he shoved himself deeper into her throat Kirsten choked a little, but only for a moment. Her lustful brown eyes stared up at him, confirming that she could cope with anything he had to offer. 

With a throaty snarl, she took him as deep into her mouth as she could, deep throating him until she heard that familiar growl. She'd have his cum soon....

But then his hands were under her shoulders, roughly dragging her up to her feet. "Time to fuck," he simply said.

***

Alex Goodwin hid behind the mug of steaming coffee. The Met canteen wasn't the most private of places for any sort of meeting, but needs must. This way, he and Brendan Kaminski were just two colleagues sharing a break together.

"How's it going?" the swarthy Homicide cop asked as he eased himself into the seat opposite Goodwin. 

"Slowly." Goodwin shrugged his broad shoulders. "We're making progress but maybe not fast enough. We both know these sort of things can take a while."

Kaminski pulled a sympathetic face, trying to hold back his desperation to blurt out his news. It needed a touch more subtlety to be believable, even with someone as thick headed as Alex Goodwin. 

"What are your timescales?" he contented himself by asking.

Goodwin grimaced. "We pull out next week if we have nothing."

Kaminski's narrow eyes widened. Next week? Damn—that was early. He'd hoped the whole thing would last much longer and that way he might earn a few more bonuses from Appleby.

"I need something, Brendan," Goodwin continued, leaning forward aggressively and tapping his fingers on the rectangular table. "Surely your guys have come up with something I can use? And what about this contact you have on the inside?"

Kaminski smiled to himself. That was perfect—the schmuck had given him the 'in' he wanted without him having to try too hard. "That's why I wanted to see you, Alex," he said, smoothing a hand across his slicked back hair. 

"Yeah..."

"An opportunity's come up," he said, twisting his face. "But we have a problem..." 

He watched Goodwin's grey eyes harden as the Vice Cop gritted his teeth. Goodwin wasn't about to allow any problems get in his way. His internal smile widened. Feed it to him step by step, he told himself...

"What is it?" the barrel chested cop snapped.

Kaminski glanced around for effect, and then leant closer. It was time to dangle the carrot. "I got my contact to set something up," he explained, lowering his voice. "But Homicide is pulling back from the case. Not enough evidence and too many other priorities. I thought you might want it."

The steely look in Goodwin's eyes firmed up further. "Go on..."

"There's an open night at Appleby's studio tonight," Kaminski said, speaking slowly for maximum effect. "It's for aspiring models, Alex. We had someone lined up to attend until we pulled the case. But listen to this..." He edged further across the small table and dropped his tone to a whisper. "I thought of you, Alex, and didn't cancel the appointment. At eight tonight they're expecting to see someone called Sandra Payne. The slot's yours if you want it."

"What are you talking about?" Goodwin spat, leaning back and shooting him a look of disgust. "You know we have both Alice and Kirsten in there. Why would we need anyone else? That doesn't—" 

"Think about it, Alex," Kaminski snapped back. "It's a perfect opportunity to look around, get a feel for the place, and keep their ears open."

"Fuck, Brendan," Goodwin mumbled, giving him a weary look. "I told you, that's what Alice and Kirsten are doing. We've already got that covered..."

Kaminski shook his head and grabbed Goodwin's forearm across the table. You had to spell things out to this schmuck. "This is different, Alex. They're looking for older models. Thirty-five years upwards.

"Thirty-five..."

"Exactly," he said with a look of triumph in his eyes. "Now don't tell me Sandra Wilson would turn down the chance to personally look around."

"Sandra..."

Kaminski nodded enthusiastically as Goodwin's expression told him that he'd finally caught on. He reinforced the message. "They don't know Sandra Payne from Adam. We both know that Wilson still has a fabulous body. Just ask any of the young guys around. She wouldn't look out of place, would she?"

He took advantage of the faraway look that came over Goodwin's case, pausing to let the heavy cop think it through before continuing. 

"Getting Sandra Wilson in there would be a coup, Alex. She'll love you for coming up with this one. But listen, I need to know quickly, otherwise I have to cancel the invitation. What do you think?"

***

Carmella Santiago sat in Tony's office, enthralled by the onscreen action relayed by the hidden cameras. The session in the shower had been sensational and the brown haired cop had fulfilled every expectation the Columbian woman had. 

Now that Daly had taken her back to the dressing room and bent her over the table, the record levels of online hits shown on the bottom right of her screen was substantively increasing with each passing minute.

Positioning her facing the mirror was standard. It increased the woman's arousal by watching him fuck her doggie style and more importantly, ensured she would be staring straight into the main camera hidden by the two way mirror. 

Every expression on her face and groan from her lips would be clearly recorded.

Carmella licked her lips as she leant closer to the screen. Kirsten's hanging breasts as she bent forward against the shiny table top were magnificent. Cock in hand, Daly bent his knees enough to get into position between her spread legs and for a few seconds he ran his bulbous head along her wet folds.

"Do you want it, baby," the Columbian beauty could hear him grunting into the cop's ear. "Do you want this big black cock?"

The words were part of the performance of course. Their viewers liked to hear the woman beg to be fucked. But to the discerning ear, Carmella knew full well that there was something different this time. That's what excited her the most. 

This wasn't just Tony Daly performing as Solomon Sloane. He was about to fuck her as much for himself as for the weekly internet broadcast. It was only a couple of days ago that he'd confessed to her how much he wanted the cop.

"Tell me again." He was whispering now and the look on Kirsten's face as she grunted back at him was pure one hundred per cent sexual.

"Yes... yes. Fuck me now... for God's sake fuck me..."

They were the first she'd uttered since Daly had joined the panting brunette in the shower. No woman yet had been able to resist that moment...

Carmella found herself caught up in the action as Kirsten raised herself on tiptoe, staring directly at herself in the mirror as Tony Daly held onto her hips from behind and slid his black cock into her tanned body. It seemed that the excruciating look of arousal on her face was specifically for the camera. 

Her expression changed as he entered her—slowly, one thick inch at a time—and the Columbian woman could almost visualise being taken by the black stud that way, just as thousands of paying customers imagined themselves as Daly.

The ease with which the cop had succumbed had surprised Carmella. Okay, none of the hundreds of women Daly had fucked on camera ever resisted—how could they with the Blush feeding their wildest fantasies—but there was something about the way the brunette had so freely given herself that was extra special. Maybe it was just that she was a cop that made it seem that way?

Bent over the table, her luscious breasts hanging away from her body like ripe fruit ready for picking, there was no doubt that the sexy bitch was the hottest yet. The Columbian beauty vowed to herself that when she was fully under their control, she'd sample the goods. Maybe with Daly? 

It had been some time since she'd had a threesome with anyone other than Donald...

Daly grinned into the camera as he quickly established an easy rhythm. He really was a magnificent creature, Carmella thought, with those impressive pecs and the sheen of sweat that was already covering his ebony skin. 

Kirsten was pushing her ass back against him, moaning unintelligibly under her breath with each rhythmic thrust. Her bouncing tits made Carmella's mouth water and when the brunette glanced back at him, her long, brown hair hanging over her shoulder, it was impossible not to be caught up in the sexual spell.

Daly slowed his pace, their gazes on one another, fucking with their eyes as well as their bodies. That look of unbridled lust was rife in the cop's deep brown eyes. Carmella sighed in arousal. She so loved doggie. She'd need to remind Donald of that tonight when they watched the video together...

The number of hits shown on the bottom right of Carmella's screen continued to increase but the Columbian woman was no longer concerned with the money pouring into their coffers. The raw sexuality of the moment had progressed way beyond any monetary considerations.

Such was the ferocity of their fucking that the table was rocking hard now. Sweat dripped from the black stud and onto Kirsten's curvy body. Daly dropped his hand down her hard stomach and between her legs. With the practiced experience of a master, he rubbed her clit softly beneath his fingers, bringing on an orgasm was so violent that even Carmella felt the heat.

Sliding his hands underneath her trembling body, Daly cupped the brunette's bouncing breasts. He was like a machine as he fucked her harder, squeezing and kneading her wonderfully large swells. It was too much for the cop and her lust-fuelled eyes rolled into the back of her head as another climax tore through her.

The black stud grinned at the camera again in that sexy look he'd perfected for his audience. He allowed the panting brunette a moment to recover and then surprised her by pulling out. Before she had time to think, he'd swung her curvy body around to face him and picked her up as easily as if she was a paper doll. 

Kirsten squealed in surprise, looping her long legs around his broad back as he jammed his cock back inside her. Her arms found their way around his neck as his hands cupped her sweet ass. Demonstrating his raw muscular power, he planted both feet on the floor and began to fuck her in mid air. 

Carmella watched enthralled. This was always the final act in his Solomon Sloane show. Women normally hung on for dear life but not this one. 

Without warning, the brunette began to fuck him back. Even when he dug his soles into the floor she almost rocked him off his feet. Sweat rolled off Daly's forehead as they fucked like animals, the momentum driving his cock as deep as it would go. Kirsten's heels dug harder into his ass, driving him on.

He grunted with each thrust, struggling against the onslaught but unwilling to give in. The cop's eyes stared into his, her deep brown eyes exploding with lust as she increased the pace of her out-of-control thrusts. 

It couldn't last much longer... and didn't. 

With three more violent pumps, Kirsten felt the waves overcome her and she screamed out as she came. For a moment, Carmella thought the brunette was going to topple the two of them as she threw her orgasming body backwards and precariously clung onto his neck with her fingertips. 

But the black stud somehow steadied himself... 

Gritting his teeth and ignoring the burning muscles in his legs that screamed out in protest, he gave one final upward heave of her ass and thrust one final time. 

His bestial roar seemed to fill the room as he began to fire into her needy sex. 

***

Sandra Wilson looked up as Alex Goodwin's head appeared around her door. The eager expression on the barrel chested man's face told her he was bursting to share something with her. "Got a minute?" he asked.

She hadn't. Everything was closing in on her and there just didn't appear to be a way out. This time next week Turner would have her out of her role and she'd thought that Jack Palmer wasn't returning her calls until she'd discovered that he and Roxanne were away at some exotic location or another.

Right now, she'd have given a lot to be there with them

In truth, she was feeling pissed off with Goodwin, too. Yesterday's suggestion that he should raise the subject of Appleby with other divisions still rankled with her. She thought he had more sense than that. 

Plus he hadn't found a single thing when reviewing the files she'd given him. There must have been something to find in there somewhere. Getting Alex to help her had been a sound idea but it had been driven by his loyalty not his abilities. He was best when he was out on the streets, interacting with people. For such a gruff character, he'd built up an impressive network of contacts. 

But that was his strength, not ploughing through paperwork. It wasn't fair to aim her frustration at him, she knew. He'd helped her willingly, in addition to his normal work—and God knows there was plenty of that to go around. 

He'd done it for her.

"Sure, Alex," she said, her voice softening as she waved him into the small office. At the very least, the interruption would give her a much needed break. Trying to find the savings Turner wanted without sacrificing good cops was proving to be an impossible task. "What is it?"

He closed the door behind him before easing his bulk into a chair. "I've been doing some more digging," he uncertainly began. It wasn't an outright lie, was it? After all, he was the one who'd had the foresight to link up with Kaminski. He wouldn't have been able to find this opportunity otherwise. "How would you fancy a personal look around the modelling set up?"

Wilson's eyes widened instantly. He had her attention.

"I know Alice and Kirsten are involved," he quickly added. "But who knows, you might find something they don't."

She stared at his eager eyes. He reminded her of a dog that had just retrieved a stick, anxious for approval and wanting more. On the face of it, there was little point in the suggestion. Alice and Kirsten were already inside the agency, after all. But there was no doubt that the thought of getting back in the field rather than being stuck behind her desk was appealing. 

"And how are you going to arrange this, Alex?" she asked, giving herself time to think. 

He leant even further forward, his face beaming like a child. "There's an open night tonight," he jubilantly told her. "For aspiring models to look around, see what's going on."

"Aspiring models? Me?"

"You've got the looks and the body, Sandra."

For a moment their eyes said everything... about the past... about what had happened between them. It passed as quickly as it arrived. "That's very nice of you, Alex, but I don't think—"

"And this is for models thirty five plus," he grunted in that way of his. "It's not an audition, so you could get a different angle to Alice and Kirsten."

"Not an audition? What exactly is it then?"

"An open night," Goodwin said, pulling a face. He wasn't completely sure. "A chance to look around," he vaguely added. "That's got to be valuable."

Wilson thoughtfully stared at him again. "You found out about this? Or did—"

"Me," he quickly interrupted, almost bristling at the suggestion that this wasn't his work. "I've just asked Alice and its news to her. Kirsten's still at the studio. But there's no reason why they would know about it, I guess."

Wilson shrugged. "Maybe..." was as far as she was prepared to go. 

Her instinct told her this was a waste of time and that she was unlikely to gain anything from a cursory visit to the agency. But on the other hand, with Turner about to pull the plug on her career, how many more chances would there be to get her hands dirty with some real police work?

***

"Hey, girl," Marcia cheerfully said into the phone. "How's it going?"

"Good," Alice replied, swinging around in her chair and keeping her tone low. 

That was spooky. Her small desk looked like a combat zone and she should have been focusing on the piles of work she needed to catch up on. And yet it had been practically impossible to tear her thoughts from yesterday's shaving session with the curvy redhead. And here Marcia was, calling her out of the blue.

"How about you?" she asked, and then immediately regretted the lame response. Why did she feel so nervous?

"I'm feeling wonderful but then I always do," the redhead laughed. Her tone bounced—she always seemed so upbeat. "I just wanted to make arrangements for meeting up. Still up for it?"

"Of course," Alice said, standing up and turning her line of sight away from Sandra Wilson's office door. She'd been keeping half an eye on it ever since her dad went in there. But this conversation was too important not to give it her full attention and she needed to make sure they weren't overheard. The small coffee area to her right was quiet enough.

"Tomorrow night?"

"Suits me," Alice replied, leaning against the coffee machine as if she was trying to decide which drink she wanted. "You said you knew a club?"

"Yeah, I know a few. But you'll like the one I have planned. It's in Chelsea and is called the Aura. Meet you there?"

"Fine." It was more than fine. The chance to dig deeper into the modelling aspect was exactly what they were looking for and Wilson would approve. Doing so while they were clubbing was just an added, personal, bonus. Alice had always been a party girl. She wondered if Marcia was, too.

"Great. Just put yourself in my hands and I'll show you what models do." The redhead chuckled down the line. "Okay?"

Alice's heart beat a little faster. She'd already been in Marcia's hands...

"Yes," she quietly answered, glancing back at Sandra Wilson's door. "By the way, could I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Do you have some sort of function at the agency tonight? An open night?"

"For older models," Marcia told her, chuckling again. "Why? Is your mum interested?"

Alice laughed. "No reason. I... I'm sure I heard someone mention it and just wondered if it was something you regularly did?"

"We come up with new ideas all the time," the redhead told her. "We can chat about it tomorrow night if you like. By the way—"

"Yes?"

"Wear something sexy. I always do..."

Alice stared at her mobile as the line went dead. The feeling inside her body was like static electricity before a lightning storm.

***

"It's all set up," Kaminski shrilled into the phone. He'd been calling Donald Appleby for a couple of hours now and was beginning to think he'd never get through. With Sandra Wilson already on her way towards the agency, that would have been a disaster.




Appleby Blush Ch. 05



"You're sure, Brendan?" the businessman asked, unscrewing the top from a small phial. He knew exactly how he intended to celebrate the welcome news. A single drop into the glass he'd just poured turned the drink into a pink colour. 

"As certain as I can be, Mr. Appleby," the Homicide cop said, glancing at his watch. "She's on her way there even as we speak." 

The businessman held the glass up to the light, peering at it intently and then holding the glass to his nose. The liquid was odourless. It amazed him that something so powerful could appear so innocent. 

Once the Nmobu brothers met their part of the arrangement, the sky would be the limit. The fools were selling themselves cheaply. The Blush would help him blackmail politicians all over the world into lucrative deals allowing him to extend his business activities in their countries. He'd make billions. 

"Tell me exactly what happened, Brendan," he said, wanting to make sure the message had been positioned in the right way. He didn't want any surprises.

"I explained to Goodwin just as you told me," Kaminski gushed. "I said that Homicide was dropping any interest in you but we already had an appointment booked for the open night which I could make available."

"And?"

"Goodwin swallowed the whole thing. I think he saw it as a chance to curry favour with Wilson. Probably presented it as his own work."

"Of course he did, Brendan," Appleby dryly commented. Kaminski could be amazingly obtuse. "He could hardly admit to any sort of liaison with you, could he? What makes you so sure that Sandra Wilson has fallen for it?"

"Goodwin told me. He said she'd jumped at the idea. Getting involved personally took her back to the old days again, whatever the fuck they were—"

"Brendan!"

Kaminski paused. He'd forgotten the businessman didn't like him cursing. "I'm sorry, Mr. Appleby. She's definitely on her way there now."

"Good work," Appleby said, placing the glass of Blush on his desk. "Stay close to it, Brendan. If she doesn't turn up, you and I will be speaking again and you know what that means?"

The sudden pause spoke volumes and Kaminski knew better than to interrupt the silence. The unspoken message sent a shiver through him. He'd carried out his side of the bargain by positioning the message so well with Goodwin. Of course Sandra Wilson would be there... 

"This number will no longer be in use after this call, Brendan," the businessman eventually went on. "I'll give you a separate number to use going forward. I expect daily updates on their investigation until I tell you otherwise, even if there's nothing to report. Keep close to Goodwin and let me know anything out of the ordinary. I hope I'm clear?"

The cop pulled a face. What else did the businessman think he was doing? "Of course, Mr. Appleby. I'll keep you up-to-date."

"That's good, Brendan," the smooth voice responded. "No surprises. Keep that in mind."

"Yes sir."

"And Brendan..."

"Yes, Mr. Appleby?"

"It would be a shame to squander the bonus I sent to you by gambling it away, wouldn't it? It's just some friendly advice, but you should take it."

He hung up, leaving Kaminski wondering how he knew about his betting plans. Personally, he didn't care if the cop did squander the money on the two horses running at Chepstow. What was important was that Kaminski knew he was only too well aware of his gambling addiction. 

He pushed the glass of Blush across to the opposite side of his desk—it was time to celebrate. Smiling to himself, he pressed the intercom. "Angela," he said, when the posh Essex voice answered. "Pop into my office. I have something for you..."

***

Tony Daly closely watched every movement on their monitors as Sandra Wilson wandered around their offices. He'd heard every one of the questions she'd asked Marcia so far during her tour. Carmella had insisted he assign the freckled redhead to Vice Head, knowing that she was smart enough to dance around any difficulties that arose. 

That was just as well. From what he'd heard of their conversation so far, this was a smart cop. She was in a different league to the other two and had kept Marcia on her toes with a series of in depth questions. 

And it wasn't just the nature of her probing; it was the way she was doing it. Asking the same questions one way and then another so that she could check and double check what her curvy guide was telling her. It was an interesting approach. See if the woman was lying to her and use that to probe further into any fault lines she could create.

When Marcia began to struggle, he decided it was time to step in personally. A video of the Vice Chief changing into a bikini was a prize worth having. Then maybe they could take her down the same path as the two cops working for her. 

It took only a few seconds to create the glass of Appleby Blush and he grinned to himself as he left it on the top of his desk as he hurried from his office.

"Sandra," he murmured, his eyes running across her tight ass he walked up behind the cop. Despite her age, she had a good body. Maybe he'd eventually get to sample it? If she was as hot as Kirsten, that would be quite a treat. 

His body was still warm from his heavy encounter with the brunette that afternoon. The insatiable woman had been everything he'd expected and more. Even after the live feed had ceased, Carmella had kept the cameras rolling to ensure every second of the action had been recorded.

They'd broadcast the rest at the weekend after some heavy teaser advertising.

He loved his Solomon Sloane persona, not that his show had been at the forefront of his mind at the time. He'd been preoccupied with the cop's burning need to fuck and be fucked. The rare moments they unearthed a gem like the spontaneous brunette made fucking all the other women seem routine. The Blush made them all uninhibited, of course, but the sheer abandonment with which Kirsten had taken control had been way beyond the usual.

"Yes?"

His gaze flicked back to Wilson. The Vice Head was staring at him. "Sorry," he smiled, holding out his hand. "My name is Tony Daly." 

He carefully watched Wilson's eyes but this one was good. She'd know his name and yet there wasn't even a flicker of a reaction.

"Hello Tony. And you are—"

"I'm one of the team here," he easily said, shaking the slim hand she'd given him. "The Head of Photographic Productions, to be precise. But people round here usually refer to me as the photographer."

Wilson laughed. "The photographer has a bohemian ring to it, I like that. Marcia has been showing me around. I'm very impressed."

"Good," he said, taking her arm and dismissing the freckled redhead with a single nod. He grinned at Wilson. She was smart, this one—smiling at him with those butter-wouldn't melt-in-her-mouth-eyes and asking what appeared to be innocent questions when all the time her sharp mind was absorbing every word. "We aim to please. So, I take it you're an aspiring model?"

"I've always wanted to be."

"Is that right?" Daly responded, his grin widening enough to display his white teeth. It was time to turn the tables. Get her talking about herself and see how she handled that. "And what is it you do for a living right now?"

"I'm in Administration," she answered without a second's hesitation. "What would I have to do to get a job as a model here?"

Smooth, Daly thought, as she easily deflected his question and bounced the subject back to him. Okay, there was more than one way to skin a cat... 

"Let me show you," he simply told her, taking her arm and walking her along the nearby corridor. If she was uncomfortable at the contact she didn't show it. Stopping at his office, he held the door open so that she could enter. 

"My kingdom," he laughed, when she glanced around the room. "Please take a seat." 

A nod of his head indicated the chair on the opposite side of his desk and he turned away from her to pick up the glass of Blush.

"More wine?"

Wilson shook her head. "I'm driving."

"Quite right," Daly said without hesitation. He handed her the glass and then perched on the edge of the desk. "This is a health supplement all our models take," he told her with that beaming smile again. "See what you think."

He watched her face closely as she took it from him and then picked up his own glass of wine from earlier. "Cheers."

"Cheers," she repeated, taking a sip of the drink and then nodding approvingly. "It's good. What's in it?"

"A secret," he laughed, "until you make it as an Appleby model, of course. Which brings me back to your question... what would you have to do to get a job as a model here?" 

Wilson nodded. "Give me a quick précis, Tony. How do I become a model? And what does the life of an Appleby model look like?"

Straight to the point, Daly smiled to himself. He took another drink, waiting silently until she mirrored the action with her Blush. This was going well. "You'd have to audition, of course," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "If we thought you had potential, then we'd maybe use you for a shoot. Just to see whether you have any commercial appeal..." 

"Aren't I too old for all of this?"

The flirty way she pushed a hand through her hair as she took another sip told him the Blush was already taking effect. The photo Carmella had sent through had shown her straight black hair tied into a knot high on her head. Tonight, she'd allowed it to fall down her shoulders. It made her face look softer.

Nor was it just her hair she'd changed. The casual clothes she wore on duty had been replaced by a red dress, short enough to hint at shapely long legs and yet without overstepping over any boundaries of decency her job might impose. Her nails were manicured too, though clearly not professionally. The Head of Vice had apparently hurried her efforts to match the colour of her fingernails with her dress... 

Having said that, Daly had to admit she surprised him by looking the part. Okay, age had added a few more lines around her eyes, but that only added to her intrigue. It wasn't that she was devastatingly beautiful—she wasn't—and yet she had a certain quality about her. Her body was hot and that sexy maturity set her apart from the younger models he'd photographed—and fucked. 

His cock flexed as he wondered if Carmella would eventually allow him to add the cop to his list?

"Too old—nah," he answered, casually swinging his legs. "There's a niche for older models and you could pass for younger. But that's why you're here, isn't it? To see whether we'd be interested in you as a model?"

There was that hand through the hair again. She nodded. "Of course."

"Are you hot, Sandra?"

"Hot?"

"Yes," he murmured, openly glancing at her body. When his eyes returned to her face, she was blushing. Rational thought would no longer come easily to her. "That's the key to success. It's not just about having a good bod, you know, it's also about personality. How hot are you as a woman? Could you look into the camera lens as if you were staring into the eyes of your lover?"

The confused look on her face was perfect. Coping with the conversation was becoming more difficult. The Blush did that.

"It's all about the imagination," he continued, taking a long gulp of his drink and nodding at her to do the same. "Thirsty work," he casually grinned. "You've had modelling experience, I take it?"

Wilson paused before shaking her head. It was no longer that easy to manipulate her answers. "I... No, very little. I guess that's a problem..."

"Not necessarily. What would be a problem is if you don't have a model's mentality."

"Mentality? I—"

Daly anticipated the question. "The Fashion industry is all about one thing, Sandra, and I don't mean clothes. It's sex. Sex sells, and all successful models have cultivated a sexual aura they're able to project."

"I see—"

"You do?" he asked, cutting her off again. He'd had this sort of conversation many times with different women, but never with anyone as intelligent as the Head of Vice. The trick was to encourage her to think sexually without her realising there was any sort of artificial stimulant running through her body. "To project sex, you have to think sex. Look at me, look at my body." He stood up. "What are you thinking?"

Her confused face told him he had her where he wanted. Her body would be feeling it and the only question in his mind was how far he could push things without scaring her away completely. "I'm not sure I understand..."

"Would you like to fuck me?"

"What!?"

Daly held up a hand as she half stood. Maybe that had been too much too quickly? "Please sit down Sandra. You're not thinking clearly. I don't mean just me. I mean any man. All men. I'm talking about what turns you on. What makes you aroused? You see, the best shots are where a model is able to conjure those moments in front of a camera, She uses them, projects them through her eyes and her body. Sex sells, Sandra."

He watched her eyes flick across his body as she took her seat again. He might have nearly blown it, but with the Blush doing its work inside her body, he had her now. "I mean here, in the mind," he continued, tapping the side of his forehead. "It's what models are trained to think. That's what the camera picks up, their feeling of sexuality."

Wilson nodded. The look in her eyes told Daly she thought she was onto something, but that dreamy look was present to. He was safe to press on...

"Good," he said, winking at her as he flashed that smile again. "It works both ways, you know."

"How do you mean?"

"A photographer has to think that way, too. I have to look at you and use my mind. Not to imagine you naked, though that helps. But more... let's say... I imagine you slowly taking your clothes off. What would your body look like? What sort of expression would you have on your face? How would you be feeling? What would you be thinking? All those things will help me take better photographs, Sandra. And that's what this is all about. So, in answer to your original question—no, it doesn't matter if you're inexperienced. What matters is your mentality."

The cop was nodding slowly. She uncrossed, and then crossed her shapely legs again. Her tongue flicked across her red lips. The subliminal messages had hit home and it was time to take advantage.

"I have an idea," he said, flashing that smile again. "How about this? I'll take a few shots for your portfolio. Just to get you started. I'll show them around the agency and if there's any interest, we'll bring you back again." He drained his glass. "Come on, finish that drink."

"What... now...?"

"Never pass up an opportunity, Sandra," he insisted, smiling in satisfaction as she nervously drained the glass. The expressions on her face, the body language, all told him she was ripe for plucking. It was unfortunate that Carmella had been so specific in her instructions. Still, there was always tomorrow...

***

"So..." Alex Goodwin began, reaching for his pint of beer. 

"Yes?" Alice replied, her heart rise in anticipation of where the conversation was going. Her father's suggestion of an evening meal at the Slug and Lettuce had surprised her and meant her plans to seek a partner for the evening would have to be postponed. That was frustrating as she'd wanted to show off her new look. Marcia had been right—it was more liberating being bare. 

Still, despite the needs of her body, an early night might not be a bad thing. She expected to be out into the early hours with Marcia tomorrow...

She paused long enough to take a drink of her red wine, wondering what was coming next. The look on her father's face told her he was coming to the point.

"You looked pretty rough when you arrived into work the other morning."

Ah, so that was it. Turning up in the office looking like she had was a mistake. If he knew about her casual sex life, he'd go mad.

"Is everything okay?"

"Of course it is, dad," she softly told him. Damn, this was a conversation she could do without. She smiled sweetly and showed him the dimples he could never resist. "I've already explained." 

He nodded thoughtfully and took another drink of his beer while his grey eyes regarded his daughter carefully. "Where were you again?" 

"Oh come on, dad," she laughed, wondering how to turn the conversation around. "I'm twenty two now. I appreciate you only want the best for me but stop worrying. There's no need. Besides, I wanted to talk about you. You seemed a bit frustrated in our last team meeting." Her hand covered his. "Is this case getting you down?"

Goodwin looked like she'd just insulted him. "No. Why?"

She gave a hearty laugh. "Oh, dad, I don't mean anything by it. Just that Kirsten and I have the glamorous bit while you're stuck with a pile of files." She squeezed his hand. "You know, it meant a lot to me when you said I was doing a good job."

Goodwin smiled proudly at her words. "It's true, Alice." 

"And I'm proud of you, too, dad." 

They smiled fondly at one another before he spoke again. "You know, Sandra Wilson is under a lot of pressure. If I am frustrated, it's because I'd love us to pull something off for her." 

"Me too," she said, feeling happier now she'd steered the conversation away from her private life. "But maybe she'll find something herself tonight."

He looked into her sea-blue eyes and nodded. "Going there will do her good," he said, with a sympathetic grimace. "Sometimes you get so stale behind a desk you need something to reinvigorate you again."

"I know," she agreed. Being stuck behind a desk would drive her mad. 

In truth, she couldn't see the point in Wilson visiting the agency. What was her boss going to find that she or Kirsten couldn't? At first, she'd thought it was because Sandra wasn't happy with their progress, but then her dad had explained how it had come about. He'd done a good job ferreting about and discovering there was an open night.

It couldn't do any harm, she supposed, as long as she didn't bump into Marcia—or Tony Daly for that matter. It was unlikely, she knew, but if Wilson ever found out about her being shaved, or what had happened during her audition, well...

The thought made her shiver.

***

Sandra Wilson stood infront of the dressing room mirror, slowly unbuttoning the front of her red dress. She stopped halfway. What was it that Daly had said?

A photographer has to imagine you slowly taking your clothes off. What would your body look like? What sort of expression would you have on your face? How would you be feeling? What would you be thinking? All those things will help me take better photographs...

She flicked the next button open with a flourish. Her reflection captured the sight of her lacy black bra peeking through the gap just the way Daly's camera would have done. He would have approved. His words had flicked a switch inside her body and she was thinking sex. 

The Head of Vice attempted to come to terms with the heat in her body and she came to the conclusion that it wasn't just what he'd told her. She was feeling far too aroused for that. No, it was equally the fact that she'd gone far too long without sex and the constant whispered suggestions and invitations from her married colleagues had taken their toll on her withering libido. Daly's words had just ignited that dormant longing inside her. 

Tossing her long black hair back, she half turned sideways so that she could look at her profile in the mirror. In her mind, she was undressing for a lover now and she sexily completed the strip, licking her lips as her slow movements tantalised her imaginary lover. 

Completing the turn so that she faced away from the mirror, she glanced over her shoulder at her reflection as she allowed the dress to slip to the floor. She looked sexy, she thought, but then she was feeling sexy. Was that what Daly had been getting at? Even at her age, her peach like buttocks looked firm and taut in the black thong. She swung them provocatively from side to side, humming to herself as she danced in a half circle.




Appleby Blush Ch. 06



Chapter 6: Kirsten and Alice head in different directions

Alice checked her lipstick in the dim light of the taxi one more time. Carefully reapplying a layer of gloss over the pale pink colour, the young blonde woman excitedly blew a kiss into the compact mirror. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the driver check her out and smirked to herself. She felt hot...

Snapping the compact shut, she dropped it back into her clutch purse, squeezed her thighs together, and looked out the window.

Are we almost there? 

Her body was buzzing with nervous energy and she felt like an impatient child. Tonight was important and it was impossible to sit still for long. She was excited about seeing Marcia again, of course, but her conversation with her father kept coming back to her. She was their best hope. That meant a lot was depending on what she could uncover tonight.

The driver's voice interrupted her thoughts. "We're here, Miss." 

Alice glanced up to see that the taxi had pulled up to the curb of one of the few non-descript buildings in Chelsea. The tiny sign reading, Aura seemed as proportionately small as the queue outside was long. 

She paid him with a crisp twenty pound note and slid towards the door, the hem of her little white dress riding high across her thighs. That somehow added to her excitement, it wouldn't take much movement on the dance floor to her fellow revellers a view of her skimpy thong.

"Good luck," the driver chuckled, nodding at the mingling line of smartly dressed clubbers. 

"Thanks," she softly replied, her eyes following the queue along the narrow road until it reached the corner and disappeared right. It looked like she was going to need it.

Her eyes raked along the revellers, hoping she'd find Marcia waiting somewhere close to the front. She didn't spot the curvy redhead, but based on the outfits she saw, she was thankful she'd gone with her short white dress rather than the skinny jeans she was considering. 

This group could be queuing for an award show. Or a modelling review?

A voice from her left alerted her and she saw Marcia waiving at her from her position beside the club doors. Hurrying across the narrow road, she reminded herself that tonight the redhead was not just her new friend, but the person who was going to provide all the information she needed about the Appleby agency. 

"Wow, girl. You clean up well!"

Alice blushed, standing pigeon-toed and demure as Marcia appraised her. Her white dress was the smallest she owned, high on the thighs and strapless across her perky bust. The approving gaze reminded her of how the redhead had looked at her when she was naked. 

Memories of their steamy encounter immediately returned—of Marcia's fingers curling inside her, the curvy woman's lips suckling her nipple. Her excitement immediately jumped up another level. She had to be careful not to lose herself tonight. 

"And I love your hair!"

"Thanks," Alice mumbled, finally finding a voice. She'd debated on what to do with it, hoping Marcia would like it as she curled it into lazy, golden ringlets that were draped about her bare shoulders. "You look great, too."

She wasn't lying. Marcia's agency outfits had always hovered at the borders of what was professional, but the red mini-dress she wore tonight blew all of it out of the water. Tight, ruched and certainly too short to be legal, she oozed sex.

"I wish I could wear red lipstick like that," she said, mostly for herself. She'd tried, but just didn't have the proper colour. But on Marcia, with that warm tan and her copper curls, the bright red looked perfect. Aware that she was staring for a few seconds too long, she started to turn towards the long line of waiting partygoers.

Marcia caught her arm. "Where are you going?"

"The queue."

The redhead tossed her a wide smile. "You wanted to learn what the life of an Appleby model was like, right? First lesson. Girls like us don't stand in queues..."

***

Kirsten Tobin glanced at the clock. Matt had said he'd be there around nine so he couldn't be far away from her flat. It was a conversation she wasn't looking forward to but it had to be done. She really had no choice.

It had been a strange day in the office. Everyone had seemed so subdued—or was that just her? There seemed to be a lot of tension around Sandra Wilson and Alex Goodwin, as if the two of them had had a mighty argument and were unsure how to patch it up. She'd never seen her boss so nervous and Goodwin had been hanging around her office as if he was desperate to get time alone with her.

Their morning team meeting had been extremely low key. Wilson had more or less intimated that her visit to the open night had been a waste of time and that there weren't any angles she could follow through. Goodwin, as usual, had nothing to report. Kirsten wondered what he was doing at all on the case. Alex was very solid, but his strengths were out in the field, not behind a desk.

Only Alice seemed to have any bounce in her, and that was probably because she was meeting Marcia tonight. Her blonde colleague was excited about her opportunity to shine and it had maybe been unfair of Sandra Wilson to heap some extra pressure on the young cop. But she had. If nothing came from Alice's meeting, she'd said, they'd be closing down the unofficial investigation. Their simply wasn't the time to pursue it unless they had something concrete. 

Goodwin had pulled her to one side later and let it later that Colin Turner was on Wilson's back, although Kirsten had no idea what that was all about. But there was no doubt her boss seemed to be feeling the pressure. Kirsten wouldn't be in her Wilson's shoes for the world. Turner had her on a string, bouncing her up and down the stairs to his office every hour or so for one meeting after another. 

Who wanted that kind of stress?

She'd asked Goodwin what was up between him and Wilson, but he'd had just given her one of his usual grunts. Something wasn't right between them, but Kirsten didn't have time to work it out. She had enough stress of her own. 

The only good thing was that if the investigation was closed down then her fears about compromising herself would be resolved. She could back away from anything to do with the agency in the knowledge that her 'on the job' sex with Tony Daly would stay between her and the black stud.

She'd been due back to the studios today for another photo session, but she hadn't turned up and had told Wilson the agency had dispensed with her services for the time being. That they'd call her if they needed her. It was the perfect out. Her part of the case was closed and she could relax again.

The brunette had ignored all attempts by Daly to contact her during the day. He'd left messages, asking where she was and reminding her she had an appointment at the studio. But how could she face him again after yesterday's events? No, it was better to make herself scarce for the time being. 

Maybe when she'd dealt with Matt, when the case was formally closed, she'd call him. Perhaps even suggest they meet up for a drink? She'd like to see him again. Who was she kidding? She'd like to fuck him again. 

Sex with the black stud had been the most incredible of her life and once she'd got rid of the guilt and been able to safely separate her private life from her job, she wanted more. In the meantime, the long, thick black dildo she'd purchased today would have to suffice. 

Damn, she suddenly realised her hands were wandering dangerously close to her thighs and she reached for her glass of wine. Even just thinking about Tony Daly had her drooling at the mouth. 

The doorbell rang and she glanced at the clock again. Half nine. Alice would be on her way to meet Marcia for a fun night out and she was about to tell Matt it was over between them. She knew whose position she'd rather be in, especially as the fucking horniness she'd felt all day was still overpowering her. 

Maybe before she had her conversation with Matt...

***

The bouncer hadn't even consulted a list. He gave each woman a quick once-over and waved them through. When Marcia linked arms with Alice, the blonde cop felt like royalty as they sashayed into the unassuming club.

They descended a narrow set of stairs to ticket counter, where a young woman also just waved them through without payment. Marcia shot a warm smile at the young blonde. "Fun, isn't it? Get used to it, girl."

Alice had to admit, the feeling of privilege was more than a little intoxicating. She'd felt the same way when stepping onto a crime scene with her badge slung around her neck—only this carried with it a different sort of adrenalin. She had no idea what to expect to find behind the silver privacy curtains that marked the entrance but everything felt so exciting. 

The low throb of the house dub vibrated along the walls and floor but it felt unstated. Was this a dance club?

"This place is fantastic," Marcia whispered to her, just before she theatrically tugged the curtain aside. She was like a showman, unveiling what was in store.

The wall of bass and beat crashed over Alice like an ocean wave that snuck up on her. She hadn't expected those curtains to absorb so much, how was that possible? Like a switch, Aura spread out before her. Her eyes jumped from one sumptuous detail to the other. There were silk curtains; cool, uplit black lights against the white furniture; curvilinear lines. It was discreet luxury and clean decadence. 

"You approve?" Marcia asked.

She was standing so close that Alice could drown in that sexy perfume she wore and when the redhead's hand slipped down into hers and weaved their fingers together, the young cop felt the exhilaration of the moment flow through her.

She glanced around the room, squeezing Marcia's fingers in her own as she soaked in the atmosphere. Even at this relatively early hour, the intimate dance floor was already full, packed with expensively dressed partygoers who writhed as one like some well orchestrated mass of flesh. It had been ages since she'd been dancing and her hips quickly found the beat as if they had a mind of their own. 

"Feel the itch, don't ya?" the freckled redhead laughed. "Come on, let's get a drink first. Go grab that table over there." She patted Alice on the buttocks as the blonde turned, then giggled as she weaved her way over to the bar.

It wasn't difficult for Marcia to discreetly add a drop of Blush to Alice's Cosmo. The opportunity was there as soon as the bartender pushed the martini drinks across the black granite counter and moved on to the next order without a second glance. She carried the two drinks across to the table.

"Sex in the City, right?" she laughed, handing Alice the Blush-laced Cosmo.

"Right." The blonde held up the pink drink. From the flushed look on her pale face, she was already in the mood to party. "To tonight." 

"How about we toast to tomorrow morning?" Marcia challenged. She wasn't going to let this girl get comfortable with anything tonight. 

"Tomorrow morning?"

Marcia chuckled. "Look around you, babygirl. This place is full of sexy, young hunks. And trust me. If they're in here, they're loaded." 

She leant forward across the stand-up table, resting her elbows on the rim as Alice took another sip. As she'd anticipated, the cop's eyes lingered on her impressive cleavage before sliding back up to meet her gaze. 

"Maybe we can find some stud with a limousine," she suggested, running a finger along Alice's bare forearm. She leant closer, pushing her curves against the young blonde. "Ever been fucked in a limo?"

Alice glanced shyly at her, their faces inches apart. "As a matter of fact," she said, whispering back, "I have. A year ago." 

Marcia rolled her eyes and planted a soft kiss on her friend's cheek. "I can't wait to hear all about that..."

The two women laughed together. When Alice's face became a little more serious, Marcia knew she had something on her mind.

"So," the blonde said, taking a long drink and making no effort to move her body away from Marcia's curves. "Tell me all about the life of an Appleby girl."

The redhead gave a hearty laugh as she playfully clinked their glasses again. "Tonight's not about telling, girl... it's all about showing..."

***

"What's got into you?" Matt grunted. 

His voice sounded strained as Kirsten grinded her body down on him. When she'd opened the door and saw him standing there, she'd made the instant decision that she'd fuck him one more time before breaking the news.

How could she not, the way her body was screaming for attention? 

They'd made love continuously for the last hour and yet she still wasn't satisfied. Hell, they hadn't even made it to the bedroom. As soon as he was inside, she'd taken hold of his hand and had dragged him across to the sofa.

"I gave you five minutes to recover," she snarled as she rotated on his cock. Her hands on his chest dug in harder. "I thought you were supposed to be a stud?"

"Stud?" he grunted, reaching up to cover her bouncing breasts with his palms. "You've never used that word before."

She hadn't? That was probably true. Tony Daly was the stud, not Matt. God, what she'd give to be fucked again by the black photographer...

With her blouse pulled up to her neck and her skirt rucked around her waist, she felt incredibly slutty. Matt was still half dressed, too. She'd torn open the buttons of his shirt and had dragged his trousers and boxers down to his knees. Sitting on him like this made her feel so powerful—so deliciously wanton.

There hadn't been much conversation between them in the hour since he'd arrived but maybe the time was right to gently raise the subject.

"Just trying to work off some energy before we talk about things," she carefully told him, tightening her velvet vice around his hardness.

He moaned at the sensation, arching his body against the back of the sofa. His voice was little more than a growl. "Talk about what?"

Kirsten leant forward and fed one of her breasts to his mouth. When he sucked her hard nipple inside, she groaned in delight before switching breasts. "That's it," she gasped, stroking the back of his head as she allowed him to suckle each in turn. "They both need attention..."

His mouth pleasured her for a while before her movements began to quicken. The feeling of his cock inside her as she grinded down was good, even if nothing could replicate the way Tony Daly had filled her. Or just the sight of Daly's cock, for that matter! It wasn't just that he was huge—he was black, too. 

Was she twisted, thinking that way?

"Talk about what?" he grunted again, his hands clutching her hips in an attempt to slow her down. Kirsten loved that look on his face, the way it tightened as he tried to hold off his orgasm. For a few seconds, she pumped down harder, making it as difficult as possible for him to resist the pressures that were building in his balls. Then she slowed her movements

"Talk about us," she said, wondering what the fuck had got into her. Why was it such a turn on to tell him about her intention to end the relationship while they were fucking? Why was she getting off on fucking him but thinking of Tony Daly? 

"Us?" he grunted, staring up into her eyes.

"It can wait," she suddenly snapped, realising this wasn't such a good idea after all. The conversation could wait until afterwards and besides, she wanted to concentrate on the moment. Forget everything else. Her long brown hair swayed seductively as she raised herself until just the head of his cock was inside her. 

"Steady," he told her, his hands clutching her hips even more tightly as he anticipated what was coming.

She powered down on him and his body bounced on the sofa. "Steady?" she mimicked, feeling her breath coming in short, heavy pants. She powered down a second time. "You want me to take things steady, Matt?"

His narrowed eyes filled with arousal as she tightened her internal muscles on him again. 

"Or would you like it hot and fast," she grunted, bracing a hand on the nape of his neck and looking down at their union. If only he was black! Still, it was a sexy enough sight, her labial lips wrapped around the root of his manhood. Perspiration covered their bodies and his chest was rising and falling as if someone was pumping adrenalin through him. 

She thought of yesterday with Daly again and then started to move, softly at first and then harder. As he grunted she began to grind faster, moaning with each rapid down-thrust. The sound of her skin slapping against his juddered through her and she knew this was it. Matt was staring up at her through dreamy eyes that said he wasn't going to last much longer. 

Leaning forward, her lips found his and she licked her tongue across his mouth like a cat licking at cream. It was time to take them both there again... 

The smooth flanks of her inner thighs were aching from effort and from the effects of yesterday's marathon session, but she ignored the minor discomfort. The speed of her thrusts increased. She fucked down on him hard, alternating between down-thrusts and rotating her hard body in circles on his cock. 

His hands found her full breasts again, attempting but failing to still their bouncing motions. Her nipples were deliciously hard against his cupping palms, adding to her exhilaration. Leaning backwards, sweat bounced from her brow as she fucked him like a dervish. 

Her hair bounced on her shoulders as her inner thighs tightened around his sides, controlling him like a rodeo rider on a bucking bronco. She threw her head back and gasped, tightening the walls of her pussy around him as she gave him the ripple. 

His hands dropped to her waist, digging into the heated flesh as he unsuccessfully tried to hold back. "Kirsten..." he gasped, confirming the moment had arrived. "Oh fuck..."

He grunted, clenching his teeth and pulling her in until his arms held her tight. Kirsten's hands went around his neck to steady herself as he erupted inside her, loving the feeling as he blasted cum into her still writhing body. She took the first two jets and then she was cumming too, both of them grunting, moaning and cursing out their release. 

The sexual moment was probably as intense as they'd ever had in their relationship. Kirsten wondered if that would make the forthcoming discussion between them easier or even harder.

***

Tony Daly glanced again at the blonde and redhead. The two energetic women had been in the throng of the dancers for an hour now. He tossed back his drink, the hard liquor sizzling in the back of his throat.

"Pretty hot, aren't they, Alonso?"

"Fucking hot," the smartly dressed man beside him agreed. The owner had seen thousands of sexy women here in his club. Impressing him was a difficult task. "You didn't undersell them, that's for sure."

Daly stretched his broad shoulders back, catching his reflection in a smoky mirror behind the bar and flashing himself a white-toothed grin. "Yeah, the blonde's the one I'm particularly interested in." 

It was a nice bonus when Carmella outlined her plan to him. Okay, he'd have preferred to be fucking Kirsten again—that brunette bitch was the hottest he'd had yet—but he wasn't going to turn down the chance to sample her blonde friend, too.

Alonso grinned slyly at him before both men turned their attention back to the women. The curvy redhead was bumping and grinding against the tight-bodied blonde, as if putting on a show for everyone around them. Not that the blonde was objecting. "I've cleared the VIP room, Tony."

Daly ran a broad hand over his shaved scalp and nodded at the club owner. "Always helps to have connections."

Alonso grinned back at him. "That works both ways, my friend. Both ways."

It did. Daly knew the club owner could have had his pick of any woman in here, but he also knew he'd had had designs on Marcia for a long time. Being an Appleby girl, he couldn't indulge without permission, of course. Tonight, he was being granted his wish—in exchange for helping Tony set up the blonde.




Appleby Blush Ch. 06



"And the cameras?"

Alonso hesitated. "Set up. But I don't like it."

"Don't worry, my man. It's all there for personal records. No broadcasting, I swear." No broadcasting, sure, but if things went sour those recordings would be worth their weight in gold in compromising the cop. He nodded back to the dance floor. "What d'you think?"

The olive skinned man smiled. 

The redhead was behind her friend now, a hand wrapped around the other girl's flat midriff, holding her close. The blonde tossed her golden ringlets about her sweet face, eyes closed, feeling the music. Her slim body arched against her friend, grinding backwards into Marcia's groin like they were fucking. He'd have liked to fuck them both, but tonight he'd finally get to sample his dream girl.

"Come on," Daly laughed, nudging him. "Time to hunt."

***

Kirsten washed her face for the second time in an hour. It was just as well she hadn't put on any make-up or her tears would have smudged it. 

What did she expect?

Of course Matt had been mad with her. Mad wasn't the word—he'd been furious. Their intense fucking session had only fuelled his anger. He didn't even seem to want to understand her reasons for ending the relationship. He'd been more focused on how she could have fucked him like that before telling him the news.

Maybe if she'd just sat down with him when he'd arrived and explained the way she was feeling, she would have been able to make him understand. But even if they hadn't had sex, how do you tell someone you can't hold a relationship for more than six months? And how could she explain her long held fantasy for interracial sex? 

She sensibly hadn't gone anywhere near that one...

The attractive cop bit her lip as she felt another tear form. What was that all about? She rarely cried. Why was she so emotional? It wasn't that she thought she was making a mistake breaking up with Matt. She knew that was the right decision, irrespective of any other consideration.

Walking back into the living area, she picked up the bottle of merlot and poured herself another glass of wine. She was drinking way too much, but it helped.

Okay, allowing her libido to get the better of her had been a big mistake. She hadn't intended for that to happen, she really hadn't, but he body was just screaming out in need. It still was. How could she be in such a continual state of arousal? The whole Wesley Snipes/Tony Daly thing was overtaking her...

She carried the glass of wine into her bedroom, spilling a few drops on the carpet as she unsteadily flopped down on the small stool. She should be thinking of bed but how could she sleep when she was feeling this way? 

Her reflection bounced back at her from the mirror. Despite her best efforts to smarten herself, her skirt and blouse were all creased from her lovemaking. What was it about the slutty look that turned her on right now? Another though occurred to her and grabbing her make-up, she took a long gulp of wine and then went to work. How could she make her face match her appearance? 

Working quickly, she blushed her cheeks into a mild rosy hew, and then decided on the light brown eye shadow and dark eye-liner. The thicker the better! 

Her slutty, sexy look perfectly matched the way she was feeling, but just as she was admiring the finished product, he chimes of her doorbell stopped her mid thought. It could only be Matt. Returning to apologise for his outburst, and to ask for another chance? Or was he here to give her more well-deserved grief?

She paused, swinging around on the stool to stare at the open bedroom door. Through it, she could see the small hallway that led to the front door? Should she answer? Could she go through yet another argument?

The answer was no, but then again, it was the very least she owed him. 

She'd run away from Tony Daly and as much as she wanted to do the same with Matt, that wouldn't be fair. She threw down the rest of her glass of wine, more for confidence than anything else, and reluctantly left the bedroom.

The sight when she opened the apartment door took her completely by surprise. It was a woman standing there, not Matt. And she looked as if she'd just stepped out of Vogue

"Miss Tobin?" the delicious accent said. "Kirsten? Sorry it's so late but I saw your light was on and I took a chance you might be available. I'm Carmella Santiago. Tony Daly's boss..."

***

Alice's white dress left nothing to the imagination and neither did her moves on the dance floor. Ever since they'd finished their Cosmo's and stepped onto the floor, she'd felt the same heat inside her that she'd experienced at the studio. The burning inside her body reflected itself in her uninhibited dancing. Arms above her head, she shimmied infront of Marcia, the two of them dancing so close it was like some kind of mating ritual.

All thoughts of pressing Marcia for information had long since left her. After all, the redhead had all but told her such details could wait for another time. Tonight was all about enjoying life as an Appleby girl. And how could you not have fun with Marcia around? The curvy woman was so wicked, practically spooning up behind her now as she ground her ass back against her. The uncomfortably hot feeling between her legs grew further.

She threw her head forward, blonde hair cascading across her face before she flipped it back. Chewing on her lower lip, she glanced at Marcia over her shoulder, feeling her friend's hands crawl across her rib cage and run in delicate circles over her body.

She also felt the eyes of the other dancers around them on her. On them! She could tell what they were thinking, too. It was just as Marcia had promised. If we do a little girl-girl act, she'd said, they'd have the whole room wanting them, fucking them in their minds. Men and women were watching them! It made her hot body perspire sex...

Maybe the two of them would go back to Marcia's later? Or perhaps the redhead would stop off at hers? What would happen if they did spend some time alone? Would the redhead try it on with her? How would she react if Marcia tried to kiss her? She giggled out aloud. More importantly, what would those red lips feel like? The redhead would be a good kisser, she was sure of that. The thought had been occupying her mind all night...

When Marcia had begun to entwine her curvy body around hers, the anticipation had grown. She'd made it clear that, despite what had happened while Marcia had shaved her, she wasn't into girls. Now, she was beginning to wonder if she actually believed that... 

"Mind if I join?" A familiar, baritone voice drew her attention from her sexual thoughts. She'd lost count of the number of times they'd been hit on, and there'd been some attractive men, too. But Marcia had simply waved them away and danced closer. It was as if she was keeping Alice for herself. How had this one got through her guard?

"I don't..." she began, glancing around in expectation of the redhead cutting in and sending her suitor on his way. This time was different. Her voice faltered when she realized who it was, standing in front of her.

"Hi," Tony Daly grinned. 

"Hi." Alice she answered, cursing herself for the expression on her face. She realised she must have looked like a deer in headlights. The photographer was the last person she'd thought she'd find here and if she remembered correctly, the last time she'd seen him she was masturbating in front of his camera. 

If he sensed her discomfort, he didn't show it. "Fancy meeting you here," he said, with a laugh.

"You too," she flirted back.

"Oh, I'm here for a reason," he told her, his arms on her shoulders as she continued to move her body in front of him.

She watched his eyes flit across her undulating body and put an extra oomph into her movements. "Yeah?"

He grinned again, his vibrant white teeth beaming. "I heard you were here and wanted to see if you were just as sexy without a camera being trained on you."

Alice blushed. Their last contact was clearly on his mind, too. She thought of Kirsten when his powerful arms pulled her closer. Her fellow cop had asked if Daly had come on to her and clearly had some kind of soft spot for him. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all? 

The feel of his thick cock as he pressed into her changed her mind. Was he really that big?

"So," she mumbled into his neck, trying to compose herself. "You're here alone?"

"No," he answered, practically rubbing himself against her now. He was growing against her body and it was impossible not to grind back. "I'm actually here with a friend of mine."

The blonde followed his eyes to the man currently dancing with a laughing Marcia. He was a good looking guy, although a little too thick-necked for her usual tastes. His hands were liberally surveying her full curves, just like Daly's were doing with her. 

"I like you better," she murmured, pushing herself closer. Kirsten would hate her for this...

"I should hope so," Daly laughed, stepping back and relieving the pressure against her groin. His eyes swept across her heated body. "You look fantastic, by the way,"

The blush on Alice's cheek increased. So did the warm feeling between her thighs. "Thank you." 

"You've got a great look."

"I have?"

"Very sexy," he told her. "Great in front of the camera, I could see that straight away. But it's pretty hot on the dance floor, too."

Alice felt her blush begin to colour her entire body and tried to dance away from him, but his large hands were already running up her hips, pulling her close enough that she could feel his erection brush her stomach. She gasped when they slid down her hips, eventually coming to rest on her ass as he pressed his penis against her stomach. 

Alice began to speak again but only a croak emerged. It felt good in his arms—more than good—especially since she knew it was so wrong. Again, she thought of Kirsten, only this time it was her friend's interracial fantasy that popped into her head. Alice had never really thought about it, but now that she was in Daly's arms, she couldn't help but wonder...

It was Marcia's voice that interrupted the spell. "Hey, Alonso's invited us into the VIP Lounge," she said, resting her head on Alice's bare shoulder for a moment. "Come on, let's check it out!" 

Alice hesitated, trying to think things through. Was all this getting out of hand? It was one thing getting up close and personal with a guy she was picking up for a one-night stand, but this was different. She was on duty in enemy territory.

"What's up, girl?" Marcia whispered, sliding an arm around her stomach.

"Um, think I'm going to pass tonight."

"Are you sure, Alice?" the redhead asked, looking at her with those green eyes and leaning close enough to whisper in her ear. "You wanted to know what this life was like, didn't you?" Her teeth bit down on the blonde's earlobe, pulling it down and then letting it go. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. But for tonight, come and find out."

With a giggle, she swung away and the man—Alonso?—began to guide her from the dance floor. Alice watched them go. 

She paused again. There were so many things wrong about this situation. She was on duty. Daly worked for Appleby, and anyway, it was Kirsten who had this thing for him. Her logical mind and operational instinct screamed at her to turn around and leave. 

But... her body was telling her she was so horny she could scream... 

When Tony Daly took her hand, she obediently followed.

***

Kirsten's initial shock at meeting Carmella Santiago translated into an early defensiveness. If Tony Daly was under suspicion, this woman was a prime suspect. After all, it was unlikely anything untoward could be happening at the agency without the stunning looking Columbian woman being involved. The research Alex Goodwin had carried out had indicated that not only did she run the business for Donald Appleby, but also that she'd been closely tied to the businessman ever since she'd won the Miss Universe title. 

Good old, Alex. He had contributed something to the mission after all.

Yet for the first half an hour, Carmella chatted so easily to her that she could have been a good friend who'd simply called to see her to check how she was. She made conversation about everything other than the agency itself and what had happened with Kirsten. 

It was only when they were on their second glass of wine that she approached the subject. "Tony tells me you've ignored his calls today..."

Kirsten hesitated. Part of her wanted to declare that she was no longer interested, that something else had come up. Given the extent to which she'd succumbed to Daly, she knew that would have been the safest and most sensible course of action.

On the other hand, wasn't this the break they'd been looking for? It was a chance to get close to the heartbeat of the agency—Carmella Santiago herself. She couldn't pass this up because of her own fears, could she? If she'd let Sandra Wilson down as a result of her sexual encounter with Tony Daly, then this opportunity was a chance to redeem herself.

"I... I've been kinda busy..." It was lame, she knew.

"Didn't you have an appointment at the agency again this afternoon?"

"Yes, but—" Damn. Where did she go with this one?

Carmella cut through the hesitation like a knife sliding through butter. "I understand your dilemma, Kirsten."

The brunette stared into those knowing eyes. "You do?"

"Of course. You won't be the first model to get cold feet after fucking their photographer." For a moment she paused, allowing the effect of her words to wash over the blushing woman. When she continued she spoke softly, her voice matter of fact. "You're not married, are you?"

"No."

"Boyfriend?"

Kirsten hesitated. The woman was very direct and she needed time to think. "We've just split up."

"Because of what happened?"

"Not at all." Maybe Tony Daly had hastened the end of their relationship, and maybe not. But it was definitely on its last legs anyway. She just hadn't handled the ending very well.

"Good. In that case you should also know that what happened with Tony isn't an issue with me, either, or with anyone at the agency." Carmella paused, holding up her empty glass. Kirsten quickly refilled it. "Models often get involved with their photographer, or with other models for that matter. It makes the world go around. The only thing that's important is the end result. Fantastic fashion shoots and incredible fashion shows."

Kirsten replaced the bottle on the table, deciding against refilling her own drink. With the alcohol she'd consumed earlier, she'd already consumed far too much and it was an effort to stay as sharp as she needed to be. She stared thoughtfully at the Colombian woman, evaluating what she was being told. Did everyone in the fashion world treat sex so lightly? 

"That's why I'm here, Kirsten," Carmella went on, comfortably stretching her body along the sofa. "Believe me, aspiring models are two a penny and I don't put myself out for just anyone. I have far too much on my plate. But we see real potential in you, Kirsten. It's up to you, of course, but it would seem such a waste to throw that potential away."

***

As soon as they'd had a chance to put their things down in the empty back lounge, Marcia had grabbed Alice's hand and dragged her inside the bathroom to 'freshen up'. 

"Aren't you pleased you decided to stay?" Marcia beamed, their eyes meeting in the mirror. She handed the blonde a drink she'd acquired from somewhere. "Come on, drink up. It'll make you feel better."

Alice stared at the pink liquid in the martini glass. "Another Cosmos? I can't."

"You can," Marcia insisted, practically tilting the glass in the blonde's hand until the young blonde took a long sip. "That's better. Finish it first, and then we'll go back to the guys."

Alice took another sip, longer this time. What the heck—why not? She giggled to herself as she glanced idly around the room. If she'd ever formulated an image of what a 'champagne room' would look like, the private bathroom off the VIP Room was it. White couches, more purplish black-lighting, and gossamer curtains.

"Alonso owns Aura," Marcia told her, as she looked at herself in the mirror and touched up her glossy red lipstick. "God, don't you think that's so sexy?"

"Yeah." Surprisingly, Alice meant it. Shit, everything was sexy right now. The situation. The woman next to her. The Cosmos. The men waiting for them. Even the silvery white counter tops felt sexual.

"He's hot, don't you think?" Marcia said, replacing her lipstick into her purse. Alice felt tingly as the redhead grinned slyly at her. Whatever the curvy redhead had on her mind, it would be something sexy. "But not as hot as Tony. You like him?"

Alicia found herself nodding. She shouldn't be admitting that but it was obvious enough anyway. She stared in the mirror, barely recognizing herself. She looked so hot... she felt so hot... her need for sex was written all over her face. Could the others see that, too? Is that what Marcia was up to, pairing them off? She licked her lips and then finished the Cosmos, holding the empty glass up so that Marcia could see.

"Good girl," the grinning redhead murmured. "Feel good?"

Alice nodded again, resting back against the counter.

"Want something to make you feel even better?" The curvy redhead was already diving back into her purse and removing a familiar, powder-filled vial. With another mischievous grin, she tapped a little of the coke out and formed two short lines on the compact mirror. "You have a note?" she asked Alice with a crooked smile.

Alice's throat dried up as she remembered the pulses of light she'd experienced when Marcia had fed her some coke in the dressing room. Not trusting herself to talk, she dug into her purse and reached out with the first bill she grabbed. Marcia took it from her slowly, running up a thumb across Alice's hand. 

"Thanks," she whispered, rolling it into a tight tube. Holding her hair back, she quickly did one of the two lines. "Mmm..." She breathed deeply through her nostrils, staring at the ceiling. Without looking, she handed the note to Alice.

The blonde licked her lips, remembering the effect it had had on her while she was being shaved. Thinking... thinking that she was Vice. She had sworn to protect the public against this! Somehow, that thought made her even more excited and she tried to comprehend what was happening to her. Still, she clamped her thighs together and shook her head.

"No. I told you, I don't..." she hesitantly said, staring deeply into those gleaming green eyes. "Aren't you afraid of getting... you know... addicted?"

Marcia smirked again, wordlessly finishing off the second line of white powder for her. "Nope," she smiled. "I just don't make a habit of it." Dropping the compact into the purse, she made for the door, but paused as she brushed by the blonde. "But if you change your mind, just ask." Her finger traced the side of Alice's face and ran across those heart-shaped lips. "You're one of us now, Alice. Remember that."

When she finished her pass and pulled open the door, Alice slumped against the counter, caching her breath. Before she could compose herself, she heard Marcia's voice calling out back to her through the open door. "You coming?!"

***

The conversation had gone even better than Carmella had anticipated. She'd wondered whether the reason for this woman's no show today was that the Met had discovered something. Even though Donald had questioned Kaminski, and the Homicide Cop had confirmed they had nothing, she still hadn't been sure.

She was now.

Kirsten's reaction confirmed that fact. This was simply a case of another woman getting cold feet following her session with Tony Daly. In normal circumstances, she'd have shown the woman the video and fed her more Blush. A second session was usually enough to convince them that their future lay with Appleby modelling.




Appleby Blush Ch. 06



With the brunette, it was different. Carmella had invested more time than ever before in carefully warming her up to the delights on offer. The woman's seduction had needed to be gradual and had required her to give herself rather than just be taken. It was the same with the next stage. With Wilson's investigation underway, Kirsten needed to realise that this was what she wanted, not that there had been any coercion involved.

Now that she'd had the opportunity to talk to the cop, she understood Daly's enthusiasm even more. Even though her appearance tonight—with those crumpled clothes and dark, heavy makeup—was bordering on the bizarre, the woman was the most perfect mixture of innocence and sensuality. And having reviewed the recording of Tony and the brunette, the woman undoubtedly had an uninhibited sexual spirit that was ideal for their needs.

"I want to offer you the chance of a lifetime," she softly said, watching Kirsten's deep brown eyes light up. She needed to dangle a carrot that made the brunette believe she was doing her duty, while appealing to every woman's baser instincts for fame and fortune. "If you're feeling a little embarrassed with Tony, I want to fast track you."

"Fast track?"

"Exactly." Carmella paused for effect. The way Kirsten was looking at her so eagerly made it difficult to hide a triumphant smile. "All of our models have a final assessment before the formally sign a contract. Have you heard of Dr. Pierre Laroche?"

When Kirsten shook her head, Carmella smiled sweetly at her. Of coursed she hadn't. Pierre Laroche was the King of Porn in France—a sex therapist who televised a new conquest weekly on the Eurotica French TV cable channel. She and Donald owned the rights, of course. 

"He carries out all our assessments," she continued, her eyes twinkling. "I've made an appointment for you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? That's very sudden. I... I'm not sure what to say." 

"Just say yes," Carmella laughed. "How often do you get the opportunity to travel to Paris?"

"Paris?"

"By private jet," Carmella continued, slowly reeling the cop in. The brunette's eyes were widening further with each new piece of news. 

"Private jet? Really?"

Carmella laughed heartily. She had her catch—it was now just a case of finalising the details. "Just you and I, Kirsten, and we can fit in some shopping, too. And of course I'm at your disposal to answer any questions you might have about becoming an Appleby model. It'll mean an early start, of course. A limo will pick you up here at six. What do you say?"

***

When Alice followed Marcia back to the VIP room, the redhead had already settled into Alonso's arms again as Tony Daly filled four full flutes of champagne. Somehow the fact she was about to drink bubbly felt normal to her. She gave a soft little laugh. How warped had her world become that it felt natural to be drinking a hundred pound bottle of champagne? 

She hoped it made her feel as good as the Cosmos did. The arousal she'd felt in her body throughout the evening was at fever pitch now and the extra drink she'd taken in the bathroom only made her feel even sexier than she had before. 

Alonso wasn't her type but Tony Daly... well... that was different. If the fantasy of being fucked by a handsome black man was good enough for Kirsten, it was certainly good enough for her. Enthusiastically taking the glass from him, she came together with the other three for a toast. The bubbles felt spectacular with her first sip.

When Daly casually put an arm around her waist and rested his hand on her hip, she rested her head back against his chest. Why shouldn't she—Alonso had his hands all over Marcia.

The redhead grinned sexily at her before holding her glass up for another toast. "To what is already a very fun night!" 

The second drink felt even better.

"To two very sexy women," Alonso added. Normally, she hated men trying to be smooth but tonight it felt just right. The glasses came together, once again. And once again, they drank. The bubbles were going straight to her head.

"Your turn," Marcia said, winking at her.

Alice thought for a brief second only. "To two very sexy men," she said with a giggle as more dry champagne rolled down her throat.

Tony Daly shifted behind her—deliberately, it seemed. She felt his cock slide up against her buttocks and rest against her. He was hard. Very hard. And big. Very big. His next toast was spoken low, almost for her. Almost right into her ear. "To sex."

Alice shut her eyes as his tongue traced the lobe of her ear, tugging on the large, silver loop that pierced them. "Congratulations on joining the Appleby club," he whispered, his hand now openly caressing her butt. She squeezed a look at Marcia and Alonso, an arm-length away to her left. The way they were kissing was like lighter fluid on an open flame. 

Her body heat soared into the stratosphere. 

Daly's lips were on her neck and she took the initiative, just as she had when she'd picked up the twins. Swing around and cupping an arm around his neck, her mouth found his thick lips just as his fingertips snagged the top of her strapless dress. 

"Yesss, oh yes..." she groaned as he peeled it off her body and cupped her perky swells. Her breathing came faster as he began to roll her nipples. 

This was what she wanted, needed.

Opening her eyes, she was treated with the glorious view of Marcia's curvy body. Alonso had a finger under each strap, pulling the red dress down her body and, like Alice, leaving her naked to the waist. Marcia's head was half twisted so that she and Alonso could share a wet kiss over her shoulder as his hands caressed her perfectly sculpted breasts. So full...

For a moment it was surreal, the feel of Daly's hands on her breasts and the sight of Alonso's on Marcia's. It was as if the two men were coordinating their efforts. When the redhead's curly hair caught in her glossy lipstick, Alice couldn't resist. She reached out and brushed it away, tucking it behind her new friend's ear. 

The other model had about five piercing in that one ear. Was the sparkling jewellery diamonds, she wondered? Marcia's soft chuckle made her realize that she still had her hand on the side of the woman's face and she blushed. She let it drop, wondering what was wrong with her. But the redhead caught it and held it against her cheek. 

"You're so beautiful," Marcia mouthed, her voice so soft Alice barely heard. She didn't need to. She felt it. She saw it in the woman's green eyes with those too wide pupils. Sweat broke across her brow. She wasn't into girls...

"Kiss her." It was Tony's deep voice tempting her from behind. His tongue was curling behind her ear and he began kissing the back of her neck again. "Kiss her..." 

The suggestion suddenly felt natural. Marcia's head was already moving towards her and she leaned forward, meeting the kiss the redhead gently planted on the mouth. God, her lips were full, soft and sticky. When Marcia tilted her head and opened her lips, Alice willingly accepted the playful tongue and offered hers. She felt so hot she wanted to curl her toes so hard they'd snap the straps of her sandals.

"That was nice," Marcia murmured, sexily running her tongue across her lips as she slowly pulled back. It was as if she was savouring the taste of the blonde's lipstick.

"Uh, yeah," Alice agreed, her breathing coming quick and shallow. If Daly didn't stop grinding his steely erection in the crevice between her buttocks, she'd have no option other than to turn around and fuck him. And yet... although she kept telling herself she wasn't into girls, the Marcia's lips felt so good. She wanted to drag the redhead into another hot kiss, but as she felt Tony Daly's hands on her tits grow a little harder, she growled out her approval. She wasn't into girls... and that meant she needed to drown in his masculinity.

Turning, she threw her arms around his shaved head and planted another scorching kiss on his thick lips. The sensation was completely different to that with Marcia—harsher—but very welcome all the same. Concerns of Kirsten and her job were gone, replaced by this man's hands on her body, now pushing her dress down, down, down, and off.

He pulled her across to one of the white couches, shoving her into it. She grunted, welcoming the rougher touch. She opened her legs, only her white, lace g-string protecting her modesty. It occurred to her that this was exactly how she'd been when she'd masturbated for him. Legs spread wide while she gasped with wanton need.

It was impossible to stop herself. Her fingers slid under her panties and ran across her unfamiliarly smooth pussy. Despite her original reticence, she loved being bare. Her hips rose towards her rubbing digits, seeking more. This is what Appleby girls did, wasn't it?

With a growl, Daly stood back, undressing as he watched her needy eyes. He snapped open his crisp, white shirt with purpose. His dark eyes danced over her working fingers as he yanked off his shirt, displaying his powerfully muscled upper body. Now it was Alice's turn to ogle the dark skinned physique. It glistened like chocolate brown satin.

When he stepped forward, looming above her as he began unbuckling his belt, Alice's fingers left her lace g-string and replaced his, yanking his trousers away. Her mouth watered at the sight of his towering cock. Incredibly, the skin was even darker than the rest of him.

"Suck my cock, white girl," she heard him order, gripping her long blonde hair. He shoved his manhood down her groaning throat with little ceremony, holding the back of her head tight against him.

Alice choked and spluttered at first, desperate to take as much of the wonderful black meat as she could but initially having trouble adjusting to his size. Gradually, she found a way and fell into a rhythm. The crown of his cock, the thick throbbing shaft and his heavy balls all received attention. Daly's grip on her hair tightened and he began to grunt.

Growing more confident, Alice slurped off with a throaty laugh. She beamed up at him sweetly, knowing exactly what that dimpled smile must look like just inches away from his saliva-coated cock. "You like that, Tony?" she mischievously asked.

Before he could answer, she jammed her mouth over him again. At the same time, one hand slithered down into her panties again. Almost as soon as she slid one and then a second finger inside her wetness she came instantly, coughing again on his cock as her body jerked.

Amazingly, when the first orgasm subsided, the second began to build. She worked him harder between her lips, her blonde hair dancing on her shoulders as she went for broke. This time it was Daly who spluttered as her throat muscles rippled around his crown. 

"Oh fuck, baby, yes..."

"Cum—" she began to say, but it quickly became apparent that he had no intention of ceding control. Reaching down, his large hand gripped the waistband of her flimsy white panties and yanked them off. She squealed as he pushed her back against the couch and placed his cock at the entrance to her pussy. 

She felt the second orgasm begin to overwhelm her even before he was inside her.

***

Kirsten lay in the dark, trying to come to terms with the way the evening had panned out. This wasn't at all what she'd planned in her mind. She'd thought her part of the Appleby investigation was over, and her intention with Matt had been to sit down as soon as he'd arrived and calmly explain the way she was feeling. 

Instead, she'd fucked her boyfriend as soon as he'd walked through the door and as a result had ended up on the wrong end of a blazing row when she'd attempted to explain her feelings. Okay, giving in to the needs of her body before telling him how she felt was wickedly deceitful—but sometimes a girl needed to be as devious as the average male.

At least that was behind her now. That meant she could focus on more important things. Did the agency really think she had some sort of potential as a model? They must do! Why else would Carmella Santiago have taken the trouble to travel out to see her? As the Columbian woman had pointed out, her time was at a premium.

The thought excited her. 

When she looked at the way things were at work, life in the Met was nothing like it was when she'd joined. Things were going backwards. Just look at Sandra Wilson and the pressure she was under. With each passing day, her stress levels increased. Then there was Alex Goodwin. His heart hadn't been in it for eighteen months now and his main aspiration nowadays seemed to be to reach retirement. Was that the future?

She couldn't make it as a model, could she? Was such a thing possible? She knew she had a great body and people often told her how beautiful she was. But there were thousands of women in the country who were much hotter than she was.

Then why had Carmella Santiago taken the trouble to call out to personally see her?

Maybe sticking with the case would offer her the chance to test out how far she could go? If she passed tomorrow's assessment in Paris, that could lead to wider opportunities. She'd called Sandra Wilson as soon as Carmella had left and her boss had confirmed she should follow this through. With Alice pumping Marcia for information tonight, she'd said, Kirsten should do the same tomorrow with Appleby's right hand woman. 

The outcome of both would essentially decide whether they continued with the investigation. She'd do her job diligently, of course. She'd find out as much as she could and report back. But maybe that could lead to modelling opportunities along the way...

And there was something exciting about flying to Paris in a private jet. It was just a shame that Tony Daly wouldn't be with them...

***

"Yes! Yes YES!!!" Alice screamed again as Tony took her to yet another orgasm. How many had that been? How much time had passed? She had no idea. She didn't care. All she cared was getting back to another supercharged climax.

She loved being on top—and her half-squatting, half-reclining position over Tony's ebony skinned prone body allowed her to attain the maximum friction from his incredibly large endowment. Sweat poured from her forehead as she gently pushed up on his muscular body and then thrust down on that thickest of thick cocks.

Her position had the added benefit of allowing her to watch Marcia fuck Alonso across the room while she took her own pleasure. The redhead was incredible, reversing cowboy style on the club owner and with her thrusting freckled tits bouncing erotically with each violent undulation, drilled him like a jack hammer until he exploded inside her.

A smile spread across the curly haired girl's face as she pushed off his lap, treating Alice to an unadulterated view of her curvy, hourglass body. When she strutted slowly across the short distance to the two lovers, one long leg crossing in front of the other, her full breasts bounced with each great roll of her hips.

Alice blushed. Could a woman look any sexier?

She repositioned herself as the redhead approached, sliding her knees beneath her for support. Marcia smirked at her as she crawled up onto the couch, faced Alice and swung her legs across the black man's face. 

"Kiss me," she told the blonde as she lowered her smooth pussy to Daly's waiting mouth.

Both females leant forward, one woman undulating on Tony Daly's tongue and the other on his cock. Marcia's arm reached around Alice's neck and pulled her into position. Her fingers scraped across the back of the blonde's neck as she turned and tilted her head into better position for the kiss. Alice took a deep breath and mirrored her friend, curling a hand behind Marcia's head as her lips parted. In what seemed to the young cop like slow motion, their lips came together for the second time that evening.

For a few seconds it was soft and tender. Then Alice surprised herself by taking the initiative. Her wet tongue slipped into the redhead's mouth and then both of their tongues were suddenly swirling around one another. When Marcia began to retreat a little, pulling her head back, she wouldn't—couldn't—let her. 

Her mouth aggressively zeroed in on those glossy red lips again, determined to take her fill.

"Steady, girl," the redhead softly breathed when she eventually broke the sensual lip lock. One hand cupped Alice's perky right breast, her thumb running across the hard nipple. "Want me?"

Alice nodded. Her heart was beating so fast she could hardly breathe.

"Next time," Marcia whispered, her green eyes telling Alice that she needed to earn her prize. Her free hand dropped to the cop's clit. "Fuck him," she instructed. 

Alice instantly obeyed, lost in her haze of sexual lust. With each of her downthrusts, Marcia's soft fingers rubbed softly across her sensitive clit. When she exploded yet again, she heard the redhead's voice whispering in her ear. 

"If tonight was special," she whispered, "Just wait 'til we're alone..."



Appleby Blush Ch. 07



Chapter 7: Paris in the springtime

Kirsten glanced around her, marvelling at the hustle and bustle. The two kilometres Avenue des Champs-Élysées was one of the most famous streets in the world. The two women had finished their shopping and were enjoying coffee and a slice of cake in the open air, outside of the Restaurant Le Fouquet's Parisian brasserie.

On their journey by private jet over the English Channel, Carmella explained that Paris cafes were more than a place to sip coffee. They were an institution, a cultural phenomenon. She was pleased she'd worn her favourite coral halterneck dress with its bust ruching. The top displayed just enough of her tanned cleavage to be classically sexy, while the floaty skirt showed her long legs to perfection. She felt it matched the vibrancy around her.

"It's a dream," she softly breathed.

Carmella smiled warmly. "A wonderful one?"

"More than I could ever have imagined," the young cop answered, her deep brown eyes glowing with excitement. 

"La plus belle avenue du monde." 

Kirsten felt a shiver run up her spine. The Columbian woman's accent was delicious enough anyway, but when the mature beauty spoke in French it elevated her sexiness to another level.

"The most beautiful avenue in the world," Carmella added by way of explanation as she reached across to push a loose strand of dark hair away from the brunette's eye. "And this is one of the most famous restaurant and hotels. It's such a wonderful venue to relax after a heavy morning shopping, don't you think?"

Kirsten nodded. Carmella had outlined the role of an Appleby model on their journey to Paris and while it clearly involved hard work, it was every bit as glamorous as she'd imagined. There hadn't been a single thing to raise suspicion of anything untoward and it was already clear to her that the investigation was a wild goose chase. Sandra Wilson didn't get much wrong but she was way off beam with this one...

"What is it?" Carmella asked, noticing the change in expression.

Kirsten's faraway eyes returned to her companion. She'd felt a pang of guilt at investigating someone who had been so good to her. Carmella had even invited her to a gala party at Appleby's house in a couple of days. "Sorry, I was just marveling at everything." It wasn't exactly a lie, after all.

Her beautiful companion leant forward across the table and patted her hand. "You've enjoyed our day so far?"

The cop laughed aloud, pulling her long brown hair across one shoulder. "I've enjoyed everything, Carmella—the flight, the shopping, the city, the experience." She paused and then laughed again at her own exuberance. "Thank you," she murmured, giving the Columbian woman a grateful look. "I appreciate it."

Carmella's hand squeezed hers. "The life of an Appleby model is never dull," she chuckled, playing a finger over her red lips as if in contemplation. "Here we are in Paris. I was in Barcelona last week and I flew to Monte Carlo a couple of weeks before that. Next week it's New York. You won't get much rest, Kirsten, but it's a life I can recommend. And believe me, you wouldn't be here if I didn't believe in you."

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate that," she said, licking a finger and picking up some crumbs from her plate. That cake had been so light! When she caught Carmella's eye, they both laughed again.

"The pastry was a rare treat. We have to watch our figures," Carmella smiled, loving her young friend's enthusiasm. "Today, I'm showing you what's possible if you work hard enough, follow my guidance and are prepared to make sacrifices. After that, it's up to you."

"I won't let you down," Kirsten quickly replied, sitting forward. The excitement was back in her brown eyes. She paused for a few seconds to try and gather her wits. She was acting as if she'd morphed from a cop on an undercover investigation to an aspiring model overnight. Was she seriously thinking about this?

Carmella's voice brought her back to the present. "It's a dream we all should have," she said, her sexy eyes gleaming. "But there are those who dream, and those who make it happen. How do you feel about your assessment with Pierre Laroche?"

"I feel nervous."

Carmella laughed out loud again, tossing a hand through her perfect hair. "Oh, darling, you have no need to be. Laroche is an expert in his field and his techniques are the most advanced of anyone I know. And I've already told you—after all my years in the fashion industry, I'm a very good judge of these things. You'll pass with flying colours, believe me."

"I hope so."

The Columbian beauty smiled confidently as she delved into her bag and produced what looked like to be two miniature bottles of wine. Reaching for the two empty glasses on the table beside them, she poured the drinks and passed one to Kirsten.

"I stole them from the plane," she laughed, picking up the other glass. "Pink for you and white for me. We'll do it the French way and drink them in one go."

She'd finished her drink before Kirsten had time to react. The brunette giggled and then immediately followed suit, lightly coughing as it her drink hit the back of her throat. "There," she told Carmella, holding up her empty glass.

"A good sign," her host told her, before turning to her left. She pointed a finger at each of the shopping bags tucked away beside them in their small enclosure. "Eight in all," she said, laughing heartily. "Such a shame, I usually return home with twenty."

Kirsten joined in with the laughter. She could easily believe that. The Columbian woman had shown an extraordinary aptitude for finding and purchasing 'bargains'.

"Now," Carmella said, glancing at her watch. She smiled sweetly. "It's time for your meeting with Pierre. Just be true to yourself and go with what feels right. Trust your instincts and see where it takes you. What can go wrong?"

***

Sandra Wilson threw the buff coloured file down on her desk and tossed her small, rectangular, black-framed glasses on top of it. How could she concentrate? The Appleby case was going nowhere. Turner was applying more and more pressure. And then there was Alex Goodwin...

She'd tried to avoid spent the barrel chested cop most of yesterday and knew he was puzzled by her attitude. So was she. Her analytical mind had gone over it a thousand times and she'd come to the same conclusion. It wasn't the sex with Alex that was worrying her, it was the emotional attachment. He'd expect far more from her than she'd be able to give. 

Casual sex was one thing, but another relationship was something else...

The frustrating aspect was that her body's burning need remained. It might not be as all consuming as after her session at the Appleby studios, but it was definitely there. 

She'd spent the whole of the last thirty six hours—other than when she was masturbating—trying to come to terms with what had happened. There was only one conclusion. Exposing her body in a skimpy bikini during the photo shoot had brought alive the sexual yearnings she'd bottled up in the last eighteen months. It was that simple.

But if the happenings at the agency had lit the fire, her sexual encounter with Goodwin had really fanned the flames. She'd almost forgotten how good sex could be! 

And now she'd had a taste again, she wanted more. Therein lay another problem.

Fucking Alex Goodwin might have been the safe option the other night, but the full ramifications of her decision to seek him out had come back to haunt her now. Re-establishing a connection she'd ended a year and a half ago was a backward step and she could see simply by looking at his body language that her fears were justified. 

She wearily took to her feet and headed across the office towards the coffee machine in the far corner. Two of the younger guys were talking there as she approached and she saw them glance at her body before hurrying off. Laughter trailed in the air behind them and she knew what they were thinking. She knew what they were all thinking.

Leaning against the machine for a few moments, she glanced around the floor. Most of the eyes on her immediately diverted. They respected her because of her position and because she was good at her job. But most of them would fuck her in a second. She'd heard the whispers, how hot she was for someone 'of her age'. How she kept herself in good shape. How she must be gagging for it because she didn't have a boyfriend...

Usually she ignored the ever present sexual nuances. Today, they sent a tingle to her sex.

Turning back to the machine, she checked the small menu. What was the difference, they all tasted the same. She pressed for cappuccino, but pulled a face as the discoloured water spilt into the plastic white cup. For a few seconds, she stared at the murky liquid and then, holding the cup high, allowed the drink to splash down into the slop shoot. 

Maybe she needed something stronger than coffee? 

Turning back to her office, she took her time sauntering back across the floor, aware that she was putting an extra swing in her hips as she walked. God, even her thoughts made her feel horny. Let them look, she told herself, feeling her body react to all the eyes that would be staring at her ass. If you're man enough, come and get it boys...

***

Pierre Laroche's deep voice resonated around his large office. "So, Kirsten, has Carmella explained the process?"

The brunette uncertainly shook her head. "No... not exactly."

"But you know it's an assessment."

She nodded. "Yes."

"My methods are unusual but very rewarding," he explained, pouring a drink and handing it to her. Giving her another glass of Blush after the one Carmella had fed her was a calculated risk, but after the session she was unlikely to have much of a recollection of anything outside of the sex. And he wanted her body to guide her reactions, not her mind.

"Passing the assessment means you're officially eligible to become an Appleby model," he continued. "Carmella will take care of the contract details, of course."

Kirsten took a sip from the glass, her gleaming brown eyes covering Laroche. The feeling of arousal that had begun to consume her during the short taxi ride after leaving Carmella was now at a fevered pitch. He wasn't anything like she'd visualised. It wasn't that he was much older than she'd thought—she had no real expectation. Nor was it the fact that he was handsome in a mature sort of way, despite the thin, salt and pepper hair. 

She just hadn't anticipated that he'd be black...

"What I'm interested in is your mental attitude, your aptitude to be a successful model. Believe me, Kirsten, many young women like you have aspirations but few have what it takes." He walked across to the padded table beside her chair and rested his hands on the rail at the top. "You're willing to put yourself in my hands?" 

It was the opening line to all of his weekly shows on the Eurotica French TV cable channel. What made today's show out of the ordinary was that the young women were usually primed to act the part. The seduction of an innocent was always special and he'd watched the recordings of this woman in action on the Solomon Sloane show. That performance—aided by the advanced publicity—guaranteed a huge pay per view audience.

He'd ensure they weren't disappointed.

"Yes," Kirsten replied, gulping down more of the drink. It eased the nervous dryness in her throat. "Whatever it takes..."

"Indeed," Laroche smiled, pulling a chair across to the table and resting his hands on the back of it. "I think we need to understand a few things first. Please lie down here on the table." His face was a picture of calm as he watched her comply. "Comfortable?"

"Yes thanks," she hesitantly said, smoothing the floaty skirt across her thighs as she settled herself. She was and she wasn't. Her position reminded her of lying on a therapist's couch. She felt vulnerable, too, and that thought sent little bolts of excitement through her. 

When he stood to remove his suit jacket, she couldn't prevent herself from checking out his package. The bulge suggested that he was at least as big as Tony Daly. 

Her nipples hardened at the thought... 

"Fashion and pornography have one thing in common," he rasped, pushing his rimless glasses up his forehead as he stood beside her. "Do you know what?"

The brunette's eyes widened. Pornography?

"Sex," he continued, watching her reaction. "A pornographic actress indulges her body and a fashion model indulges her mind. Both are essential in order to produce the highest quality of performance in their respective spheres. You understand?"

She nodded slowly, even though she wasn't sure what he was getting at.

He smiled at her as he circled behind the table. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he leant forward and kept his voice low. "For this session, Kirsten, I need you to do two things. I want you to indulge your mind and I need you to think of yourself as a pornographic actress. Your ability to demonstrate that will determine the outcome of the assessment. Understand?"

She hadn't thought of it that way. Feeling sexy had helped during her audition with Daly and the subsequent shoot afterwards. It would help her through this. And the feeling of the fingers gently stroking her shoulders was already making her feel sexy...  

"Yes," she said. Her voice was little more than a whisper. Fixing her gaze on the ceiling, she wondered why anyone would place a mirror there. Staring at her reflection, she realised that her prone body presented a sexy image. The sight, and Laroche's rhetoric, was definitely affecting her. So were the fingers he was digging into her shoulders. 

"What I want you to do," he continued, walking around the table and casually sitting in the chair, "is to coordinate the thoughts in your mind with the feelings inside your body." His voice was low and soothing. "I'll guide you with a series of questions. I hope that's clear?"

She nodded, more in an attempt to move things forward rather than confirmation of any understanding. Her palms were clammy and her body was practically screaming for attention. Whatever he had in mind was okay by her...

***

Alex Goodwin took a sip from his mug of coffee and pushed forward in his chair. The Met canteen seemed to have become the norm for his brief meetings with Brendan Kaminski. Two colleagues sharing a break together...

"Well?" the swarthy Homicide cop asked, shuffling in his seat opposite Goodwin. 

"I don't know," Goodwin said for the second time, this time accompanied by a shrug of his broad shoulders. "I told you, I didn't get the chance to talk to her yesterday."

The acute feeling of frustration still burned strongly in his body. Sandra had deliberately kept out of his way yesterday, though to be fair she was heavily involved in some more of the shit that Turner was piling on her. He could tell the signs. Turner had decided he wanted her out and was now placing unreasonable demands so that he'd have some evidence to prove she wasn't satisfactorily doing her job.

"Why not?" Kaminski snapped out the question.

The barrel chested cop almost reacted, but choked back the annoyance he was feeling. Okay, it was natural that Brendan should want feedback on Wilson's open night—he'd supplied the lead after all. But what could he tell him? Sandra hadn't even confided in him yet. 

"There's a team meeting this morning," he responded, taking another gulp of coffee. "I'll know more after that."

Kaminski grimaced. "Hell, Alex—"

Goodwin leant forward aggressively and tapped his fingers on the rectangular table. "Look, what else can I tell you, Brendan? You'll have to be patient like the rest of us. This is a delicate fucking operation, you know." 

The Homicide cop backed off. "Okay, Alex. I hear ya."

Goodwin thought back to Turner and Wilson's broken relationship. Why the fuck had he allowed himself to get drawn into telling Brendan Kaminski about everything? If this got out, there'll be hell to pay. "Good. Just chill out and I'll update you later, okay?"

Kaminski twisted his face into a smile. "Okay... okay, Alex, it seems to me like I'm not the only one who needs a couple of chill pills..." 

Goodwin's grey eyes hardened. The Homicide cop's words had really hit the spot. What the hell was wrong with Sandra Wilson She'd called out unexpectedly at his apartment, fucked his brains out in the lift, and then left without a word. And she hadn't said a thing to him in the day and a half that had passed since then. What was he to think?

He realised Brendan was tapping the back of his hand.

"What?" he snapped.

"Geez, Alex," Kaminski said, lowering his voice and glancing around the room. "I've never seen you this uptight. I just said I was out this afternoon but I'd call you later. Okay?"

Goodwin's frustration dropped to simmering point. He leant back in his chair again and shot Brendan a half apologetic look. There wasn't any point in taking it out on him. 

"Okay," he wearily conceded. The sooner he and Sandra talked things through the better.

***

Kirsten had been vaguely aware that Pierre Laroche's soft tone had helped her descend into a meditative state. Maybe she should have resisted, but she'd felt better as her mind sank deeper. Her body remained on fire but now she was in her own world. 

And it felt reassuring to listen to that voice in the distance.

"You like black men?" the voice suddenly asked.

She felt the surge of heat between her thighs. How did it know?

"And you like Tony Daly. You showered with him, didn't you? Think about that, Kirsten."

Within a few seconds, she returned to the moment. The heady aroma of the scented shower gel filled her nostrils. She'd rubbed it across his skin, taking her time as she covered his chest, back and hard buttocks. His muscular body had felt so smooth under her hands.

"You liked the feel of his body, Kirsten," the voice said. 

She couldn't understand how it knew. She hadn't spoken, had she? These were just thoughts passing through her mind... 

"Why don't you touch his body again," the voice said. "Remember how it feels." 

A hand was taking hers and placing it on a naked chest. Someone was standing to the side of her. It couldn't be Laroche—he was wearing a shirt—it must be Tony Daly. 

She stroked her fingers across the chest, seeking those nipples again. For a few silent moments she caressed one, tweaking it between her thumb and forefinger. Did a man experience the same sensations as a woman when having his nipples pleasured, she wondered? Would he moan like she did when having them sucked?

"Why don't you see?" the voice asked. "Go ahead."

A body was bending over her and his skin was against her face. It was Daly's ebony skin. Her tongue reached up, tracing a path to his right nipple. Yesss...

He did moan as she sucked on it!

"That's nice, Kirsten," the voice confirmed. "Now the other."

She left a wet trail as she slid across to his left nipple. Her movements were rougher now, flicking it with her tongue, worrying it between her teeth, just the way she liked Matt to do with her. Daly's hand slid to the back of her head, holding it up from the padded table. Her fingernails trailed lightly across his hard stomach as she licked around the hard bud. 

God, she was so horny...

"So good," the voice growled. It must be enjoying watching what she was doing to Daly. "How does that feel?" 

"Incredible," she grunted, beginning to float on a bubble of arousal. She had to widen her legs to allow the heat to escape. They brushed against Daly's thighs.

"Remember when Tony Daly oiled your breasts, Kirsten? He can't do it now because you're wearing a dress. Why don't you pull it down your body? That would make you feel better..."

Her hands were on her straps as soon as the words left his mouth. As soon as she'd dragged the dress down to her waist, she was fumbling with her bra. The feeling of the cool air on her breasts was breathtaking, but nothing like the sensations of the hands that immediately covered them. Tony Daly's hands. She gasped at the touch. They were rubbing something into her flesh and across her hard nipples.




Appleby Blush Ch. 07



"That's oil," the voice explained. "You love having your breasts oiled..."

God, yes she did. Daly's hands were all over her breasts now, massaging the tantalizing heat of the oil into her skin. They were delicate, firm and strong, his sensual touch feeling even better than in the studio. Her fingers dug into the table, steadying herself. The excruciating heat between her thighs wouldn't go away.

"What did Daly do next?" the voice asked.

She spread her legs wider, her mind firmly recalling the action in the studio. He'd slipped his fingers inside her panties... only... only... the hand that had slithered down her body now wasn't sliding inside her thong. It was pushing up the floaty material of her skirt and gripping the garment. With a sharp twist, it tore the flimsy material from her hips. 

Her entire body shuddered. Daly hadn't done that, had he?

"No, but you'd have liked him to," the voice explained. 

Yes, that was right. Treat me rough. Make me beg for it.

The hand was stroking across her smooth pubic mound now. Yes, that's what she wanted. Fingers slid along her labia, stroking her wetness. She pushed her legs further apart, granting the hand better access. Yes! Yes... please...

"That's good?" the voice asked.

Oh, yes. It was so fucking good. She began to squirm, bucking her hips as the teasing fingers ran back and forth over her labial lips. One gradually worked its way inside her, and then a second. A thumb flicked across her stiffening clitoris. Yes... yes... make me cum...

Her fingers dug deeper into the table as she leant back. She pulled her knees up to her chest, widening her legs. Yes, like that. Her heart began to palpitate as she began to hump back against the fingers. The flicking thumb felt so good. 

Oh, God! She was going to cum...

***

The meeting was every bit as awkward as Sandra Wilson had anticipated. Every instinct had told her to talk to Alex first, but she'd gone against them, convincing herself that it was much safer territory if Alice was there for their first real contact since their late night fuck.

It hadn't taken long for her to realise her mistake. 

He'd been difficult from the moment he entered her office, refusing the chair and standing with his back to the door, arms defensively crossed over his stomach. Alice gave her one of those 'what can you do when he's in this mood' looks, but the young blonde had no way of knowing her father had genuine cause for his grumpiness this time.

She would have told him to take a seat, but even that simple command might start a conversation she didn't want. It would be better to keep the meeting short, focus on the investigation, and then talk things out without Alice being there. She couldn't put off the confrontation much longer, that was for sure.

"Okay," she started, keeping her eyes away from the big man. "Let's just summarise where we are. Alice, how was your meeting with Marcia?"

"I didn't get a thing," the blonde quietly said. The uneasy way she shuffled in her seat gave away her nervousness. Wilson knew why—they'd put too much pressure on her young protégé. She shouldn't have told Alice that the meeting with Marcia was the key to them making a breakthrough. That had been unfair.

"Nothing at all?" Goodwin's voice sounded as irritated as Sandra Wilson felt. She knew why.

"No, dad," Alice said, twisting her nose as she glanced up at her father. "Or rather, I didn't find a thing that would make me suspicious." She turned to look back at Wilson. "The thing is, Sandra, maybe that means there's nothing to be suspicious about?" 

"Could be," the brunette reluctantly conceded—it was beginning to look that way. Had all this been a wild goose chase after all?

"What about your open night," Goodwin cut in, turning his attention back to Wilson. It looked like he wanted to get rid of some of his frustration in the meeting.

She shrugged, not wanting to go there. "I didn't pick up anything either," she blandly said.

Goodwin wouldn't let it go. He pushed his frame off the door so that he could use his hands to emphasise the point. "Is that right? From what I understood, you were pretty excited afterwards?"

Wilson groaned inside. She'd seen lots of different sides to Alex over the years and this was the one she liked least. When he couldn't get his own way, he came out swinging punches, just like a playground bully. "It was an interesting night," she slowly said, choosing her words carefully. She glanced at Alice. "Tony Daly's an interesting character, isn't he?"

The blush that spread across the young cop's face sent warning bells off in Wilson's head. That meant something, but what? Before she could internally digest the thought, Goodwin was making noises again.

"Interesting? What does that mean? I thought you said you hadn't found anything?"

As she slowly swung her head towards the barrel chested man, she hardened her gaze and flattened her voice. "It means he was interesting, Alex. As in, he had a certain fascination about him. But no, I didn't find anything out that would help. The only thing to come out of the evening was an invitation to a party at the Appleby's. Or rather, a Gala ball..."

"I have one, too," Alice gushed, her eyes gleaming as she excitedly sat forward on the edge of her chair. "Marcia said it's probably the biggest event on the social calendar this year."

"Whoopee," Goodwin said, unable to disguise the sarcasm. Both women stared at him as she shook his head. "So the grand result of all our work is that you two have an invitation to a party? Are you kidding me?"

Sandra Wilson stood up and planted both palms on her desk. Two could play that game. Leaning over, she stared into Goodwin's grey eyes. "That seems to be the case, Alex, unless you've come up with something. Let's analyse your contribution. You've found nothing in the files other than what I gave you? And you secured me an invitation to an open night that's led to a dead end. Anything else to offer?"

Goodwin came back at her. "I wouldn't say the open night led nowhere," he sarcastically grunted. "Seems to me that—"

"It was a waste of time," Wilson rasped, staring at the grey haired man. He had every reason to be angry with her but she had so much crap piling on top of her right now, she wasn't going to take any more. "Both before and after..."

The standoff lasted a few seconds, and it took an intervention from Alice to break the sudden tension. "I have a feeling I'm missing something," she said, swinging her head from one to the other. "We're all on the same team, aren't we?"

Sandra Wilson's gaze stayed on Goodwin. "I'd thought so, too," she coldly said. "So let's put a stop to the bickering. Here's the position—if Kirsten has drawn a blank from her Paris trip, we'll close the investigation. Or maybe, we'll do it after we've attended the party, Alice," she pointedly added. "A girl has to have some fun, after all. Now if you'll excuse us, your father and I have something to discuss."

***

"Tell me," the voice was humming again. It had been silent for a few moments while she recovered from her orgasm. "Tell me, Kirsten. In the shower, what came next? After you'd soaped him? What happened then?"

The brunette's mind took her back to the moment. She'd sunk to her knees, and the recollection of the shower water bouncing erotically off her body as she'd studied his cock sent spasms of delight through her, even now. She'd loved his hardness, the way his black cock had felt in her hand and the power she'd felt when she'd gone down on him. His fingers had gripped her hair as she'd worked on him, urging her on.

"Like this?" the voice said. 

She felt a hand wrap her hair around its fingers, roughly dragging her head up from the padded table. It was pulling her up and then forward, twisting her body. 

"You want Daly's cock now, don't you?" the voice rasped.

Oh yes... fuck yes...

She willingly complied as the grip tightened, pulling her head forward. Losing her balance for a second, the hand that was gripping her hair held her steady. It hurt her. That felt good.

"Daly's wearing his trousers. Unfasten them."

Kirsten reached out, finding and fumbling with his belt. She dragged it open before frantically tearing down the zip. Daly kept his fingers firmly in her hair as she forced his trousers and then his boxers down his muscular thighs.

"Now—" the voice began to say, but there was no need. Her mouth was already covering his cock. His hardness between her lips sent another tremor through her hot body. She took his thickness as far into her throat as she could and then began to work on him. Even though his thrusts made her gag, she refused to give up her prize.

"My God," she heard the voice say. It was more of a growl.

She smiled inside. The angle he held her head made her contorted body ache with discomfort, but that curiously enhanced her pleasure. When she began to massage the throbbing shaft with her tongue, his groans reverberated all the way around her body.

"Like that," the voice told her. "Like that..."

Kirsten reached one hand around his body to clutch his hard butt as her mouth worked ceaselessly. For a second she wondered where all the well-defined muscles had gone, but she didn't really care. She was too busy to think about such things. Easing back, she gently licked around the crown. That allowed her to better hear his grunts. 

She loved that sound. One hand continued to twist around the base of his thickness as she teased his cockhead. Her other dug more firmly into his buttocks.

"Fuck, woman..."

Yes, yes... oh, yes. Soon he would be fucking this woman. But not before she'd sucked out his cum. He'd shown her in the studio how good his recuperative powers were. As she corkscrewed her hands around the huge black phallus, he began to moan again. 

"I want your cum," she grunted at him, and then her mouth engulfed him again. Her dark hair bounced as she sucked hard, both hands jerking on his shaft now. The insistent sucking noises of her mouth and his continuous moans, mingled like an erotic cocktail of sound.

Daly's cock began to throb in her mouth. It was reacting to her—to every suck, lick and slurp. Her mouth slid as far down as she could again, her head bobbing as she increased the pace. Saliva dripped from her mouth onto his hardness and she frantically rubbed it in. The hand in her hair was hurting now, pulling tighter as his hips started to buck against her. 

That felt so very good.

She slurped off his cock for a brief second, trying to decide whether to go for broke or make it last. Give him time to recover. 

The voice answered for her. "Make me cum..."

She gurgled out a laugh. Make me cum? The voice was confused. It was Daly she was going to make cum, not the voice. That was only watching. 

Her wet fingers stretched as far around the black shaft as they could. Her movements were fast, hard and no longer subtle as she pumped up and down. On each upstroke, her thumb rubbed the underside of his crown, making him flinch. 

"Oh, God..." 

That was better. His body was tensing, vibrating. Not long now. Her body was howling for attention too, but not until she'd completed her mission. Her mouth hung open just over his cock as she jerked her fists up and down his shaft. 

"Oh, fuck!" the voice groaned. "I'm gonna—"

I'm gonna? That was the voice again. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the disorientation. It was Daly she was about to make cum, not the voice. Wasn't it? The irrational thought left her as quickly as it had arrived. 

Her next thought found its way to her sex. Maybe she could make them both cum? 

Her hand found his heavy testicles as her tongue flicked up and down the shaft. When she deep throated him, a warm spurt of musky fluid warned her that there was more to follow. Daly's body arched as if it was about to pull away. She stayed with him. 

Despite his efforts, she managed to keep the head of his cock in her mouth as the first thick burst hit her throat. Then his hand was yanking her head away from him and the next burst hit her face. She frantically opened her mouth, widening it in search of his creamy manjuice. When the next burst hit her across the nose and slithered downwards, she sucked it inside. 

The grip in her hair loosened and she ducked her head forward to capture his throbbing cock again. Her hand found and held the base of his thick shaft, tugging it to extract the last drops of creamy juice and sweeping them away with her tongue.

It had never been quite like this before...

***

Sandra Wilson nodded at the seat opposite her desk and pushed her glasses firmly up the bridge of her nose. They afforded some protection.

Goodwin reluctantly pushed himself from the wall to the chair, moving as if in slow motion. It creaked as he dropped his weight onto it. "Why?" he asked, before she could speak. His voice was weary. "Tell me, Sandra. Why?"

She pulled a face, trying to come up with a reason that would make sense to him. Despite the anger she felt, there was no escaping the fact it was her fault they were in this situation. Why hadn't she been able to anticipate this when she asked him to help with the case? "I'm sorry, Alex," was the best she could come out with.

"Sorry?" the big man barked; those grey eyes of his temporarily flicking into life.

The word spoke volumes. Wilson felt a lick of heat around her neck and hoped the faint flush rising across her cheeks wasn't obvious. Every instinct told her not to be pushed on the defensive, but this was Alex she was talking to. Her old friend would do anything for her, and how had she repaid him? "Yes... I'm sorry."

His eyes grew wider. "That's it?" he asked, holding his hands out wide and then slapping them downwards against his thighs. His anger was evident with every gesture. "Don't you think you owe me a little more than that, Sandra?"

She could feel the frustration rising inside her—at Goodwin, at Turner, at Appleby, but most of all at herself. All of a sudden, she didn't feel up for this conversation. She was tired. "What else do you want me to say?"

Goodwin jumped to his feet and for a moment, he just stood there, as if undecided on his next move. It made her smile, though she kept a straight face. "Sit down, Alex," she quietly told him. If they were going to discuss this, they'd do it sensibly.

He backed down onto his chair and the look in his eyes changed from anger to disappointment. "What the fuck were you doing, Sandra, coming to my flat like that?"

"You mean, what were we doing?" she snapped back, meeting his gaze. "As I recall, you didn't need much coercion, Alex!" The look on his face made her feel bad. That one might have been below the belt. 

"I admit I couldn't resist," he calmly responded, standing up again. He couldn't keep still for more than a few moments at a time. He walked across to the small window, staring at the little pinpricks of drizzle that were starting to spot the glass. "I never could, Sandra, and I think that you knew that, too. You took advantage of my feelings and all I'm asking in return is to understand why. Don't shut me out."

"I guess eighteen months without sex caught up with me, Alex." She chose to ignore the shocked look on his face when he spun around to face her. "That's right," she confirmed, having to force the words from her mouth. "Eighteen months."

For a few moments, he said nothing, as if trying to take in what she was telling him. Then he simply asked, "Why me?"

That was the million dollar question. She didn't want the emotional attachment, but she had fucked him. And right now, with her body still feeling the effect of the last couple of days, the thought went through her mind that she might fuck him again if he backed off a little. "I didn't come to yours looking for sex," she lied, keeping her voice flat and to the point. 

He stood with his back to the window, his intense stare taking in every expression on her face. It was as if he was checking to make sure they were congruent with what she was telling him. She looked away, trying to disguise her feelings before he saw through her.

"So what happens next?"

Her heart sank. Oh fuck, here it came—the sentimental stuff. It made her back away completely. "Nothing happens next, Alex," she coldly said, refusing to return his stare. "What we had is over and done with. What we—I—did was an aberration. It won't happen again."

The silence was painful. This time her eyes did meet his. He looked as tired as she felt. And old—was he sixty, yet? What the fuck was she doing, playing with his emotions like this? Yet he still frustrated the life out of her. Anyone else would have accepted it as the quick, casual sex it was—but not Alex. He had to read undying love into what happened.

"An aberration," he said, reaching out and putting a hand on the door handle. 

Damn, she hadn't phrased that very well. "Look, Alex—" 

That was as far as she got. The way his face curled in anger stopped her. He stared at her for a few seconds, the look on his face a clear manifestation of his feelings. Shaking his head, he wrenched open the door. "Fuck you," he grunted, a second before he slammed it closed behind him.

She let out a long sigh, frustrated with herself for handling the situation so badly. Especially with the way her body was reacting. Hell, had he handled the discussion in a more sympathetic way, she'd have been tempted to push him down on the desk and let him have her again. Curling her hand into a fist, she slammed it down onto the desktop. 

What the fuck was wrong with her?

***

Kirsten's fingers ran hazily across the white specks on her face and body. She'd swallowed most of Daly's creamy cum but it still wasn't enough. She wanted more. 

"That was hot, Kirsten." The panting voice had a growl to it.

She smiled lasciviously as she raised her fingers to her mouth and lazily sucked them clean. The voice must have enjoyed what it had seen. Knowing it was there, watching her pleasure Daly, made her shiver with excitement. Being watched was such a turn on. 

Maybe it could watch Daly fuck her? Heat seared through her aroused body as the thought exploded in her mind. Was he going to fuck her now, just like he had in the studio? Giving him a blow job had been sensational but her body needed satisfaction, too.

"You want to fuck?" The voice sounded breathless, just as aroused as she was. If it stayed to watch, she might let it fuck her, too...

"Yes."

"Not yet," the voice told her, still sounding heavier than it did. 

Not yet? What did that mean? She bit her bottom lip like a petulant schoolgirl. Not yet, what?

"You'll see," the voice calmly said. 

She wanted to ask another question, but hands—Daly's hands—were on her body again. They were tugging at her dress, pulling it completely away from her body, leaving her naked on the table. Her eyes were closed but somehow she could still see her reflection in the mirror above the table. Could the voice see her, too? 

God, she looked hot. Her body wouldn't stay still, undulating sensuously on the padded surface as it tried to cope with the need flowing through it. Her hands ran across her nakedness, cupping her breasts, pulling on her nipples, sliding down to her wetness.

When Daly's black hands replaced hers, the image faded. Instead, her hot body felt rather than saw what was happening. He was leaning her back on her elbows so that she was partly lying and partly sitting. Moving closer, his tongue was on her, licking across the underside of her breasts, teasing its way up and around the full swells.

Please, she begged, as he circled her hard nipples but not quite touching. Please... 

This time it was her fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him closer, encouraging him to take her hard bud in his mouth.




Appleby Blush Ch. 07



"Please what?" the deep voice asked.

My nipples. Please. Suck on them...

Daly's hands cupped both her swells, pushing them together. His mouth alternated between her breasts—licking, lapping, flicking and biting. Taking her nipple between his lips, he sucked it into his warm mouth. 

Kirsten's moan came from the back of her throat. Arching her back, she fed more of her breasts to his lips. The way his swirling tongue suckled, licked and taunted each nipple sent pin pricks of heat across her body. Before she knew it, her fingers tightened in his hair while her free hand was snaking downwards, searching out her wetness. 

When his hand found hers and pulled it away, she groaned. "What—" 

"Wait," the voice persuasively murmured.

It took a few excruciating seconds to realise what it meant. Daly was moving, his hands still reaching up to cup her breasts, but his mouth sliding down her body. Yes, yes, yes...

His tongue teased across the soft skin of her thighs, his faint stubble following behind. When his strong hands pushed her legs even wider apart, Kirsten bent her knees and planted the soles of her feet on the very edge of the table. She lifted her hips and ass from the table, offering her sweet, smooth pussy to him.

"Beautiful," she heard the voice.

That was good, it was still watching. She raised her hips even higher so that the voice had a better view, so it could see her in all her splendour. Look, she told it. Look...

Hot breath immediately covered her skin and a soft tongue flicked across her clit. She wailed and the sound circled the room. Pushing upwards, she thrust her wet sex into his mouth. When Daly's tongue slid the full length of her wet opening, she could hear his lapping sound as he devoured her juices. Fuck, he was even better than in the studio.

She fell back, flat on the table, unable to support herself any longer. Her hands replaced his on her breasts, cupping them and twisting her nipples. When his lips closed on her clitoris, sucking it inside and chewing on it, her body jerked. His hands were never still—under her buttocks now, supporting her as she grinded her pussy upwards against his face. 

Yes. Oh fuck, yes......

His mouth had worked up to a steady rhythm, his lips burrowing into her labia. The way his tongue drove deeper and deeper took her to the edge. She bit her lip, he bit her clit. Her hips bucked higher, his tongue thrust further. She moaned, he grunted. 

The tide was sweeping over her.

She thrust upwards, trying to impale her smooth pussy on his tongue. Her breath came in great, laboured gasps. Her hips were pumping upwards like a machine. Her hands had left her breasts and were pulling on his thin, greying, curly hair. She was close... very close...

When his fingers joined his mouth, two of them curling inside her, It became too much. She threw her head back and came, screaming out her orgasm. Behind her closed eyes, in the darkness, fireworks exploded inside her buzzing body. 

***

Alice Goodwin aggressively grabbed her father's hand and began to pull him across the floor. "Come with me," she told him in that no nonsense way she'd always had when—even as a little girl—she was curious and needed answers. 

"No," he grunted, jerking them to a halt when he saw they were heading back to Sandra Wilson's office. The last thing he was going to do was involve his daughter in his and Wilson's situation.

"She's not there, silly," she snapped back at him over her shoulder, those sparkling sea-blue eyes flashing at him. "Turner called her up to see him."

He hesitated again as she pulled him the rest of the way and closed the door behind them. For a few seconds, his thoughts dwelled on what he'd said, as if it was a Eureka moment. It was a factor he hadn't really considered, but maybe her behaviour with him was simply down to the stress factor? Turner was putting her under a lot of pressure. Was her moment of weakness simply a way of letting off some steam?

After all, she hadn't had sex for eighteen months. He'd thought about that—it was when they'd split up. She'd really gone that long without sex? The knowledge that he was the one she'd sought out when she'd needed to fuck again made him feel good about himself. 

"What's going on?"

His blank, thoughtful eyes switched on again. Alive was staring at him, hands on her hips. She'd always looked cute when she was angry and he was a sucker for those dimpled cheeks.

"In what way—"

"Oh, fuck, dad!" That was unusual. She rarely cursed and never when he was around. "Something's going on, and I have a pretty good idea what it is."

Goodwin felt a thud in his chest. Alice knew nothing of his previous relationship with their boss and it wasn't something he wanted out in the open. "You do?"

"I'm not stupid," she snapped. "It was quite clear that you were both expecting me to find out something from Marcia, something that would help the case. That's it, isn't it? You and Sandra have had an argument, about me."

A hearty chuckle came out before he could stop it. It was sheer relief. That was another one of his daughter's traits. Everything was about her—it always had been.

"Dad!" she shouted, hands on hips again as she stamped one foot on the floor like a petulant child. At times like this, she so reminded him of her mother.

"No," he softly said, covering the distance between them and pulling her into a bear hug. He kissed the top of her long blonde hair. "No, Alice, for once it's nothing to do with you."

She wrapped both hands around his waist and looked up at him. "Really?"

He nodded. "You've done a great job so far, honey. I'm proud of you."

Her large eyes stared up at him. This time her tone was softer." Then what is it?"

He shrugged his large shoulders and pulled her tighter into his barrel chest. "I'm really not sure, Alice. Truthfully, I'm trying to work it out, too. I think she saw the Appleby case as a way of breaking through all the crap she has to cope with. Turner's putting her under far too much pressure and she's worried about keeping her job—" 

She pulled away, as if he'd smacked her across her face. "Her job!?"

Damn, he shouldn't have said that. Wilson had confided that in him and the information wasn't for public consumption, even to his daughter. "Keep it to yourself, honey," he softly told her. "Right now, Sandra Wilson needs all the support we can give her." 

It was true. Why hadn't he seen that more clearly before? 

So what if she had fucked him? And what if she was struggling to explain why? She would eventually, when she was able to. He knew her far too well to think anything else. Causing that scene in her office had been stupid of him. And he'd actually told her to fuck off! 

He could be unbelievably stupid at times.

***

Kirsten's eyes slowly fluttered open. It took a few moments before she could orientate herself. The brightness in the room surprised her and she blinked her brown eyes a few times to confirm she was returning to normal. The voice was no longer talking to her. Was that why she could see again? Had Laroche brought her out of her meditative state? 

She didn't want that—her body was still pounding with need...

She pushed up on her elbows into a half-sitting position and twisted her head to look for Daly. They had unfinished business. He wasn't there, but Laroche was. Her heart pumped in her chest as she stared blankly at him. He was naked, and his black chest was covered with the same sheen of perspiration that stood out on his forehead. The realisation of what had happened hit her and she shook her head, once, twice, as if in denial.

"No," she grumbled, her voice croaky and hoarse. "We... couldn't... you couldn't..."

"Don't you remember how we started," he asked. His tone was so soft it was as if he was explaining something that should have been self explanatory. "We agreed that a pornographic actress indulges her body and a fashion model indulges her mind... and that both were essential in order to produce the highest quality of photographs. Yes?"

She blinked twice as she stared into his calm eyes. That was what they'd said...

"I asked you to indulge your mind and think of yourself as a pornographic actress. I said your ability to demonstrate that would determine the outcome of the assessment. I'd say you did that rather well, wouldn't you?"

She closed her eyes as if to check she wasn't still dreaming. This couldn't have happened, could it? He was playing with words... confusing her. "You tricked me..."

"No I didn't, Kirsten."His persuasive tone continued. "You know that, don't you? We agreed that a successful model needed to find the right mood for a shoot. I simply helped you find that mood. Sex is good, Kirsten. It stimulates the body as well as the mind. You did well, Kirsten. You've shown you have what it takes to become a successful model."

"But—" she mumbled. Laroche was running his hands along her long legs as he talked to her. His words made sense, but it was difficult to focus on them when his touch was heading straight to her needy sex. 

"But nothing, Kirsten," he continued, trailing the back of his fingertips back and forth along her inner thigh. "You successfully completed your assessment and you proved yourself capable of thinking like a successful model. You should be proud of yourself."

She slowly nodded. The soft touches along her skin had already found their way to her overheated sex. His nakedness should have horrified her, but his ebony skin against her white flesh was overwhelmingly sexy. Like a drug...

"And believe me, that uninhibited passion you have for sex is healthy. It's what makes the fashion industry go round, Kirsten. You mustn't deny that..."

She opened her legs wider to accommodate the twirling fingers. Was it because he was black? His hand was inches from her throbbing sex. Why didn't he touch her there? 

"I told you I'd guide you," he continued, taking a step closer. She felt faint as his erection brushed along her thighs. "You did the rest. Your body yearns for sex, Kirsten, but you're no longer in a meditative state. You have the freedom to do whatever you wish."

Her eyes glazed as she stared downwards. Cock in hand, Laroche was running the thick head of his crown along her wetness as he spoke. She groaned—a deep throaty noise from the back of her throat—and raised her buttocks to gain more friction. 

"Tell me what you want," he went on, teasing her wetness with his cock, threatening to enter and yet holding back. "What do you need?"

"I want..." she gasped, unable to say the words. This was torture.

"You want me to fuck you." 

Laroche finished the sentence for her as he gripped her hips and pushed the head of his cock inside her. Kirsten gasped aloud as she curled her feet behind his back. They stared at one another, the erotic silence crackling between them like electricity. Kirsten's were wide and alive with need. Neither moved other than her heels gently applying more pressure.

"Yes," she rasped, spitting out the word as her heels pulled him forward. Inch by inch, his thickness began to slide inside her. When Laroche pulled one of her legs up and over his shoulder, she wrapped her hands around his thighs and dug them into his flesh. Her aroused, breathy pants confirmed her need. There was no going back.

"Fuck me," she told him through gritted teeth. "Fuck ME...!"

Laroche's tongue licked along her ankle as her breasts rose and fell in anticipation. Nodding in satisfaction at the concealed camera over her shoulder, he slowly pulled her right leg over his other shoulder, settling it there while he bent forward to find a nipple with his teeth. She was gagging for it now, just as Carmella had told him she would.

"FUCK ME," she shouted again, this time without any prompting. The line had been crossed and all that mattered now was abandoning herself to that black cock...

Settling back on the table, her eyes slid down the contours of her body and found what she wanted. The way he slid in and out of her stimulated her need further.

"Fuck, yes," she grunted, beginning to thrust back. He wasn't as big as Daly, but he felt every bit as good. With each withdrawal, his manhood was glistening with her juices. She could feel every inch of his length as it filled her and she fucked him faster, harder—her urgency fuelling his. The table began to bounce.

Kirsten tightened her vaginal muscles around him, wanting to keep the warm, pulsating, veiny intruder right there, deep inside her. 

"Fuck me," she croaked. The words were little more than a gurgle. "Fuck me," she grunted again. "C'mon, fuck me..."

Laroche's eyes narrowed as he withdrew his hips and then slammed forward again. He repeated the action, bottoming out with each forward thrust. His balls slapped against her buttocks and yet it still wasn't enough.

"Harder," she grunted, locking her ankles around his neck so that she could power her ass off the table with each upward pump of her hips. "Harder."

Her full tits bounced on her body with each hard thrust. Laroche leaned forward to clutch them, squeezing them gently at first, and then harder. She stretched her slender body backwards, running her fingers through her luxurious hair as she humped back. 

Words left her and instead it was her wild eyes that spoke to him. Yes, like that...

Laroche grunted. The King of Porn was pleasuring his live audience as well as himself but he needed to pace himself to protect his reputation. The sexy bitch was coming back at him so hard he could only manage short bursts before catching his breath again. His large hands shifted from her tits to her hips, steadying her body against his machine like thrusts. 

"Oh shit. Oh shit... oh shit..." God, she was going to cum. Her curvaceous body bounced on the slim table and she just couldn't take it. She wanted him to stop, just to retain her focus. But she needed him to continue too. Her building orgasm wouldn't wait. 

Her eyes found their reflection in the ceiling mirror. She'd forgotten it was there. Oh fuck! The sight made her wail and gasp. Her hands covered his on her hips. Her feet tightened behind his neck and she watched herself pump upwards like the wanton bitch she was.

The orgasm exploded rather than simply broke. Her juices drenched his hard cock and the table. Her breath caught in her throat and it felt like her heart had stopped. Waves of rippling pleasure radiated form his sweating body into hers. Darkness descended, but she just held it off. She could feel, she could hear, but she could hardly breathe.

Laroche didn't let up. If anything, his paced quickened. For a few seconds he sent his trademark smile at the hidden camera. The meaning was well known amongst his regular followers. This time she was no longer a participant. She was his to be used...

His balls thumped against her buttocks like the loud beating of a clock. He knelt forward over her, their lips clashing for the first time in a hard passionate kiss. His face stayed inches away, his hot breath panting into her face as his hip thrusts continued in a lightning blur. 

Kirsten felt a second orgasm rolled through her body but it made no difference to the man above her. She could hear his animalistic grunts and wrapped her ankles around the nape of his neck, desperately trying to breathe. She was out of control. Her wails and grunts grew louder. Her eyes blinked and she saw Tony Daly's face. Then Wesley Snipes. Then she was back to reality, staring into the elderly man's eyes again. 

She'd never been fucked as hard or as rough as this. The third orgasm saw her howl like an animal...

Her eyes opened when she heard a familiar throaty growl. It was the sound of a male who could last no longer. His face was contorted into a black mask. His lips were biting on one another. She felt his cock balls tighten and his cock begin to vibrate. At the moment of truth, his head bent upwards to the ceiling as he roared, a beast in the wild discharging its hot seed onto the maiden he'd stolen, conquered and fucked. 

***

Sandra Wilson headed straight for the Slug and Lettuce pub after her meeting with Turner. He'd laid it on the line for her. If she didn't have that report with the budget cuts on his desk next Tuesday, he'd have no option other than to replace her. 

Thank goodness she'd managed to restrain herself and maintain her dignity. The urge to tell him where to stick his job had been overwhelming.

Her first gin and tonic hadn't lasted long and this glass wasn't going to, either. Then she'd have a third. She hadn't even gone back to her desk after the meeting with Turner—walking out of his office, through the secretaries and along the narrow corridor to the lift. Thirty seconds later, she'd been heading out of the building, replying politely to the 'good nights' she heard in her ear but without any recollection of who had said them.

She'd meet up with Jack Palmer on his return to England and seriously talk about life as a private investigator. Or maybe he'd have other thoughts on what she could do? She'd always valued his opinion. Until then—unless Kirsten discovered anything from her time with Carmella Santiago—she'd close the investigation.

They'd spent enough fruitless time on it, and by a quirk of fate she could use the Gala ball at Appleby's as a sign off to her life in the Met. She pulled the invitation out of her handbag and studied at it again. It was a work of art. If that was an indication of the type of evening that was in store, Alice was right about it being the social event of the year.

Her thoughts turned to Alex Goodwin and she cursed herself. She should have been able to have had a more productive discussion with him than that. What was wrong with her? 

She laughed to herself. What was wrong apart from being desperately tired, getting nowhere with any of her cases, working all the hours that God sent, and having that shit Turner all but confirm he was firing her?

Her fingers wrapped tightly around her glass as she downed the rest of her drink and waved at the bartender. Oh yeah, and if that lot wasn't enough, she was now in a permanent state of arousal. A bitch in heat! She'd stopped wondering why she was so permanently excited and instead focused on what she could do about it. Masturbating was no longer enough. 

She thought of Alex Goodwin again...

"Can I buy you a drink?" The voice came from the side of her just about to order a refill.

Her surprise increased as she turned towards him. The blonde haired kid couldn't have been much more than eighteen. Still, that cocky expression of youth on his face was cute.

"Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

There was that cocky smile again. "I've been watching you for the last half an hour."

Her immediate reaction was one of amusement, but there was no doubt that a flicker of heat ran through her. "You have? Shouldn't you be in school?"

The blush that ran across his face made her smile. As her response temporarily knocked him off guard, she had the opportunity to run her eyes across his body. A single glance took it all in. Apart from his unkempt, greasy hair, he fit her image of a clean cut kid. His red tee shirt under the thin leather jacket was thin enough to demonstrate a good physique and the reasonable sized bulge in his jeans left her wondering. 

The trouble was—despite the needs of her body—she was old enough to be his mother.

"You can afford to buy me one of these?" she teased, holding up her empty glass.

Instead of answering, he turned to the waiting bartender. "Same again for the lady. And another Bud."

Tilting his head, he switched his gaze back to Wilson. The way he carried himself and the way he smiled confirmed he was cocky, no doubt about that. 

"So," she said again. "School's out?"





Appleby Blush Ch. 08



Chapter 8: Marcia initiates Alice 

Donald Appleby replaced the phone and relaxed against the leather interior in the back of his limousine. The conversation with Emmanuel Nmobu couldn't have gone better. All that remained was for the two brothers to sign the contract and the biggest deal of his life would be finalised. That ceremony would take place during the forthcoming party at his house.

Immediately afterwards, he'd ensure that he met the brother's final request. Carmella was already putting the finishing touches to that...

He turned to Angela. After their late end to the day, he'd offered to drop her home as a reward for her diligence. That wasn't the only reason, of course.

"I don't think you've been in the limousine since that first time, have you?" he asked, flicking his ponytail in a gesture of quiet satisfaction. He was being provocative, he knew.

"No," she quietly whispered in that upper class voice of hers. He understood why she refused to look him in the eye. Her face had turned red, but that had nothing to do with the Appleby Blush. For the first time in their sexual relationship he hadn't fed her any tonight. 

The symmetry tickled him. She'd succumbed to him in the back of the limo that very first time primarily because he'd given her a dose of Blush. She might have been able to resist his persistent advances up to that point, but it hadn't been possible for her to withstand the effect of the aphrodisiac. In a few moments time she'd freely give herself to him because of the hold he'd established over her, rather than the effect of the aphrodisiac. His mind went back to those early days. Dinners, gifts, exotic locations, even thinly veiled threats had all failed to bring the desired result. She'd only recently married, she'd naïvely told him, and would never dream of cheating on her husband. Her stubborn resistance to his advances had been such that he doubted that—even with his persuasive powers and money—she would eventually have given in. Not that he cared... 

A single drop of Blush made the question hypothetical.

On the rare occasion a woman had resisted his advances, he'd instantly dismissed them from their well paid job. But this stunning black haired beauty was so stylish, so classy and so sexy that he'd persevered. Not the sharpest tool in the box, but her body more than made up for it. And she'd displayed a wild side even he could never have imagined.

"What made you give in?" he teased, even now unable to resist the opportunity to play with her. It made him feel more powerful. Even working as closely with him as she did, the Essex woman still had no idea of the existence of the liquid aphrodisiac.

"Donald..." she began in that posh accent of hers. Her sexy body shuffled on the seat beside him. "I... I don't know..." 

"Personally," he told her, running a hand over her knee. "I can't understand how you held out for so long. I assume your husband still has no idea of all the duties you perform for me?

"That's not fair..." she told him, sending a concerned look into his eyes. She'd never dream of upsetting him, but he knew she hated talking about her husband. It made her infidelity more real, and as ridiculous as it was, she tried to keep her sex sessions with Appleby separate from her life at home. 

"I understand," he told her, the hint of coldness in his voice confirming that nothing could be further from the truth. "Take your dress off, Angela."

The sideways glance she shot him was accompanied by a few second's hesitation. It was the only time since their first tryst that she'd shown any uncertainty. That was fine, he decided. Without the Blush to remove her inhibitions, this was another first step of sorts. And one he'd enjoy all the more because of that fact.

"Now," he prompted. The cold, hard tone brooked no argument. 

This time she reacted, although her movements were less certain than on previous occasions. Reaching behind her, she unzipped herself, keeping her unusually bashful eyes on an imaginary spot in front of her as she reached for the straps of her dress. She pulled them down until it was bunched around her waist. 

Appleby licked his lips as his gaze devoured her Playboy-like breasts that spilt over the top of her black plunge bra. Like much of her lingerie, it was one of his purchases. With a sexy twist of her body, she eased up and dragged the rest of the dress down her hips until it pooled on the floor beside her, revealing the skimpy matching panties.

The businessman's cock instantly lengthened. 

"Take it off," he said, nodding at her bra. She shouldn't have needed to be reminded.

This time her searching eyes did find his. Was that defiance he saw there? He was becoming irritated—maybe she'd need to be taught a lesson...

Her full breasts bounced free as she discarded the bra. Her nipples were already hard. Other than Carmella, had he ever seen such a sexy sight? His erection twitched.

"Now the panties," he impatiently told her, reminding himself to stay calm. He was becoming so used to having women under the influence of Blush that he'd almost forgotten how some conquests needed to be coerced. Still, that made it all the sweeter. Conquering a woman's mind was far more preferable than just feeding them the drug. 

The Blush simply helped ease the path to supremacy.

***

Marcia ordered another two Green Vesper's from the cute waitress in dimly lit bar. She'd chosen the location carefully and the small table in the far corner was perfect for their meeting. Couples were all around them—all women, such was the nature of the club—but there was no chance of being overheard. Everyone was concentrating on themselves. 

She'd used Alice's visit to the restrooms to surreptitiously add a drop of Blush to the blonde's first cocktail. It was all too evident from the young girls' dreamy eyes and flirty gestures that the aphrodisiac had already done its work. 

"It was a sexy night," she laughed, running her hand along the soft flesh of Alice's thigh. 

She'd already pushed the hem of the light blue dress so far up that the girl's panties were almost exposed. Instead of embarrassment, the arousal in Alice's sea blue eyes had increased further. She loved the way the girl's pale flesh was so different to her own tanned body. That erotic contrast would be even sexier when they were both naked... 

"Girl, you were so hot," she added, pushing her curvy body a little closer.

Alice giggled and opened her legs a little wider to accommodate the feather light touch. Her blonde hair bounced on her shoulders as she threw her head back and drained the remains of her second cocktail. Marcia wasn't only a sexy woman, she was so easy to talk to, too. She couldn't believe how much she'd already confided to the curly haired redhead. 

No one else in her circle of friend's knew about her one night stands, and confessing to Marcia in the corner of the intimate club increased her arousal further. Whatever the reason, she was really feeling it tonight. She'd elaborated a little on some of the stories, just to see if her new friend would be as turned on by them as she was. From Marcia's constant questions, and gleaming green eyes, it appeared she was.

Of course, she'd explained that her love of one-off sex was a personal preference. Confiding that she needed to keep her anonymity because she was a cop was a step too far...

"You were so hot too, Marcia" she replied, not the least embarrassed any longer to admit it. She pushed a hand through her hair in another flirty gesticulation. Memories of being fucked so comprehensively by Tony Daly filled her mind, but so did the recollection of the redhead's sexy body as she'd writhed on Alonso and taken him to yet another orgasm. 

Alice kept telling herself she wasn't into girls, but there wasn't any doubt that naked, with those full tits and array of curves, Marcia had made a mouth-watering impression.

Then there were the intimate moments she and the redhead had shared...

The kiss had been unexpected and maybe even hotter because of that. Marcia's lips felt softer, much different to any man she'd ever been with. So was the way the curly haired woman had instructed her to fuck Daly again while she'd rubbed Alice's clit. The cop still wasn't sure if it was Daly's cock that had got her off or what Marcia was doing to her. 

All she knew was that had been the strongest orgasm she'd had in a long time.

Marcia kept her hand on Alice's thigh when the waitress returned with their third set of cocktails. "Nice butt," she whispered, loud enough for the woman to hear as she placed their third set of Green Vesper's on the table beside them. The waitress sent the couple a cheeky grin as she turned away and Alice could swear she put an extra swing in her hips as she returned to the dimly lit bar area. 

"What did you think of Daly?" Marcia asked, returning her attention back to the blonde. "Have you ever had anyone as big?"

"Never," Alice said, with a sexy giggle. She'd been with lots of men but no-one had ever approached Daly's size. No wonder Kirsten had long held her fixation for black men. She felt guilty that she'd been the one who'd got it on with Daly rather than her fellow cop. She'd never be able to let that particular cat out of the bag.

"Wait 'til you have another black man," Marcia chuckled, stroking her fingers to within a fingernail of Alice's thong covered sex. Implanting the thought was essential in view of Carmella's plans at the party. "Other than being with a woman, being fucked by a black man is my favourite activity." 

Alice felt the flush of heat rise and flutter inside her. Other than being with a woman...

"God, this is good," she mumbled, slurping at her new drink so that she had time to gather her breath. It had suddenly grown very hot in there. 

Marcia took the glass from her, keeping her gaze firmly on Alice's as she made a show of taking a sip of the drink. Slipping her free hand around the blonde girl's neck, she pulled the young cop into a kiss and transferred the liquid from one mouth to the other.

Alice gasped as the redhead slowly eased their mouths apart. The tender kiss had reached all the way down to her toes. Marcia softly rested her forehead against Alice's, prolonging the intimate moment. "Remember what I told you?" she sexily breathed into the blonde's panting mouth. Her gleaming green eyes where sending out a clear message. 

Alice's eyes widened. She couldn't quite remember what Marcia had said. With this level of arousal consuming her, it was difficult to think clearly. Her heart was beating so fast she could hardly breathe. What she knew with an absolute certainty was that it was no longer a question as to whether she was going to have sex with the redhead. It was inevitable.

The redhead slid a finger onto Alice's thong, finding the curve of the blonde's labial lips and provocatively trailing her finger up and down the opening. She could feel the heat permeating from the blonde's sex as clearly as the panting breath on her face.

"I said you could have me next time," she explained, her eyes shining mischievously. "Well, girl..." She planted another soft kiss on those heart shaped lips. "Next time is now..."

***

There was no hesitancy now. Perched on his lap, Angela was demonstrating her wild side yet again. Now that she'd given in to him without the need for the artificial stimulant, it would make life so much more simple going forward.

Head back, eyes closed, arms around his neck, she undulated on him with as much need as she'd ever shown. Maybe this was a special moment for her, too, one that felt a different form of submission without the Blush inhabiting her body?

Her wonderful breasts were erotically bouncing in front of his face with each downthrust. His hands went up to still them, cupping the heavy mounds. Leaning forward, he swiped his tongue across one hard nipple and then the other, flicking them from side to side, just the way he'd come to learn that she liked.

Her mouth half opened as she gasped. "Yesss..." Even the hiss sounded upmarket.

She responded by tightening her internal muscles around his hard shaft and grinding herself even harder down on him. For a while, she indulged herself, savouring the delicious friction as her peach-like ass made tight little circles in his lap. 

She was gasping like a long distance runner. But then, he was too...

The pony tailed man redirected his hands to her slender hips to steady himself. He'd ceded control for long enough. Before she could prepare herself, he began to thrust upwards, grateful for the stamina of a younger man as he pile drove her in his lap. 

"Oh fuck," she grunted, the words coming out in a throaty warble. Sweat had broken out on her forehead and he could feel the perspiration on his.

He slowed for a few moments to gain a second wind and then began to thrust again, feeling his cock penetrate as far as he could go with each thrust. Once Angela had recovered from her surprise at the sudden ferocity, she went with him. Planting the soles of her feet on the limo floor, she flexed her legs and matched him thrust for thrust.

"Oh God," her vibrating voice gasped into his ear, over and over again. "Oh God... oh fuck... oh yeah... oh God..."

Appleby lost himself, driven on by her Blush-less surrender and the sight of those superb breasts dancing up and down infront of his face. Gripping her hips more tightly, he held her while she arched her body and threw herself backwards. Semi horizontal, her hands reached out wide to grab onto something—anything—that would help steady her pulsating body. 

One final glance at those heavy, animated tits did it for him. He came with a roar and jerked as he began to disgorge one shot after another of hot cum inside her sweet pussy. 

It was a roar of triumph...

***

"Make yourself comfortable," Marcia said casually, throwing her apartment keys onto the nearby table as she walked into her lounge. She dropped her red jacket on top of them and turned to watch Alice as the young blonde stared goggle-eyed around the huge room.

"This is incredible..." Alice gasped. Her blue eyes were alive with excitement, like a child experiencing Disneyworld for the first time. "It's really yours?"

"All mine," Marcia told her, crossing her arms over her chest as she leant back against the table. Her West End apartment was impressive, courtesy of Carmella Santiago. As long as she remained in Appleby's employment, she'd be allowed to live here. The hidden cameras were only in operation for times like this, when 'evidence' was to be collected on someone particularly useful to their operation. "Appleby models are well paid, Alice."

The young cop nodded as she removed her own jacket. Marcia green eyes smiled as her young guest wandered around, mesmerised by the spacious room. The light green walls perfectly matched the mostly antique furniture and the plants, cleverly positioned around the room, added a nice, homely look. The suggestive photographs of women adorning the walls had been Marcia's own choice.

"Want a tour?" she asked, walking across to take Alice's jacket from the blonde's arm and nonchalantly dropped it on to a chair. She slipped an arm around the blonde woman's waist as she led her to a room to their left. "I don't spend much time in here," she chuckled, nodding around the state of the art kitchen.

"You don't?" Alice laughed. "I would. I love cooking."

Marcia tightened her grip on her waist. "Well, well," she giggled. "Who would have thought—domesticated as well as sexy. D'you fancy cooking a meal for us?" The look on Alice's face made her laugh out loud. "Not now, girl, I have other things in mind. Next week, maybe? I'll supply the drink and you bring the food."

Alice nodded eagerly. "It's a deal."

"Good," Marcia smiled, walking to the large, American style refrigerator and removing a bottle of chilled Chablis. She poured two glasses and handed one to her guest. "C'mon, there's more..."

The fabulous bathroom was next.

"You've got to be joking," Alice gasped, staring around the Victorian style room. "This is bigger than my whole apartment." Her head swung around the room. "Look at the cast iron bathtub... the shower... God, I love those mirrors... those two sinks... and you even have a bidet..."

"Slow down," Marcia laughed, taking her hand. Impressing the young girl was only part of this. She wanted to get to the bedroom. Two other rooms came first, each provoking similar reactions, before she moved onto the coup de grâce. 

"Oh... My... God..." Alice gurgled, struggling for breath. Her eyes were as large as saucers as she took a huge drink from her wine. "This is incredible..."

The ornate, four-poster bed dominated the room, with every other item of furniture playing off the large bed. It made the perfect setting for the hidden filming that occasionally took place, supported by the ornate mirrored ceiling that never failed to enhance the regular fucking sessions that took place in the large four-poster.

Marcia pushed the bedroom door closed behind them and handed Alice her glass. "Hold this," she simply said, pressing her curves against the blonde as she pushed her back against the bedroom door. "Tell me," she softly said, her glossy red lips so close that both women could feel the others breath. "Have you ever been fucked in a four poster?"

Alice held a glass in each hand, keeping them either side of the redhead's body as she shook her head. Her voice was thick and husky. "No..."

Marcia rested their foreheads against one another. Her hands dropped to Alice's hips. "And you said you've never been fucked by a woman?"

She watched as the blonde's heavy breathing increase in line with her electrifying line of questioning. But that was the point, after all. Their mouths were so close that their breaths intermingled. Alice's excited sea blue eyes were speaking to her and that enthralled gaze provided every answer she was looking for.

"Then tonight..." she continued, whispering breathily into the young woman's attractive mouth. Those lips were so inviting. "You have a double treat waiting. Want to kiss me?"

Alice felt light headed. Tilting her head, her mouth found those sexy red lips. It was a soft kiss at first, with Marcia allowing her to make the running. Everything was in slow motion and she grunted into Marcia's mouth as their noses nuzzled. As the flames of passion were gradually ignited, the intensity increased and their flicking tongues joined the action.

Marcia's fingers found the hem of Alice's dress and the hands holding the wine glasses over her shoulders began to tremble. She had the cop pinned against the door as pushed her full breasts against her. Their mouths collided, urgent, as her hand snaked underneath Alice's dress. Alice was gasping as it continued its unavoidable path, sliding to the waistband of her thong and then down inside while they made out like two bitches on heat. 

"You're mine," she provocatively whispered, licking her way from Alice's mouth, down her chin, across her neck and nipping at her earlobe. "Not just tonight. Always."

The Blush made it inevitable that any suggestions firmly resonated inside the victim. Alice would regularly think of those words in future, as if belonging to Marcia was an inescapable fact. All that remained was to reinforce those thoughts with actions and Alice's gratifying carnal response to the first step had even the experienced redhead panting in anticipation of what was to come. 

She teasingly skimmed her fingers along the ridge of Alice's wet labia, her soft movements matching the lightness of her lips as she kissed her way across the tender flesh of the blonde's neck. The girl had raised her head, allowing her full access and was pushing her hips forward to gain a better contact with the two stiffened fingers inside her needy pussy.




Appleby Blush Ch. 08



"Uh goddd," she cried as her body overheated. She was sure she was going to drop the two half full glasses as her climax approached. Marcia recognised the moment and curled the fingers in search of the blonde's g-spot. When she lightly thumbed the young cop's clit, Alice sent out a series of throaty groans as the orgasm broke.

The glasses hit the floor.

***

Sandra Wilson balanced on her toes like a ballerina, stretching her body as she stared at herself in the long bedroom mirror. There were things inside her she couldn't explain. 

This felt like going on a date again and yet that was the last thing her logical mind wanted. Her body was desperate to be fucked again, but tonight was not the night.

Her idea of meeting Alex Goodwin for a curry was in part her way of making up for what had happened between them. She'd treated him badly by not talking to him about her visit to see him and their subsequent sex. But his emotional attachment to her had always frightened her. It still did. Perhaps it was her guilt that insisted she tell him face-to-face about her decision to leave the Met—to jump before she was pushed.

And what better way to do that than over an innocent curry in one of her favourite Indian restaurants? It was important to her that she was the one to break the news before any of the rumours broke surface. Rumours spread like wildfire in the Met offices. Plus she needed to tell him she was closing the investigation. What a waste of time that had proven to be.

She hoped Alex didn't have any other expectations of the evening than a harmless chat between two friends. The one thing she was clear on was that she wanted Goodwin as her friend again. How could you continue to ignore someone as loyal and devoted as the barrel chested goon? Okay, he could be gruff and to the point, but that was what made Alex what he was. That side of him often infuriated her, but she loved it, too.

Then why, she suddenly asked herself as she smoothed the red dress across her flat stomach, had she put so much effort into looking as good as she did? Her reflection in the mirror told her she looked hot, and the flush of excitement on her face complimented the colour of her dress. Not only that, but this was the same red dress she'd worn to the open night at Appleby's modelling agency. And the same one she'd fucked Goodwin in.

She swung away from the mirror in disgust. Everything was crowding in on her, she admitted to herself. That was why she was experiencing such a variety of contrasting thoughts. And that was why she'd allowed that young teenager to fuck her last night.

Pin pricks of arousal overwhelmed her body at the excited recollection of their hot encounter, at the same time as her confused mind recoiled in disgust. On the one hand, the sheer, utter wickedness of their dangerous sex still sent shivers through her. Even at the peak of her affair with Goodwin—when discovery would have seen both of them publicly disciplined— the incredible exhilaration hadn't reached the levels of last night's brief tryst. 

The hand job, the feel of his young hard flesh, the enthusiastically boyish yet very grown up way he'd fucked her. Out in the open, too...

Yet... every one of her experienced cop's instincts inside her mind screamed that she should never, ever, have placed herself in a compromising situation. What if she'd been seen, recognised? It would have become public or worse still, her one-off mistake could have been taken advantage of by anyone unscrupulous enough to do so.

How fucking stupid had she been? What the hell had got into her?

Her hazel coloured eyes glanced down her body, but she hadn't needed to look to know that her nipples had begun to pierce through the thin material of her dress. She needed sex, again, there was no doubt about that. And Alex Goodwin was much the safest option. But she'd have to be careful tonight. The idea was to win him back as a good friend, first. 

After that, well... she'd see.

***

"You don't believe in wasting much time," Alice mumbled. Her pale face was covered in the sort of heavy blush that came with the heady mixture of embarrassed excitement.

Marcia just stared at her, that mischievous look of smiling arousal all too evident in her green eyes. She raised an eyebrow that reminded the blonde this was just the start.

Alice pulled her gaze away as another heated flush ran through her and glanced down at the stain on the floor. Neither glass had broken but wine was splattered across the plush carpet.

"I'm... I'm so sorry—" she began. Her nostrils flared as she forced air into her lungs, trying to come to terms with what was happening, to present a calm, collected exterior when inside her body was screaming out for more.

It seemed that Marcia understood. Grabbing her hand, she pulled the blonde across to the four-poster and roughly pushed her flat onto the bed. Ignoring Alice's gasp, she crawled onto the multi coloured sheet beside her and threw a leg across the young cop's lap. Sitting there, she half stretched her curvy body so that she could reach the bedside table, she giggled as she removed a baggy filled with white powder.

Alice's stomach bottomed out and all of a sudden, a searing heat shot through her body and out of the top of her head. Marcia had dipped her long fingernail of her pinky into the bag, scooping a bit of the coke on the end and sniffing it quickly. Her glistening green eyes never left Alice's.

The blonde licked her lips, once again remembering the sensation at the modelling agency. And her temptations the other night. How could anything so good be bad? What was the big deal, anyway? 

Marcia's fingernail returned to the baggy. Light flashed through her eyes. She held her coke-covered nail to the cop without a word. The blonde licked her lips, felt heat dance across her scalp, and leaned forward.

"Are you sure?" Marcia asked at the last second, pulling her hand away. Pulling the drug away. 

Alice felt a flash of annoyance, silenced quickly as Marcia closed her glossy red lips over Alice's cute mouth and stunned her with a passionate kiss. It was hard, wet and sexy. Just as the blonde's tongue responded with the same aggression, Marcia sat back upwards. Again, the drug was there, tempting. 

"You'll love it," the redhead reassured. This time, she didn't draw back as Alice leaned forward. She lifted her finger and held it against the young blonde's nostril. Just as Alice did the unthinkable—snort the powdery chemical—Marcia stroked the girl's sex through the damp thong. When the young blonde gasped, involuntarily raising her ass from the bed, Marcia pushed her finger into the blonde's mouth and the girl began to suck.

"That's a good girl," Marcia breathily murmured. Pulling her finger away from Alice's mouth, she sucked the wet residue into her own mouth before adjusting position on the blonde's lap. Suddenly both hands were on Alice's dress, her wide green eyes gleaming in that sexy way that was becoming so familiar. She held the cop's gaze as she began to undo each button, raising herself a fraction so that she could pull both sides of the dress open.

"Marcia..." Alice grunted, her chest heaving.

The redhead responded by ripping Alice's bra cups upwards and the blonde's body jerked.

"Oh fuck, Marcia..."

"Exactly," the redhead sexily murmured, bending her head to one of those modest sized tits. The contrast between Alice's pale flesh and her tanned skin was so sexy.

Before attacking the hard bud, her knowing eyes slithered back up her willing captive's body to meet her hot gaze. They talked to the blonde, telling her dirty things about what was going to happen tonight. Holding the gaze, she let Alice watch her sweet lips open and suck the small, dark nipple into her mouth.

The young cop moaned like an animal on heat. Her body began to move, seeking as much contact with the redhead as she could. Marcia's mouth didn't so much suck on her hard bud, it fucked it. When the redhead pulled it between her teeth, her body jerked.

"You've been naughty," Marcia whispered, sliding her mouth away. She licked her way back upwards towards Alice's lips, but stopped a tongue's lick away. "You didn't tell me you were a cop."

This time the shudder that ran through the blonde's body was shock rather than arousal. 

"I don't mind," Marcia whispered. Her husky voice was low and persuasive "It's kind of sexy seducing a cop, especially one who likes coke and sex. Quite a potent combination..."

Alice's heart palpitated. Her cover was blown wide open. Marcia could see the panic in her sexy eyes. The Blush and cocaine inside her body would make it difficult for the girl to think clearly. The redhead's timing, as usual, was perfect.

"You're secret is safe with me," she told her, adjusting her body so that she could fit her thong covered pussy against Alice's. Give the girl some reassurance whilst upping the sexual temperature. "I understand," she breathed, pulling one of the blonde's legs up to her shoulder. "The Met don't know you're trying to get yourself into the fashion industry. You want to see how far you can make it before you say anything. That's good."

Relief flooded through Alice's eyes a fraction of a second before Marcia began to grind. The look of relief turned to one of heat as the redhead began to move her hips. 

The teasingly slow pace made her feel suddenly faint...

"Being a cop is very sexy," Marcia whispered as her padded pubic bone found Alice's clit. "I hope you have a uniform. I've always dreamed of fucking a cop in a uniform."

Words wouldn't come. Alice began to pant.

"And handcuffs," Marcia added, her hot breath burning Alice's skin. "Being fucked when you're tied up is so very sexy..."

Alice tried to speak, but she could only grunt. 

Within seconds the slow pace had changed and the redhead on her lap was circling her hips faster, increasing the intensity. Holding Alice's raised leg against her shoulder, she gripped the cop's toned ass as her pumping hips upped the ante. 

"Come on, girl," she gasped to the blonde. "Show me how hot you can be."

The words hit the spot. Marcia could see that in those sexy sea blue eyes. Alice's slowly undulating hips moved faster, seeking out and then matching the pace. Grabbing Marcia's leg, she leveraged herself under the moaning woman and increased the friction.

"Oh, fuck, yes..." Marcia grunted. The sexy blonde was every bit as hot as she'd expected and they were only just beginning. The night was young...

Reaching out, she roughly yanked the blonde hair. Alice screamed, "Yesss..." as her nerve ends triggered. Her body vibrated.

"You like it rough?" Marcia rasped, feeling the heat overpowering her own curvy body as well as the blonde's. Her grip on the blonde hair tightened as her free hand slid downwards and danced across both their clits. 

"Oh fuck... oh, God..." Alice's thighs started to shake and her throbbing, drug fuelled body couldn't hold back. 

This time she screamed out her orgasm...

***

"I appreciate this, Alex," Brendan Kaminski said, as Goodwin negotiated the heavy London traffic. He hadn't really needed the lift, but it gave him the opportunity to keep himself up to date with the Vice Squad's investigation. From what he'd learned so far, the schmucks hadn't found a single thing. "Where did you say you were heading again?"

"I didn't," Goodwin said. His mind was on other things. He was only around fifteen minutes away from the Moti Mahal Indian restaurant in Covent Garden and had mixed feelings about his meeting with Sandra Wilson. 

For a start, why the fuck hadn't he taken a taxi? He wouldn't have had to listen to Kaminski drivel on, and could have had a few beers. A curry without beer wasn't worth having, was it? Except... he wanted to be on his best behaviour tonight. 

Besides, he knew a few of the traffic boys. If he had one or two beers, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. If he was stopped by them, a word or two in their ear would be all it took. No, what was more of a concern to him was the conversation he was about to have with Sandra Wilson. She could have spoken to him in the office, why did she want to talk to him over a curry? At the back of his head, he wondered if sex was on her mind again.

Was that why he'd brought his car—to make it easier to go somewhere more private? 

Kaminski's nudging arm stirred him from his thoughts. The Homicide cop whistled through his teeth as he craned his neck to stare out of the window. "Hot, eh?" he gurgled, slapping his thigh as they drove past three young girls dressed only in skimpy tops and miniskirts. 

Goodwin ignored the comment. It was typically Kaminski.

"So," the Homicide cop continued, swinging back into his seat and checking their location out of the window. "You have nothing else to tell me? Just that the investigation is all but closed? Bit of a waste of time, wasn't it, all this?"

Goodwin forced back his anger at the patronising question and slammed his foot on the brakes. He'd almost overrun the lights. Tossing Kaminski a frustrated glance, he waited until they turned to green before he spoke again. "It's never a waste of time, Brendan," he spat out, unable to disguise his irritation. "You should know that."

It wasn't just Kaminski's comment that troubled him. It was his attitude, too. The cop seemed to be taking a delight in their failure. But then again, there was more than a grain of truth in what he'd said. It had all been a waste of time. Basing a mission on nothing more than a hunch had been a mistake—and a big one at that. Maybe the stress that Wilson was under had been evident even then? Her judgement had certainly been faulty...

It was partly his fault, too. Sandra had asked him to help, told him she valued his support. He should have recognised the signs instead of jumping onboard like a love struck teenager. The way he'd felt had blinded him. He should have been more alert. Had he been able to think logically, he could have counselled her more wisely.

His head was beginning to ache. Other than providing information on the open night, Kaminski hadn't offered much of value to their supposed partnership. In hindsight, there hadn't been any point in involving him. It had only increased the risk of something leaking out on their investigation and that would have harmed Sandra immensely.

He turned to snarl something at the Homicide cop but Kaminski beat him to it. "Drop me over there," he was saying. "By the pub. How's Alice by the way?"

"She's good," Goodwin snapped. He had no intention of talking to Kaminski about his daughter. He might have had doubts about her inexperience to handle the case—going undercover was a task for senior, experienced professionals, not rookies learning their trade—yet she'd shown a maturity beyond her tender years. 

He was proud of her.

***

Alice's eyes burned into the sexy redhead's.

That same look was in Marcia's sparkling eyes again—the one that promised so much. Neither woman spoke. Only their heavy panting filled the bedroom. The redhead was every bit as excited as she was and that pushed her own arousal levels even higher.

She pushed up on her elbows, glancing down her own body as she did so. Her crumpled dress was wide open, her juice covered thong was pulled to the side and her bra was around her neck. The sight should have made her feel ridiculous, she thought, but instead the sluttiness of her appearance only inflamed her further. 

So did the sight not more than a few feet away from her. Marcia's naked body was spectacular. Maybe it was her diminutive height that accentuated her curves? She could have stepped right out of a Playboy magazine. Her large breasts hung perfectly on her tanned frame and those light pink nipples melded with her freckled skin.

They were hard and erect—and suckable.

But the redhead's nakedness wasn't the only reason for the heavy thumping in Alice's heart. It was the large strap on dildo that she'd just watched Marcia fasten around her hips. It flapped lewdly in front of her as the redhead rubbed up and down the shaft with her hand. One thing was for sure, she wouldn't need any help to take it inside. Her flowing wet juices would be enough to do the trick...

And now she was moving towards the bed, reaching out to hook her fingers into Alice's thong and dragging it down her body. Pulling the young woman's legs so that they spilled over the edge of the bed, she sank to her knees on the lush carpet. 

"I want this," she breathed, running her thumb across the cop's wet folds. Alice groaned. When Marcia's soft tongue ran along the trembling inner thigh, she lifted a leg and placed it on the redhead's shoulder. Marcia smiled approvingly. "I guess you want it, too," she growled.

Leaning forward between the wonderfully spread thighs, she ran her tongue across those juice covered labial lips, savouring the texture and the taste. Alice grunted, her body shuddered, her hands found Marcia's red curls and then she couldn't hold back.

"So quick," the redhead softly murmured, lapping at the tasty orgasmic juices like a cat slurping from its bowl of milk. Alice's body twitched with each sweep of the magical tongue. Raising her head for a brief moment, until the blonde was forced to look downwards into her hot gaze, she grinned. "You want Marcia's tongue to give you another?"

Without waiting for an answer, she went back to work, licking faster, changing the pace. Not content with the throbbing sex, she worked her tongue from Alice's pussy all the way to the little rosebud between her tight little buttocks and then back again.  

The blonde whimpered and jerked as if she was being given an electric shock. She tried to say something but it came out in an unintelligible moan. 

Marcia understood.

She pulled Alice's other leg over her shoulder, creating an even sexier target to work on. Her tongue wasn't still, licking up and down that sensitive crevice, jabbing inside the cop's hot pussy, lapping around and then sucking in that needy clit. 

"Oh God... please... yes..."

She didn't let up. By the time she was finished, the helpless to resist blonde would be totally under her spell. The young cop's head shook violently from side to side as she brought her to the boil again. 

"Fuck... don't stop... don't stop..." 

She didn't. Fingers joined her tongue. She knew exactly what to do, where to go, how much pressure to apply. Her experienced touch was perfect—playful, wet and mischievous as she tantalised and teased the blonde's erogenous zones. 

Three stabs in the puckered opening were enough to make Alice shriek again.

***

Kirsten Tobin lay in her hot bath, her juice covered black dildo temporarily lying on the edge of the tub. That last orgasm had been sensational. She poured more bubble bath into the bath and turned on the hot tap. It would replace the water that had splayed over the sides and onto the floor as she'd climaxed.

She'd used 'Wesley' daily since she'd purchased it. Last night's workout, after she'd returned from Paris, must have lasted a good couple of hours. And here she was, less than twenty four hours later, putting 'him' through his paces again.

She'd thought of naming the phallus after Tony Daly. After all, he was her first. Then she'd decided to christen it after Pierre Laroche. The Paris experience had been unbelievably hot. But Wesley Snipes had been her first 'love', her initial masturbatory fantasy, the person who—in some odd way—had sparked her desires and made everything possible.

So 'Wesley' it was...

With each usage, her fantasies grew wilder. Nothing could beat the feeling of being fucked by Tony Daly that first time in the studio. The sexy way he'd stepped unannounced into the shower with her! The feel of his body as she'd soaped and then gone down on him! The way he'd subsequently fucked her in every conceivable position. Not only had that been an experience to savour, but it was one she intended to repeat on a regular basis.




Appleby Blush Ch. 08



Then there was the elderly Pierre Laroche. He was old enough to be her father. Heck, he was almost old enough to be her grandfather. Had he really done all those things to her while he'd put her under? Had he really hypnotised and done everything apart from fucking her? The thought of being taken against her will was strangely erotic.

But it hadn't actually been against her will, had it? Then there were the feelings engendered by the voice. She'd really thought she was being watched and the appeal of that wanton thought had increased ever since. It was another fantasy she intended to fulfil.

When the French doctor had eventually brought her out of her trance, she hadn't just given in and let him fuck her—she'd practically begged him to.

The sexy thoughts inflamed her further. When she'd climaxed in the hot bath, both Daly and Laroche were there with her, taking turns with her. One had fucked her while she'd sucked the other's cock. Then they'd changed places. She'd even visualised being sandwiched between them, giving her pussy and ass at the same time. Ass-fucking had never appealed to her. Now she was wondering...

Carmella had painted a rosy picture of her future during their flight back—her plans for Kirsten as a model. How successful she was going to be and how she was going to take her with her to the New York Fashion Show. A catwalk debut there, she'd told her, would provide a wonderful platform for her future.

She'd have to resign from the Met, naturally. But that course of action had been growing in her mind for long enough now. Poor pay, undervalued, little job satisfaction. She loved Sandra Wilson to death, but who wanted to be in her position? Thank goodness Carmella had no idea she was a cop, or that she'd been investigating them. That thought haunted her but once she'd left the Met to start her new career, she'd be able to put all that behind her.

Her Columbian mentor had gone into some detail about the party, as well. She'd explained what lay in store, what Kirsten would enjoy, and how she would make it all happen for her. My God, she thought, it would fulfil all her current fantasies. The pace of her breathing sharpened. One hand went to her breasts while the other reached for 'Wesley' again...

***

Alice lay back on the bed, grunting incoherently as Marcia thrust the thick phallus inside her and then withdrew.

"I promise you," the redhead had told her when she'd entered her. "You'll never forget the first time Marcia fucks you..."

She now knew it wasn't an idle boast.

"Oh fuck," she gasped again, throwing her head back onto the pillow.

"Exactly," Marcia chuckled as she paused to bend forward and slide her tongue inside Alice's mouth. 

Even in the missionary position, the redhead was the most inventive lover Alice had ever experienced. She was never still—leaning forward to plant more kisses on her lips and neck, sitting up so that her full breasts danced so erotically, leaning back and grabbing her ankles so that Alice had a clear view of their union.

Each shift in position brought a different angle and with it a different friction. Alice had climaxed twice already on the thrusting dildo and the sensations in her body confirmed that a third wasn't too far away. She began to whimper again. 

Marcia thrust harder. She'd already explained to her conquest that the vibrating dong she inserted into her own sex resulted in her experiencing almost every sensation Alice was feeling. The knowledge enhanced both their bliss like states.

"Oh fuck..." Alice moaned again. The feelings were becoming just too much again, and once the orgasm began she knew it wouldn't stop. 

Marcia bent down and allowed Alice to lap at the sweat glistening on her forehead. That was the third time she'd done that and each time she rewarded the blonde with a series of machine-gun like thrusts. Alice whimpered again.

Quite how a woman could prefer a strap on to a real cock, she'd never understood. It was very clear now. She wrapped her legs around the redhead's back, urging her on. Her hips thrust upwards, pushing up to meet Marcia's hard strokes in a rhythm so perfect she was on the verge of screaming with joy. Maybe that had something to do with the second hit of coke, this time done properly, with a line and a straw and a very illegal snort?

She didn't know and she didn't care.

"Another one," she heard the throaty growl in her ear. "C'mon, girl. One more... one more for Marcia."

The orgasm started when the redhead licked her neck and as the full force began to unleash itself, she began to wail...

***

Carmella Santiago luxuriated contentedly in the lounger beside their indoor swimming pool. It was the perfect setting for her to relax, enjoy some champagne and finish all those phone calls required to ensure that all arrangements for the forthcoming Gala party were finalised. 

She'd made so many calls that the mobile lying on the tiled floor beside her was almost out of battery. The marquees were already erected, the music, food and drink was organised, the helpers for the evening were arranged and security was in place. 

And of course, there would be plentiful supplies of Blush and cocaine.

That last thought reminded her. Twisting her nigh perfect body in the lounger, she reached for the dish beside her and gathered her perfectly groomed hair into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. Leaning forward and bending low, she took the silver tube and snorted one powdered row for each nostril. Fuck, yesss...

Her nipples hardened as the rush hit her. Pushing up so that she sat on the edge of the lounger, she allowed the wonderfully exhilarating feeling to wash over her. She'd never tire of that sensation and the thought of introducing a few innocents to it at the party enhanced the satisfaction inside her. She so loved corrupting the naïve. Sometimes she wondered if that pleasure exceeded the gratification gained from enhancing their business interests.

Rising to her feet, she felt her body glowing as she stepped to the pool's edge. Stretching her fabulous figure in her tiny striped bikini, as if posing for a photographer, she dived fluidly and gracefully into the heated water.

Her thoughts wandered to Kirsten as she swam. Their Paris visit had been an outstanding success. The live broadcast had again achieved a record number of hits, resulting in even more revenue finding its way into the Appleby coffers. 

But Carmella was too shrewd an operator to only think in such simple terms. The bigger picture told her that Kirsten's usefulness lay in her worth as an escort to the rich and famous. Once she became recognised worldwide as a sought after model, that value would be vastly enhanced. The New York Fashion Show would be the first step.

She completed her third lap and then pulled herself up to the pool's edge. Gracefully climbing out onto the heated tiled floor, she allowed the water to run down her bikini covered body as she reached for a towel. Then there was Alice... 

The young blonde's importance to the Appleby Empire would be through her role in the London Met Vice Squad, although they'd supplement that through occasional modelling assignments. Just to pull the blonde even deeper into their world. 

Not that she'd willingly give them information, of course. Unlike the Brendan Kaminski's of this world, the young girl had ethics. But acquiring information through a permanent lover was a routine they'd perfected on several occasions. 

Marcia would be well advanced in the process of establishing that relationship right now, all recorded by the hidden camera for future use, if necessary. The thought sent a lick of sexual heat through her. Donald would be home soon and the recordings from Marcia's apartment would serve as an invigorating backdrop to their lovemaking tonight.

Watching real life conquests on the large screen in their bedroom while they fucked always made the night extra special.

***

The evening hadn't quite gone as Sandra Wilson had hoped. She'd been nervous and so had Goodwin. Instead of one of the intimate conversations she remembered so well, the atmosphere had been tense at times, with them both skirting around one another.

Not that it would take much to get them both on the same wavelength again—just a clear the air conversation about the other night, and about their feelings. And it was a conversation that was long overdue. But however much she needed sex, she wasn't sure whether resurrecting anything between them was a forward or backward step. 

The look in Goodwin's eyes confirmed he was still in love with her and while that devotion gave some comfort, she just wasn't capable of dealing with emotional entanglement right now. Even though the burning need inside her body just wouldn't go away...

Her frustrated sigh seemed to echo around the restaurant. Maybe it was better to change the subject? "I'm leaving the Met, Alex," she said, pulling a face.

He put down the diet coke he was drinking. She'd teased him about that all night—Alex Goodwin without a pint in his hand took some getting used to. Maybe he'd been trying to create a good impression? Her eyes carefully stayed on his, evaluating his reaction to her statement. He wasn't surprised.

"I've seen it coming but you don't have to," he quietly said, reaching across to touch her hand. "If you do what Turner wants then—"

A shake of her head stopped his objection. "Don't go there, Alex. What he wants is wrong. It's based on personal gain, not what's best for the force. I can't be part of that."

He nodded, his grey eyes blazing. "Fight him, then," he instantly retorted. 

That was more like it, Wilson thought. People like Alex Goodwin didn't give anything up without a fight. She smiled wryly over the top of her glass, idly running her finger around the rim. It was a good idea but destined to failure. She was realistic enough to recognise that. "We both know I can't win that one. He's too powerful."

Goodwin grunted. "I'll help you, Sandra. I'll—"

"No, Alex!" She snapped out the words, angry at something. Turner? Goodwin? Herself? Alex was close to retirement and he'd need that pension. She couldn't let him fuck that up, not for her. "We're both too long in the tooth to pretend to one another. There's not a thing you, I, or anyone else can do. Beside, my decision's made."

He pushed back in his chair, searching for something to say but unable to find the words. The look he shot her was one of resigned acceptance. "What will you do?"

She drained the rest of her wine and shrugged. "I'm going to speak to Jack Palmer and see what he thinks. Maybe being a PI is worth considering? Life on that side of the fence can't be any worse than this. The one thing I'm not going to do is to allow Turner the satisfaction of getting rid of me. I'm seeing Sir Peter Richardson next week to tell him I'm resigning. I just haven't decided exactly what to say yet."

The weary shake of his head indicated Goodwin's frustration. But he understood and that was good. When he leaned forward and squeezed her hand, she realised he'd still been holding it. "Sandra, you know I'd do anything for you..."

"I know that, Alex." Wilson turned her head away. Stop looking at me like that. She could feel the heat between her thighs—would it never go away?

"I'm serious," he told her. This was the caring side of him that other's rarely saw. Most people didn't get past his gruff exterior and his grunt. "I'll go with you to see Richardson, show him my support..."

"Don't, Alex," she rasped. The last thing she needed right now was any tenderness. If he just told her she was being a fool and that she was stupid, they could have a row and she could stomp out of there and head home. That would make life easier. Her vibrator was waiting, that would take care of her body's needs. Those needs were growing.

"It's so fucking wrong," he grunted, closing a second hand around hers. "Look, you have to do what's right for you, Sandra. But whatever help you need, you just say. I know you hate being pushed, so I'll back off." His hands gently squeezed hers. "But from one good friend to another, you know I'm here for you. Okay?"

Wilson closed her legs and squeezed her thighs together. Oh fuck. Don't, Sandra, she told herself. Don't!

***

It was just like giving head to a man. No, it was better than that. The heady experience of giving a blow job to a woman was somehow sexier, especially when that woman was Marcia. The redhead's throaty groans drove her on...

"That's a good girl. Just like that," Marcia encouraged. 

She ran her fingers through the hot little cop's blonde hair, attempting to guide her movements, but Alice didn't need or want any help. She was fully into this and the thought of making Marcia cum this way had her own libido ready to burst into flames.

Every so often she eased the pressure, provocatively licking her lips and savouring her own flavour from the juices still on the strap on phallus. But then Marcia's hands would drag her head back to her task again and the redhead's need transmitted itself to her own sex again.

"Oh, yesss, girl..."

Alice's fingers shook with excitement as she stretched them as far around the phallic monster as they would go. Her pink lips devoured the cock, swallowing it deep into the back of her throat and then easing back so that she could lick around the big, purple crown. The sweet taste of her own juices was infectious. So were Marcia's grunts.

"Yes, babygirl... just like that..."

The redhead fell back onto her elbows, allowing Alice full control. The blonde cop murmured her approval as she lost herself. Her mouth practised everything that men enjoyed, but with more emphasis on the things that made Marcia moan loudest. She loved sucking cock but had it ever been as arousing as this?

She choked a little as Marcia bucked her hips off the bed, shoving her cock deeper into her throat. The redhead scrambled up, pushing her young lover backwards as she half squatted on one knee and gently began to fuck her mouth. Alice gagged again, but quickly adjusted. One hand went up to the redhead's breasts, cupping and squeezing as her other hand corkscrewed around the hard phallus, keeping it in place. 

"You're the best little cocksucker I've ever had," Marcia told her as she grabbed her blonde hair again and pulled her upwards for a heated kiss. 

One of Alice's hands found Marcia's nipple while the other stroked her cock. She couldn't get enough. "Fuck me again," she grunted, sinking down onto her elbows and deliberately raising her perfect, peach-like buttocks. She'd scream in frustration if the redhead didn't get that cock inside her right now. Glancing back over her shoulder, she sent Marcia a smouldering look. "Fuck me. Please..." 

Marcia's green eyes gleamed with the heat of the moment. "So the little girl wants to play," she murmured, moving into position behind Alice's body. "Like this?" She began to rub the phallus along her heated furrow, purring like a cat with each stroke. 

"Yes," Alice grunted, breathing heavily as she gently pushed back against her friend. That was exactly what she wanted. 

Marcia gently adjusted the angle as her right hand snaked down between them. When she eased the cock home, their simultaneous groans spilt the air. The young blonde's body was so wet that she entered immediately. She stroked Alice's trembling hips as she began to thrust.

Alice moaned. "Oh, fuck, yes. Harder..."

Marcia moved faster. The heat in both their bodies told them this wouldn't last long. She drew backwards until she was almost free before powering forward again. 

"Oh fuck..."

"Take it," Marcia grunted, increasing the pace. "You like that?"

Alice looked back over her shoulder again and nodded. "Fuck me," she repeated, although the words came out as a whisper. "Fuck me..."

Marcia obliged. Her grip on Alice's hips tightened as her forward momentum began to build. Alice's eyes didn't leave hers as she stared backwards. The young blonde really was a sexy little bitch.

"Fuck me," Alice said again, hardly loud enough to be heard. She was pumping herself back in time with Marcia's thrusts. It became a chant. "Fuckmefuckmefuckme..."

Marcia's grip tightened. Alice's hands grasped the bedsheets as she drove her hips backwards. The blonde finally tore her gaze away from those mesmerising green eyes and buried her face in the pillow beside her head. For both women the moment had changed into a frenzied, out of control fuck and it was simply a matter of who got off first...

***

Every instinct in her body told Sandra Wilson how stupid this was. Any other night and she wouldn't have even thought twice about thanking Alex for a nice evening and heading home. And yet here she was, getting out of his car with him and walking up the steps to his apartment. The same journey she'd taken after her visit to Appleby's open night.

The need in her body was exactly the same as it had been then. That's what was driving her actions, she knew, not logical thought. Ever since leaving the restaurant, she'd felt like she was some high classed prostitute going with her trick. That should have sounded warning bells but instead it made her hotter.

Somehow, she managed to keep her hands off her old and new lover as they headed upwards in the lift, the same one that they fucked in so recently. Alex had slipped his arm around her waist as they'd entered the building and had kept it there. Other than that, he made no other move on her. It was as if he knew he had to let her do this her way.

The lift doors clunked open with a sound that reverberated through her body and she obediently followed him down the narrow corridor, waiting patiently until he unlocked the door to his apartment. As soon as they were inside, she turned and grabbed his smooth-shaven face in her hands. The kiss was hot, frantic, but didn't release any of the pressure that had been building all evening. Instead, it made things worse.

"Tomorrow, this never happened," she said breathily.

"I know." Goodwin grunted, staring at her for a brief second. 

The look in his eyes told her he'd finally got it. She felt his hands slid down her back to cup her hard buttocks. He pulled her even tighter against him, forcing her to clutch his broad shoulders for support as he ground his hardness against her. 

Suddenly, she needed to see it. To feel it. To taste it.

"I want this," she whispered, smoothly sinking to her knees and tracing the outline of his impressive cock through his trousers. With the clink and zip, his belt was open and his fly down. Her breath caught in her mouth. He was already rock hard. For her! 

Her hand slowly jacked him as she looked up and watched the expression on his gruff face. His mouth was open and he was gasping with each stroke of her hand. 

Their eyes met as she eased the pulsating flesh into her mouth. She sucked as much inside as she could before letting go. "Alex," she slurped, staring up at him. He needed to understand her need, otherwise he'd be thinking he needed to tread on eggshells around her. "I need you to take me, Alex. Fuck the living shit out of me. Like you used to. Okay?"

"Oh, fuck..." he grunted as her mouth descended again. She swallowed him to his root, taking his heavy crown into her throat. "Oh, fuck! Oh fuck"

Her eyes flashed upwards, her look reinforcing her words. Goodwin responded instantly, capturing her bobbing head between his large hands and beginning to control her strokes. He shoved himself harder into her wet mouth and she almost gagged. 

Yes, that was it. That was better... 

She curled her hands around his ass, marvelling how hard his buttocks still were despite his age. Holding onto his muscled flesh gave her some support as he mouth-fucked her. He was really into this now, taking her at her word. Or maybe this was his way of punishing her for treating him so badly? She loved it.




Appleby Blush Ch. 09



Chapter 9: The Party

"You both understand what's expected?" Carmella asked Marcia and Tony Daly as they stood outside the heavy oak front doors of Appleby Mansion. 

Their position at the top of the downward curving concrete steps allowed the three of them a clear view of the cars making their way along the drive. The vast array of trees bordering the long drive were decorated with a variety of coloured lights, all adding to the ambience as well as cutting through the looming darkness. 

The limos laid on for their most valued clients would be asked to park to the left beside the stables. Valets were on hand to take the keys from the owners of other cars, with the field normally reserved for clay pigeon shooting serving as a car park for other guests.

The open air orchestra was already in full flow and the large expanse of ground close to the house was filled with marquees, each hosting a different theme. It would be the mansion itself where most of the real action would take place, of course. As usual, Carmella was leaving nothing to chance—hence the last minute instructions.

The place was already alive with the hottest and sexiest Appleby models. Their allure would be impossible to resist and the guests each woman was targeting would all provide the Appleby Empire with valuable connections worldwide. Their cooperation would be ensured once the hidden cameras had recorded the compromising evidence.

And in the unlikely event that anyone should show even the slightest inclination of resistance, a dose of Appleby Blush would be available to break resistance. 

"I don't think anyone could resist you in that sexy little number," Carmella continued, her approving gaze covering Marcia's body. It was clear she wasn't wearing a stitch beneath the green dress and her magnificent breasts threatened to spill out of a deep V front. 

"Definitely fuckable," Tony Daly drooled, adjusting his black bow tie. He looked the business, too, in his black tux.

"Why thank you, Tony," Marcia giggled, glancing at her host. Carmella looked fabulous, too, in her Giorgio dress. The perfectly fitting black strapless number hugged her full curves in a sexy yet classy way. Simple, yet very sophisticated. She didn't need to show flesh to look hot. "I'd say we'd make a great threesome, wouldn't you?" the redhead cheekily added.

"Maybe..." Carmella smiled, idly running her fingertips along Marcia's cute butt, "that would be a reward for a successful evening. You both know what's expected?"

Daly gave one of his self-satisfied smiles. He'd fucked both of the junior cops—and planned on repeating the dose with Kirsten, that hot bitch was special. But adding Sandra Wilson as another notch on his belt definitely made his cock twitch. "I know, Carmella," he said, with that arrogant grin of his. "Just leave it to us."

"We're on top of it," Marcia quickly added, leaning closer to the Columbian woman. Sometimes Daly only though with his dick—Carmella needed more than cocky answers, she wanted reassurance. "Tony will prep Wilson while I'm getting Alice into position. We have the timing off perfectly. Once he gives the signal, I'll take over."

"You're my warm up act," the black photographer laughed.

The redhead sent him a wry smile. "It'll be my pleasure, Tony. When I'm finished, she'll melt into your arms."

"And Alice," Carmella interrupted, her cutting tone reminding them who was in control. "I don't want her to have any second thoughts. We all know how much is riding on this."

Marcia's face snapped to attention. The warning was gentle but very real. Carmella herself was grooming Kirsten for tonight's events and expected Marcia to do the same with Alice. The two cops had a major role to play in more ways than one. But that wasn't a problem, ever since their marathon lovemaking session, Alice had been putty in her hands. 

Tonight would be no different.

***

Alice was on edge as their taxi sat in the queue waiting to gain entry to the magnificent grounds. She'd told Marcia she would be there half an hour ago. 

She straightened her dress as she shuffled nervously on her seat in the back of the cab. The short, sequined cream number was perfect, even if the plunging neckline displayed an indecent amount of her perky breasts. Marcia might have more curves, but Alice was determined her new lover would appreciate the effort she'd made.

Maybe sharing a taxi with Kirsten hadn't been such a good idea? Her friend's lost earring had cost them valuable time before they'd even started their journey to the Appleby's. The intention was to separate immediately on arrival—despite Sandra closing the informal investigation, it was still important that they weren't seen together. 

"What's going on?" Kirsten asked, as if on cue. She peered out of her side of the window. "We're hardly moving."

"Security," Alice replied, jerking her head around as their taxi edged forward. The two heavyset men by the wrought iron front gate were stopping every car and checking each person's name against their list. Where they had a query, they used a handheld transceiver to check things out before allowing the vehicle to proceed. 

It took another ten minutes for them to finally get through. 

"Looks like we're okay now," Kirsten said, leaning back contentedly in her seat and glancing out of the window as they eased along the long drive. The heavy artillery of security cameras made her feel like they were entering the set of a James Bond movie. Some were fixed, while others were sweeping back and forth across the area in one-eighty-degree arcs. 

The heavily-lit tree lined drive was impressive enough, but as the road led to a clearing that swept downwards to their venue for the evening, the imposing mansion below them was something else. They had a perfect view from their elevated position as each new arrival rolled to a stop in the large quadrangle. No sooner had their guests alighted from their vehicles than they were greeted by champagne carrying male servers, immaculately dressed in white tuxedoes. 

"Now that," Alice chuckled, pointing at the flotilla of giant Marquees off to their right that were already buzzing with people and sound. "Is impressive."

Kirsten nodded. The scene below them was breathtaking, and so was her expectancy of what lay in store tonight. Carmella had created a wonderfully decadent picture during their discussions and her anticipation of another session with Tony Daly—or maybe Pierre Laroche?—had been growing in her mind all evening. 

She looked hot and she felt hot. Wesley Snipes, you don't know what you're missing...

***

Sandra Wilson had been wandering around for an hour and a half, casually chatting to anyone who looked like they might be able to provide snippets of information. Okay, the investigation was closed, but the cop inside her couldn't prevent her automatic reaction to search for clues. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but then what had she expected?

The grounds were enormous and it had taken her all this time to move in and out of the various marquees, each one different but equally spectacular to the previous. She'd thought only royalty, movie actors or rock stars could afford a place like this. If Appleby was on the level, he must be an incredibly astute businessman.

She wondered where Alice and Kirsten were, not that there was much chance of any of them bumping into one another in a location like this. Would they be simply enjoying the evening—a reward for the work they'd put in to the investigation, she'd insisted—or would they be unable to stop their own instinct for seeking out anything of interest?

That's what differentiated a good cop from the rest.

She handed her empty glass to a passing waitress and made her way up the curving steps and into the large mansion. She'd already had her normal quota of alcohol for an entire evening and told herself to slow down. The trouble was it was impossible not to be caught up in the self-indulgent atmosphere—there were flutes of expensive champagne wherever she turned.

She'd never seen as many beautiful young women as there were here tonight. Even the waitresses were stunning in their Columbian Flamenco dresses, though Wilson doubted if the traditional outfits were that low cut. She chuckled to herself as she wondered if she could wear one. That wasn't likely—a pair of Page Three-sized tits was a pre-requisite.

Still, she was pleased with the dress she'd hired for the party. The white number might not be quite as extravagant as most others she'd seen tonight, but she loved the way the material felt against her skin. From the front, it hung loosely from its haltered neck whereas from behind it swept low and backless. Going braless hadn't been a conscious decision; it was simply that the style wouldn't allow anything to be worn beneath it.

"Sandra!" 

Her name cut through the air like a knife. She recognised the voice instantly and hesitated for a second before she swung around to face the smiling man.

"Tony," she warmly responded, feeling instant moisture between her thighs. He really was an attractive man. Thank goodness she'd sorted things out with Alex, or at least had begun to progress down that road. If she hadn't had such a healthy sex session with him after they'd met at the pub, she felt that she might easily succumb to the black photographer's charms. 

***

"You look stunning," the woman said from behind Kirsten. 

The brunette started in surprise. Even though she couldn't see Carmella at first, there was no mistaking the Columbian woman's distinctive accent. She'd been so preoccupied watching a couple kissing in the corner that she hadn't heard her approach. Damn, that was close. She and Alice had only headed off in different directions a short time ago. 

"I told you the dress was perfect," she continued, her eyes gleaming as she took Kirsten's arm and turned the woman towards her.

Kirsten blushed as Carmella's eyes swept across her body. It had been during their visit to Paris that her mentor had helped her choose the scandalously short red dress. She knew from checking herself out in the mirror before leaving home that it gave the impression only her breasts held up the strapless garment. And the glances she'd already received tonight had confirmed that her twin assets looked their best encased in the soft material. Had it not been for Carmella, she'd never have dared wear anything as audacious as this.

"Thanks," she mumbled, trying to hide her embarrassment. Were her hard nipples on show? 

"And me?" the Columbian woman asked, going into a model-like pose that displayed her body and the sophisticated black dress to perfection. She burst into laughter. "I think we might just be the two hottest women here tonight."

"You look sensational," Kirsten truthfully told her. The woman was stunning.

"We both do," Carmella chuckled, taking the half empty flute from Kirsten's hand and handing her a pink drink. "Here, I got you a fresh drink. Believe me, too much bubbly too early, is not a good idea. Drink up while I show you around."

Kirsten obediently took a long sip. "You have the most wonderful place," she said, looking around as Carmella began to guide her across the room. "All the rooms I've been in are so large, and have the most incredibly high ceilings."

"Thank you," her beautiful host purred, waving a hand airy-fairily as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "It's Donald's house of course, but we spend a lot of time here. He said he's looking forward to meeting you, by the way."

"He knows about me?"

"Of course," Carmella replied, laughing at the surprised expression on the brunette's face. She loved that naïvety. "You're going to be one of our top models, how could I not make him aware? I've told him what a wonderful catch you are and he wants the three of us spend some time together. He doesn't make that suggestion often. Would you like that?"

"Yes," Kirsten instantly replied, surprising herself. There was something about the twinkle in Carmella's eyes that told her she wasn't simply suggesting a getting-to-know-you meeting. Was she really suggesting something more intimate? The idea fed its way to her sex and she took another drink. "Yes," she said again, as if repeating the word was necessary to adequately convey her eagerness. "Yes, I would."

"I'll arrange that, then," the Columbian woman purred, pausing at the foot of the stairs. "But let's concentrate on tonight, shall we? I promised you a treat, remember?"

Kirsten nodded. Carmella had painted a wonderfully decadent picture during their return flight from Paris on the private jet. The possibilities had been on her lust-fuelled mind ever since. Sex was as natural to the fashion industry as eating and sleeping, she'd explained. Work hard and play hard—that was what top models did. 

"Finish your drink before I show you around upstairs," Carmella instructed, observing the faraway look in the brunette's dreamy eyes. "I have a wonderful evening planned for you."

***

"Guess who this is," the giggling voice breathed into Alice's ear. 

The hands over her eyes prevented the blonde from seeing her, but the young cop would recognise Marcia's bubbly voice anywhere. Not to mention the curvy body pressing into her back. "Hi," she instantly beamed, swinging around to face her lover.

Without any hesitation, she linked her hands around the curly haired woman's neck and—despite the people around them—surprised Marcia by pulling her in to a long kiss. The redhead fed her tongue into Alice's mouth, playfully twirling it around the blonde's. Alice showed no sign of embarrassment—if this was how she was feeling before she'd been given any Blush, she'd be on heat after a single dose. 

"That's a hot greeting," she murmured into her Alice's mouth, cupping her cheeks as she stared into the young cop's sea blue eyes. "We have a suite here tonight. You have no idea what I'm going to do with that fabulous body of yours."

"I think I might," Alice chuckled, her fingers gently caressing the red curls. "Why don't we go there now?"

"Or we could just do it here on the floor?" Marcia giggled. "In front of everyone?"

For the first time, Alice's eyes shifted beyond her lover as she suddenly became aware of the smiling faces around them. Her face coloured. "God, did I kiss you like that in front of everyone?" 

"You sure did," Marcia confirmed, laughing out loud. This time it was her mouth that closed in on the blonde's, sending out a message that there should be no inhibitions tonight. "Would you like to know what I have planned?" she eventually breathed.

Alice nodded dreamily. She could feel Marcia's hot breath on her face and those sexy curves that were pressing against her body. Her eyes dipped down into that wonderful cleavage. Spilling over the top of her dress, Marcia's breasts looked enticing. She could still feel their firmness in her hands, the wonderful sensation of those nipples in her mouth. Memories of their night together came flooding back and another shiver of desire passed through her. 

"Remember how good it was with Tony and Alonso?" the seductive redhead whispered into her ear. "I have something similar planned. Just think of it, two men and another woman—only this time there'll be no holds barred. You told me that group sex was something you'd always wondered about. Tonight's the night to find out."

Alice gasped. "But—"

"No buts," Marcia persuasively continued. "Afterwards, you and I will spend the night alone in our suite. We have a king sized bed and there are lots of mirrors, too." She giggled as she planted a soft kiss on Alice's neck. "But before then, I want you to fully participate in your foursome. Don't let me down."

Her hand slithered to Alice's waist, pulling her even closer while she nodded at the waitress standing nearby. The attractive woman had been briefed on which glasses to serve them.

***

"Heading outside?" Tony Daly asked. He casually handed Sandra Wilson one of the champagne flutes he was carrying. "Pink bubbly. Try it."

She smiled at him as she took the glass. Okay, she'd just told herself to slow down but one more wouldn't hurt, right? "I've already been outside," she smiled, her eyes widening as she thought of the ground she'd covered during the last hour and a half. "I've never been to anything quite as spectacular as this before. Every marquee is offering something different and there are beautiful people everywhere. I can't even begin to imagine how much this has all cost."

"I think the business deals that can come out of nights like this more than cover any cost," he said with a chuckle. "By the way, you look great in that dress. Didn't I tell you that you had a hot bod?"

She felt the heat gather between her thighs as he spoke. His eyes were making a deliberate point of running across her body—a provocative glance, holding nothing back, the look of a sexual predator as they settled on her breasts. She didn't need to glance down to know that her round little nipples were sticking out like eraser tips through the blue material. Going braless offered no protection, but it was sexy, too. 

But then, he'd already seen her body in that skimpy bikini. Parading in front of him had made her so horny she'd had to go seeking out Alex Goodwin. Was that why she was becoming aroused now? 

"Thank you Tony," she breathed, sipping at her drink as she eventually acknowledged the compliment. "You look good, yourself." 

It was true. The well built black photographer wore his tuxedo well—apart from the lopsided bowtie. On an impulse, she handed him her glass and then stood on her tiptoes to adjust the tie, stepping back to admire her work. There was nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting was there? 

His response was a large smile, displaying his white teeth. 

Wilson felt her breath catch as thoughts she shouldn't be having floated across her mind. Whoa girl—steady, she told herself, swinging her gaze away from him and around the large hallway. The sweeping marble staircase to her left seemed to go on forever and was complimented by the two huge glass chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling. 

"The house is breathtaking," she said, quickly changing the subject. The conversation was heading into dangerous territory. Damn, she'd finished most of her drink—so much for taking things more slowly. It was going to her head. 

"You like the art?" he asked, nodding at the paintings on the walls. 

She tried not to squint as she stared at them. Wearing her glasses at a function like this wasn't on, not if she wanted to look her best. But it did make life more difficult. "I'm sure they're very impressive," she answered, smiling at him. "But I've never been into abstract art. I prefer something more traditional."

He nodded, arching his eyebrows in that way of his. "You're not into erotic art?"

It was difficult to prevent her mouth from falling open. "Erotic art?"

Daly nodded. A finger pointed at one of the paintings over the curve of his glass. "The secret," he softly drawled. "Is to cast your eyes across the whole scene and envisage what's happening. Do you have a good imagination, Sandra?"

The moistness between her thighs increased. When the evening was over, maybe she'd head across to spend the night at Alex's instead of going back to hers? 

***

It occurred to Donald Appleby that this was only the second time he'd simultaneously negotiated face to face with both of the Nmobu brothers. Up to now, they'd played one off against the other, all designed to secure the best deal from him. 

He'd allowed that, of course. It gave them the false feeling that they were in control. 

But with the deal all but done, bringing them together was essential. Let them see the whites of his eyes. It had been clear from their attitude the moment they'd entered his large office that they were looking for something extra. The trick was to convince them they'd successfully squeezed out every pound of available flesh.




Appleby Blush Ch. 09



The similarities between the two brothers were even more apparent as they sat opposite him in the large armchairs. With their crinkled black hair, powerful frames and oval shaped faces, they clearly came from the same stock. Then there was their overstated appearance, with Joseph's light blue suit a garish contrast to Emmanuel's canary yellow.

Yet, the biggest difference came in attitude. The Prime Minister was more realistic than his Foreign Secretary brother. Emmanuel was the bulldog whereas Joseph was much more statesmanlike. He understood when enough was enough and looked Appleby straight in the eyes when he spoke—just as he was doing right now.

"Emmanuel tells me the fragrance market is a lucrative one," he mused, taking a sip from the champagne that the businessman had provided. 

Appleby nodded calmly. He could see the way this was heading.

"It must be, for you to go to all of this trouble," Joseph Nmobu continued. "Surely you can produce the volumes you need in a country closer to home?"

"Of course," Appleby replied, meeting Nmobu's gaze. There wasn't the slightest chance of producing the Blush in Europe at anything like the cheap cost agreed with the Africans, but he'd keep that information to himself. "However, the commercial reality is that it would be disastrous should news leak to any of my rivals. By manufacturing the perfume in your country, I can keep the venture confidential and that's why I'm paying you over the odds."

"So," Emmanuel interrupted. "We're that important to you?"

Appleby glanced at the Foreign Secretary. "Of course you are, Emmanuel. That's why you were able to push me to my very limits. Any further concessions would be untenable and to protect all of our interests, none of us want that, do we?" He switched his gaze between the two African politicians. "I take the view that a successful partnership is one where we all have a vested interest in the success. The two and a half million fee stretches me to the limit, but I'm bending over backwards to meet your needs."

The brothers exchanged a quick glance.

"My needs are straightforward," Appleby continued, reaching for the bottle of champagne and standing to refill all three glasses. "We all agree that the deal is an equitable one. For my generous outlay, you meet all the delivery volumes and timescales we've agreed. It really is that simple. Now then, gentlemen," he smiled, remaining on his feet. "Is there anything else you'd like to clarify before we sign the contract?"

***

"What do you think?" Carmella asked, as she walked Kirsten along a wide hall lined with alternating white panelled doors. 

She'd shown the brunette inside a couple of the large bedrooms, each equipped with large beds, ceiling and wall mirrors, erotic art adorning the walls, massage tables and even a range of toys. Everything that two lovers could need for a night of passion, she explained. There wasn't a need to say more, the flushed look on Kirsten's face told the Columbian beauty that the tour was having the desired effect.

"I think it's the most amazing place I've ever been in," Kirsten simply answered as they stopped at the last door on the hall. It was the only room without a number. 

She couldn't stop herself from leaning against Carmella as they stood there, feeling the warmth of that olive skinned body against hers. The hot woman looked even sexier than before. She smelled good. It was some kind of spicy perfume that sent shivers to her spine. And her lips were moist. Kissable. 

Staring into those sparkling eyes that conveyed that anything was possible, she felt her body scream out for attention. 

The older woman recognised the signs. She turned face on to the heavily breathing cop, her hands sliding behind her and downwards to settle on Kirsten's cute ass. "I know what you want," she whispered into her ear, stroking the soft lobe with her tongue. "You want to kiss me, don't you?"

Kirsten felt a blush cover her face as Carmella read her thoughts. How could she have known that? She remembered the moment she'd thought that her beautiful host was going to kiss her on the private jet. Why hadn't she?

"You may," the Columbian woman whispered, as casually as if she was granting the cop permission to take a cookie from the jar. She leaned into Kirsten's lips, nuzzling their noses but making no move to cover that final, short distance. 

It was left to the brunette to make that final move.

Kirsten grasped the sexy woman's head in her hands and closed the gap between their mouths, bringing her open mouth to Carmella's in a quick, fervent kiss. She briefly pulled away, as if deciding she couldn't take the kiss further, but not before feeling the other woman's wet tongue pass between her lips. The sensation fanned the fire.

Those magnificent breasts felt warm and wonderful against her chest. She wondered what Carmella would do if she cupped them, but instead dove in for another hard kiss. Her first passionate kiss with another woman was a thrilling feeling. Their mouths opened to one another, their tongues danced, and then she was cupping those breasts, feeling Carmella's nipples rise under her touch as the kiss became even more aggressive.

It was only when the orgasm swept through her voluptuous body that Kirsten pulled her lips away, trembling in the other woman's arms. That wasn't possible, was it?

Carmella smiled at her as she leant the brunette against the wall and then produced a key from somewhere. Opening the door, she stepped aside to allow Kirsten to enter and then followed her into the room. A flick of a switch brought the large flat screen on the wall to life. Kirsten's gasp at the sight was gratifying. If Alice was proving as easy to manipulate under Marcia's guidance, the night would turn out even better than expected...

On screen, a thin redhead was being taken doggie style by an older man on a large bed. Their reflections bounced off the mirrors on the walls of the kaleidoscopic room, creating a mesmerising hypnotic effect of raw sexuality as Kirsten watched.

Carmella pointed at the number in the corner of the screen. "Room three. That's Count Borasvak with, if I'm not mistaken, the wife of one of his business rivals."

The man was raised up on one knee now, drilling the woman for all he was worth. Kirsten could hear the sound of their flesh slapping against one another and the woman's panting exhortations as her apple sized tits bounced underneath her. 

"You have cameras?" the cop asked, realising the stupidity of the question as soon as it left her lips. How else was she watching what was happening down the hall? Her head tried to come to terms with the implications but she couldn't quite take it all in. 

"Only for security purposes," Carmella explained as her amused look bored into the brunette. "We must always make sure our guests are safe, don't you think?"

Kirsten nodded. That made sense. But...

The Columbian woman put a finger to her lips, as if the gesture would stop any further thoughts. It did. "Sssh, darling," her soothing voice whispered. "Why don't you just watch while I make a quick phone call? Then I'll take you for your treat. You'd like that?"

Carmella left, leaving Kirsten alone in the voyeur's dream. The brunette touched her lips as she thought of the kiss. Pushing a strand of brown hair from her eye, she wondered if maybe Carmella was going to be her treat. Who would have believed the thought of being with another woman could be so exciting? She'd been curious in the past, but never truly considered the possibility. Now...

Now, on screen, she watched the Count's manhood sliding in and out of the redhead and realized she wanted more. A cock. Long and thick—and preferably a black one.

Daly's? Laroche's?

She searched the screen until she found what she was looking for: two black men, close enough in appearance that they must have been related. The room they were in wasn't a bedroom, but what must have been an indoor pool. Behind them, steam brewed up out of a bubbling Jacuzzi.

Kirsten barely saw it. She was busy watching them strip. Her pussy watered at the sight of their muscular, ebony skin. Their cocks swung, semi-erect, between their thighs. Before she could do so much as think about touching herself, they were pulling on robes and hiding that which she so desired.

Her eyes swivelled towards Carmella as she re-entered the room, dropping her phone back into her bag. The sexy host followed Kirsten's eyes to the Jacuzzi room and the two Africans. "Ah, I see you've already seen your treat..."

Kirsten nearly jumped up and kissed the woman once again.

***

"Where are we going?" Alice asked as they swept across the room. Marcia had her by the hand and was leading her towards the far door. 

She was aware of the eyes on them, all of the men and even some of the beautiful women. Her short, sequined dress perfectly complimented Marcia's green number, and both sets of breasts—Marcia's magnificently full swells and her own perky tits—threatened to spill out of their respective plunging necklines. She'd never felt quite as sexy as she did right now.

The redhead stopped when they walked through into a smaller room. This one was equally as impressive but in a different way. The lights were much dimmer and the atmosphere was more intimate. Whilst couples weren't engaging in anything outlandishly inappropriate, their hands were touching one another as they talked, or softly kissed, in that mating ritual that suggested they'd soon be leaving the room for somewhere more private.

"You told me about your one night stands," Marcia said, answering Alice's earlier question. "And you said being used by the twins was your hottest experience so far."

So far... The words reverberated around Alice's mind. She was getting to know her friend only too well and Marcia had something definite in mind. Whatever it was, it would be sexual. Her body warmed at the thought. 

"Yes," she confirmed, in a voice so low it was little more than a whisper.

"That is," Marcia chuckled. "Apart from our session with Tony and Alonso..."

She left the thought hanging there. It would be enough. The Blush the young girl had just consumed would do the rest. Images of being taken by two men... Recollections of being fucked by Tony Daly while she watched Marcia undulating on Alonso... 

Smiling at the faraway look in Alice's eyes, she discreetly waved over the waitress waiting patiently in the corner. It had been some time since she'd spent a night with Yolanda. Maybe the three of them could hitch up together? It would be fun to initiate Alice into the delights the mocha-skinned girl could provide.

"Doesn't she look sexy," she murmured to Alice as the stunningly dark girl sashayed across the floor towards them.

Alice pulled away from her daydream to stare at the waitress. She'd thought that she and Marcia were showing an indecent amount of cleavage but even they couldn't compete with this young girl. Her dark skinned breasts were pushed so high above the low cut of the sexy Columbian Flamenco dress that a simple tug of the top would see them spill free. 

They looked so inviting...

It took a moment for Alice to realise what the girl was carrying on the silver platter and she wondered if the coke was being offered to everyone or only a select few. She should make a point of mentioning it to Sandra Wilson later, but if she did then she'd have to mention her own habit. Habit—is that what it was?

She shook her head to herself. All she'd done was to take a few hits while she and Marcia were making love and there wasn't any doubt it had heightened each orgasmic moment. Anything that made her feel so awesome, that brought everything so crisp and alive, couldn't be wrong, could it? It was the misuse of the drug that Vice investigated, not the occasional recreational hit that beautiful people like Marcia took. 

"Hi, Yolanda," she heard Marcia say, and watched breathlessly as the redhead took the platter from the waitress. "Say hello to Alice."

She turned to greet the girl, but almost before she knew what was happening the mocha-skinned beauty had one hand around her neck. The sexy girl had deep red lips—so kissable—and they homed in on Alice's like a heat seeking missile. When she opened her mouth, those sexy lips found her tongue, sucking on it as if she was pleasuring a cock. 

Alice's hands momentarily fluttering by her side, like butterfly wings, as the stunning girl gave a sexy blowjob to her tongue. A hand in her hair broke the kiss, pulling her head away. It was Marcia's fingers wrapping around her silky hair and gently tugging her head forward towards the platter. 

Alice immediately understood. 

Taking the platinum tube, she leant over and snorted the cocaine as professionally as Marcia had taught her. Tossing her long blonde hair back with one hand, she pinched her nose with the other as the powerful narcotic washed through her body. 

Marcia sent a sexy grin to Yolanda. One that said she'd be calling on her again soon. For now, she had other things to accomplish. Even by the Carmella's high standards, this plan was a stroke of genius.

***

Sandra Wilson twirled the empty glass between her fingertips. She held on to it in case she was offered another. Her mind and body were already struggling to cope with the effect of the alcohol she'd already consumed. Why hadn't she stopped drinking earlier, when she'd told herself to? The champagne was definitely affecting her thinking.

Tony Daly's right hand was tracing little circles along her forearm and his left rested casually on her bare thigh. She should have removed it by now, but his touch felt comforting. Comforting? She was fooling herself. The touch felt blatantly sexual. 

"What would you like to know," he asked her.

"Know?" Her mind was blank. She knew she'd asked him a question, but what was it? As soon as she finished this conversation she'd call Alex and ask him to collect her from the party. Her barrel chested lover was in for a treat tonight—she hoped he was up to it.

But right now, she allowed the black photographer to gently caress her as the spoke. In other circumstances, she'd be unable to resist giving herself to this man.

"You asked about our models," he reminded her, playfully running his fingernails down to her knee and back up again. If he kept doing that, she wouldn't be able to wait for Alex! 

"Oh, yes." She had. Even in her highly aroused state, her instinct as cop was still attempting to gather information on life as a model. Sometimes she just couldn't let go.

"So," he asked her again. "What would you like to know?" 

What did she want to know? How could she concentrate with that slithering hand doing wonderful things to her skin? It was edging under the short hem of her dress now and all that mattered was the pressure building between her thighs. Damn. She had to concentrate.

"I... I'm not sure," she told him, pushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear. How had they found a room empty of other partygoers? She was aware that she was settling back into the sofa, letting her legs fall apart. That wasn't an invitation to Daly's hand, she told herself. She was just making herself more comfortable. 

"You said you wanted to be a model," he softly said, half turning his body into hers. His hand rose higher.

Wilson shook her head. No, that was wrong. "I didn't," she contradicted, feeling like she was slurring the words. Was she really that drunk? Anyway, he had been the one who'd said she could make it as an older model, not her. "I just wondered what the life of a model consisted of. Behind the scenes..."

"Ah, behind the scenes," he murmured, one hand finding its way around her shoulder, holding her steady while his right hand stroked along her inner thighs. His voice had lowered to a persuasive whisper. "Like the rest of the world, most of our models are preoccupied with one thing. Some like the soft touch of a woman. Others prefer the rather more muscular male models they come into contact with, and some like to fuck their photographer." His lips found her neck. "What about you, Sandra?" 

Fuck their photographer? Daly had been her photographer, hadn't he? She could feel her legs opening further. Was he pushing them apart or had she done that? With his lips on her neck, it was impossible to think clearly. She tilted her head to allow him better access.

"This is what the beautiful people of the fashion world do," his voice was whispering into her ear. They work hard and in their free time they fuck. That's what makes the world go round. Wouldn't you like to fuck your photographer, Sandra?" 

His searching fingers were rubbing her through her skimpy thong now. Her legs were wide apart. Sweat broke out along her brow and the hazy lust began to dull her vision. When he pushed the material away and stroked along her wet lips, she moaned and thrust her hips upwards to meet the wonderfully soft touch.

"Oh God, sorry," she heard a voice in the distance. Someone had entered the room by mistake. Her eyes sprung open just in time to see a head disappear and the door close behind him. For a few seconds, the spell had been broken and somehow the interruption infused her with the last vestiges of willpower she'd thought had long since gone.

"The bathroom," she mumbled, pushing away from Daly and lurching to her feet. She rested a hand on the arm of the couch to steady herself. "I need the bathroom..."

***

Joseph Nmobu had to hand it to Donald Appleby. If either he or his brother were seen at the businessman's mansion, not only would the deal be blown wide open but so would he and Emmanuel's standing in the African community. Particularly so if it was revealed that the Gala party taking place was as decadent as this one. 

By making the indoor Jacuzzi room at their disposal, the business magnate had given them the privacy required to sate their needs without any fear of being exposed. Or so they thought. Neither man was aware of the hidden cameras that were already rolling. 

That evidence was essential to Donald Appleby should either brother renege on their agreement. The threat of exposing the sexual activities of the African country's Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary to the world would be sufficient to ensure they toed the line. 

It was precisely because of the debauchery, of course, that Joseph and his brother had wanted to partake. The two and a half million heading to their Swiss bank accounts was reward enough for completing the deal, but tonight would be the icing on the cake. Adding to his satisfaction was the fact that, as the British Government had never done a single thing to support their country, it would be two female members of the famed London Met at their disposal. That was an exceptionally satisfying way to gain some sort of revenge.

The submerged lamps shining their rose coloured tints up from the luminous waters added to the ambience, while the brown lanterns along the walls provided just enough light to create a sensual atmosphere. Not that sensuality was on either brother's mind. Black women were plentiful in their country and they both took their fill. But fucking a white woman, especially when they were as hot as Appleby promised, was a rare treat.

And the brunette who walked into the room lived up to the promise. With her high cheekbones dark eyebrows and shiny, brown hair, she was every bit as stunning as Appleby had promised. His lustful gaze ran across her body in the short red party dress. Anticipation was such a powerful aphrodisiac, he'd always thought.

With a nod that told Emmanuel to stand back and allow him to take the lead, he smiled at the woman. "Good evening, my dear," he said as his hands went to the belt of his robe. Appleby had said she liked black men so what better way to introduce himself than by exposing his body. He watched her eyes grow wider as he let the robe fall to the ground. 




Appleby Blush Ch. 09



He kicked the robe away from his feet. Emmanuel had undressed too, but she didn't even appear to be aware of his brother's presence as he obediently stood at the back of the room. Instead, her brown eyes were staring unashamedly at his pendulous cock. That told him everything he needed to know. 

"Why don't you come over here, my dear?" his deep voice suggested. The firm tone was that of a command and not a request.

She moved hesitantly at first, but there was no doubt the hot bitch was putting an extra sway into her hips as she walked towards him. The short red dress bounced provocatively around her tanned thighs with each step. His raised hand stopped her a few feet away.

"And now you," he told her, licking his lips at the thought of the fabulous body she was about to unveil. "Take the dress off..."

The woman didn't hesitate. 

Maybe he'd mistaken her earlier nervous? Perhaps it was anticipation? The way she confidently kept her eyes firmly fixed on him as she unzipped her dress suggested she had no inhibitions. As she let it fall to her ankles, he smiled in satisfaction. Her body was magnificent. This one was Kirsten, he remembered Appleby saying. The blonde who'd soon be joining them was Alice. He'd remember their names—white women liked that.

Her hands went to the waistband of the plunging black thong even without him asking and she casually eased her thumbs into the material. When she pulled them over the gentle curve of her hips and down over her thighs, she cocked her hip to one side, resting one hand on it as she struck a sexy, teasing pose. She was daring him not to approve. 

He nodded in unspoken satisfaction as his eyes devoured her body. Her brown nipples proudly pointed upwards from the crest of jutting breasts that sat so beautifully high, and her smooth pussy was already providing evidence of her arousal.

And he would soon be fucking her...

The Prime Minister fisted his cock, watching her eyes explode in need as his manhood rose impressively under his stroking hand. "Come here, Kirsten, and show me what you can do." 

The brunette almost rushed as she closed the distance between them and dropped to her knees. My God, she really was up for this. Her long fingers wrapped themselves around his girth as she spat on his cock, rubbing the saliva in with both hands. When her wet mouth descended on him, he knew she was about to live up to Appleby's promise.

***

Sandra Wilson leant against the cubicle wall and dropped her mobile phone back into her small bag. She'd been able to get through to Alex Goodwin first time and her hero was already on his way to collect her. Her need for sex was beginning to overwhelm her and had Daly not been interrupted, it frightened her to think that she would have willingly surrendered her body to him. That had been close.

It concerned her to think that she was as constantly aroused as she was. The thought that somehow the Appleby people had fed her something had occurred to her, but she'd been in a constant state of arousal for days now. No aphrodisiac could have that effect.

No, it was her eighteen month abstinence from sex that was at the root of her problems, inflamed by her sex in the lift with Alex. That had lit the fires again and she just had to go with the flow until she could control them. If that meant resuming her relationship with her former lover again, she'd go with the flow and see where it led. In her position, the last thing she could allow herself to do was to fall into casual sex with other people.

That included Tony Daly.

Alex had said he was half an hour away. She'd noticed a couple of dark lanes nearby when the taxi had delivered her to the mansion and any would do. They'd park there after he'd collected her and she'd work off some of sexual the tension that had reached fever pitch. After they got to his apartment, she could indulge herself for the rest of the night.

Her chest was heaving as she rested the back of her perspiring head against the wall behind her. Even the restroom was impressive with its tiled walls, large mirrors and marble fittings. Tilting her face tilted to the high ceiling, one hand slithered to the hem of her blue dress, dragging it up to her waist while her other hand found her damp thong.

One orgasm before Alex arrived, she told herself. That might calm her. 

The fingers that had slid inside her thong began to work faster. At first she concentrated on her clit but quickly she eased to inside her wetness. Little pulses ran through her body with each stroke. As her hips began to rotate, she braced the soles of her feet on the floor. Thrusting fingers and strumming thumb—that was the secret! 

She bit her lip as her body trembled. The hazy mist was beginning to descend again. She could hear her own throaty moans, as if they were echoing around the restroom in stereo. Low and guttural, like the bitch on heat she was right now.

"Need some help?

The voice was soft and teasing but it sent tremors of foreboding through the cop. She'd been caught—masturbating in the restrooms—like a... a...

Dropping her hand away from her throbbing sex, she pushed off the wall, looking for a way to scurry out of sight like an embarrassed, frightened animal. The woman's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Sandra, isn't it?"

Wilson's heart nearly exploded from her chest. She'd been recognised...

Staring at the redhead, she realised she knew the woman. Marcia, wasn't it? The redhead she'd spoken to at the agency on the open night at Appleby's studio? Relief flooded through her. As horrendous as the situation was, the woman had no idea she worked for the Met.

"I... I..." she began, searching for words that wouldn't come.

Then Marcia was walking across towards her, the sound of her high heels bouncing off the hardwood floor. "It's okay," her reassuring voice whispered. "Why don't you let help?"

"No," Wilson heard herself whimper as the redhead closed in on her. This was absurd. She looked for a way past her but the curvy woman had her cornered. "No..." 

"Oh, yes," Marcia responded, leaning in to kiss Wilson's neck. The touch of her tongue on her skin was softer than Daly's had been less than ten minutes ago. 

"No," Wilson gasped again, but this time with less conviction. A hand was already between her thighs and her legs were somehow widening to welcome the caressing fingers. 

Unlike Daly's, they slid down inside her thong rather than just pushing it to one side. The touch confirmed that the redhead knew exactly what she was doing. Her thumb was doing things to her clit that Wilson didn't think possible and the two fingers that had easily slid into her wetness created a tender, insistent rhythm that was finding its way inside her overheated body and her imaginative mind. 

"Fuck them," Marcia encouraged, lashing her tongue in long sweeps across Wilson's neck. "C'mon girl, fuck my fingers."

It was a command that couldn't be ignored. Pushing her firm buttocks back against the cubicle wall, Wilson began to hump back against the working hand, slowly at first and then more quickly. Marcia matched each wild thrust, upping the pace of her finger fucking. 

"C'mon, girl," she rasped again, her mouth on the Vice Head's ear now. "Cum for me."

Wilson felt her body tremble at the words. She so wanted to, needed to... Her head fell forward, dropping onto the redhead's shoulder as she began to shudder. When the redhead's teeth bit down on her earlobe, it was like pulling the trigger.

A shriek exploded from her throat. Her body arched and shuddered as if someone had fed electricity through her. She'd escaped from Daly only to be finger fucked by an Appleby models in one of the mansion's restrooms. The thought was as powerfully exciting as it was frighteningly real.

"That's what my fingers can do," she heard the redhead whisper as she ran her juice covered fingers across Wilson's open lips. The cop couldn't help herself. She sucked them inside. "The next time I'll use my mouth..."

***

Alice had walked slowly inside the room, feeling her anticipation build with each step. Marcia had taken her to the ante room that led to the Jacuzzi area before hurrying away. The sudden text message was unexpected but urgent, apparently. 

"I'll catch up with you later," she'd quickly explained, before leaving. "Think of this as my present to you."

It hadn't taken long to realise what Marcia's present was. As soon as she'd opened the glass door and entered the Jacuzzi area, the sound of the male grunts had led her gaze towards the kneeling brunette. She was giving an older man a blow job. 

From the back, the naked woman had a strangely familiar look—maybe she was a model? She certainly had an awesome body. And she was good at giving head—very good. There wasn't an inch of the man's cock or balls she wasn't covering with her mouth and tongue. 

Alice was unable to resist the urge to slide her fingers beneath her short cream dress as she watched. Why not? The coke had kicked in and she felt empowered. She was a sexual predator, a girl who swung both ways and one who could enjoy the pleasures of both men and women now. Sexually, she could do anything she wanted...

Pressing back against the door, her hand snaked down inside her thin panties. One finger inside her sweet pussy wasn't enough, but two felt just right. 

Her moan came from the back of her throat. 

"Sexy, aren't they?" The voice came from the left and should have startled her. But it didn't. Somehow she wasn't even surprised, though she had to do a double take. The two naked men could have been twins. A different colour to the twins she'd picked up and let fuck her a few nights ago, and much older than them, but they looked hot all the same. 

Realisation suddenly dawned. Marcia had set it up for Tony Daly to fuck her at the night club. Now she was giving her two black men to enjoy...

The man grunting under the brunette's skilful mouth looked across at her. The smile on his face revealed his white teeth. Alice returned the beam, but it froze on her face when the brunette suddenly turned towards her. Fuck...

The look of shock on Kirsten's face matched the disbelief registering inside Alice's body. This simply wasn't possible, was it? She knew of her friend's fantasies about black men, but here at the party, so quickly? It had to be pre planned, didn't it? 

And yet Kirsten hadn't said a thing about it on their taxi journey together. 

Emmanuel had stepped behind her while the women's gazes were still locked and his fingers began to work on the zip at the back of her sequined dress. The sight of Kirsten's blow job made her even wetter than she already was and she sexily shook the cream dress down her body. She wanted her friend and Met colleague, as well as the men, to see her naked. 

Reaching down, she stripped her thin panties down her legs and stepped out of them.

Kirsten looked around, as if searching for an exit. The panic in her eyes was clear. But the man beside her had no intention of allowing his conquest to go anywhere. Instead, he rested his arms on her shoulders and eased her backwards onto the tiles. 

Alice took three steps forward towards a table close to them as she watched the man mount Kirsten. Should she really be finding the sight as hot as she did? Resting her palms on the tabletop, she spread her legs and glanced backwards over her shoulder. The way her blue eyes gleamed with arousal made her intention quite clear.

Emmanuel gave a grin of approval. Alice purred. His semi-erect black manhood wasn't as big as Tony Daly's, but in profile it looked magnificent. 

Another lick of excitement fed through her body. 

When he began to rub his cock underneath her, Alice caught it with her hand and immediately fed it to her sex. This was no time for teasing. She needed to be fucked. Turning her gaze back to Kirsten, she allowed him to push inside her. 

Joseph had simultaneously straddled Kirsten and far from objecting, the brunette wrapped both legs around her lover. Her ankles locked around his back and as she at last tore her gaze away from Alice, she began to hump upwards.

Alice stared at her friend. The look of passion on her face made her high cheekbones even more prominent. She'd never really appreciated how beautiful Kirsten actually was. 

But soon there was no time for further rational thought. Instead there was only pleasure. As the two lovers fucked on the tiles in front of her, Emmanuel reached underneath her arms to squeeze her perky breasts. Alice lifted her buttocks, feeling his hardness slithering against her clit as he began to thrust in and out. When he pulled on her nipples, her body burned. 

She groaned as she thrust back against him. The sound of his animalistic grunts was almost as much a turn-on as the sight of her brunette cop friend being fucked so hard in front of her. She whimpered as Emmanuel's hips violently began to slap against her and dropped her right hand down her body, rubbing it against her swollen clit. 

When Kirsten's eyes opened and stared at her again, the intense feeling of arousal was too much. Thumbing her clit one final time, her orgasm erupted.

***

It took Sandra Wilson a few moments to persuade Alec Goodwin to park the car in the dark lane and another few to persuade him to get into the back with her. When she'd ripped his cock free from his trousers and reversed onto his lap, he didn't need any further persuasion. She began to undulate on his thick manhood like a series of waves on the sea.

The Vice Head had remained in the restrooms for some time after her encounter with Marcia—long enough to give Goodwin a chance of reaching the mansion, but more to compose herself. Her body had felt like it was experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake, with little mini tremors resonating around her sex long after the moment.

They'd still been there when she'd somehow escaped unnoticed from the house. She still didn't quite know how she'd done that, her mind was still trying to find a way through the fog. But Alex by some means had gotten through security and was waiting for her as he'd promised. She'd ask him how he'd done that later. It wasn't the first time in her life he'd rescued her and right now she was giving him the first part of his reward. 

The rest would follow when they reached his apartment. 

She looked back at him over her shoulder as she rotated on him. "Is that good, Alex?" she asked, arching her body and pushing her breasts into his palms. With her arms extended on the seat infront of her, she had the perfect platform to control the pace.  

"Yeah," he responded, sending wheezy grunts into her ear as she built the friction between them. 

She relaxed her tempo until just the tip of his hardness was inside her, before plunging down again. The feel of his thick girth was just what she needed to counteract the images of Marcia that kept returning to her mind. She grunted as he bottomed out. That was better...

"You like that?" her strained voice asked again, increasing the pace of her downward jerks. The car began to rock underneath their movements. 

"Yeah."

His voice was hoarse. Glancing again over her shoulder, the familiar look on his face confirmed what she feared. "Not yet," she rasped at him. 

"Close," he instantly replied, his breath coming in heavy pants.

"Not yet." She shouted out the instruction and lifted her ass so she could feel his cock brush across her clit. Oh fuck, that was good.

"I'm trying," he mumbled, clenching his teeth.

She felt her own orgasm begin to bubble at the change of angle. That was better, almost there... almost there. She just needed to time it perfectly, like the old days. She could tell from the way he throbbed inside her that he was ready to erupt and yet he somehow held back, just for her. She loved that.

The friction of his shaft on her clit fed through her and suddenly she was there. She jammed down harder. "That's good, Alex," she yelped, leaning back against his chest. "Yes. Now. C'mon. You can cum now. Come on baby, for me, nowwwwwwwwwww..." 

***

Kirsten pumped her head along Emmanuel's thick girth, feeling his crown hit the back of her throat. She'd already sucked both men's cocks, been fucked by both of them, and still wanted more. The men had taken turns with her and Alice and the two cops had been driven on by the inflammatory sight of the other being taken so wantonly. 

Fuck... how many orgasms had she had?

The shock of seeing her blonde friend watching while she gave head to Joseph seemed a long time ago. She still couldn't work out how the four of them were together like this, but then her confused mind was having trouble focusing on anything other than the need to give and receive pleasure.

Twisting away, up onto her knees, she let Emmanuel's cock slid from her mouth and stroked it with both hands, loving the way the glistening, black flesh remained hard for her. For their ages, the men were remarkable. She pushed the rigid member to the left and ran her tongue around the base, provocatively looking up into his dark, lustful eyes. 

When his hands went to her head, pulling her closer, she reached behind him and clutched his buttocks. His hard muscles tightened beneath her fingertips as she slithered her tongue along his hardness and then took him back into her mouth.

"Oh fuck!" She heard Joseph's cry to her right and swivelled her eyes in that direction. 

It looked like he'd been fucking Alice doggie style, but her young friend had whirled around and was pushing the unresisting man onto his back. With a soft grunt, Alice perched on his lap, reaching between his legs to place his juice covered cock against her wet opening. For a few moments, she teased him by stroking his hard shaft along her labial lips, teasingly pulling upwards as he tried to enter her. 

When Kirsten's eyes met hers, it was impossible to miss the unmistakeable dreamy glare of lust as Alice grinned at her. Their gazes locked as Alice stroked him with her athletic body, still not taking him inside. She wasn't going to give him what he wanted until she was ready. 

She nodded at Kirsten, as if confirming to the brunette that the time had arrived, and then sank down. Her eyes fluttered shut as she guided his cock into her moist pussy. Her pale body provided an erotic contrast to the black man's glistening skin.

"Oh, fuck," Joseph groaned, clutching at Alice's hips as she tightened her hot sex around him. 

She pushed herself back up to a straddle and bucked down on him. There was no more teasing, this was hardcore, and the young blonde raised her hands to her hair, pulling it onto the top of her head as she grinded down on him. 

"Slow down," he whispered, attempting to rein her in. He was wasting his time. 

Alice bounced harder, lost in her arousal. Flesh slapped on flesh. The older man grunted under each downthrust. The sight of the young blonde's pistoning body, her perky swaying tits, and the way she half raised up from the black hardness before jamming back down again, all found their way into Kirsten's psyche. 

The hand she had around the base of Emmanuel's cock inadvertently tightened.

Joseph was losing it now; there was no doubt about that. Alice had further picked up the pace of her lap grind, riding him so fast and hard that the poor bastard's attempts to hold his orgasm at bay didn't stand a chance. 

"Slow down," he grunted again, gasping out air with each of the undulating woman's violent downthrusts. "Oh fuck...oh fuck..."

Alice felt his approaching orgasm and was off him, sliding back down between his legs. She timed it perfectly, catching catch the first blast of cum between her open lips. She took it all, her long fingers stroking his juice-slick cock as she coaxed out and devoured every drop.




Appleby Blush Ch. 10



Chapter 10: The Aftermath

The invitation had come as a surprise. Sandra Wilson had almost refused, but that would have been unwise, she decided. After Saturday's Gala party, she needed to understand why Donald Appleby wanted to see her. It was unlikely the businessman knew her true identity, so that pointed to her modelling audition, or an outside chance that Marcia had told him about their encounter in the restrooms. Or both.

Did that mean he'd try to threaten or coerce her in some way? 

That would be ironic. On the day she was to see Sir Peter Richardson and hand in her resignation, she might actually be about to stumble across the sort of evidence she'd been searching for during their undercover investigation. If she really did secure proof that Appleby was blackmailing women for immoral purposes, she'd hand that to Richardson as her final act before leaving the Met. Then it would be someone else's problem.

Her disappointment at Kirsten's resignation had faded. It shouldn't have come as a shock—the brunette had occasionally dropped hints of her dissatisfaction. In fact, morale was so low right now it was unlikely she would be the last cop to turn their back on the Met. 

Even Alex was close to taking his retirement options. Good old Alex. He'd been a rock for her over the last couple of days. She hadn't been able to explain to him what had happened at the mansion, of course—he wouldn't understand. But they had made love every spare moment ever since he'd rescued her from the party. 

Despite the turmoil invading her life as a cop, her sexual libido wasn't harmed in any way. She'd never felt so continually aroused. 

If she hadn't resumed her sexual relationship with Goodwin, she would have done something out of character. Like letting Tony Daly fuck her, perhaps, or succumbing to one of the married officers who were always sniffing around her at the Met. 

The timing had been ideal and she took confidence from the fact they'd agreed to keep the emotional side out of things and just see where it led. And treat the sex as a bonus...

When she'd completed both meetings, she'd take Goodwin back to her flat and fuck him silly. She'd take him to bed or, better still, maybe let him take her on the kitchen table? That was probably the only location they hadn't used yet...

"It's so good to meet you, Sandra." Donald Appleby's voice was warm and welcoming. 

Staring out of the large floor to ceiling window, sipping the drink his secretary had given her, she hadn't even realised the businessman had entered the room. The drink had warmed her insides as it slid down her throat and her thoughts had inevitably turned to sex again. 

She swung around, her body framed in the window against the London skyline behind her as if she were positioned for a photo shoot. The bespectacled Appleby looked much younger than his fifty years and the way his silvery grey hair was pulled back behind his head into a ponytail gave him a youthful, rebellious look. Even under the expensive looking pin striped business suit his muscular build was clear. 

As his gaze took its time sweeping across her figure, she felt her body began to tingle, followed by the unmistakeable feeling of her sex beginning to moisten. Good God, calm down... she told herself. Remember where you are!

Her handshake was firm. "Hello, Mr. Appleby. How can I help you?"

***

Marcia growled out another orgasm. Alice didn't even need any Blush. The sexy young blonde had developed an insatiable need for the redhead's curvy body. That craving would pave the way to bring other female cops into the Appleby web. Using Alice to identify key personnel and then help seduce them was a fundamental part of the plan.

She reached up, pulling Alice into an open mouthed kiss. The young cop's cock shifted with the movement and she gasped aloud. Alice had never even seen a strap on until a few days ago and yet was using one with all the experience of a veteran. 

Like a duck in the water, she was a natural.

"You like that?" she teased, picking up on the signs and sweeping her tongue along the soft skin of Marcia's freckled neck.

"You little bitch," the redhead responded, snaking a hand into Alice's hair and dragging her into another kiss. 

When Alice slowed the pace, easing the large cock out of her until only the tip was buried in her wetness, she gave a throaty growl. It deepened into a guttural cry when the blonde thrust it back inside her again.

Marcia twisted her head to the side, catching their reflections. The mirrors along the wall were impeccably positioned so that every conceivable angle was covered and reflected back. The sight of Alice's near perfect buttocks flexing and gyrating with each forward push rushed the redhead towards another orgasm. 

"Oh, God!" Marcia's voice became strained. She wrapped her long legs around Alice's back, pulling her deeper and deeper with each thrust. It was hard to think. Only the slapping of their flesh and the sound of their heavy breathing registered. 

"Now you know what I want for my birthday," Alice murmured, increasing the pace. "My own strap on."

Marcia tried to growl out a laugh but it emerged as a grunt. "It's yours," she gasped, blinking her eyes as the orgasm closed in. "Mm... fuck... a little harder." She shifted her curvy body beneath her grinding lover, watching those pale, pumping buttocks reflecting back at her from the angle of the mirrors. "Fuck me harder."

"Like this?" Alice panted, sitting up straight. She reached her hands down to cup Marcia's bouncing breasts and changed to short, fast, stabs of delicious torture. "You want me to fuck you like this?"

"Oh, yes... Oh, God, baby..." Marcia tightened her legs around her lover, the pressure from the backs of her heels pulling Alice even deeper inside. "Yesss... I'm so close!"

"Cum for me..." 

"Shit... Oh yes," Marcia mewed. It wasn't just Alice's words—it was the sheer wanton look in her young eyes. The sweet little bitch had never been with a woman a week ago and she was rapidly becoming an expert. Reaching up, Marcia cupped the small breasts, both of the women's hands on the others tits now. The muscles in her neck tightened as she half raised herself from the bed and, with a growl, began humping her hips upwards..

Alice leant down for another kiss and as soon as their lips locked, she began to pump harder, in shorter, faster bursts. Marcia tried to moan but her young lover's tongue was circling the inside of her mouth. The faster she pumped, the harder she tried. 

Her hands left Alice's breasts, reaching out sideways. Her fingers curled as they gripped at the silken bedsheets in sheer desperation. The orgasm was going to be even fiercer than all the others.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck..."

***

Donald Appleby feasted his eyes on Sandra Wilson's firm buttocks. The taut round globes were clearly defined against the tight skirt of her business suit as she walked to the seat he indicated opposite his desk. At most, she wore a thong, he imagined. He'd soon find out. 

The remnants of the Blush from the party would still be circulating around her system, reinforced by the further dose Angela had unwittingly provided fifteen minutes ago. Her nipples so temptingly in evidence against the material of her thin cream blouse confirmed her arousal. So did the way her breasts heaved in time with her breathing. 

The businessman took the empty glass from her without a word. Walking to the drinks cabinet, he poured himself a whisky and then refilled her drink from the water jug with his back her. That made it easier to drop a single splash from the small phial into the glass. 

Another dose of Blush was overkill, he knew. But he wanted her begging for it. 

The overheating cop crossed her legs as he turned back to her. The movement was slow, almost deliberate, as if she was already flirting with him. Perfect. He'd drop the bombshell first, and then build up from there.

"It's a soft drink," he nonchalantly told her, handing her the refilled glass. "I'm aware you can't drink on duty."

His words had the desired effect. Even someone as experienced as the Vice Head couldn't disguise the instant look of shock that flickered across her face.

"Oh yes," he murmured, walking around to his chair with that steely gait. The one that said he was in control. "I know who you are. So to answer your question, Sandra—I can call you Sandra, can't I? Please call me Donald—to answer your question, it's not what you can do for me. It's what I can do to help you."

He smiled at the baffled expression on her face. She was trying to work it out, search her brain for clues, but there weren't any. And even had there been, her befuddled mind would be too busy attempting to cope with her raging libido, to be able to work it out. If anything, her nipples were even more prominent than before. She was feeling it, all right. He let her see his gaze rest on them for a few moments and then watched the growing pink colour fill her cheeks. When she took a long drink, his grin widened.

For a while, the silence hovered in the air between them, like a raincloud. Hers was dark and stormy looking. His had a rainbow at the end of it.

"How do you know?" she eventually asked.

Appleby tutted. Was that the best she could come up with? Still, as it wouldn't take her long to wonder if he knew of Kirsten and Alice, he'd better take her off the scent. "You were recognised at my Gala party, Sandra. It was a shock, believe me. I wasn't aware we'd invited such an esteemed member of the London Met. Not only that, I believe you attended an open evening, masquerading as a potential model, if I'm not mistaken."

Her body shifted on the chair and she crossed her slender legs again. He knew why—the Blush was even more effective in stressful situations. Her mind was attempting to deal with his revelation, while controlling the burning inside her body. It wasn't possible. 

"I can help you, Sandra," he repeated, easing to his feet. Her gaze stayed on his movements as he removed his suit jacket and carefully placed it over the back of his chair. He smiled back at her as he casually removed a piece of fluff from the shoulder. When he unknotted and pulled off his red silk tie, her eyes widened. 

"Help me in what way?" she eventually said. Her voice was so low he could hardly hear her.

Appleby gave a reassuringly soft smile. "Let me correct myself," he slowly said, picking up his whisky and walking around the desk. He took a long sip and licked his lips. Wilson took a longer drink from her glass. "I rather thought we could help one another. Let's say... an alliance..."

"An alliance?" Now he really did have her puzzled. 

"I'll put my cards fairly and squarely on the table," he told her, stopping a couple of feet away. He raised his glass and pointed a finger over the rim. "Your little charade suggests you've been checking me out, Sandra. I have no idea why, but naturally you've found nothing of value. There's nothing to find, you see. I'm a legitimate businessman."

He paused, observing her reaction. She was trying to concentrate but inevitably finding it difficult. He unbuttoned his top shirt button, and then a second. "Warm in here, isn't it?" he suggested, implanting the thought. Wilson's hand went to the collar of her blouse and she quickly threw back the rest of her drink. There'd be no holding back now.

"At first, I was angry," he continued, putting the glass on the edge of the desk beside her. "But anger can be such an unproductive emotion, don't you think?"

He placed both hands on her shoulders, rubbing his thumbs into the skin through the material. Wilson twisted in the chair, as if trying to shrug his hands away. That was impressive, he conceded. Her body shouldn't have been able to resist any sort of touch.

"Tsk, tsk." His thumbs resumed their caress. "Hear me out, Sandra. The way I see it is that you have contacts who provide you with information. There may be times when I can provide that service.

"How?" Her breathing was much heavier.

"I have ways," he smiled, easing his strong fingers around the front of her trembling body, flicking open the top button of her blouse. Her chest heaved at the contact and her head fell back slightly so that it rested against his stomach. "It's amazing how much a man in my position gets to hear." His voice was low and persuasive. "For example, I've already fed some information to your Commissioner..."

"Sir Peter?" Her voice was hoarse. 

"The very same," he whispered, leaning closer. His fingers flicked open the next button. He could feel himself growing hard. 

"Please, stop," she said, her voice a strained whisper. Her right hand lifted onto his. 

"You don't want me to stop, Sandra," he quietly told her. "You want me to tell you what I told Sir Peter, don't you?" Her hand stayed on his, but made no move to stop him as he flicked a third button open. "You'll find there'll be no need for you to leave the Met."

"No need? What do you know? I don't understand." Her voice was an uncontrolled whimper. "I can't think straight."

"There's no need to think," Appleby whispered, quickly unfastening the remaining buttons and pulling the blouse apart. The bra was front fastening and he deftly unhooked the clip as he continued. "You just need to know I'm on your side, helping you. Trust me, Sandra."

His hands cupped each naked breast. When he flicked her aching nipples, the panting cop let out a long sigh. Her head pushed back into his groin. She was his, now...

"I know what you need, Sandra," he whispered, quickly unzipping himself with one hand. It took only a few seconds to drag his erect cock from his boxers. He gripped her hair, holding her head in position as he rubbed the thick shaft against her cheek. "This is what you want, Sandra," he persuasively murmured, pushing the throbbing member towards her lips. "Why don't you show me just how much?"

***

Marcia could feel Alice's hard nipples press into her back as they luxuriated in the hot tub together. It was a time to relax after their extensive sex. And an opportunity to take their relationship to the next stage—Carmella's instructions had been quite specific.

"So," she murmured, resting her head back into the curve between Alice's neck and shoulder. She pulled the blonde's hands onto her breasts and held hers over them. Her nipples instantly reacted to the warm palms. "Tell me, miss policewoman, what cases are you working on right now?"

Alice's hands tensed, long enough for Marcia to realise she'd struck a nerve. Of course she had. It wasn't that her young lover would be worried about the Appleby investigation—she'd have figured there was no way Marcia could find out about that. Her dilemma would be more fundamental—Alice's cop's instincts would instantly rebel at the very thought of sharing information on confidential police cases with anyone. Even her... 

"Nothing much," she nervously replied, taking a nipple between each forefinger and thumb.

Marcia purred her delight. The attempt to distract was obvious, but still sent a lick of heat through her warm body. She turned her face towards her young lover, sexily pursing her lips for a kiss. It was long and sensuous, and sent out a promise of even more to come—despite their morning's lovemaking—if Alice played ball.

"You mean we're going to have secrets from one another?" she asked, eventually pulling away and settling back against Alice's body again. The water sloshed around them like ripples on a pond. "That's no fun. Ask me anything, and I'll tell you. You know that. What are you worried about? I have links to the Mafia?

Alice laughed with her. But she clearly remained nervous. "Really, I can't..."

Marcia turned her head again, but this time it was that deliciously perky breast her lips sought. They closed on a nipple, sucking it deep inside her mouth. When her teeth circled it, Alice let out a growl. "Okay, okay. But if you ever tell anyone, I have to kill you."

"It's a deal," Marcia slurped, releasing the hard bud from her mouth. She trailed her fingers under the water along Alice's legs either side of her. "Providing you use your body as the weapon. That's second only to death by chocolate as my favourite way to go."

The blonde gave a mock gasp of disbelief. "You prefer chocolate to my body?"

Marcia laughed out loud. "Okay, your body is way top of the list, babes. But chocolate is number two. So, come on, I want to hear all about the cases that is Vice working on. All the juicy details, please..."

***

Donald Appleby moaned aloud as Sandra Wilson's near perfect mouth continued to work on his cock. She was good, very good. The Blush had taken full effect and the sexy bitch couldn't get enough, saliva dripping from her lips as she took him as far inside her mouth as she could. One hand dug into his ass, whilst the other dropped to caress his balls. 

He moaned again and tightened his hand in her dark hair. He'd pulled it free from its clasp and a few strands kept falling across her face with every sultry bob of her head. At first, she'd brushed them away. Now, she didn't bother.

If he wasn't mistaken, she had one hand under her skirt, rubbing herself while she pleasured him. He'd check the recording later. 

His fingers dug into her scalp as she took even more of his thick cock down her throat. She was growling continuously as she worked on him, the saliva dripping from her lips and running down her chin. She wiped it away with one hand and rubbed it into his hard shaft, before pumping him with her mouth again.

Appleby groaned and dragged her head upwards so that he could gain some temporary relief. But as her sexy gaze stared into his, it was more and more difficult to hold back. He slowly began to buck his hips. "I'm going to cum in your mouth," he brazenly grunted, knowing the words would inflame her. "Would you like that, Sandra?"

Her response was to scrape her teeth along his hardness. She whimpered. One hand left his ass to corkscrew around his shaft as she sucked him harder, deeper. 

"Oh yes, like that," he groaned. He could feel his orgasm begin to build. "You like that thought, Sandra? You're thirsty?"

Her upward looking eyes stared up at him. They gave her answer. She sucked harder, twisting her head from side to side as her mouth sought out its reward. 

Appleby cupped his hands around the back of her head as his hips bucked harder, fucking her mouth. She stayed with him, fondling his balls with her hand as she accepted each thrust. For a moment, he paused, trying to contain the rush. Sandra Wilson had other ideas. A final suck between her lips, squeeze of his testicles, and he was there.

"Oh fuck..."

The brunette growled her approval as he fired the first blast against the back of her throat. He was right, she was thirsty. She hungrily accepted the offering as he fired again, then again, filling her mouth with his thick tribute. The sexy bitch took it all, swallowing greedily and then coming back for more. She was sucking him dry. 

It took a while for him to finish and Wilson licked around the head, cleaning him, making sure she had it all. Finished, she sat back and wiped a drop of cum from her mouth with the back of her hand. Her unwavering hazel coloured eyes were wild as she licked her lips. 

They didn't leave his. 

He nodded downwards towards his glistening manhood. The double dose of Viagra would keep him hard for as long as necessary. The sexual fire was even brighter in her aroused eyes as she stared at his hardness. It would stay that way for a long time after he'd finished with her but that didn't concern him. Only the present mattered.

"Don't worry, Sandra," he said, a huge smirk covering his face. "You didn't think we were through yet, did you? My cock doesn't think so. And you need it so badly, don't you my little slut? Why don't you stand up?"




Appleby Blush Ch. 10



She didn't hesitate, even for a second. Pushing up to her feet, her eyes held his gaze as she leant back against the cool leather top of the desk. Her growl came from the back of her throat as she dragged the tight skirt up to her waist. He didn't need to tell her, she'd read his thoughts. Her hands went to her black thong and roughly yanked it down her thighs.

As Appleby's eyes were magnetically drawn to the thin dark wedge above the entrance to her sex, she spread her legs and ran a shaking hand along her labial lips. Another growl escaped from her throat.

"Show me," he commanded, stroking his lengthening shaft. His eyes stayed on her smooth mound. "Show me how much you want it."

The hand between her legs stroked along her wet folds again. Her fingers found her clit, rubbing the slippery nub as she began to pant. Her eyes narrowed and her spare hand reached inside her open blouse to clutch a breast. All of a sudden, it wasn't enough. She slipped her middle finger inside her wetness, moving it slowly at first and then beginning to ram it in and out. The sound of her palm slapping against her pussy, and the wet sloshing sound of her juices, intermingled into a sexual cocktail of mesmerizing sound.

The businessman's cock grew further. He didn't think that was possible.

With a snarl, he covered the short distance between them and pulled her legs up to his waist. He rubbed his hardness against her sex but Wilson had no intention of allowing herself to be teased. She needed more and she needed it now. Reaching for his shaft, she dragged him to her opening and gasped out as she easily fitted the head inside.

Appleby lunged forward and he drove into her. Her frantic need for him was infectious. He wanted her. This was the Head of the London Met's Vice Squad and she'd been unable to resist his clutches. No woman could. He was invincible...

The sexy bitch clutched his heaving back as she hiked her left leg up and wrapped it around his back. His large hand supported her thigh as he slowly withdrew until just his crown remained inside her. Their eyes met, Wilson whimpered in anticipation.

Thrusting forward, he drove his rigid manhood back inside her tight sex again. The large desk creaked under her weight. He began to fuck her with an easy rhythm, but her bucking body refused to let him have all his own way. She needed it hard and fast and was determined to get her own way. Suddenly everything was desperate and frantic. 

Wilson shuffled back on the leather desk top, giving more room to thrust back against him. Her throaty growls increased. Appleby gripped under her thighs, holding her in position as her right leg joined her left around his broad back. Her hands circled his neck just as her ankles locked around his muscular body.

"Fuck me," she grunted, pulling him into a kiss. It was hot, their tongues entwining and their teeth clashing. His thickness felt wonderful sheathed in her tightness. 

She was squeezing him as she thrust upwards and for a moment Appleby nearly lost it. He gripped her hair again, roughly jerking her head as if in warning. If she didn't slow her pace, the familiar sensations he could feel building would overwhelm him. 

His lips curled back in a snarl. He was the one in control, not her. His jaw set and his teeth clenched and unclenched as he began to fuck her again. Wilson arched her back with each pump of his hips, letting go of his neck and falling back. Flat on the desk, she grabbed her small firm breasts and flicked her thumbs across her round little nipples.

Appleby roared again. He drilled into her harder. In all the times he'd fucked Angela on the desk it had never creaked and moved like this. He closed his eyes. The feeling as his veiny cock drove into her London Met pussy and the way she responded by increasing the pace of her upward pumps, was intoxicating, even for him.

His fingernails dug into her thighs, going for broke. He grunted like an animal. Wilson screamed. Her body began to shudder. Reaching down, he wrapped some of her sweat stained hair in his hand again and yanked her head up, suspending it in mid air. 

"Cum bitch," he spat out, unable to disguise the triumph in his tone. "Cum..."

His command reinforced the climax building inside her. She wasn't just on the edge. She was way beyond it. When he yanked her hair a second time, her sex spasmed and contracted around his cock. When her flowing juices covered his pumping member, he loosened his grip on her hair and let her collapse back down onto the desk. 

His well-worked balls tensed as he stared down at the sexy bitch. She'd never forget this fucking...

Three more violent pumps and he was there, too. He grunted again and again as he began to fire into her body for a second time. Her clutching pussy felt even better than her thirsty mouth. Wilson gasped. His grip on her trembling hips tightened with his release. Grunting hard with each new explosion, he emptied his balls and roared again. 

He was Donald Appleby—Master of the Universe...

***

Kirsten giggled like an excited schoolgirl. The Jumeirah Essex House hotel, nestled between the beauty of Central Park and the buzz of Broadway, was simply perfect. And the deluxe suite she was sharing with Carmella was like out of a dream. She'd never stayed anywhere as grand as this in her life. Nor had she ever travelled first class before. It made up, so Carmella had said, for the unavailability of Donald's private jet. 

She'd already visited every room in the suite—twice—and the sunlight pouring in provided a magical feel. "I can't believe this," she shrilled, staring at the stunning view from the windows for the umpteenth time. 

Carmella smiled like a benevolent parent as she revelled in the brunette's excitement. "Didn't I tell you?" she asked casually, pushing a hand through her perfectly groomed hair. "I keep my promises. That's why we're here. Today, we relax. Tomorrow, it's rehearsals."

The Fashion Show opened in two days time, which was long enough to coach the brunette in what was required. It would be the first step in establishing her as a world renowned model. That would vastly increase her worth to the organisation as an escort.

Kirsten dragged her gaze away from the captivating view and turned towards Carmella. It hadn't been easy to tender her resignation, but after a couple of meetings Sandra Wilson had understood and granted her the holiday leave she was due. She hadn't explained—how could she?—exactly why she was leaving. She'd worry about that some other time.

All that remained was for her to call into the Met next week, to tidy up all loose ends. She'd spent so much time on the Appleby investigation that she didn't have much other work on her plate. Okay, there were reams of paperwork, but who cared? She was here in the Big Apple and would soon be featuring in a Fashion Show.

Right now, she'd do anything for Carmella.

Her eyes flitted across the Columbian woman's body. That was something else—since her session with Alice at the party, she'd begun to look at women in a different light. Everything about Carmella was classy and hot, from her accent to the way she dressed, from her could-do-anything attitude to her voluptuous body. Kirsten had found herself wondering...

"Have you decided what you'd like to do tonight?" the older woman asked, breaking into her thoughts. She was beaming as she picked up the bottle of champagne on the table. 

There was no doubt about it, Kirsten re-affirmed to herself. Carmella was a sexy woman. She was braless under the haltered top of her light green dress and it wasn't difficult to visualise her topless. Was that why she was growing moister by the second?

"Let me see," she breathlessly answered, trying to concentrate on the question. "What were the options? We could have dinner in a top restaurant or see a Broadway show?"

"I said dinner and a show," Carmella laughed, a second before she uncorked the champagne. It foamed over the sides of the bottle before she could direct the bubbly into the two glasses and a few fizzing drops found its way onto her dress.

Unfazed, the Columbian woman replaced the bottle on the table and reached behind her neck. With a simple flick of her fingers, she untied the flimsy top, letting the halter dress slide down her body and pool on the plush carpet. 

Kirsten's breath caught. The olive skinned beauty wore nothing beneath except for the lacy thong.

"I have an idea," Carmella continued. Her hands were already freeing the tie in her hair and she shook out the silken locks so that they hung long and wavy over her shoulders. 

The brunette's gaze covered the near naked body. Her full breasts were the equal of women half her age and those deep chocolate brown nipples looked like they were begging to be sucked. "Yes?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse. Had she really just had that thought?

"Before we get ready for our evening, we have some time on our hands," Carmella purred in that sexy accent. She closed the distance between them and her hands went to Kirsten's cream blouse. Her fingers confidently opened one button, then another, as she spoke. "Let's relax in the Jacuzzi while we think about how we can work up an appetite. I don't think we'll need a bathing suit. Do you?"

***

"You're tied to an agency?" 

"No, not at all." The young woman was tense, but her coy grin and attractive giggle were infectious.

Tony Daly found himself warming to her. Quite how Donald Appleby's secretary knew this girl puzzled him. Ellen had an Eastern European accent—Russian if he wasn't mistaken. It was quite a contrast to Angela's upper class tones. Yet it was Appleby's secretary's recommendation that had brought the woman here.

"But you've done some modelling work?"

"A little," she told him, apprehensively running a hand through her tinted blonde-brown hair.

"That's good." His keen gaze didn't leave her sparkling brown eyes. There was something about her warm innocence that was particularly sexy. And years of experience told him that under the unpretentious clothes, she had a body to match. "You're just what we're looking for."

"Thank you." There was that giggle again. His cock flexed.

"We need new, fresh talent," he continued, pushing the glass of Blush towards her. She uncrossed her legs to lean forward, and took a quick sip. When Daly smiled, she took a longer gulp. That was better. "It's Ellen, right?"

"Yes."

"And you know Mr. Appleby's secretary?"

She gave him that bashful smile again. "Angela. Yes. She recommended me.

He chuckled. "I know that, Ellen, and I'm pleased she did. How did you two meet?" Not that it mattered. But he was interested.

"Through her husband," she eagerly answered. Her Eastern European accent sounded even cuter. She nervously crossed her legs again and took another drink. "You really think I might have a chance of making it as a model?"

"That depends on you," he answered, with a shrug. Let's not get ahead of himself, at least not until he'd tested the waters. "Tell me, Ellen, we do all sorts of work. Glamour, topless, even some stuff a little more risqué."

"Risque?" Even her frown was adorable.

"A little riskier. For an adult audience, shall we say? Where are your limits?"

Her smile instantly returned. This time her shuffle on her seat was to enthusiastically emphasise her answer. "I'm happy to do anything, Mr. Daly, if it means becoming a model."

The black photographer's smile broadened. She really was too good to be true. He flicked the switch on his computer, watching as the screen changed from dark to light. It gave a clear view of the dressing rooms, and served as a signal that they'd shortly be broadcasting to their pay per view audience. "The next step is the audition. How you look infront of a camera will determine whether there's any point in taking this further." 

The patter was so familiar he could say it in his sleep.

"Okay..." 

"Good, good. Let's get started then. I'm sure you'll look good in a bikini..."

***

"Are you okay?" Alex Goodwin asked, pushing his head around the doorframe to Sandra Wilson's office. She'd buried herself in her room ever since she'd returned from her appointment with Appleby and hadn't even emerged for a lunchtime sandwich. Even her window blinds were closed. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was worried..."

"I'm fine," she told him, trying to ignore the fire burning between her thighs. The sex with Donald Appleby still had her body raging with need and just the sight of Alex made her want to drag him into her office, close the door and fuck his brains out. 

Going back to the Met hadn't been easy. Not after what she'd done. Had it not been for her forthcoming appointment with Sir Peter Richardson, she'd have found some place to hide away. She'd needed time to compose herself, to try to work out what was happening. 

Shutting herself away in her room had given her time to think and she'd reached the only conclusion possible. Appleby had fed her something and it was still in her system. 

It must have been in the drink. On reflection, she'd experienced the same wanton need for sex at her open night audition. And at the party, too. That was why she'd been easy prey for the redhead. And why she'd given herself so willingly to Donald Appleby. At one stage, she was sure he'd called her his slut. That's what she had been. It was how she'd felt.

It must have been some sort of aphrodisiac, and yet in all her years in the Met she'd never come across anything with as powerful an effect. But it was the only realistic assumption. 

Dammit, on the day she was about to resign, she'd stumbled on the very thing she'd set the investigation up to find. She'd known her instincts had been good! 

The problem was what to do about it.

She could tell Richardson during her meeting with him, but it was likely the Commissioner dismiss the accusation without formal evidence. It would be political suicide to support unfounded allegations against someone as powerful as the business magnate. That meant she'd have to disclose all the gaudy details. That wouldn't be the brightest move when she'd soon be formally looking for another job. People wouldn't touch her with a barge pole.

Then there was Kirsten and Alice. It was inconceivable that they hadn't been drugged, too. Yet, like her, they'd kept it to themselves—probably afraid of the consequences. If she confided in Sir Peter, their part in this would come out, too. It would be held against them, particularly as the investigation had been unofficial. That would lead to the same situation as with Donny Webster and Jack Palmer. Careers ruined—unfairly—only in this case there'd be the added complication of a sex scandal being broadcast across the national media.

She couldn't do that. She'd seen Donny, Jack and Taffy's careers destroyed and she wasn't going to be responsible for doing the same to the two young women.

Then there was Alex. He'd be devastated if news leaked out of his daughter, and he'd rightly blame it on her. With Kirsten on holiday in New York and Alice on her day off, she couldn't quiz the two of them. But her gut told her they'd been given the same aphrodisiac. What a fucking mess. And it was one of her own making. That meant that protecting them was even more important to her than exposing Appleby. 

Yet there had to be a way of bringing the businessman to justice!?! How many more innocents would be affected otherwise? He'd become overconfident and, if she had her way, his desire to add her to his list would be his downfall. Now that she knew what she was up against, it placed her in a stronger position. Except that she was about to resign before Colin Turner could make an example of her... 

Or would she? Another memory flickered back into her mind. "I've already fed some information to your Commissioner," Appleby had said. "I think you'll find there'll be no need for you to leave the Met." What the fuck did that mean? How did he know?

"Sandra. Sandra."

It was Alex's voice, sounding urgent. She realised he'd been repeating her name, trying to attract her attention. God, was she really that far gone?

"Come in, Alex," she said, her aroused eyes homing in on the barrel chested cop's groin. "And close the door."

She pushed up from her desk as the door clicked shut behind him. Giving him a blow job would set her up nicely for her meeting with Sir Peter Richardson. Then afterwards, she'd take him straight back to her apartment and keep him there until she'd obliterated the burning need from her system

***

"Oh, Goddd..." Kirsten raised her head from the bed to stare into the knowing eyes looking up at her. With a soft grunt, she flopped it back down onto the pillow again and whimpered like a tiny animal as yet another orgasm swept through her.

Carmella smiled appreciatively. She had the big, black vibrator on high and continued to twist it inside the brunette as she spent, twisting and moaning on the damp sheets. Her free hand kneaded the wonderfully full breasts as she pleasured the younger woman and her tongue swept up and down her sweat-dampened neck as Kirsten came again.

They'd been fucking in the large bed for the last hour and, to begin with, she'd allowed the eager brunette to lead the way. Kirsten's over enthusiastic technique may have needed a little fine tuning, but she would turn the girl into an expert by the time they left New York. 

Then she'd taken over...

Every time Kirsten screamed out that her body couldn't take any more, she took the former cop to another sexual high—stretching out her climaxes like plugging in a battery charger. 

"You like that?" she teased, changing position so that she could roll the very tip of her experienced tongue around Kirsten's slippery clit. She knew just the right amount of pressure to keep her younger lover's hips bucking upwards in search of yet another release. 

Kirsten's clutching fingers dragged their way through her long dark hair. Her sweat covered body thrust upwards on the bed. She was there again. "Oh shit... of fuck..."

Carmella lapped at the delicious juices, feeling her own need returning. Her whole body was buzzing and her damp hair clung to her perspiring brow. Wiping it away, and then blowing a strand away from her eyes, she switched around with the grace of a cat. Her full breasts bounced deliciously as she repositioned her fabulous body over the younger woman's face. 

"Lick me again, baby," she encouraged.

The ferocity of Kirsten's response made her growl like a cougar. But that's just what she was, she chuckled to herself. She and Donald adored young flesh. The sexy bitch was wrapping her hands around her olive skinned buttocks now, frantically dragging her glistening sex downwards to her waiting mouth. Fuck, that was good.

"Slower, a little slower... like that... that's it... like that..." she guided, her accent always more pronounced in the throes of sex. At first, she'd slotted Kirsten into a specific category of the escort side of the business, but the wider capabilities she'd shown with Alice—and again this afternoon—confirmed she could be used in any situation. 

The thought enhanced her arousal. So did the quickly learning tongue that was flicking all around her smooth mound. Was there an inch of her saliva covered flesh that Kirsten had failed to worship? "Oh, God, that's good, honey. I need more..."

Pushing upright onto her haunches, she began to rotate her hips. Small, circular rotations, slowly at first but building as her need increased. Kirsten stayed with her—good girl— slurping at her flowing juices. Carmella's heart raced. Leaning forward, she grinded down a little harder, running her overheated sex up and down the hard tongue that continued to offer itself. 

The pace grew. She could hear Kirsten's slurps with each sweep of her flesh. 




Appleby Blush Ch. 10



Reaching behind her to grasp her young lover's heaving breasts, her arched body humped down faster. Oh God. She could feel it. The lid was about to be lifted from the geyser. Her grip on the majestic tits behind her tightened as her thighs grew taut. One final grind took her there... the climax was going to be huge. She might even...

Kirsten gasped as the first unexpected squirt of juices covered her forehead and hair. Carmella twisted her hips, adjusting the angle so that the second blast hit the brunette flush in the face. The third covered Kirsten's chin and neck and the squirting woman aimed the next at the shocked girl's partly open mouth.

God, how long had it been since someone had made that happen?

***

Sandra Wilson was waiting to be beheaded. Or so it felt. The grey haired secretary's austere eyes smiled at her, but the older woman hadn't spoken other than to offer her a seat outside the Commissioner's office. The brunette preferred to stand.

She'd been waiting to see Sir Peter for over half an hour. That suggested there was trouble ahead. No doubt he was being fully briefed, possibly by Colin Turner. 

She'd used the delay to try to find a way to stay in her role, so that she could take Appleby head-on. But that wasn't going to happen. Colin Turner's ridiculous demands made any compromise with him impossible. Nor could she expect any support from Richardson if she explained the problem. He'd see that as her being disloyal, of course.

In the Met, you didn't run down your fellow officers and certainly not your seniors. Well, maybe not, but she'd be telling Richardson exactly how she felt. It wouldn't make any difference to the outcome, but she'd leave the job with a clean conscience.

The phone on the grey haired secretary's desk rang startled her from her thoughts. The way the older woman's gaze flickered at her confirmed it was time to face the music. 

"You can go in now," she said, those narrow eyes remaining impassive.

A sharp rap at the door, a shouted 'Come in,' and then she was inside the room. As expected, Sir Peter was behind his desk, but she certainly hadn't anticipated such a heavyweight presence. Anthony More and Thomas Hancock were both at the same level as the Commissioner. A welcoming party such as this always indicated trouble.

He kept her waiting while he finished his conversation with his two colleagues, the three of them conferring in low, hushed tones. Finally, he turned to her. "Afternoon, Sandra."

"Good afternoon, sir."

The tall, distinguished man glanced back at his two colleagues. This time his voice was back to its normal, smooth tone. "Thank you, gentlemen. I'll take it from here."

Wilson acknowledged the two men, her puzzlement increasing as they both rose to their feet. Neither of them gave her so much as a glance as they walked to the door. It seemed they were the judges rather than the executioner.

"Have a seat," Richardson told her, launching into conversation as soon as the door was closed behind them. "We've interviewed Colin Turner this morning."

The brunette bit her lip. Now there was a surprise, she sarcastically thought, trying to control her frustration at the mere sound of that bastard's name. Hear him out, she told herself. Maintain her dignity. She'd have plenty of opportunity afterwards.

"Have you heard any whispers?" Sir Peter continued.

"Whispers, sir?" That wasn't the sort of question she was expecting.

"Clearly not," Richardson said, tapping his fingertips on the top of his desk. His eyes didn't leave hers. "Some information came to our attention last night. Documents. Photographs. There's a strong possibility they'll be in the national papers tomorrow. We're preparing a statement. You'll be fully briefed of course, but not just now."

"I don't understand, sir."

"Of course you don't," he snapped, his high forehead creasing in a frown. It was unusual for him to look flustered. "Let's keep it that way until I can give you a formal briefing. That will take place at seven tomorrow morning, in this office. Be prompt. There are a few items to attend to before we get to that stage."

"Yes, sir," Wilson said, disguising her confusion. What the hell was going on? The Commissioner was known for his straight talking but right now, he was speaking in riddles. 

He poured himself a glass of water but didn't offer her one. Instead, he stared vacantly at the window. She glanced more closely at him as he took a sip. There wasn't a single one of his admittedly few grey hairs out of place, and the tiny knot on his old school tie perfectly bisected the crisp white collar of his shirt. He was definitely one of the 'old boys' network. 

"In a nutshell," he continued, swinging his gaze back to her. "The position is that Colin Turner has been photographed in some compromising situations. With another man. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad in this day and age, except that this man is a well known male prostitute. Turner's resigned immediately, of course. That discussion was held this morning."

The shock hit her between the eyes. It was disastrous news for the Met, of course, but not for her. She thought of Appleby again. Could he really be behind this? 

"I've already fed some information to your Commissioner. I think you'll find there'll be no need for you to leave the Met." 

"Sandra..." Sir Peter had started speaking again. "I want you to temporarily step into Turner's shoes." He paused, as if he didn't need to say more. "We'll have a much longer conversation tomorrow once we've fully prepared our position in relation Turner's activities. Until then, you know nothing. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely, sir," she answered, trying to think it through. Documents and photographs, he'd said. How could Appleby possibly be involved?

"Well?"

Dammit, he was talking to her again. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"I said I'll see you tomorrow morning, Sandra. Seven o'clock. Don't be late. That's all."

***

Donald Appleby picked up his phone and leant back in his chair. "Hello, darling," he warmly said, sipping at his whisky. "How are things in New York?" 

"Perfect. Kirsten's dozing right now," she chuckled down the line. "I think I've worn her out."

"I've no doubt," he replied with a self satisfied smile. He'd rarely seen Carmella look forward so much to a trip to the States. That was partly to do with the Fashion Show, of course. Establishing Kirsten as a leading model was essential to their plans to position her in their elite group of escorts. But Carmella had wanted to initiate the brunette ever since their Paris trip and the recording of her and Alice together had fuelled that need. "She met your expectations?"

"I think we could say she exceeded them." He could hear her satisfied giggle. It was such a shame he hadn't been able to catch that action on camera but a threesome when they returned would fill in the blanks. "We had dinner and a show planned but I think we may need to cancel." Carmella's giggle turned into a throaty laugh. Even after all these years, that sexy accent still reached his groin.

"Go easy on her," Appleby quipped. "Remember the Fashion Show."

"Darling," came the murmured answer. "After all these years, don't you think I know how to pace these things?" 

He laughed heartily. "I know that only too well."

"That's better. And don't keep me waiting, Donald. You know I phoned to hear about our friend from the London Met." Even over the phone, he could sense her anticipation. "I take it everything went as planned?"

"I gave her an extra dose of Blush," he triumphantly laughed. "What could go wrong?"

Carmella purred down the line. "And how was she?"

How was she? His cock was still buzzing from the intensity of the sex. "She was a hot little bitch, but then they all are with the aphrodisiac inside them. And fucking one of the Met's finest added a certain je ne sais quoi..."

When he'd eventually let her go, Sandra Wilson had hurried away from his office, too embarrassed to even speak. With that amount of Blush in her system, she'd want to fuck anything that moved right now. But her session with him would be at the forefront of her mind. Blush did that. Best of all, whether she knew it right now or not, she'd be back.

"What's her next move?"

Appleby pursed his lips. "She'll discover that Turner's no longer a problem. It won't take her long to realise I was behind that. And she'll probably work out that I fed her an aphrodisiac, too. She's smart enough."

"But..."

"That's not an issue," he said confidently. "What can she prove? In her new position, she'll come looking for revenge, and that's just what we want. It won't be long before we have Blush converted to a fragrance, remember."

"Carmella is such a perfect name for the perfume," she laughed down the line. 

"And Appleby's Revenge is so appropriate for the eau de cologne," he chuckled. "A single spray will have the same effect on women as if they'd taken Blush. I'm rather looking forward to my next encounter with the Vice Chief."

"You're so clever, darling. Oh, sorry, I have to go."

"Problem?"

"If you call a naked, sleepy looking brunette who's just emerged from the bedroom a problem, then yes. It definitely looks to me like she needs some attention."

Appleby laughed heartily as they ended the call. A couple of seconds later, he picked up the phone again. "Angela, pop into my office..."

***

"I want to be on top, Alex," Sandra Wilson said, slipping out from under Goodwin's sweat-coated body. 

They'd been fucking for well over an hour and how many different positions had she'd insisted on? She knew her need was fuelled by the drug Appleby had given her. This was a safe way of getting it out of her system. Maybe then, the unwanted yet lust-fuelled flashbacks of her morning fucking would leave her, too? 

Pulling loose the knot that held her straight black hair high on her head, she shook her hair free as she settled herself on Goodwin's lap. Her small, firm breasts danced with the movement and Alex reached up to rotate the round little nipples in his sweaty palms. 

Try as she might, she couldn't shake some of the images from her mind. Her guilt at giving herself so wantonly to Appleby was confused by the way the memories enhanced her arousal. It was the drug, she told herself, feeling her body react to the recollections. Suddenly, fucking wasn't enough. Her wanton body needed to impose itself.

Panting heavily, she rubbed her silky wetness in a sensual, damp trail across Alex's stomach and chest as she headed upwards and settled her thighs either side of his face.

"Make it good, Alex," she told him, not caring that this moment was purely for her pleasure. Her muscles flexed as she rode his face and good old Alex proved up to the task. His arms curled under her thighs, groping at the taut swell of her hard ass as his tongue probed. 

The thought of face fucking Appleby occurred from nowhere and with it, oh God, the orgasm burst inside her like a damn exploding. Fuck, was that a result of the image of riding Appleby's face, or the way Goodwin had run his tongue across her juicy sex? 

Wilson decided that, right now, she didn't care. Letting the orgasm ride out its need like the tide ebbing and flowing across wet sand, she gave a moan and leant backwards. One arm rested on the bed behind her and the other circled his thick erection. 

She jerked his cock in time with her undulations as she grinded her clit down onto his lips in search of yet another climax. This wasn't fair on Alex, she knew but... oh fuck... her face tightened and her eyes closed... she was cumming again! 

This time she didn't wait for her body to recover from the orgasm. Slithering backwards down his body, her hard nipples scraped across his skin as she settled on his lap and took him inside. She was so wet it was as easy as sliding a knife through butter. 

"Come on, Alex," she rasped, jerking down on his hardness. Once she had his creamy cum, she would let him rest to regain his energy for their next session. That would be their pattern for the night until her early start in the morning, she'd decided. 

Tomorrow, she'd temporarily step into Colin Turner's shoes. There were two immediate priorities. After reversing the budget cuts her former boss had tried to impose, she'd assign Alex to the Appleby investigation she was restarting. However much he'd tried to disguise the fact, her instinct told her there must have been an internal leak. 

Who better than Goodwin to find it? 

Then she'd consider a new strategy to find out exactly what the businessman was up to. This time, she'd make sure she was at the front of the investigation. The fact she knew about the aphrodisiac meant she was one step ahead of the game. 

Donald Appleby had no idea she was about to tackle him with all the power at her disposal...

THE END for now...