Chapter 32: Lindsey Visits Babette and Leon

Babette was showering before she and Leon dressed for dinner.

Leon removed her bottle of Armagnac and a snifter from the liquor cabinet. He was in a foul mood, and he felt the need to relax. He filled the goblet, placed the bottle on the lamp table beside the sofa, and sat down. He took a large swallow.

Not bad.

He examined the label on the bottle and smiled wryly. Fin Class, from Condom. Peculiar and amusing name for a city. He replaced the bottle on the table, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

Babette's dropping out of the bidding for the blonde had disappointed him.

He'd gotten a brief look at the blonde's body, but her exhibition hadn't been nearly long enough.

Despite applying all his charm to persuade Babette to buy her, he'd been unsuccessful.

He had no compunctions about physically abusing a woman to obtain something from her although he preferred humiliation. For Babette, neither method seemed appropriate. He wondered if his abuse of the perfumer's daughter long ago was the reason for his lack of compunctions with women. Compelling the girl to use the wine bottle had led to many pleasant daydreams over the years. Anyway, abuse worked for him; he had only contempt for men who pampered their mistresses.

Babette should have competed longer in the bidding for Sheila. On the other hand, if she had raised the ante, I have the feeling that the lesbian Lindsey would have increased the stakes anyway. Perhaps she'd have continued bidding up indefinitely. She seemed determined to get the blonde, no matter how high the bidding got.

It was seldom difficult for Leon to obtain a woman. He felt at ease seducing one; it amused him to apply his charms, time after time, using the same routine. Typically, a woman who received his attentions, even a beautiful one, felt flattered. He knew that his looks and flippant 'take it or leave it' attitude, were turn-ons for her. He wasn't accustomed to having his lust thwarted.

He had expected Babette to succeed in bidding for Sheila, and the setback rankled. He wondered if there was some other way through which he could obtain the blonde, at least for a long enough time to thoroughly enjoy her.

Annoyed about the blonde, he found it difficult to concentrate on finding the Millet girl. He'd not even glimpsed her since his arrival. Of course, it was possible that all the furor created by the Americans about her disappearance could have induced Hawk Nose to dispose of her, doubtless in the ocean. If she were still alive, perhaps Crane had her in one of his basement cells; if so, he'd have to go down there and investigate.

He smiled to himself and sipped the Armagnac. Fine brandy.

A search of the cells might be a bonanza in itself. If he began his search of the cells in the middle of the night, there would be time for some pleasant moments with the females who were stored there. Moreover, in his search for Janine, he might discover Sheila. She ought to be in a cell for the duration of her training period, unless the lesbian had ordered her to be delivered untrained.

Besides the Millet girl, he needed to determine the island's location. The only one who would know it for certain would be Hawk-Nose. Anyone else might be misinformed.

I'll find a time when Crane is gone from his office. An auction would be ideal, but god knows when the next one will be. I'll have to persuade a blue girl to describe his schedule.

Finally, if possible, he needed to discover who Crane's mainland associates were. The Director would require a bone to throw to the New York authorities in the form of the names of the men who carried out the abductions and delivered the girls to Yvonne's ship.

Leon placed the empty snifter on the lamp table beside the bottle. Babette's purse lay on the cocktail table.

He went through it and quickly found Babette's key to the E.L. He slipped the key in a pocket. He'd visit the room before she awoke, early tomorrow. If there were captive women in the E.L., he'd photograph them. If a blue girl happened to be in the room, the fact that he had a key should dispel any suspicions that she might have. No one but he and Babette could be aware that Babette was paying all the bills and that the keys were hers.

He returned to the sofa. He filled the snifter with more brandy. He thought again of the blonde's body. Recalling her stripping on the stage, he soon had an erection.

Babette exited from the bathroom. Leon observed her through the open doorway to the bedroom. She was rubbing her arms with a large black towel as she walked toward the bed, her ample breasts bobbing rhythmically.

He watched her sit on its edge, reach beside her for a stocking, and bend down, drawing it up her thigh. He watched her repeat the process with the other stocking. Except for her black nylons, she was naked. Leon stood up, pulling the cloth of his pants outward, to accommodate the pole, and he limped into the bedroom, retaining his nearly full glass in his hand.

Babette looked up. She noticed the bulge, and she flushed.

"Again, Leon? You want that every time I come from the shower!"

"Are you tired of pleasing me?" he asked, coolly. He looked down. Her breasts were firm and inviting.

"You know I'm not. But you don't make love to me any more like you did in Paris. All I do now is suck your cock!"

He looked down at her. Her black stockings, up to her thighs, served to emphasize how naked she was above them.

Leon unzipped his fly. His freed penis sprung out, directly before her face. The swollen head bobbed slightly, following the rhythm of his pulse.

Babette sighed.

She reached up with her long fingers and grasped the shaft below its head. She reached out with her other hand and groped in his trousers with two fingers. She hooked his testicles and drew them out.

Babette parted her lips. She leaned forward and lowered her head. Leon felt her mouth descend over his penis, sliding in on the warm cushion of her tongue.

She looked up and their eyes met. Leon smiled.

"You may object, but you enjoy sucking my cock," he said. "By the time I come, you're cunt will be dripping wet."

Babette's face flushed. She lowered her gaze, drew back slightly. Leon felt her tongue working on the head of his penis. She began to suck.

Leon raised the snifter. He sipped from it, savoring the flavor. It was excellent Armagnac.

Leon covered Babette's head with his free hand. He gazed down on her naked back, the ridges of her spine. He imagined that it was Sheila who was rocking forward and back and her full lips that ringed his shaft.

Leon watched her crimson-nailed fingers stab the skin of his testicles.

Although their skin was wrinkled and erect, somehow she managed to twist them and, when she had them tight, she drew them toward her. They resembled two huge pink marbles before her lips. She thrust out her tongue and began licking them; she seemed intent on covering all of their exposed surfaces.

Babette was adept, and Leon soon closed his eyes.

He thought of Sheila's naked form on the stage. She had obeyed Crane's command to bend forward toward the audience. Crane had raised her breasts to display them.

Leon felt Babette's arms encircle his hips and her hands grip his buttocks through his trousers. They pulled him forward, and he felt the head of his prick force into a tight cavity as warm as her vagina, but more snug. Electric thrills surged up from his loins.

Sometimes she could suppress her gag reflex and take the entire length of his shaft in her mouth until the head of his penis was buried in her throat. Then, her subsequent gagging induced such exquisite sensations that, no matter how much Leon tried to restrain himself, wanting to prolong them, they always brought on his orgasm.

He felt her head draw slowly back and he watched her tightly encircling crimson lips withdraw up his shaft until only the fat head was still within. Then she suddenly thrust forward and took the entire length back in. He couldn't see her face, pressed as it was into the cloth of his trousers, firmly in his groin.