Chapter 5: Wild In Their Attire

'Virgin Atlantic is pleased to announce the arrival of flight VS... '

The rest of the announcement was unheard, as an almighty roar surged from the throats of the impatient fans. Terminal Four at Heathrow airport rocked, besieged by dark hordes of teenage 'Bitch' fans.

WPC Helen Grant turned and shouted to her colleague. Although she stood only four feet away from Helen, it was hard to make out all the words.

"I'm amazed they are so popular with this lot. I mean in my day, sure, they were well hot."

"So, who was your favourite then, Helen?" Audrey bawled back.

"Sorry, what?"

"Fave, which one was your Fave Bitch?" Audrey hollered.

"Oh, Ali - Alison Blackhead. Yours?" Helen replied.

"Ellie, I always had a thing, a crush on Ellie. Still have!"

The words sunk into Helen, she gave an involuntary shudder.' Crush?' Helen thought, 'Audrey, the man killer had a thing for women too?

Shit, how come I get none?' Further thoughts were suspended, as the sexy septuplet emerged through the arrival gate. It was all the police could do to hold the thin blue line - let alone think. Leather and flesh, cleavage and attitude; 'Les Bitches' walked steadily towards the sea of adoration. Helen overheard a comment she fully agreed with.

"They still look as hot as ever! How come they don't ever age?"

She felt her pants grow damp, partly from manhandling the writhing teenage girls who she held back from the stars. Mostly though, it was from the look she caught in Ali's eye, as she breezed past the struggling WPC.

The line broke, and the masses poured forward. Panicked police voices rang out hopelessly through the chaos. Helen recognised the danger at once, the band were in danger of being crushed to death by their adoring followers. In the blink of an eye, the crowd had flowed within yards of the troupe of women. They had no protection and no obvious security; surely they were doomed.

In front of Helen's wide eyes, the most remarkable thing happened. The storm of thundering feet was stilled; the entire crowd stopped moving en masse. Helen's eyes moved from one confused face to another, the expressions changed from uncertainty to rapture.

Helen felt her own pleasure peak, as girl after girl climaxed before her eyes. Time slowed as Helen's heartbeat pulsed in her ears; each beat, a small orgasm on the way to something cataclysmic. The terminal faded away; Helen was alone, haunted by a mischievous Sapphic poltergeist. Only her pleasure existed, the world stopped and Helen stepped off it, into her keenest fantasy.

Helen stared up into Audrey's concerned face. She felt her lips moving, but no words came. Audrey bent lower, and spoke to her fallen comrade.

"It's OK, it will pass. Just keep calm," she smiled, her concern apparent.

"Les Bitches - Ali, did they get away?" Helen asked.

"They are fine, vanished; God knows what has happened here though," said Audrey.

Helen sat up and swung her head in a broad arc, people were sprawled

everywhere. Women, men and children - some writhed in silent ecstasy, still others masturbated openly; their glazed eyes a testament to their vacant but lustful expressions. Others, like her, were recovering. Men in semen splattered trousers clung to any support they could find, women desperately tried to cover the evidence of wild desire. Most pitiful were the confused children, witness to passions they had only ever whispered about, and wracked by their own unwanted desires.

"Who did this?" Helen mumbled, as the tears welled in her eyes.

"Best guess is some sort of terrorist nerve gas attack, the bastards!" Audrey advised.

"So it wasn't the band?" Helen sobbed.

"No, how could it be? They are just seven normal women," Audrey paused, "aren't they?"

Helen nodded back at Audrey; the words just came to her - from the ether.

"Of course they are, I'm just confused. Forget I ever said it."

Helen smiled.

Ali was with her, she felt her mind caressed by the softest of vampyre thoughts. Helen grinned; she would never be alone again.

Jolene hummed happily as she steered the black stretch limo serenely along the M4. She and Manda had easily slipped through the throngs at Heathrow unnoticed. Nobody wanted their autographs; just as well, Jolene would have been a little more brutal than the Bitches were.

She listened to the soft chorus of sighs that drifted forwards from the paneled-off rear of the car. Yeah, they could day walk now, but it took its toll - they had to rest. Just as well really, it meant that she and Manda were still indispensable. As much as she loved them, desired them, and was servile to them, she would never be dumb enough to trust them. No sirree, she had seen too much over the years for that.

"So where are we headed?" chirped Manda.

"To Cornwall, still a long way to go Mand," Jolene replied, without as much as a glance from the roadway.

"Is that in England, or Wales?" Manda asked.

"It's England, honey, as far south and west as you can get."

"So how far?"

"Hundreds of miles yet, so be patient."

"I can't wait that long," breathed Manda.

"You need to pee? We can stop. I saw a sign for the services - it's only about 2 more miles."

"No it's more important than that, the power they used back there. Man, that was a turn on, I'm just horny."

Jolene pulled the car across to the inside left lane, and slowed from 80 to 60 mph. Her left hand brushed against the automatic lever as it moved to Manda's lap.

"Now we can't have that, can we, sis?" Jolene laughed.

Manda opened her thighs as the insistent fingers wriggled between them. She leant over and skimmed her hand across the sensitive black skin at the top of Jolene's tight leg.

"Uh uh, not me, I need to concentrate. I have no interest in coming just as we slide under the back of one of these trucks. No touch, just lay back and enjoy. I'll think about what you can do for me in return at the hotel." Jolene winked at her errant sibling.

"Spoilsport!" Manda whispered, wistfully.

Then she sighed, leant back and let Jolene's practiced fingers take her.

"You know I might even enjoy this little holiday," Manda breathed, her gasps already shortening.

Alison listened to the cries of incestuous masturbation, drifting back from the cab. She smiled. Today had been a good day - and by the sound of it the night would be long and exciting. Her mind drifted back to their arrival. Now that had been so lucky, or maybe not - perhaps all the policewomen on this small isle were suppressed lesbians. But to have her so easily; to be able to mind-meld in an instant, now that was rare. They now had a contact in the UK police force, and who knew when that could be of use.

Concentrating, Alison wondered if she could make contact now. The limo faded into a grey nothingness as Alison's consciousness left her. She flew over fields of verdant green, before slamming back into reality. Her eyes flickered open and looked out through foreign irises.

Helen blinked, and jumped.

"Are you OK?" a disembodied voice asked.

Helen turned towards the questioner.