Chapter 68: The Morning After

by John Dent

Shiv, local leader of the extremist female terror group, The Black Widows, sat in her room in the gang's current hideout up in the hills far away from town. She glanced across at her bed and the lithe young girl snoozing quietly in it, the sheets rucked down to expose her small breasts and blond pussy thatch nestling between her trim legs; Shiv smiled, recalling the pleasures they had shared the previous night, the lass's quick and eager tongue which, while lacking in experience, was more than satisfying and could, over time, be trained. Shiv was wearing her familiar rubber t-shirt which clung to her torso like a second skin, squashing her bosom somewhat but allowing her nipples to stand out proudly through the shiny, tight material; from the waist down, the woman was naked. Picking up a shaving brush, she whipped up some foam from the old fashioned hard soap contained in a small tub and, spreading her legs, she daubed it over her pussy and the short blonde stubble that was beginning to show through her skin there. Half closing her eyes, Shiv repeated the process, the bristles of the brush teasing at her sex and sending small shivers of pleasure through her - this was the best part of shaving, she thought to herself, pitying women how never tried this experience, settling instead for simply allowing nature to take its course. Satisfied with her efforts at last, she put the brush down before picking up a safety razor and, after swishing it thoroughly in a bowl of warm water placed on a low coffee table at her side, she carefully applied to blade to her skin and cut a swath through the waiting foam...

A quiet knock at the door interrupted her work. "Enter," she called out in hushed tones so as not to disturb her current lover's slumber. The door swung open and in stepped her second in command, the aptly named Ginger, her crew- cut hair a blazing red colour. "A message from our contact in the city," the newcomer said, handing over a sheet of paper. Shiv took the message and scanned it briefly before smiling. "You've read it?" she asked of Ginger. The other woman nodded her head and smiled back. "Very good... in that case you know how well our contact is doing. With luck they'll soon be supplying excellent intelligence to us."

"Indeed they will, Shiv."

"Very well. Anything else, Ginger?"

"Erm... no, I don't think so," replied the other woman and, taking the hint, Ginger turned on her heels and left, shutting the door silently behind her.

Some distance away in an apartment in the city, an exhausted Detective Rogerson squirmed out from under Uri Matsumoto's sleeping body. Clambering out of the bed, the naked man scratched at his balls before tousling his hair with both hands. "Christ, I'm exhausted," he muttered under his breath. "All the time blokes in the locker room brag on about how they'd love to spend a night with a nympho and what they'd do to her... and now I have... and I know now that it's the most demanding, exhausting, tiring and yet unforgettable thing I've ever done..."

Silently the door to the bedroom opened and in shuffled Mrs Matsumoto, eyes to the floor, carrying a tray loaded with breakfast for one. The detective looked at her, taking in that even at this time of the morning, she was wearing immaculate make-up and was dressed in a traditional waist length kimono, complete with that bump thing in the middle of her back. Without a word, the woman placed the tray on the bedside cabinet before bowing low to the man and starting to shuffle backwards out of the door still bent well forward. To his own surprise, Rogerson discovered that his John Thomas had suddenly found a fresh lease of life, (which might well have something to do with the woman showing off her naked shapely knees to him) where he was sure there would be none for at least a couple of hours. Once again he looked at the mother of the woman with whom he'd spent the night... and, he had to admit that she was not unattractive. "Erm... Mrs Matsumoto... a moment, if you please."

The woman halted her withdrawal from the room and raised her eyes slightly, taking in the rising manhood before her... and a smile broke out on her lips as she saw his demanding erection waving at her. With no further prompting needed, she approached the detective and, gently pressed her hands against his tights, she intimated to him that he should back up. Needing no more inviting, Rogerson was soon seated on the bed, his knees apart while Mrs Matsumoto knelt before him, easily taking his organ into her mouth and deep down into her throat. Slowly at first, she began to suck and to rock back and forth on her knees. Rogerson leaned his torso back and groaned... and suddenly felt some feather light lips kissing the back of his neck - Uri was awake, it would seem. The younger oriental woman moved her lips round and began to nibble at his right ear lobe while her hands began to massage the muscles at the base of his neck. "God!" he thought, "This is the life..."

Having spent the night quite literally chained up in Detective Lee's well equipped cellar-dungeon, Cadet Bone was not feeling at her best as she lay inside the boot of his battered old sedan, bouncing about quite a bit due to a vertical thruster on the nearside of the vehicle that seemed to have an intermittent problem firing. 'At least he stopped off at my place and allowed me to change, ' she thought as the car ground to a halt. The lid above her lifted slowly skywards and Lee, dressed in his off duty outfit of jeans and white t- shirt, stood back to give her room to clamber out. Today Bone was wearing that clear plastic micro-mini that she loved so much and which showed off the electric blue suspender belt that she wore below holding up matching stockings. Around her chest, she wore only an inch-wide blue leather belt that crossed her nipples and, when pulled taut, was kept painfully tight by a buckle that rested against her spine; mounted inside the leather was a succession of small metal prongs that bit into the flesh of the wearer and making the sensation sublime. A pair of six-inch stiletto shoes, so much more impractical but far more comfortable than her heelless police boots, completed the ensemble.

"We're here..." Lee said, rather needlessly.

"But why are we here at the crazy doctor's place? This is our day off - why aren't we out enjoying ourselves? Or, better yet, still in your dungeon?" she asked, a cheeky grin illuminating her face.

"You want to live on a police officer's salary all your life?" challenged Detective Lee and Bone almost immediately shook her head. "Thought not - some of your 'skills' tended to indicate that. Look, I'm not preaching at you but... well, we gotta look out for ourselves, right?"

"Alright, I get the picture."

"Right - now shut up and come on," he finished with a smile.

Shortly afterwards the two off-duty officers were meeting with the bespeckled and distinctly untidy Doctor Fitzsimmons in his laboratory. "Don't you ever clean this place up?" asked the cadet as she picked a pile of small plastic rectangular boxes off the corner of a table so that she could perch there all the chairs being already occupied by even larger piles of debris. "What are these things anyway?" she asked looking at the garishly coloured and rather pathetically executed illustrations printed on them.

"Games for a Sinclair Spectrum computer I picked up at an antiques fair..."

"A Sinclair what?"

"A very primitive computer from the... oh, never mind, it's not really important. Now what can I do for you?"

From his pocket, Lee removed the gizmo that he had liberated from Alan Partridge's home and put it on the table before Jules whose interest level increased immediately. He picked the device up and, grabbing a small screwdriver from out of a sweetie tin that had been half hidden under a pile of old socks, he began to remove the back before using a magnifying glass to peer into the innards of the thing. "Hmm... interesting configuration... nice workmanship... hmm, and just what are you? Oh, I see... yes... tell me, detective, does it work?"