1 comments/ 17150 views/ 1 favorites Secret Weapon Ch. 01 By: Ton8ty Chapter 01 – Shopping With Red Dear Reader: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental. The young women, wrapped in their rain cloaks, hurried through the London spring drizzle, weaving in and out of the heavy, slow moving throng of shoppers on the sidewalk. The rain droplets glistened on the short dark curls surrounding the head of the smaller of the two. She had the hood of her cloak thrown carelessly back on her shoulders and her long legs pushed through its front opening as she strode purposefully along West Halkin Street. The hem of her skirt and the matching gray stockings were also damp. Her taller companion, in contrast, was carefully enclosed in her cloak with the hood pulled over her head and drawn tightly around her face. She was lagging behind her companion, carefully choosing her path so as to avoid as many of the puddles as possible. The petite girl arrived at the doorway of the Augustina boutique first and whipped off her cloak as soon as she was out of the grey dampness. Pressing the microswitch in the neckband of her raingear, she watched as the miracle fabric shed its moisture and shrank into a small cylinder. Tucking it into the bag she wore over her shoulder, she said to her friend, "Hurry up, Red. We really haven't got all day." Mildred slid into the doorway and waited for her friend to shake the water from her hair, much as a dog would, before she removed her protective wrap and closed it. The unseasonably warm weather had allowed them to leave their heavy sweaters back at the flat; they wore only skirts and blouses. Red shook her shoulder length strawberry blonde curls back into a semblance of order before following her lithe companion through the aisles of the store. The gray Anne Land skirt the other girl wore was a fashionable length, the hem reaching just above the knee, and swayed smoothly from the hip down as she moved. Red felt a momentary twinge of jealousy as she swept her eyes over the upper part of the skirt. From the hip to the waist, the material clung to the body beneath it like a second skin, displaying every taut muscle that rippled beneath. The cleft between her cheeks was clearly defined and she must have been wearing only a thong, if anything, underneath. Mildred secretly wished that she could one day have the self-confidence to wear something that revealing. She was 10 cm. taller than her friend, but also over one and a half stone heavier and much more self-conscious. The girl before her, blessed with a trim size 6 figure, openly flaunted her athletic dancer's body. They had spent most of the morning shopping the Oxford Square boutiques and had not been very successful; the small shopping bags that they carried only held a few items. They had taken turns cursing the stupid war that caused their favorite fabrics to be in such short supply. Both were very aware that there were but a few hours left before Red had to pack to catch her train back to university. Separating when they reached the section of the store that sold blouses and tops, the shoppers began exploring different displays. Mildred was startled when she heard her friend let out a whoop of joy and turned in the direction of the sound only to see her slim figure dashing toward the dressing rooms. She followed in that direction and was standing by the clerk's station when the other girl came out of the changing room wearing a hunter green blouse that beautifully complimented her dove grey skirt. "What did you find, Bea?" Red asked. "Just what I've been hunting for! A Theodore Craig! Watch this," said the other girl as the fabric of the blouse gradually shrank around her torso until it moulded to every curve of her body. As Red watched in the mirror, the rich green fabric applied itself to the other girl's chest, clinging smoothly to her and making it apparent that she wore nothing beneath. Except for the collar and the cuffs, the top easily might have been a clever coating of glossy elastic paint. Every detail of the small firm breasts under the fabric was clear to see: a nipple protruded slightly in the center of the puffy areola on each dainty mound. "It even offers some support," Bea explained, pressing a hand under each breast and gently shaking them. They only rippled momentarily before resuming their shape. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she purred, "Ohhh...it feels sooooo good. Like fine silk, only warm! I will have to text their website and demand that they make a full leotard of this material. I would pay almost anything to be able take dance practice wearing a fabric like this." Then the lithe girl raised her arms gracefully over her head in a classic ballet pose and pirouetted slowly around to see how well the top stretched to maintain its smooth coverage. The hem of the blouse clung to the waistband of the skirt throughout her movement and even stayed in place when she bent at the waist and placed her palms flat on the floor. "And," she added breathlessly as she straightened back up, "this is the newest fabric! It changes transparency." Their antics had attracted one of the sales clerks. "Good morning Miss Munro." she greeted Bea. "Good morning, Julia. This is my friend Mildred Burge from North Hampshire." After Red and the clerk exchanged pleasantries, she turned back to Bea and asked, "How does it work?" Bea continued, "Just like the bathing outfits that disappear when they get wet. Only with this fabric, the more aroused you become, the more it shows. Just watch." "You can't," exclaimed Red. "Not here!" With a mischievous grin, Bea stood before the mirror and languidly closed her eyes. Her knees eased slightly apart and her hips began to sway back and forth to an unheard sensual rhythm. Red watched in amazement as the rich hunter green of the top gradually began to fade. As Bea's hips started to move more suggestively and a delicate line of perspiration formed on her upper lip, the difference between the collar of the blouse and the fabric covering her torso became distinct. Her nipples were proudly erect and the fabric clung tightly to each. After a few more minutes passed, Bea's breathing became noticeably ragged. Red glanced about to see that they had attracted a small audience of store clerks and even another customer. Her friend reached out and clutched Red's arm for support as she grimaced with intense pleasure and her entire body quivered. The mirror showed her face and upper body flushed pink and the dark brown areolas on her dainty breasts clearly visible. Other than the delicate cross on its fine gold chain around her neck, from the waist up she seemed to be wearing only a green collar and cuffs. Opening her eyes slowly, she exclaimed, "Wow! That is so real! I must have a couple of these." "Did you just do what I think you did?" Red whispered in awe. She could feel the heat of her embarrassment in her face. Their impromptu audience murmured a few sighs of delight. When the dark haired girl just winked at her in the mirror, Red continued under her breath, "How did you manage that?" "I just willed myself to climax," Bea replied, struggling to control her shakiness. "I don't believe you! How could you do that here, in public?" Red demanded as she watched Bea's blouse start to gradually reappear. "Well, I probably wouldn't have gone quite that far if you hadn't dared me! And, besides, I really wanted to see if this fabric was everything it's supposed to be." "But, how did you do it without touching yourself?" "Sex is all in your head. Very few of the many women who cannot achieve orgasm have anything physically wrong. Even women who have suffered nerve damage and don't have feeling in their clit can learn to get off with other stimuli." By now, her upper body was almost modestly covered. Looking her friend in the eye, she asked in a serious tone of voice, "Have you ever been dry fucked?" "No! And I pray that I never do," Red admitted. "You never have because, by the time you're ready to fuck, your brain has already prepared your body for sex by causing your pussy to produce the necessary juices. And your body has increased the blood flow to your labia and clit making them swell and become more sensitive to stimulation, right?" "Yeah, but then you've got to have the stimulation, don't you?" "Not really. The physical contact just excites nerve endings that tell the brain to further increase the sensitivity of your sex organs. Your brain pumps more blood to the sensitive areas until a threshold is exceeded and a flood of endorphins is released. See? It's all in your head. You could learn to climax without physical stimulation if you made the effort," Bea insisted. "And I suppose you've made the effort?" "You saw the results. It certainly wasn't anything worth writing home about, but, the blouse did what it was advertised to do." Red thought about it for a moment and admitted, "Well, I guess it did. But, how can you be so brash? So blatant?" Bea laughed. "Haven't you figured out yet that men do not understand subtlety? Hell, most of them can't even spell the word! If you wait around for a man to come by who understands and appreciates your subtle hints and suggestions, you'll be waiting for ages. And, if you try subtlety on a man who doesn't understand it, you're just asking for frustration and chaos. In these times, what you must do, girl, is conk the man you want over the head with your club and drag him back to your cave by his dick. Then you still have to train him how to please you properly." Stunned, Red mumbled something about not understanding men that way and returned to her shopping. "Julia!" Bea called and the clerk appeared by her side, "I'd like to wear this blouse and I want one in the lovely pale pink as well. Don't put them on Daddy's account; I don't want to listen to him rant about the high price of clothing these days. Please pick me out some nice knickers and stockings to put on his account, but the blouses are to go on mine." "Yes, Miss Munro. Will there be anything else?" "Not for me, thank you. We'll let you know if my friend finds anything that she likes." Red did manage to find a couple more modest blouses that she liked and the girls left the shop in good spirits. As they hurried out with their purchases, the hire electro-limo that Bea had rung for was waiting at the curb just outside the shop. They dodged through the pedestrian traffic to get to the broad shouldered chauffer who held the door for them with one hand and a large umbrella over their heads with his other. Bea stretched up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek while she gently groped the crotch of his livery uniform. "Good day, Ivan," she whispered. To be continued. Secret Weapon Ch. 02 Chapter 02 – The Ride Home Dear Reader: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental. "Bea! Did you just fondle the driver?" the pretty young woman asked her companion as they slipped into the back of the hire electro-limo. The smaller of the two women laughed, "Yes, I did, Red. You should try it – Ivan is my favorite driver. I always ask for him when I call." Then she lowered her voice and confided, "He's hung like an elephant! You would not believe! If you want your vagina stretched at least three sizes larger than it is now, just take him on a detour into the park on your way to the train station." "What?" Red gasped, a look of amazement on her pretty round face, "how do you know all about him?" Bea explained, "He was taking me home from shopping one afternoon. We were making small talk over the intercom and he mentioned that his boss was making him work the entire day on his birthday. Feeling sorry for him, I had him stop at the curb and hopped into the front seat. I asked him if he wanted me to make his labours worthwhile and, when he didn't say no, I directed him to slowly circle around Hype Park a couple times. Then I unzipped his fly and reached in. Boy, was I surprised! By the time I fished all of him out of his trousers, I had a full two-fister in my hands and he wasn't even completely hard. By the time he was fully erect, I had a real mouthful to work on and that was just the crown of his cock. I really struggled to get a quarter of him down my throat and even that much was painful. Finally, I just slobbered all over him and worked my mouth and hands over his huge member as best as I could. He wasn't complaining at all and when he finally did come, it was buckets full. I damn near drowned! You really should give him a try, if you're up for a challenge." Her laughter filled the cabin. "I really don't think that I'm quite that adventurous," Red stammered, "that sounds like it would hurt too much to be fun." "Well, I'll designate you as my next of kin when I next give it a try, just in case. But, I'm actually looking forward to it," the lithe, dark haired girl said wistfully as she stretched her long legs out in front of her. "Are you planning to take him for a ride in the park?" the strawberry blonde joked. "No," Bea replied and, lowering her voice to a whisper, she continued, "His wife and I have something planned for their anniversary in September. Remind me to tell you all about it when we get back to the flat." "His wife?" Red asked incredulously. "How in the world did that come about? Or don't I want to know?" Bea giggled, "Well, Ivan's huge member has a drawback in that he requires a long reflexive period. The afternoon that I gave him the blowjob in the park, he got home and his wife jumped his bones the minute he walked in the door. She had been waiting for him all afternoon and his birthday present was hot and very wet. When he couldn't get it up right away, he had to explain why and Irina was highly pissed, to say the least." "I'll bet," her friend commented. "When I found out about all the trouble that I had caused my favorite driver, I offered to try to make it up to him. Conveniently, Irina's birthday was coming up a few weeks after his, so I called her and offered a private showing of some of my favorite toys. After a little convincing, she agreed and we spent the afternoon of her birthday trying out a variety of things. We even tried out each other a few times. She is a big woman and I mean big in every way; I almost got lost in her pussy. By the time that Ivan got home, Irina couldn't even drag herself off of the bed. She must have cum fifteen or twenty times in a little over three hours! So, now we're all good friends." "You are so hard to believe. I knew that you had an adventurous streak in you when we were together at Coll, but you now amaze me," the larger woman sighed. "Where did this wild side of you come from?" Bea looked out the tinted window to see that they were jammed in midday traffic. Even after private vehicles were banned from central London in '22, the traffic congestion eased for only a couple years. Bea asked into the intercom, "How long do you think it will take to get home, Ivan?" "Another ten to fifteen minutes, Ma'am," the intercom replied. "OK, that should be fine." "Well, old friend," she continued, addressing her ex-schoolmate, "I guess that you've got time for the whole story. You already know that I was raised by my Granny on a Western Australian sheep station until I was old enough to attend primary school. She is a full blooded Noongar who married a white sheep rancher. I learned most of my outdoor skills from her and my aunts and uncles. Then I was sent to live with Mums in Melbourne to go to primary school. On a typical day, after school I'd be minded by one of Mum's girls who wasn't working that night. Of course, just because they weren't on the clock didn't mean that they weren't entertaining customers on the side, so I got quite an education from ages six to thirteen. I found out later that when I was eleven, his wife went mad and stabbed Daddy's older brother to death. She also poisoned their two sons and, since his oldest brother had died in a mountaineering accident many years before, Daddy unexpectedly became heir to the Baronetcy. Daddy's wife had always been sickly and never produced an heir, so I was his only offspring. Two years later, Daddy's first wife passed and he contacted Mums to propose marriage so he could make me his legitimate heir. Otherwise, the title to the ancestral estate might have fallen into the hands of an alcoholic third cousin." "How could you be a Baron?" Red asked incredulously. "You're a woman!" "The title predates the Act of Union and hence is subject to the conditions of peerage in effect when it was first granted. The Scots of the time allowed female inheritance," Bea continued patiently, "but, I really don't want it. Daddy's hoping that I'll produce an heir who can inherit directly from him." "I guess that makes sense, Bea, but how did we wind up in Cheltenham together? How could your parents afford the expense?" "Daddy didn't expect to inherit the title, so he joined the Civil Service after university and had quite a successful career in MI-5. He's supposedly been retired for four years now, but he is seldom at home. He is constantly flying off to some remote part of the planet to consult on some matter that he's never at liberty to discuss. He also married money. Mum has been quite successful in her own right. One of her earliest regular customers is an investment banker who helped her invest her earnings. Hard work and natural talent allowed her to work her way up to where she now manages two licensed establishments in Melbourne that regularly employ over sixty-five girls and a dozen guys. She has also earned quite a bit in shrewd real estate speculation. I don't have any idea exactly what she's worth, but it's not small change. She also managed to invest most of the child support cheques that Daddy sent her for me. She says it's my university trust fund, but I suppose you could call it my dowry." They both laughed heartily and Red commented, "Someone as beautiful as you certainly doesn't need any dowry! But, aren't you planning to attend university? You're certainly intelligent enough." "I don't see any point in continuing my education until I've some idea of what I want to do with my life. I mean, I could easily take a degree in Math, but then what? And, if I took a degree in, say, Accounting, and then discovered that I really was meant to write romance novels, my university time would be wasted. Besides, I'm having too much fun right now." Red looked sideways at her petite chum, "You still amaze me. But, you still haven't explained your wild side. I never saw it while we were in school." "I can behave myself if I try hard. I wanted to do well in school and, besides, none of the obvious lesbians there interested me. They were all so shallow and superficial." "I never realized that you were into women." Red's companion responded with a twinkle in her deep brown eyes, "I am sexually omnivorous. Usually I prefer a nice hard cock, but occasionally I like a taste of something softer." That was as far as they got, as the limo gently rolled to a stop at the curb in front of a stately old building on Archer Street where Bea had a flat on the top floor. The girls gathered their shopping bags and things as Ivan opened the door, holding the umbrella overhead. Bea grabbed Red's wrist and tugged her free hand toward the zipper of his trousers, starting a brief tug-o-war as soon as her friend figured out what was afoot. Nothing was said, but the look that Bea saw in the other girl's eyes convinced her to abandon her prank. Instead she turned to Ivan and said, "Please wait here until Mildred is packed and then you may drive her to St. Pancras to catch her train." "Certainly, Ma'am." With that, she tugged the larger woman by the hand toward the building before them. Ivan heard Mildred exclaim to Bea, "You are so naughty!" as they reached the unimpressive narrow doorway and he smiled knowingly. To be continued. Secret Weapon Ch. 03 Chapter 03 -- Red Packs to Leave Dear Reader: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental. * The two elegantly dressed young women ducked into the tiny lobby, escaping from the London spring drizzle. The smaller dark haired girl glanced toward the rotund uniformed security officer wedged behind the narrow desk and was greeted with a cheerful, "Good afternoon, Miss Munro." "My goodness, is it afternoon already?" she replied. "Oh, I guess it is. Good afternoon, Patty. We'll take the stairs." "As you wish," was the officer's reply as she reached to her system console and unlocked the only other door from the lobby with an audible snap. Bypassing the lift, Bea pushed through the door and hurried up the stairs, taking two at a time. Her shopping bags swung behind her as her long legs effortlessly carried her upward, her dove gray Anne Land skirt flying. Her larger companion struggled to keep up for the first two flights and then gave up, resigning herself to a more leisurely pace and falling further behind. Bea held the door to the top storey hallway open as Red reached the last step and paused to catch her breath. Her friend stood calmly, as if the exertion of running up six flights of stairs was nothing. "You really should get yourself in better shape, dear," she chided Red, "your sex life would be much more satisfying if your body was fit." They eased through the doors into the hallway. "My sex life is quite satisfying as is, thank you, Miss Busybody." There were four flats on the top floor, two on either side of the hall, and the two friends walked to the front of the building. Bea stood before the door to the left. "Oh, is it?" she shot back, "When was the last time one of the university boys really rocked your socks?" The security system identified her and a small green light winked on just above the doorknob. "Well," the blonde girl protested, "it has been a few weeks, but I'm not going to university just to get shagged. I have my studies, you know!" Bea twisted the ornate knob and pushed. The door swung open easily, belying the fact that it was a bomb-proof steel door that weighed over 200 kilos. A single chime rang through the flat, announcing their arrival. "Right," sneered Bea, "I'll bet you haven't had a mind shattering orgasm in months." Then she called out, "We're home, Henrietta!" as she dropped her handbag on the hall table and swept into the well fitted sitting room. Red followed her into the flat, desperately trying to think of a witty retort to the last jibe. Unfortunately, Bea was right; it had been some time since Mildred had really enjoyed an orgasmic tryst. The substantial black woman that cooked and cleaned for Bea popped her head around the corner of the kitchen door and warmly welcomed the girls. "I've made salads for both of you for lunch, so sit yourselves down at the table and I'll serve you," she purred in a heavy Caribbean accent. Soon Bea and Mildred were enjoying huge plates of tuna and capers atop fresh greens. A delicate vinaigrette dressing, goblets of white wine and a loaf of fresh baked bread completed a delightful meal. In between bites, Bea confided to her chum in hushed whispers, "What I didn't want Ivan to overhear in the limo was that Irina has booked me for a threesome on their anniversary. I'm to be the meat in their sandwich." "No!" exclaimed Red. "Yes!" replied Bea, "and I'm hoping to wind up with Ivan's cock up my arse and Irina's tongue up my pussy." She said this matter-of-factly, but the look on her face was one of blissful anticipation. Mildred noticed that the rich green hue of Bea's new blouse was fading. "Damn, girl! You sound like a cheap whore!" "On the contrary," Bea replied casually, "I'm a very expensive whore." They ate in silence for a few moments while Bea's stunned companion considered her options. Finally, she protested, "But, your business card says that you do Interpersonal Relationship Thera..." Bea cut her off in mid sentence, "Mildred Barnes! How long have we been best friends?" Her companion didn't have to think but an instant, "Ever since we first met at Coll back in '24. You had just arrived from down under and we hit it off immediately." "Six good years. And we've shared everything, haven't we?" Bea asked gently. "How true," Red giggled. "Well, then, you should know that the business is just a cover for what I'm really doing. The tax man thinks that I entertain clients, but my close friends know that they are really customers." "Following in your Mum's footsteps, eh? But, prostitution is illegal here. Aren't you afraid of being found out?" Bea laughed, "By the authorities? No. The charge that is most often brought is soliciting prostitution, which is easy to identify and prosecute. I don't solicit. All my customers are referred to me and they must be properly vetted before they even get to see the merchandise. What I do worry about is Father finding out. He's rather old fashioned." Looking at the clock on the wall, she continued, "It's getting late. Let's get you packed." Heading toward the guest bedroom, Bea stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and asked Henrietta, "Is there any more of this delicious salad?" When the housekeeper nodded, she continued, "Would you please take a plate of it and a cup of coffee down to Ivan? He's waiting in the limo at the curb. And tell him that Mildred will be down shortly." "I'd be delighted." was the reply. "Thanks a bunch, Henrietta. You're a sweetheart. Come on Red, we need to hurry." The girls dashed into the guest room, threw the overlarge suitcase onto the bed and flung it open. As they began tucking Mildred's purchases amongst the rest of her things, she asked Bea, "If all your clients are referred, how did you ever get started?" The smaller girl's crystalline laughter filled the room, "That's a whole story in itself. I may have to ride to the station with you to tell all of it." But she persevered, "It all goes back to Daddy and Mum's wedding. The reception was held on the grounds of the family manse and one of the guests was Daddy's old MI-5 mate, Clive. I can't reveal his last name; I hope you understand. Anyway, I met him there and felt that he might have a weakness for young girls. So, I seduced him. He'd had a few drinks and it didn't take much." Red gasped, "You were having sex at thirteen?" "I was trying to have sex at thirteen, but somebody ratted us out. I still don't know who it was. I had Clive upstairs in one of the unused servant's rooms under the garret with his trousers down and we were going at it hot and heavy when Daddy stormed into the room and caught us. I hadn't even gotten my knickers off. Daddy made a big scene and threw Clive out of the house. I tried to confess that it was all my doing, but Father wouldn't have any of it." "I'll bet you got your fanny smoked for that stunt." "Actually, I didn't," Bea responded, looking wistfully off into the unseen distance. "Mum and Marta dragged Daddy off on a ten day European honeymoon tour before he could get around to punishing me and, when he returned, he wasn't in any shape to do anything for another fortnight. Marta is one of Mum's assistant managers as well as her life partner. She is an aryan amazon and the two of them took turns with Father. They smuggled a seemingly endless supply of valium and counterfeit Chinese Viagra along with them and, when they got back, poor Daddy was a physical wreck. He claimed he couldn't remember much, but, he did sport a silly grin for months afterward. I got off easy, unless being exiled to an all girl boarding school can be considered punishment, but poor Clive wasn't so lucky. Supposedly, they never spoke to one another again. I was crushed After we passed out of Coll, I sweet talked Daddy into letting me spend some time here in the London flat so I could explore the city and try to figure out where I wanted to go with my life. The first thing that I did when I got settled in was to ring up Clive and ask him if I could come around and apologize for the grief that I caused. He gave me a time and an address, so I dressed up in my schoolgirl uniform and knocked him up. When he opened the front door, his jaw dropped. I walked in, wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a buss that knocked his socks off. His cock jumped to attention instantly and, when I suggested we take up where we last left off, the poor man was helpless. I fucked him silly all afternoon. When he rang me up later and begged for a repeat performance, I told him that I would have to charge him for anything more. I meant it as a joke, but he agreed so quickly that I didn't have the heart to tell him that I meant it in jest. Then he suggested a fee of a thousand pounds for an all-nighter and I found it impossible to turn down. He became my first customer and still books me occasionally; I dress up in the same uniform for him. He provided my first two or three referrals and business just gradually increased from there to where I have a fairly full schedule these days." They had continued their conversation in the en suite and Red paused in packing her makeup kit to ask, "But, why do you work at all? You're not hard up for money, are you?" A smile lit up Bea's oval face. "Simple," she answered, "I enjoy men...and I enjoy money...and I really enjoy sex." Red gaped at her, struggling for a response, "But, they're all OLD men. What do you find so appealing about OLD men?" "Well, older men have the patience and experience to make it last long enough to be enjoyable. They're beyond the "I just need to get my own jollies so I can move on to something else" stage. Your university blokes know that there is another hot pussy just down the hall so they'll knock you off and immediately move on to their next conquest whether you're satisfied or not. The older man knows he can't attract girls younger than his daughters, so he really appreciates what I am willing to offer. They also are aware that they don't have the energy or stamina that they once had, so when I get them hard again soon after we've ripped off a good one, they have an extra incentive to make it last. It's like a bonus for them. And me. Some of my regulars that need a dose of something to get it up for the Missus find that they can leave the drugs at home when they visit here and they really appreciate that too. Besides, older men have money. Enough to lavish on me and, by the time I've bedded them a few times, they don't even hesitate. When I act out some of their most secret fantasies without them even asking, I have them eating out of my hand." Bea's friend glanced at her and queried, "Just how do you act out their fantasies if they're secret?" Quickly deciding that she didn't have time to explain her inherited gift, the smaller girl instead brushed off the question with, "Oh, men are so easy to figure out when their dicks are stiff. There are only so many sex fantasies and most of the time I can read a horny man like a book." As Red was closing her case, Bea reached into the vanity drawer and palmed a small package. "Here, old friend, I purchased this for you." "Red Jasmine! Oh, Bea, it's my absolute favorite fragrance! Thank you so much." The larger woman enveloped Bea in a hug that lasted for minutes. "You're a special friend," she concluded as they parted. Both had tears in their eyes. To be continued... Secret Weapon Ch. 04 Chapter 04 – Preparing for a Special Customer Dear Reader: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental. Bea assisted her good friend Mildred carry her luggage to the lift. They rode down the six floors to the lobby in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts, but when they reached the waiting electro-limo at the curb, the emotional dam burst. As Ivan, the chauffeur, loaded the suitcases into the boot, the two young women wrapped one another in their arms and the tears flowed copiously. Promising to return the visit as soon as she could get away, the smaller of the two bustled her friend into the limo and, in spite of the steady London spring drizzle, stood and watched as it pulled away from the curb toward the train station. Only then did she shake the droplets from the mass of short curly black hair that surrounded her head and dash back into the narrow lobby of her building. Patty, the plump security guard, remotely unlocked the stairwell door without even waiting for Bachi to say a word. The lithe, long legged girl ran through the lobby, slammed the door open and flew up the stairs, quickly calculating the amount of time she had until that evening's customer was due (too soon) and the time it would take her to properly prepare for him (too long). Hurrying into the kitchen, Bachi found her large, very black housekeeper at the sink, cleaning the utensils that had been used to prepare the evening's meal. A quick hug around the neck let the older woman know that her efforts were dearly appreciated. Without turning from her chores, Henrietta said, "There are two individual shrimp cocktails on the top shelf of the refrig. The lamb rack and the parsleyed potatoes are in the oven. Oven's programmed to turn on shortly and then reduce the temperature to warm at 7:30. You might get away with letting it stand for up to a half hour, but, after that, I'm not responsible for what comes out. If you're in the kitchen at 7:25, you can put the bread in the oven for five minutes to crisp, otherwise you'll have to warm it in the microwave for one minute before you serve it. The asparagus tips are on the second shelf of the refrig and need to be zapped in the microwave for two minutes. Let them sit for three minutes before serving. The mint sauce for the meat is in the bottom of the refrig along with the sauce for the asparagus. I selected a bottle of 2018 vintage Penfolds Grange to accompany the meal and it should be opened at least five minutes before it is to be served. There is a strawberry compote on the third shelf and you can either serve it over the cheese cake in the bottom of the refrig or the vanilla ice cream in the freezer. Any questions?" Rising up on tiptoes and kissing her ear, the younger woman exclaimed, "You're the best, Henrietta; I don't know how I could get on without you. I must get myself ready." With that, she turned and hurried out into the hallway. "I'll set the table before I leave and see you on the morrow," she heard the housekeeper say and quickly responded over her shoulder, "Give my love to your kids!" although even her youngest, Dominique, was certainly no kid – he was six years older than Bachi and towered over her slight frame. Pausing in the hallway, Bachi changed the channel on the satellite feed that played throughout the flat from the reggae that Henrietta preferred to soft rock and hurried into her bedroom, shedding her clothing as she went. Her thong, stockings and new blouse went into the laundry hamper and her skirt was hung up in the large walk-in closet. She briefly admired her youthful figure in the mirrored closet doors before padding barefoot toward the en suite. Glancing over her shoulder, she ran her eyes over her long slender legs, taut bum, narrow waist and wide shoulders. "I've been truly blessed," she thought to herself, "I could have been taller and my titties could have been larger, but, on the whole, the good Lord gave me a body to be proud of." Foregoing a bath due to the time constraints, Bachi opted for a quick shower. She shampooed and conditioned her mass of unruly curls and scrubbed the rest of her with a fragrant body wash and pouf. Quickly toweling herself off, she ran a large toothed comb through her hair to pull out any tangles and left it to dry on its own. Her wet hair clung to her head in dark little ringlets, but she was resigned to it drying to its usual unmanageable curls. Fortunately, it was healthy, shiny and easy to care for as long as she kept it cut short and she wasn't about to use any of the powerful chemical straighteners that were available. Plugging in her personal depilator, she slowly stroked the hand-held device up and down each of her legs. The depilator sought out any hair that it came in contact with and a low power laser removed it down to the follicle. The only sensation that she felt was the warmth of the head of the device, but the stench of burning hair assured her that it was performing as intended. The exhaust fan in the ceiling would soon rid the en suite of the offending odor, so she pressed on with her underarms, labia and finally the cleft of her arse. Next, she used her electric trimmer to neaten the patch of pubic hair just above her prominent clitoral hood that was shaped like a hot air balloon. Previously, she had kept her pubic patch trimmed in a landing strip style, but, after another customer had taken her up in his hot air balloon the previous autumn over South Somerset, she decided to sport a new style in memory of that lovely morning. Once they had reached 200 feet altitude, she had been lovingly stripped naked and placed on a small footstool facing out of the gondola. A sturdy leather belt had been tightened around her waist and clipped to the rigging, so she couldn't fall and then she was pushed forward until her naked upper torso was hanging over the edge of the basket, a pillow between her belly and the wicker. The customer and the pilot then took turns taking her from behind while she dangled above the countryside and she enjoyed a number of the most explosive orgasms that she had ever experienced. Just recalling the memories had her heart racing and her pussy dampening. Plopping herself down on the bidet, she allowed herself to relax as she touched up the polish on her nails. She decided that an enema wasn't necessary; her expected customer had never shown any interest in anal sex in the past and, if he suddenly changed his pattern, she would just insist that he use one of the ridged condoms that she kept in her bedside table. Just the thought sent a shiver of delight down her spine and increased the heat in her groin. Her yoga training allowed her to curl each foot into her lap where she could easily work on the nails and she was done in no time. Before the polish was even dry, she was standing before the mirror applying her makeup. She didn't use much; when she first hosted tonight's guest, he had insisted that she not wear any at all to accentuate her youthful appearance. On succeeding visits, she had gradually increased the amount she wore, but it still consisted of only mascara, liner and a subtle eye shadow to highlight her big, dark brown eyes and a lip gloss that was just slightly redder than the natural colour of her full lips. Back in the bedroom, she selected the deGrande perfume that he had presented to her a few visits back and applied the delightful fragrance to the insides of her thighs, between her breasts and to either side of her neck below her ears. She knew from experience that his nose would seek out those sensitive spots and his lips and tongue would provide her with the erotic sensations she adored. She thought back to previous trysts and allowed her memory to stimulate her damp pussy even further. Her natural musky scent would mix with the perfume to produce an aroma that would be irresistible. That, and the mouth-watering smell of roast lamb that was beginning to pervade the flat, would have him drooling. Bachi was satisfied with her preparations. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table shook her out of her reverie. She had only ten minutes to dress and he was always prompt. She started by slipping her muscular legs into a pair of sheer black pantyhose. Smoothing the hose up her legs, she carefully positioned them so her slightly swollen labia protruded through the empty gusset. A few gentle hand smacks and her exposed outer lips began to turn a lovely shade of pink. Later, she would will her body to engorge them even further until they would almost look red. Her clitoris was hidden within its hood, though it, too, was swelling nicely. Her natural ability to maintain her aroused state allowed her to be prepared for sex at any time. Reaching into her dresser drawer, she selected a little black top that was no more than a strip of fabric with underwire supports. She slipped the flimsy item over her head and snaked her arms up through it, settling the glossy fabric so the supports fit under her dainty breasts, pushing them slightly together. It still was not enough to call a cleavage, but they did stand out a little further. When the fabric had adjusted itself to where it fit her torso snugly, Bachi tugged it a little higher. Her firm breasts were naturally positioned high on her chest, but the extra support made them look a little fuller. Spinning around slowly, she carefully straightened the top. The bottom rode just below her breasts and the fabric came to just above her areolas in the front. Her nipples poked proudly out from just below the edge of the material. "I wore bras in school that covered more of me," she thought with a smile. From her closet she pulled a silky black miniskirt and slid it up over her hose. She thumbed it closed at the waist and slipped into her three inch black patent leather stilettos. Closing the mirrored door she watched as the skirt shrunk to fit itself to the curves of her hips and bum. The mound of her sex was barely noticeable in the front where the skirt began its slight flare. The heels pushed her bum out a little further than usual and showed her calf muscles a bit more prominently. A minor adjustment to the skirt completed her outfit and she admired how the black clothing accentuated the light tan of her skin, a part of her heritage, even if she was only one quarter aboriginal. From her jewelry box, she chose two delicate gold rings for the middle and little fingers of her right hand to offset the heavy gold reader ring that she always wore on the middle finger of her left hand. Finally, she added a plain gold bracelet with a band of microdiamonds around it near each edge. The tiny gems were hardly noticeable except for the brilliant flashes of light that they reflected. The bracelet matched the cross that she always wore on a fine gold chain around her neck. She adjusted the clasp of the bracelet to snug it to her wrist, wanting to prevent it from getting tangled on any item of clothing, either hers or his as they either came off or went back on. She didn't want to chance any awkward moments that could endanger the evening's mood. After she gave her hair a final fluff with her fingers, she had but seconds before he was to arrive. To be continued. Secret Weapon Ch. 05 Chapter 05 – Welcoming a Customer Dear Reader: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental. Bachi was in the hallway of her flat, selecting a light classical music feed that she knew he would enjoy when the security system buzzed and his face appeared on the screen. "How unlike him," she thought as she pressed the ADMIT selection on the screen, "he's over two minutes late." Normally, Sir Geoffrey was obsessively punctual. She didn't mind - the extra time had given her a chance to relax for a moment. While her guest was in the lift, Bachi had time to fix his cocktail. She pulled the bottle from the freezer and poured two fingers of Bombay Sapphire gin into a tall glass. Next she deftly cut a thin slice from a fresh lemon and dropped it into the glass as she added tonic from the bottle she found on the door of the refrigerator. No ice - he preferred his gin and tonic without it. Bachi was waiting at the door when he knocked. Swinging open the door, she welcomed the tall, distinguished looking gentleman in the classic bowler hat and the double breasted Burberry trench coat into the foyer and pushed the door closed behind him. Handing him his drink, she stretched up on her tiptoes to put her arms around his neck, disregarding the droplets of moisture that clung to his overcoat. With a cocktail in one hand and his walking stick in the other, Sir Geoffrey would have been unable to defend himself from the onslaught of her warm full lips, even if he'd have had a mind to. "Good evening, darling," purred the seductively dressed young woman as she carefully eased herself back down onto her high heels and carefully pulled off his hat. Taking the walking stick with the heavy pewter handle from his hand, she slid it into the umbrella stand by the door as she hung his hat on the rack above. She turned back to see him take a sip from his drink before setting it down on the hall table and starting to unbutton his overcoat. Bachi slipped around behind him and caught his coat as he slipped it from his shoulders, revealing the finely tailored Seville Row suit he wore beneath. While she hung up the trench coat in the hall closet, Sir Geoffrey retrieved his cocktail and drifted into the sitting room. Joining him there, she watched him take his second sip of the gin and tonic. As he perused the painting on the wall, Bachi relieved him of his drink and put it down on an end table. Two sips were all he usually took from his drink, so she didn't expect him to protest. Next, she unbuttoned his suit coat and pushed the lapels toward his shoulders, sliding it off him. He allowed her to take the jacket and hang it over one of the chairs around the dining table. "Is this painting new?" he asked, as she returned and slipped back in front of him. She pulled his deep blue silk necktie loose and slid it from around his neck, answering, "It certainly is. The gallery delivered it on Monday." She casually draped his tie around her own neck, letting either end partially conceal a breast while she unbuttoned the collar of his pastel blue dress shirt. Next she attacked the shirt's cuffs, unbuttoning each in turn and rolling each sleeve up twice. Satisfied, she pivoted around to face the painting, pulling his arms around her slender waist. The feel of his large soft hands on her damp bare midriff gave her a delightful tingle in her loins. "I got your tummy all wet from my coat, dear," he said apologetically. Laughing gaily, she whispered, "That's not all that you get wet, darling," and she tugged his arms tighter around her middle. He took the hint and leaned down to nuzzle the side of her neck just behind her ear. "Remember the last time you were here you suggested that I take in the Andrew Meyer showing at the Unicorn Gallery?" she reminded him. "Oh, yes. Is this one of his works?" he asked, abandoning her neck to look more closely at the painting. "It most certainly is. I attended his showing and fell in love with this seascape as soon as I saw it. I just adore the way he used his brush strokes to accentuate the shadows." They continued to discuss the artist's technique with Sir Geoffrey's chin resting atop her head and his hands gently stroking up and down her sides from her hips to the top of her ribcage. She retaliated by stretching her arms up behind his neck and subtly rotating her hips as she pressed her shapely bum back into the front of his pants. She could feel his body respond and took the opportunity to peer into the edges of his mind. Sensing his desperate need, she allowed the conversation to falter and took the opportunity to release her hold on his neck and catch his hands in hers as they reached the apex of their travels. Pressing his thumbs to the upper edge of her flimsy top, she didn't need to encourage him further; he responded as she expected by slipping the digits under the fabric and easing it down, exposing her areolas and the stiff nipples in their centers. She, in turn, twisted her head around to sink her lips into the cleft where the back of his jaw overhung his neck as she reached her hand behind her to stroke his tumescence. "Has it been a while?" she asked softly, already knowing the answer. "Since I was here last," he replied breathlessly as he reverently ran his fingertips around her erect nipples, sending flashes of desire coursing through her belly. When Bachi twisted her other hand behind her and deftly unbuckled his belt, his graceful hands became more adventurous, cupping her firm mounds and squeezing lightly. Her fingers continued their quest, unfastening and unzipping his trousers behind her back entirely by feel. "I suppose that I should be impressed by your fidelity, lover," she purred as she kissed him passionately over her shoulder. His hands became more animated; his thumbs and forefingers pinched and twisted her rock hard nipples as he kneaded her firm globes, eliciting quiet groans of pleasure from deep within her throat. "Take off your shirt, darling," she requested, breaking off her kiss and giving him something else to do with his hands while she slowly slid her slender body down the front of his, taking his trousers with her. When her bum reached her heels, she pivoted around and quickly untied his shoes. Lifting one ankle at a time, she slipped off a highly polished shoe and a leg of his trousers. Slipping his necktie from her neck, she tucked it into his trousers on the floor. Stroking her hands back up his nylon clad legs, she could sense his desperate excitement and she noticed the sizeable bulge in his boxers twitch. When her hands reached his hips, she gently tugged at the bottom of his boxers, pulling them down far enough that she could slip her fingers between the elastic waistband and the top of his pantyhose and slide the fine cotton underwear down over his cock. The boxers dropped to join the pile of clothing at his feet and he stepped out of them as he dropped his shirt onto the wing chair. She surreptitiously lifted the front hem of her skirt and tucked it into the waistband to keep it from collecting any of the nectar that was beginning to seep from her sex. Bachi reverently grasped the base of his cock where his genitals protruded through the missing gusset of his pantyhose and slid the deep reddish purple crown side to side over her lips, coating them with his precum. Her other hand cupped his sack and carefully kneaded his balls. The young woman skillfully licked his juices off her lips as her tongue circled the engorged crown of his cock. Feeling the tension of his imminent release, she tightened her grip around the base of his cock and slowly slid his cock into her warm wet mouth. Her talented lips and tongue teased his manhood with slow sensuous strokes and gentle suction while her big brown eyes carefully watched his facial expressions. Aware that their initial coupling was going to be brief, Bachi stoked her own need to a higher level. As she continued to pay homage to his cock, Sir Geoffrey gradually relaxed and she could tell from the look on his face that he had backed off from his desperate need to come immediately. Sensing that the time was right, Bachi slid her body up and wrapped both arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily and mashing her breasts into his chest. She lifted herself out of her shoes and wrapped her nylon encased legs around his hips. Her hips rocked in a primal rhythm, rubbing her swollen labia up and down his erect shaft, coating it with her fragrant juices. "On the sofa," was all she had to suggest for her partner to turn and carry her across the room. He lowered them both onto the large leather sofa along the wall and she spread her legs wide to accept him. "Hard and fast, lover. I'm ready," she pleaded. His eyes burned with lust as he guided his cock between her sopping lips and slid it home with a single thrust. She threw her head back and groaned in ecstasy as he penetrated her core. The pace he set was as she had requested; his hands gripped her nylon clad hips and he began pounding into her with unrestrained urgency, the sounds of their bodies slamming together filling the room. Pushing her hands against the arm of the sofa above her head, she pressed her lithe body back into his best attempts to drive her into the sofa cushions. The nylon that they both wore from the waist down allowed their limbs to slide smoothly over the others. Just minutes after his initial stroke, she felt his cock begin to swell and knew that his climax was near. Pushing her own release, her tender clit poked out of its protective hood. She wrapped her long legs around his hips and dug her heels into his bum, her muscular legs pulling his rod into her hot pussy, forcing her swollen clit into his pubic bone and urging him to even greater efforts. As she watched his face contort into a grimace of pleasure, she released the orgasm that had been building steadily in her loins; her vaginal muscles clamped down upon the hot swollen cock that had driven her to the heights of bliss and her entire body dissolved into a mass of uncoordinated spasms. Waves of pleasure spread from her center to burst onto her extremities. Her heels dropped to the sofa cushion beneath his balls and her back arched, driving her shuddering hips upward into him. He pressed himself into her one final time, trying to drive as deeply as possible before he loosed weeks of pent up need into her womb. Just as his climax crashed upon him, he felt her hot sheath gush and then squeeze him as if trying to milk every drop that his body had to offer. Her incoherent cries of delight gave him the extra energy to keep thrusting into her softness long after his seed was spent. Finally, he collapsed into her arms, totally sated, and their sweat soaked bodies molded together. His lips found hers and tenderly tried to express his thanks for the joy that she had brought him. She, too, let her lips and tongue tell him just how wonderful she felt. No words were spoken nor were any needed. Even when he softened and slid out of her, they continued their silent expressions of gratitude. Reality returned slowly, helped by the mouthwatering aroma of roast lamb that finally penetrated the musky scents of their lovemaking. Breaking off their passionate kisses to g1ance at the clock on the wall, she recalled Henrietta's instructions. The time was 7:10; she had fifteen minutes to clean up and get the bread in the oven. Taking her older lover's face tenderly in her hands, she pressed her puffy lips to his one more time and then announced, "I need to be in the kitchen, darling. Let me up and I'll get your robe and slippers." Ruefully, he acquiesced. To be continued. Secret Weapon Ch. 06 Chapter 06 -- Dinner with Sir Geoffrey Dear Reader: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental. * The disheveled young woman slipped from under her older customer and rolled off the leather sofa. Springing to her feet, she cupped a hand over her tender leaking sex and hurried across the sitting room to where she had abandoned her high heels. Slipping into the stilettos to protect her sheer black pantyhose, she scurried down the hallway to the master bath. Quickly dropping her skirt onto the tile floor and peeling the nylon down her thighs, she lowered herself onto the bidet and luxuriated in the stream of warm water that bathed her even warmer pussy. The flimsy top that she had worn to greet Sir Geoffrey slipped over her head and joined the skirt on the floor. Running her fingers through her hair to restore some semblance of order to the curls, Bachi dried herself and then swiped the towel over the legs of the pantyhose to collect as much of the overflow of their coupling as possible. Glancing in the mirror, she decided that her makeup wasn't too desperately in need of touching up, but she did pause to apply a fresh coat of gloss to her lips. Satisfied with her appearance, she rinsed out a washcloth in hot water, wrung it out, scooped the clothes off the floor of the en suite and made her way to her large walk-in closet. Dropping her clothing into the laundry hamper, she selected a diaphanous black silk peignoir to wear and searched her assortment of men's robes for the one that would fit Sir Geoffrey the best. Pulling a large fluffy white toweling robe from its hanger, she tossed it over her shoulder and knelt to grab the fleece lined slippers that he adored. Returning to the sitting room, she found her guest reclining on the unused end of the sofa. Dropping the slippers on the floor, she playfully draped the robe over his head and attacked his genitals with the now warm washcloth that she had concealed from him. After she rinsed him as best she could, she took his limp penis in her hand and kissed its crown tenderly. His moans of pleasure dissolved into sighs as his body stretched out under her ministrations. Bachi then ran her hands down his pantyhose and pulled off his argyle socks before sliding the slippers on his feet. Turning her attention to the sloppy mess on the sofa, she used the damp washcloth to wipe up the evidence of their recent pleasure. "To the table, please, sir" she requested as she collected his suit coat from the back of the chair, his trousers, tie, boxers and shoes from the floor and his shirt from the wing chair. Returning to her bedroom, she emptied the pockets of his suit onto her dresser into carefully organized groups that would go back into the corresponding pockets of the clean suit he would wear in the morning. His shoes went under the valet stand in the corner and the belt was hung on a convenient hook on its back. Carefully hanging his tie in her closet in his section of the tie rack, she dumped his suit into the dry cleaner bin and the rest of his clothing landed in the laundry hamper. Glancing at the clock, Bachi was pleased to see that her domestic chores had taken only ten minutes. Her long slender legs carried her into the kitchen where she collected the shrimp cocktails and the pitcher of ice water from the refrigerator. Balancing her load carefully, she returned to the dining area of the flat and gracefully served the distinguished looking gentleman seated at the head of the table his dish. Her helping went on the adjoining place setting and she filled the large goblets from the pitcher. He hadn't reached to serve himself, so she delicately took one of his shrimp, dipped the meaty end in cocktail sauce and gripped the tail between her teeth. Pursing her lips, she lowered her head to his with the tasty morsel protruding. He lifted his chin and opened his mouth to take her offering. Their lips met and, after a languid kiss, she pulled back with but the empty shell between her teeth. "Delicious," he declared, licking his lips suggestively. Dropping the shrimp tail in the waste bowl, she whispered, "You'll have to feed yourself the rest, darling; I must get to my cooking." The look of disappointment on his face was compelling, but she managed to resist his silent plea. Bustling back into the kitchen, she donned her apron and managed to get the fresh bread into the oven and the asparagus into the microwave precisely on time. Fishing an old-fashioned cork screw from the drawer, she returned to the table with the bottle of wine. "Would you do the honors, kind sir?" she requested, handing him the bottle and the tool. He perused the label and his eyes opened a bit wider, "A shiraz! And a fine one at that. I'd be delighted." As she retreated back to the kitchen with a shrimp in her mouth, she heard him exclaim, "Did you know that this is the finest year that this vintner has produced since their magnificent 1992?" She made a mental note to compliment her father on his taste in wines the next time they spoke. Bachi managed to get dinner prepared and served without difficulty or incident. She shed her apron before seating herself and managed to eat most of her shrimp while Sir Geoffrey carefully carved and served the lamb. He had graciously insisted that carving was men's work and she certainly didn't mind him sharing the effort. The lamb was done to perfection and the parsleyed new potatoes were also just right. The asparagus was crisp and the sauce that Henrietta had made complimented it nicely. The fresh baked bread wafted a mouth-watering aroma through the dining area. They took their time savoring the meal. Bachi did her best to engage her guest in dinner conversation, but, when she inquired about his work, he either wouldn't or possibly couldn't provide any particulars about his job at the Ministry of Defence Science and Technology Laboratory. She knew from her sources that had originally vetted Sir Geoffrey that he was a high ranking administrator there, but no particulars were ever divulged. They also revealed that he held a number of patents for obscure communication technologies in his own right, but again, no details were available. His knighthood was based on his contributions to unspecified military communications capabilities. When she steered the topic of conversation to his family, however, he welcomed her interest. "...and the latest tests show Gwendolyn to be in complete remission," he announced with a huge smile on his long narrow face. "She will be lecturing on Postcolonial Cultures at London Metropolitan University next session. It's not Cambridge, but it will be much easier for her to commute." "That's wonderful news," Bachi agreed, delighted that his wife was recovering. "I'm so glad to hear it." "She also insisted that I invite you over for tea sometime, maybe on my upcoming birthday. She would very much like to personally thank you for tending to my...ah...baser needs while she was ill," he revealed with a twinkle in his pale blue eyes. Bachi examined him closely, trying to figure out if there were any unusual motivations behind the invitation. What she saw was the sincere look of a man who spent his home life surrounded by women and really didn't seem capable of subterfuge. He and his wife had raised three now married daughters and he deeply adored his "harem". "Will it be just the three of us?" she asked, "or will others be invited?" "Well, some of the girls might be there with their husbands." "Do your daughters know of me?" she asked, mildly shocked. "Not really. They probably suspect that I've been seeing someone, but they don't know any particulars." "Couldn't our relationship be difficult to explain?" she continued with a concerned look on her face. "Our relationship doesn't need to be explained. As long as Gwendolyn welcomes you, there's not much that the girls can question. And I believe that we've taught them well enough that they won't inquire directly, though they'll probably pester their mother until she reveals as much as she wants them to know. You needn't worry your pretty head." "And which birthday is this one?" she continued. "Not a major one, is it?" "No, it ends in a two," he chuckled softly and Bachi figured out that it would mean fifty-two. "Oh," he added, "Bobbie is expecting in the fall." "Wonderful! Your first grandchild. I'll bet that you're excited." They chatted familiarly as they finished their leisurely meal. He gallantly helped her clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Given his choice, he selected the vanilla ice cream and Bachi topped it with the strawberry compote, crushed walnuts and whipped cream. When she placed his serving on the table, his eyes gleamed. "I didn't expect all this," he exclaimed. "Just the ice cream would have been a delight." Bachi basked in his praise. She dearly enjoyed pleasuring all of her men, but Sir Geoffrey was a special favorite. While he eagerly dove into his treat, she took the opportunity to examine the tall, gangly gentleman at her table. He certainly couldn't be considered movie-star handsome -- his face was long and thin, his eyes set close together above his beak of a nose and thin lips. His ordinary looking brown hair was thinning and touched with grey at the temples before his large protruding ears. His long, slender neck protruded from broad shoulders, but the rest of his body could only be described as scarecrow-like. He certainly was tall; even in three inch heels, the top of Bachi's head only reached his chin. But, then again, she only measured 158 cm. in her bare feet, so they did make for an odd pair. After they had finished their desert, Bachi rose from the table, rinsed the dishes in the sink and reached up into the glassware cabinet to extract a snifter. She next pulled the bottle of Benedictine Brandy down from another cabinet and poured a generous helping. Cradling the snifter in the upturned palms of both hands, she swirled the viscous liquid around the bottom of the glass to warm it. Returning to her guest, she reverently presented him with the snifter, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. "Shall we retire to the terrace, darling?" she asked a short while later. "Certainly, my dear." Bachi went to the built-in bookshelf on the right side of the French doors that led to her rooftop terrace and picked up the heavy, leather covered humidor. Sir Geoffrey opened the door and graciously allowed her to precede him. She quietly gasped as the cool, damp fog surrounded her almost naked body. Though it was no longer drizzling, the mist left them alone in the glow of the light above the door. The rest of London had been completely swallowed by the dense fog that had settled over everything, the normal background noise of the bustling city almost completely muffled. She started to shiver slightly, but she didn't permit smoking in the flat, especially cigars. When she first arrived, it took her months to rid the flat of the smell of her father's pipe. Lifting the lid of the humidor, she offered her toweling robe clad guest now seated at the patio table his choice. He pointed out a Cuban Punch Churchill. She removed the band, clipped the end and seductively put the cigar to her tongue. Bachi rolled it in her saliva and then slipped it between her pursed lips suggestively, her eyes filled with hidden meaning as they gazed into his. Lavishing her attention on the phallic object in her mouth, she played the suggestive role to the hilt. Finally, she took the heavy gold lighter from the holder on the side of the humidor and carefully lit the end. When she was satisfied that it was burning correctly, she offered Sir Geoffrey her pursed lips for a kiss and, after their tongues dueled momentarily, she presented him his cigar. He took it, sucking a large puff of smoke into his mouth. While he savored the rich taste, Bachi sat down in his lap and curled up into a ball, her legs curled beneath her atop his knees and her head on his chest. He exhaled the smoke only to watch it immediately disappear into the fog. Wrapping his long arms around her small body, he was rewarded when she gradually stopped shivering. To be continued. Secret Weapon Ch. 07 Chapter 07 -- Sleeping with Sir Geoffrey Dear Reader: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental. * After finishing his post-prandial cigar, Sir Geoffrey assisted Bachi off his lap and they returned to the warmth of her flat. She returned the humidor to its place and mentioned, "I have last season's Masterpiece Theatre on a chip in the telly. Is there a particular episode that you would care to watch?" "As a matter of fact, there is more than one that I missed. Did you say that you have all of last season?" "That's right." "May I see the selection," he asked, settling onto the sofa and picking up the remote. Powering up the telly on the opposite wall, he brought up the menu and flipped through the offerings. "Oh, yes. Here's a programme that I would love to see. Is this one alright with you?" "Certainly," she replied as she lay down on the sofa next to him, slipped off her shoes and put her head on his lap, "I have always enjoyed John Anderson's acting." Bachi curled her legs up on the sofa and let her body relax as the familiar musical theme filled the room in place of the classical music that they had been enjoying. They watched the programme, taking turns critiquing the acting and production. As the show approached its conclusion, Bachi took the hand that he had rested on her hip and brought it to her chest. Sir Geoffrey, without comment, began absent mindedly fondling a firm breast. Delightful tingles spread down her belly to her sex and she purred quietly. After the show ended, she switched the telly over to the BBC vidfeed so Sir Geoffrey could catch the late news. When the announcer began to present the latest propaganda on the far away war against the alien invader, she slipped back into her shoes and excused herself to go to the en suite to freshen up. After brushing her teeth and reapplying her perfume, she lit a number of scented candles around her bedroom. Dimming the lights to set the proper mood, she turned back the bedcovers and returned to her guest. The sports news was just finishing, so she took the remote from him and muted the sound before easing her lithe body onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. They kissed gently at first, but it was only moments before the intensity of their passion increased. Their tongues danced a duet between their lips and one of his hands found its way back to her breast. When she noticed a stirring beneath her hip, she broke off the kiss. Kicking off her shoes, she whispered throatily, "You may carry me to bed." He scooped her up in his arms and struggled to his feet as she powered off the telly and dropped the remote onto the sofa. Her peignoir fell open from her chest down, displaying her taut belly, her slightly swollen labia protruding from the missing panel of her pantyhose and her long, slender legs. As he carried her past each control point, she deftly reached out an arm and turned off the lights in the area that they had just left. In the hallway, she had him hesitate while she armed the security system for the night. Reaching her boudoir, he carried her across the room and lovingly laid her on the bed. His kisses found her lips and then her neck while his hands spread the black silk away from her chest. His lips worked their way downward to suckle one engorged nipple while his hands were busy fondling her other breast and a nylon clad thigh. The delicious sensations worked their magic on her pussy and shortly the scent of her arousal became noticeable. Her hands were not idle, finding the belt to his robe and loosening the knot. She pushed him away from her by the lapels and he needed no further hint. He straightened up to let the robe fall to the floor while she half rolled either way on the bed to slip her arms from her sleeves. She slid over on the bed, freeing the peignoir to slip over the edge of the mattress and join his robe on the floor. She spread her legs slightly to invite his eye. He needed no further encouragement as he slid into her bed and into her arms. His lips crushed hers passionately while his free hand stroked her hot, wet sex. Between their bodies, her hand found the object she sought and began stroking him to his full size. His cock was not overly large, but it did have a comfortable length and a lovely bulbous circumcised head that turned almost purple when fully engorged. Bachi reveled in the intense feelings of pleasure that were coursing through her body, preparing her to take her customer to the heights of bliss. Sensing that he was almost ready, she gently pushed him over onto his back and slithered her way down his torso, dragging her rock hard nipples over the washboard of his ribs. Her hands stroked the insides of his nylon encased thighs as her lips found the crown of his cock. Snaking out her tongue, she swirled the talented muscle around his member as she slowly eased it between soft lips. Pausing to allow her tongue to pay homage at the tender spot just beneath his crown, she heard and felt the sudden inrush of air as he sucked in a deep breath. His hands were also occupied, stroking her thighs and squeezing the firm cheeks of her bum, entrapped in nylon. But, while her actions were confident and sure, his were beginning to indicate a hint of urgency. His cock was steadily leaking precum and Bachi delighted in his manly taste. She was truly in her element now and firmly in control. Her head steadily moved her lips up and down his cock, coating it liberally with saliva. As the head slid deep into her mouth, she squeezed it between the back of her tongue and her palette, eliciting groans of delight from his lips. On the outward stroke, she would apply a gentle suction, the insides of her cheeks teasing his mushroom cap even more. One of her hands gently fondled his balls, gently pulling them away from his body to increase his endurance. His groans were becoming louder and more frequent as she continued her onslaught. When she felt his need begin to boil, she pivoted around on her knee, swinging her other leg over him. Reaching a soft hand between her legs, she guided his twitching cock as she mounted her man. Her sopping pussy slid down his member effortlessly as she took him into her deeply. Pausing to let his mind adjust to the feelings of her velvet sheath surrounding his manhood, she leaned forward and kissed him passionately. His arms went around her and his hands stroked her back from her shoulders to her bum. As he fondled her nether cheeks, she began to rhythmically pivot her hips, alternately pulling almost all the way off him and then driving him back into her depths. When she rose up onto her extended arms, he moved his hands up her sides and wrapped each large hand around a dainty breast, kneading her mounds to the pace of her hips. She would gradually speed up her motion until she felt him start to push his hips off the bed and then she would simply match his motion, rising up when he tried to thrust up and down when he dropped back, until he would surrender control back to her talented hips. All the while, she watched his eyes and felt the edges of his mind. She would gradually increase her pace until he was at the very edge of climax and then would either slow her motion or stop her vertical action and merely rotate her hips in a circular fashion until he begged for release, not always aloud. Then she would resume her original motion, starting slowly and again gradually increasing the tempo. Her mind wandered back to the advice that her mother had given her, "The key to doing a good job is to try your best to enjoy what you're doing." And Bachi was certainly enjoying what she was now doing. She had consciously delayed her steadily building orgasm to stretch their mutual enjoyment as far as possible, but his eyes were now squeezed shut, his breathing was ragged and he was starting to show signs of desperation. "Oh, darling!" she cried. "I'm right there! Come with me! Now!" Bachi allowed her orgasm to crash over her as she finally slammed her pussy down on his groin, knowing that even she could not possibly delay his release any further. Her long, nylon encased legs thrust downward beside his as she flattened herself onto him and her creamy nectar gushed around his swollen cock. Her slender body shuddered in his arms as his dam burst and he spewed his cum deep into her clutching vagina, a long initial spurt followed by convulsive lesser spurts as their joint climaxes progressed. Waves of excruciating pleasure flowed through her being, starting in her extremely sensitive clit and radiating outward through every nerve. Her joy was heightened by the intense feelings of bliss that she could sense flowing through the mind of the wonderful man beneath her as the walls of her sheath milked him of every drop that he had to offer. "My word!" he exclaimed, as he gasped for breath. "You have outdone yourself again, my dear. Sometimes I think that you can actually read my mind." She laughed quietly without responding, her head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. "He doesn't need to know about the special gift I inherited," she thought to herself. His hands fondled her bum lovingly and sent even more gentle waves of delight coursing through her core. She knew their combined juices were leaking from her pussy, but didn't care. Most of it would wind up on his groin rather than the bed sheets, so she continued to luxuriate in the warmth of his affection until he softened and her vaginal muscles couldn't keep him within her any longer. "Oh, dear! I'm afraid I must run," she exclaimed, rolling off him and dashing for the en suite. "Don't move!" Seating herself on the bidet, she again delighted in that wonderful fixture. She peeled the pantyhose off her legs and was finally able to enjoy her nudity. Thus far, Sir Geoffrey was her only customer with a pantyhose fetish and she thought to herself that one was probably her limit. Other customers had different sexual peculiarities that she carefully tended to, but pantyhose were one of her least favorite articles of clothing. After drying herself, she strode back into the flickering light of the remaining candles, her messy pantyhose balled up in her fist. She could see his eyes following her naked figure across the room and she let her hips sway just a bit more suggestively. She knew that he enjoyed watching her, so she didn't rush. She had another damp washcloth in her other hand and she carefully used it to wipe up the puddle of their cum from his groin. She breathed a sigh of relief when she couldn't find any staining of the bed sheets. Then she gently cleaned the source of her recent pleasure and started to tug at the waistband of his pantyhose. He arched his back to allow her to pull the nylon off his bum and carefully disentangle his genitals through the empty gusset. Finally, she stripped the soiled pantyhose off his legs and wrapped them and hers in the washcloth. Picking up their clothing from the floor, she headed for the closet. The pantyhose were dropped in the hamper along with the washcloth and the robe and peignoir were hung back up where they belonged. Presenting her naked body to him framed in the closet doorway, she said, "I put your toothbrush in the holder by the sink." He took the hint and levered his bony body off the bed. While he busied himself in the en suite, she blew out the candles, switched on her bedside lamp and turned off the overhead light. Then she arranged herself on the bed so that her feet and ankles were the only parts of her under the covers. She lay on her back with her arms under her pillow behind her head and her legs slightly apart, displaying her puffy labia, still flushed pink from their recent exertions. Her nude body was bathed in the pool of light thrown by the bedside lamp. Her back arched slightly, pushing her firm breasts proudly upward. When he returned from his toilet, Sir Geoffrey stood by the side of the bed and gazed down on her beauty, taking special notice of the gleam in her eyes and the satisfied smirk on her lips. He eased himself slowly into her bed and pulled the covers up to their chests. Bachi turned off the light and they held each other in their arms for some time, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Nothing was said aloud, but she knew in her heart that she had earned her fee. When his regular breathing indicated that he had nodded off, she turned onto her side, facing away from him, and spooned her body back into his. They both slept soundly that way for the next five hours. To be continued... Secret Weapon Ch. 08 Chapter 08 – The Morning After Dear Reader: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental. Consciousness arrived slowly, but gently. The young woman didn't move as she awakened, giving her mind the time to distinguish between dream and reality. It was a trick that her Granny had explained to her. "Know where you are and what is around you before you make your first move," she had said, time and time again. Her first conscious realization was that she was in her own bed and that she wasn't alone. The soft breathing next to her and the man's arm around her slender waist helped refresh her memory. A satisfied smile spread across her lips as she opened her eyes to the darkness. The clock on the bedside table displayed 4:45. A quick calculation led her to the realization that she had slept for over five hours. "Unusual," she thought. Normally, she only needed four to four and a half hours sleep, another useful trait that she had inherited from the maternal side of her family. The young woman slowly disentangled herself from the arm around her, careful to not disturb her previous evening's lover. She slid quietly out of her bed and found her slippers. Silently, she strode across the bedroom toward the en suite. Glancing out the bedroom window, she noticed that the lights of the city were little more than feebly glowing auras in the dense London fog. She closed the door of the en suite behind her just to muffle any noise that she might make; she didn't turn on any lights. Her night vision was excellent and, besides, she had the complete layout of the flat carefully memorized. She could move about in pitch darkness almost as well as she could in daylight. Relieving herself into the bidet, she didn't flush, not wanting to disturb her customer. She felt for the exercise sweats that hung on the back of the door and slipped them on. Then she moved, catlike, out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the sitting room. Kneeling at the sofa, she thumbed the large gold reader ring on the middle finger of her left hand to life. A faint display appeared before her and she chose the Book of Common Prayer from the menu. From years of practice, her thumb knew exactly how to get to the selection for Morning Prayer and she started another day as she always did, thanking God for her many blessings. Completing her prayers and morning meditation, she began her daily stretching routine. She realized that she would have to curtail her morning yoga session, since there was less than an hour before sunrise, and she would also have to postpone her text messaging until after breakfast. Fifty minutes later, she found her way to the kitchen and flipped on the overhead light. The brightness momentarily blinded her, but her eyes adjusted quickly. She filled the tea kettle and put it on the stove to heat. As quietly as possible, she cleaned up the desert dishes and utensils from the previous evening. As she finished, she noticed the dense mist outside was beginning to lighten. Another day was dawning. Managing to catch the tea kettle just before it started to whistle, she used a little of the water to hot the pot. Then she filled her tea ball with the Formosa Oolong that she knew Sir Geoffrey preferred. She emptied the pot and refilled it, adding the tea ball as the water level neared the top. Setting it aside to steep, she finished cleaning the kitchen and began to organize the items she would need to prepare breakfast. The delightful aroma of the Formosa Oolong filled her nose when she removed the tea ball and dropped it into the sink. Satisfied with her preparations, she glanced at the clock that read 6:12. "Perfect timing," she thought, "I've just enough time to awaken him properly." Slipping back into the gradually lightening bedroom, she returned her high heels that she had retrieved from the sitting room to the closet. Then she stripped off her sweats and hung them on the back of the door. Returning to her bed, she slipped her nude body carefully under the covers. He didn't awaken. Gently pushing on his shoulder, she managed to roll him onto his back and ducked her head under the covers. She carefully eased herself down toward his center, letting her nose guide her to his manhood in the darkness. Finding him partially erect, she set her soft lips to nuzzling his shaft from just under the helmet down to the base and back. By the second circuit, her trip was getting steadily longer. For the next lap, she added just the tip of her tongue to the smoothness of her lips. She carefully listened to his breathing and peered into his mind to gauge his consciousness. Taking pains to avoid the sensitive helmet of his lovely cock, she continued her ministrations and added a hand to the task, gently stroking the sack that dangled between his thighs. By this time, he was fully erect and she sensed that it was time to increase her intensity. The next time that her mouth slid up toward the crown of his manhood, she let the tip of her tongue flick over the sensitive triangle just under the rim of its head. That did the trick, as his breathing caught momentarily and she could sense the first indications of his awakening. Her head followed the tip of her tongue downward, wrapping her warm lips around his mushroom cap and licking a droplet of precum from his slit. His hand stirred and stroked the back of her neck, encouraging her onward. She needed no further incentive to suck his member into her warm mouth and begin to slide her lips up and down its soft skin in a steady rhythm. As her head reached the top of its travel, she ran her tongue around his sensitive crown before taking him deep into the back of her mouth again. As he began to moan, she increased both her speed and the suction she was applying on the upstroke. His hand roamed down her back and gripped the cheek of her bum. His balls had already pulled close to the base of his shaft and his hot cock had begun to swell even further, so she could tell that his release was near. As his mind became awash with delight, she raised her head to where just the swollen helmet was inside her mouth. Then she again increased her suction and let her tongue sweep back and forth over it until he erupted. His hips jerked upward and a stream of warm cum shot into her mouth, but she was prepared. She swallowed the first blast and then let the next few spurts collect on her tongue before it, too, slid down her throat. She loved the feeling of a man's cock cumming in her mouth. The taste didn't thrill her, but the rush of power that she felt, knowing that she had granted a man release, was exhilarating. His hand returned to the back of her neck and urged her up from under the covers. When her head emerged from the sheets, he pressed her lips to his and cradled her in his arms. Hugging her close to him, he greeted her, "Good morning, minx." "Good morning, darling," she replied as she caught a glimpse of the clock on the bedside table. It showed the time to be 6:32. Almost spot on. "Would you like me to start the shower for you?" Not waiting for his answer, she slid out of bed and made her way toward the en suite. Knowing that she was being admired, she didn't hurry, letting her hips sway lasciviously in the dim light. She flipped on the lights in the en suite, flushed the bidet and reached into the shower to turn on the water. Adjusting the temperature to his liking, she turned to find his naked body behind her. Before he could wrap his arms around her, she ducked under his elbow and slipped gracefully behind him, giving him a gentle push toward the now steaming water. "Not today, darling. I must get your clothes put out." Clearly disappointed, Sir Geoffrey climbed into the shower alone. Bachi selected a razor and shaving cream from the vanity drawer and snapped a fresh blade head onto the handle. Arranging them on the side of the sink, she then reached into the linen closet, found his favorite after shave and deodorant in the plastic storage bin reserved for him and selected a fresh bath towel from the shelf. Adding these items to the sink top, she returned to the kitchen and fixed his first cup of tea. She managed to deliver the tea just as he was turning off the water. Ducking out of the en suite, she quickly made the bed and then slipped into her closet. Inside the large walk-in, she selected clean pantyhose, boxers and socks from his part of the built-in drawer stack and laid them out on the bed. Then she went back for his dapper grey suit in its dry cleaner's bag and the new pale lavender shirt and matching silk tie that she had recently bought him. The shirt and tie were also laid out on the bed and the suit jacket was hung over the back of the corner valet. She slid his belt through the loops of the trousers and went to her dresser to fill the pockets. Among the items that came out of his trousers the previous evening was his silver pill case, so Bachi opened it, selected one of his blood pressure pills and a multi-vitamin tablet and laid them aside. His trouser pockets were carefully refilled in the same manner as they were emptied and the remaining items went into the correct jacket pockets. The trousers were draped over the seat of the valet and Bachi paused to survey her work. Satisfied with her efforts, she retrieved his pills from the dresser and was standing just outside the door of the en suite when he emerged, his cup of tea in his hands. Ducking her head under the cup and saucer he held before him, she slid her naked body up the front of his. Rising up on her tiptoes and putting her arms around his neck, she stroked her lips across his chin. "Mmmmm. Very nice," she complimented. His smoothly shaven chin and the delightful aroma of after shave gave her pause to wonder if they might have time for a quickie, but she quickly discarded the idea as impractical. Instead, she settled for a lingering kiss. "Open up," she instructed, when they came up for a breath, and then popped the pills into his mouth. When he raised his cup to his lips to wash down the pills, she took advantage of the opportunity to escape. "I'll get breakfast started," she said over her shoulder as she headed for the hall, leaving him to dress. When she reached the kitchen, she slipped her apron over her head, covering the front of her from the chest to the knees. Allowing herself the luxury of her own cup of tea, she stood at the sink savoring the taste of the Formosa Oolong. Earl Grey was her favorite, but this tea wasn't too far down the list. After the first few sips spread their warmth through her, she busied herself with the breakfast preparations. The bread went in the toaster, the marmalade and spreader went on a plate onto the table and the creamer was half filled with milk and it and the sugar bowl also found their way to the table. Bachi had just pierced the eggshells, placed the eggs in the saucepan of boiling water and inverted the egg timer when Sir Geoffrey came into the kitchen, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt. "Is this a new shirt?" he asked. "Yes, darling. I hope you like it." "I most certainly do. You know, of course, that Gwendolyn will notice when I arrive home this evening. She has remarked on your good taste in the past." "Please thank your dear wife for me." Bachi buttoned his collar and skillfully worked a neat Windsor knot into the new tie. Pulling it snug under his chin, she pulled his head down and gave him a quick kiss. "Don't get me too distracted, darling, or your eggs will be hard cooked," she said with a smile. Glancing at the egg timer, she watched the last of the sands empty into its base. She fished the soft cooked eggs out of the pan into the egg cups and turned off the range. The toaster popped up the first pieces of toast and she added them to the plates. "Sit down, darling," she instructed, placing the breakfasts on the table. "But, I left my tea in the bedroom." "I'll get you another," she said and turned to the task, providing him a delightful view of her bare bum before she disappeared around the corner into the kitchen. She took a fresh cup and saucer from the cabinet, filled it from the pot and took the opportunity to put down more bread to toast. Back at the table, she seated herself and cut off the top of her first egg. They ate in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Midway through their meal, the first strains of the 1812 Overture sounded from her bedroom. "Oh, I have a call," he said and started to rise. "I'll get it." she volunteered and dashed for her room. She found his personal communicator in his jacket and brought him the jacket. He pulled the device from the pocket and held a brief conversation. "My driver has been delayed in the fog. He'll be at least ten minutes late." They leisurely finished breakfast, including their second slices of toast. Afterward, they lingered over fresh cups of tea and chatted until the 1812 Overture again disturbed their conversation. This time his driver was only two blocks away. He rose and slipped into his suit coat. Bachi hurried to get his overcoat from the foyer closet and held it for him to slip into. While he buttoned up, she fetched his hat and stick. He took his walking stick and, when he ducked his head for her to place his hat on his head, she wrapped her arms around his neck and locked her lips onto his. He stood up straight, lifting her off the floor and pulled her to him with his free hand cupping a bare cheek. His other arm wrapped around her back and crushed her to his chest. After a long parting kiss that left them both breathless, he gently put her back down on her bare feet and turned to go. "Until next time..." he said, letting the sentence hang. Then he was gone. To be continued. Secret Weapon Ch. 09 Chapter 09 – Hackney Clinic Dear Reader: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental. After seeing her previous evening's customer off to work, the dark haired young woman returned to her chores. Clearing the breakfast mess from the dining table, she stacked the dishes in the sink for the housekeeper to tend to when she arrived. Then she hung up her apron in the broom cabinet and strode, naked and totally unselfconscious, into the sitting room to tend to her text messaging. Normally, she took care of it right after her morning yoga, but, this morning it had been postponed when she slept longer than usual. She wondered about her need for sleep; the previous evening's sex hadn't been unusually strenuous and she wasn't feeling at all under the weather. Bachi powered on the telly and laid the keyboard across her knees. Connecting to the net, she found 15 new messages waiting for her: six junk adverts that were promptly deleted, three reminders that she took note of and filed, five personal, including one from her dear friend, Mildred, and the last was her upcoming schedule from Mischa, the girl in Sevastopol who answered her business phone and arranged her bookings. When she opened the message it dawned on her why she overslept. Her calendar was empty for the following week because she was due to start her period. That would explain it. Bachi hurried off replies to her friends, including a pledge to return Red's visit sometime soon, checked the day's weather forecast - overcast, but unseasonably warm and dry - and logged off. She put the keyboard and pointer away in the bottom of the end table and headed for her shower. The hot water, shampoo, and cleansers swept away the stale scent of her night's work and she emerged feeling refreshed and alive. She toweled off quickly and brushed her teeth. Her nails and polish had held up well so no touch-up was necessary. As she applied the minimum of makeup, she planned out her day. Her monthly working-girl's check-up at the National Health Service clinic would occupy most of the day, but, if she got back in time, she promised herself a good hour of dance practice before a light meal at the Chinese restaurant down the block and maybe a pint in the pub on the ground floor. Then she steeled herself for the monthly game of arranging for Ivan to take her to a part of town where his management didn't want him driving. Putting the earbud in her ear, she selected the limo service from her personal communicator menu and headed for her closet as it connected. "Fox livery service." "Good morning, George." Selecting a brightly colored peasant style blouse from the closet, she matched it with a pair of Brooksdale khaki slacks that fit her loosely over a pair of conservative boy-cut knickers. Comfort and ease of on and off were the primary considerations when visiting the docs. "Well, good morning, Miss Munro. How can we be of service?" "I need Ivan to take me to my clinic appointment this morning." A pair of thigh high stockings and plain brown flats completed her outfit. She shed all her jewelry other than her necklace and cross and her reader ring and applied the faintest bit of her favorite scent, Red Jasmine, to the sides of her neck. The Hackney clinic wasn't in the best part of London and she didn't want to risk attracting the wrong sort of attention. "And where is your appointment, Miss?" "The Hackney clinic, where I always go." "Oh, now Miss, you know that we're not allowed to send our limos into that area. Why can't you find a more convenient clinic?" Bachi could easily find a closer clinic; there was one right around the corner in Paddington, but the staff there had been so condescending toward her when she explained that she was a sex worker that she had never returned. The staff at the Hackney clinic saw a high volume of working girls and guys and she felt so much more comfortable there. That's where she had gotten to know a number of the other players in the local scene, including Henrietta's son Dominique and a few of the girls in his stable. "This was the only one that I could get a convenient appointment at, George. Is Ivan available?" "Well, Miss, I believe that Ivan is available, but I am not allowed to send him there. I'm sorry." "Oh, well, I guess that I could take the tube and a bus," the young woman purred, playing her trump card. "Now, wait just a minute," George stammered, blackmailed again by a favored customer, "let me see if I can somehow get a special one-time exemption. Hold on please." This was the same script that they played out each month and by now they both knew their parts by rote. After a brief period of light music, George was back, "I can have Ivan take you to Hackney today, but he's not permitted to wait." "That's quite alright; I can ring you when I'm ready to return." "Yes, Miss. Ivan can be there in twenty minutes. Would that be acceptable?" "Make it thirty minutes, please, George. And thank you." She blew a loud kiss into the air. "Yes, Miss." The connection terminated and Bachi headed for the kitchen to enjoy the last cup of tea in the pot. She was in the hallway when the entry chime indicated Henrietta's arrival. "Good morning, Henrietta," she called out before she ducked into the kitchen. "Good morning, gal," her housekeeper replied in her heavy accent. "The Lord has truly blessed us with another glorious day!" "That He has," Bachi replied as she emptied the last of the tea into her cup. "You off to the clinic this morning?" the large black woman asked when she stepped into the kitchen. "Yes, Ivan should be here shortly. I'll probably be gone most all day." "Well, you take good care of yourself." The concern in the big woman's voice was evident. Bachi refilled the kettle and put it back on the stove for Henrietta's tea. They sat down at the dining table and went over the tasks for the day. Henrietta was most competent at her job; Bachi seldom felt comfortable instructing her as to what needed doing, because she had discovered that the things that needed doing around the flat were done by day's end whether Bachi issued detailed instructions or not. The young woman occasionally wondered about the housekeeper who had appeared at Foulis Castle not long after she, her Mum and Marta arrived in Scotland for the wedding. Whenever Bachi was home from school on holiday and the like, Henrietta was always there to assist her, whether it was helping her dress or prepare for family events or take shopping trips to Dingwall or Inverness. Bachi sensed that her maid and her father were somehow more than just servant and employer. Not that there was any indication that they were intimate, it was more the way they shared information by exchanging a particular look or that they both seemed familiar with the same odd jargon. At times, they almost seemed to communicate in spoken code. A younger Bachi would pester her father occasionally, trying to pry more about Henrietta from him, but he was reticent to discuss his past and whether she played any part in it. After Bachi began reading the John le Carre novels she found in the school library, she came to think of the big black woman as being her handler. And when Bachi pestered her father into letting her live in London, she wasn't at all surprised when Henrietta expressed a wish to return to London as well. Daddy never demanded that Bachi take her on to care for the flat, but he made his wishes known in other, more subtle, ways. Bachi's father could be quite persuasive and she had little reason to object. She and Henrietta had now been together in London for almost a year and both seemed happy with the situation. Bachi enjoyed her business and exploring the city's cultural offerings and Henrietta was close to most of her grown children and her grandchildren. "Oh, look at the time!" Bachi squealed. "I must run." She gave Henrietta a quick kiss on the cheek, grabbed a light jacket out of the closet and flew out the door, snatching her bag off the hall table on the way. Not bothering with the lift, she ran down the stairs and burst through the door into the lobby, startling Patty. It wasn't the first time. "Good morn...," gasped the plump security guard, clutching her chest, as Bachi ran by. "Good morning, Patty," the young girl replied, over her shoulder, as she rushed out the door. Ivan was waiting patiently at the rear door of the limo. Bachi rose up on her tiptoes when she got to his side and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He opened the door for her and she slid into the comfort of the vehicle. When the driver folded his over 200 cm. tall frame into the front seat of the limo, he leaned to his right to ask through the open divider window, "Hackney clinic?" He wasn't surprised when her voice answered, "That's correct," from immediately behind him. He had driven this particular free spirit often enough to know that she preferred his company over sitting by herself in the far back. "And you may leave the window open." They chatted amicably as he navigated his way through the chaos of taxis, hire transports and bubble scooters that clogged the streets. As they got closer to their destination and further from its center, the cityscape changed from a clean, well tended image to a grimier, more decayed demeanor. Fortunately, the overnight fog had mostly lifted and visibility wasn't a problem. Driving into this part of North London was usually safe in broad daylight, but, after dark or in thick fog, it could be nerve racking. This day, they reached their destination without incident. When he pulled up to the curb, she poked her head through the window that divided the vehicle and gave him a kiss on the ear, "Don't get out. I'll let myself out." "Yes, ma'am," he replied as she slid her lithe body the length of the limo and popped out the rear door. On her way out she yelled back, "I'll ring when I'm ready to be picked up." She pushed through the door into the waiting area and surveyed her surroundings. Worn and threadbare, it was nonetheless clean and brightly lit. There were almost a dozen patients in the chairs, some whom she recognized and others that she didn't. Bachi waved to those that looked up to greet her and quickly signed in. The electronic sign predicted a 78 minute wait, which wasn't unusual. Bachi sat down next to a girl she hadn't seen in the clinic before who looked very young and almost terrified. She introduced herself and tried to chat her up, but the youngster would have no part in it. Not wanting to frighten the poor girl further, Bachi leaned back and began studying the room's other occupants. She was scanning the room when she recognized the voluptuous young black woman who stumbled through the door, signed in and collapsed in a chair in the corner. Jade, one of Dominique's girls, sat by herself with her head down, gazing at the floor. She had avoided catching Bachi's eye when she had entered, so the young girl walked over to greet her. As she got closer, she noticed a few things that gave her pause to think. The black girl looked slightly disheveled and her earrings didn't match. "Hi, there, Jade." She responded to her name by looking up with an emptiness in her eyes that caught Bachi's attention. She had seen that vacant stare all too many times in the past. Her round black face was puffy and there were bags under her eyes. "Oh, hi, Bachi," she replied, halfheartedly. "What's happening, sister." "Oh, nothing." Her voice was flat and lifeless; not at all like the Jade that Bachi had come to know. "You don't look too good, honey, is there anything wrong?" "I'm OK," the black girl protested. "No, you're not," Bachi insisted with a genuine concern in her voice that caught Jade's attention. "Tell me what the problem is." "Well..." she fumbled, "I did hurt my back a little while ago." "And..." "Now, the doctors won't renew my script." "For what?" "My pain killer." "Which one?" "Xevacor," Jade admitted in a whisper. "So, you're buying it off the street, eh?" The black girl's silence provided all the answer that Bachi needed. "That's some heavy duty shit, sister. Do you really need it?" "Yeah, I really need it!" she fired back, finally looking at Bachi with some spark in her eye. "For your back?" "Yeah, for my back," she said, but she had turned her face back to the floor. "Look at me, Jade," Bachi pleaded, lifting the other girl's chin with her knuckle. "That shit will kill your soul! Do you really need it for your back ... or do you need it for the shakes?" The look that Bachi got was full of anger, but she could sense the fear in the other girl. Jade angrily replied, "Of course it's for..." she turned her eyes away, "my back!" "You're lying." Bachi said flatly. It wasn't an accusation as much as a statement of fact. "And, the worst part is that you're lying to yourself. Look at yourself, sister – you look like hell and your earrings don't even match!" The black girl's eyes shot wide open and she scrabbled to pull a mirror out of her bag. She examined her ears quickly and then dropped the mirror into her lap and her head into her hands. In mere moments, great wracking sobs were shaking her entire body. The smaller girl sat down in the empty chair beside her and took the sobbing girl into her arms, pressing Jade's head to her chest. "I'm so scared, Bachi. But, what can I do?" The desperation in her voice cut deeply into Bachi. "Tell the doctors." "No! I can't do that!" "Why not?" "They'll put me in treatment," Jade whispered, barely loud enough for Bachi to hear. "Maybe that's where you need to be." "But, Dominique..." she protested "I'll talk to Dominique. And I'll cover expenses for you while you can't work," Bachi promised. She had seen too many girls go down this same path. "Would you, really?" "Promise. Just tell the doctors what you're really doing and let them help. I'll get in touch with Dominique and let him know. I also know some people who can help you when you get back out on the street again. Will you do it?" Jade thought long and hard and her friend didn't push her. Finally, she looked up at Bachi and said flatly, "I'll do it." "Promise?" "Promise." "You won't regret it," Bachi reassured her with a smile. "Munro!" the clerk called from the front desk, announcing her appointment. "I've got to go. I'll see you soon," the younger girl said as she bounced up and headed for the door, without the least suspicion that she wouldn't. To be continued.