Helen...

Harry looked across the table at the woman. She was checking through a file, her dark brown hair tied back into a bun, concentrating on the information thoroughly. Harry assumed she was in her forties, a very seasoned detective inspector by all accounts. Probably quite a bit of a stunner in the days she was just a constable. He was there for enquiries only. The last person to see Hoffman before his throat was cut. Again, he thought, a honourable death for a contract killer. What you give, one day you take back.

The Tec looked up at him. "So, can you tell us anything about the dead man? A name perhaps? What was he looking for to buy on your stall?"

"All that I know was he was a stranger, like many others. He was asking for a copy of Die Hard I think and a few other movies. Then he left. Next thing I know he was dead on the car park."

"One stall owner tells us you were arguing with him?"

"Well you do get the odd customer abuse. He wanted something for nothing."

"We might want to speak to you again, if that is ok? We have no positive identification on this man and maybe you could later tell us something."

"Fine by me babe... I mean Inspector, sorry."

She smiled back. It had been a long time since anyone called her "babe" and she liked it. Normally she would not accept that term so easily, but Harry was different. He was handsome and it was taken as flattery from such a person. He seemed out of the 'picture' of the crime so far and perhaps a second visit just might bring him into contact again, if only to see him. "Well, I thank you for helping us with your enquiries. Try and think back to another time or place you might have known him."

"I'll try, but I doubt it. He was just another potential customer." He replied keeping his anxieties well sealed in. He was glad to see the back of Hoffman and believed he had gotten his just dessert for killing Saskia, for whatever reason.

Helen received a letter. She opened it and read its contents carefully over her morning coffee. It was Saturday and Jack was taking a shower in the bathroom. He was singing some French song loudly and he did not have one of singing voices in the world. It was annoying her a little as she tried to concentrate. The letter was from David's lawyer. His last will and testament was to be heard on the following Tuesday. It was obvious that she had been mentioned in it.

Jack appeared from the bathroom, naked apart from a towel around his waist. He was in good spirits and kissed her on the forehead whilst giving her a breast a cheeky grope. "I feel good today, the snow is almost gone. That rain last night did us all a favour. Now I can drive safely again, walk the streets without slipping like an old man on the ice."

"You are an old man." Helen replied in jest. Jack fluffed up her hair in reply and he was pleased to remove his towel to show her his proud manhood standing to full attention. "I see another old man is happy too." She replied giving it a lingering look. "Put it away. You can't use it yet. I'm on my period and you are just teasing me."

Jack covered it up. "Atleast a quick blow job would be nice. But then again, I understand your feelings too." He poured a coffee and sat at the table. "What is the letter? It looks very official?" He tried to take it. Helen pulled away to stop his prankishness. "Oh, I see you have a secret you are not going to share with me. We must not keep secrets." Helen gave him a wry smile in reply watching him slurp his coffee.

"If you must know, its business I need to tend to. Nothing important." She told him. Jack held up his hands in acceptance. "An old friend needs my help. You don't know them." She replaced the letter inside the envelope. "I think we should go shopping. I need some new clothes and you did promise."

"That I cannot deny. Maybe some sexy underwear?"

"That and other things. I can't walk around in just sexy underwear. Besides I have a two-piece suit I like. I hardly wear things like that and I think it's time I should."

"With spectacles, you would look like a sexy secretary or one of those business women I often have to deal with."

"Don't you mean fuck?"

Jack grinned. "You do not know that. And remember, we agreed not to talk about those things. When we are both apart we fuck anyone to satisfy our needs. How is Harry by the way? Have you seen him over Christmas and new year?" Helen playfully hit him on the head playfully. His comment was a clear tease in retaliation for her earlier comment about his love making habits with other women while he was away. And yes, they did agree and she was glad that he had remembered.

"Poor David. I miss him and Jayne. Do you?" Jack asked. "You know, for a lesbian she is a good fuck. It was a pity you did not join in that threesome and make it a foursome. Now those things are over."

"They both taught us to be submissive. I don't think I liked that. It upset both of us for a while."

"Yes it did. Maybe we are not submissive after all." Jack replied. Helen looked at him for a while thinking. "What? Tell me what is on your mind?" He asked.

"Well, atleast you discovered one thing. You are bisexual."

Jack frowned and thought hard and deep about her comment. "Yes, I admit. You are right."

Harry stood in the middle of the empty apartment lounge he had inherited from Hoffman. The thing was he did not know where he had put the important deeds. He needed them to put the place on the property market. His idea was to sell the apartment, keep some money for himself and find somewhere else smaller to live. After all, why would he need such a big place stripped of its furnishings? He was penniless basically and selling was his best option.

"I would rent it." He turned quickly to the open door and saw the owner of the voice. She was tall, blonde, eyes like sapphires and in his instant estimation sex on two legs. The stranger walked in looking around, getting a feel for the spaciousness. Harry was taken aback by her forwardness being uninvited and brash.

"Excuse me? Who are you?" he asked. She grinned at him with a wink.

"I'm the one with the deeds. May I introduce myself? I am Greta Hoffman." She held out her hand to him and he shook it nervously. Greta Hoffman? Something was weird about the whole thing. Hoffman having a relative or even a young wife? "I'm Mister Hoffman's adopted daughter." And with that, it answered his forthcoming questions. Harry's eyes were all over her, the open jacket and white blouse unbuttoned half-way showing her ample breasts, snug in a tight black bra. Her pleated knee length skirt matched the jacket ad there was no doubt in Harry's mind she was either wearing stockings or tights. She opened he shoulder purse and waved the brown envelope containing the deeds.

"How did you get that?" He asked.

"The police found it in my dads' car. Your name is on the deeds, so don't worry, I'm not going to be able to steal this place away from you. But if you are thinking of selling then all I can say is that it's a bad idea. It's got income potential and I think you should think wisely about that." She placed the envelope in his hand. Harry barely caught most of what she said. His eyes were elsewhere having a detrimental effect on his hearing too.

"Ok, got ya babe. So, what did the cops say about finding a document like this having my name on it?"

"Not a lot. You didn't sign it. So they assumed it was on its way to you. Just another customer on the property market?" She looked through every room as Harry followed her. "It needs furnishings. Good top range modern styles to attract the right clients." She turned to look at him. "I can deal with that, so don't worry."

"I have to ask. Did you know exactly what your step father did for a living?"

"Oh yes," she said with a grin that was partially considered as evil. "He was in the disposal business and I believe you were one of his clients, am I correct?" Like father like daughter Harry thought. Hoffman was not exactly a loner in his business by the sounds of it.

"Yeah, but I'm sure he did a good job on one of my friends..."

"Saskia yes." She interrupted. "I have to agree. She was the wrong victim unfortunately. The Saskia he was told to dispose of did quite a lot of talking to the authorities in Italy. Dad's clients were not happy and so he himself was disposed of. Shame really. He being so good at his job." She brushed past him, showing no emotion over her fathers' death. Harry was beginning to realise that these people were born to be emotionless and above all evil when it came to other fellow humans.

She stood in the spacious lounge. "I know what is on your mind Harry." She turned to look at him. "Right now you are thinking that you would just love to fuck my butt off. So I'll tell you, you have no chance whatsoever, so forget it."

"Wait. You can't say that. I'm a decent guy. I don't think about those things... well, not often..."

"Oh shut up. The deal is I have this place painted and furnished. You find a client to rent it and we split the rent between us. That sounds fair to me. Sixty forty. Sixty percent obviously to me for my maintenance services."

"Hang on. I own this place. I should be offering you a price for regular maintenance, not you dictating it. When did you become my boss regarding this place? Besides, I haven't decided what I'm doing with it yet. In other words, no deal babe, ok?"

"Oh you will see it my way. Believe me, you will." She replied with that confident smile which scared Harry just a little. He was confident enough to make up his own mind, and hid his doubts well. Something he had become accustomed to during his roughish survival childhood. She offered him her calling card and he took it. With that she left him alone, disappearing through the door and he had no desire to follow her.

Helen prepared for the reading of David's last will and testament. The new suit that Jack treated her to was ideal for looking the part. She showered and began to dress, first the purple bra and hipster panties with suspender belt to match, then the dark grey silk stockings. For the first time in a long time she was out to impress whoever was at the hearing. The blouse followed as she admired herself in the mirror. The day before she had he hair trimmed and streaked with brown highlights, and then the knee length grey skirt and jacket. Jack was right; she did look like an executive rather than a student struggling to graduate, penniless without Jack to lean on for assistance. He was the man she hoped to marry one day and move to Paris, although he did not know it yet.

It had been well over a week since she saw Harry. The break was good, but she was now feeling horny for a session of sex with him. He was the lothario lover who she intended to play with like a toy boy and again Harry was unaware of her thoughts and feelings for him. They were simply play mates and that was all Harry needed to know. There was no love lost. Yet she desperately needed satisfaction. First, the business ahead. What exactly did David Lord leave to her, if anything at all in his will?

Harry had other things on his mind that afternoon. Greta had invited him to the swankiest hotel in town for lunch. The Victoria Grand was for the very rich and he had problems getting through the reception. He was too casually dressed for their high standards, and Greta rescued him at the door from the bullying security men who were going to throw him out bodily onto the street.

The restaurant played soft classical music at low volume. The diner's voices mingled with the music like a hum. They ordered their lunch. Cod and chips did not go down well with the waiter and Greta corrected it for the nearest type of cuisine on offer. "I've been thinking about this rent thing of yours." Harry told her in almost a whisper across the table. Greta poured herself a glass of water willing to listen.

"Good. Because I've already found a client." Greta replied with confidence."

"Hold on! I was supposed to do that. You do the furnishing and decorating."

"I can't trust you to find anyone decent enough."

"So, tell me what part do I play in this deal? Do I get the sixty percent?" Harry asked. Greta just smiled and said nothing. "So this is the way you intended to force me to accept the deal on renting. But I'll tell you now, you are out of order. And who is the client? Some rich Arab sheik I suppose?"

The waiter delivered their meals, laid it out and poured the wine. "Would madam require desert?" he asked, completely avoiding asking Harry. It was obvious that he was out of place. Greta shook her head and dismissed the waiter.

"No Harry, it isn't an Arabian oil baron. The client happens to be no other than myself. I quite like it to be honest. Situated in the middle of town. I can conduct my business from there. It's ideal."

"And what is your business apart from everybody else's?" Harry asked, realising he was served lobster rather than fish, with minted mashed potato and various vegetables he had never even seen before.

Greta watched him picking at his meal. He tasted it and found it quite edible, besides the fact that he was very hungry. "I can't tell you what my business is. It's very private." She told him. Harry grabbed the glass of white wine and emptied the glass in one prolonged swallow, then resorted to eating the lobster with his fingers. Not that Greta was bothered, infract she found it amusing. "I hope you don't treat your women like that?" She said with a grin.

"Want to try me?"

Helen arrived purposefully late at the lawyers office. She phoned ahead to tell them she was on her way. She wanted the reading to be quick and over with in order to avoid Jayne or any others that may be present. Meeting David Lords' relatives was something she wanted to avoid as much as possible. All that she knew about those kinds of proceedings were simple. Someone leaves you something and you collect the legal right to them. The thing was, deep in her mind she partially blamed herself for encouraging his suicide by discovering things about him.

She was shown to the office by the receptionist. Inside she was greeted by just one other person, the only one apart from the lawyer himself and that was Jayne. Instinctively, Helen accepted Jayme's hugs and then they both sat before the lawyer's des who seemed patient to begin. "This will not take too long. The executor being present." The lawyer nodded to Jayne. She turned to Helen and smiled, reaching out t take her hand. Although Helen did not really want to take it, she did out of respect.

"To my wife and executor Missus Jayne Lord..." The lawyer began, and Helen suddenly realised with that Jayne was David's legal wife. "...my full estates and properties herewith listed..." The list seemed endless as the lawyer reamed off various articles of small properties including his ex wife's' jewellery and items of priceless antiques. "And to my friend and student, Miss Helen Mason, I leave the sum of eighteen million pounds along with the remaining sum of fifty two million pounds to my wife and executor Missus Jayne Lord."

Helen could not believe it. David had left her an amazing sum of money. He was a latent millionaire. He had to be to have so much money. "Can you repeat that sum again please?" she asked. The lawyer repeated the lines on the document again. She thanked him, trying to absorb the figure in her mind. Eighteen million. She too was suddenly a millionaire.

"May I continue?" the lawyer asked. "There are conditions."

Helen wondered, what conditions? Something she did not expect. She looked around at Jayne who continued to smile. "The conditions are as follows..." the lawyer carried on reading the document. "In order that Miss Mason inherits the said sum, she must make a legal and binding contract of partnership with Missus Jayne Lord, thus sharing all remaining property and that listed above at the consent of Missus Jayne Lord."

"A binding contract?" Helen queried. "You mean I must marry her? As in a lesbian partnership?"

"Exactly that Miss Mason. As there is no legal marriage possible between two members of the same sex, a legally binding contract of partnership is sufficient." The lawyer explained. "And then the eighteen million pounds is yours."

Helen let go of Jayne's hand quickly. "No, no... That can't be right. I don't want a contract with her."

"Then your inheritance of eighteen million will be left uncontested. Neither of you get that sum until it is legally claimed." The lawyer explained. Helen became a millionaire and suddenly she was poor again. Jayne remained silent whilst Helen thought hard about the situation. "There is one bonus to that contract," the lawyer began, in order to speed up a conclusion. "Should the contract be ended, by demise of one or the other partner, the two remaining sums or whatever is left of those sums will legally belong to the surviving partner, unless either makes a last will and testament countering the agreement."

"What he means dear Helen is, if I die, all of David's money is yours, including my share." Jayne explained. "But you have to enter a binding contract of partnership with me. It's the way he wanted it I suppose. Personally I don't mind."

Helen could not believe that such a condition was concocted. Jayne had to be an accomplice in the whole situation. She could not even believe that Jack was not mentioned either, just to make it all one complete 'kinky' ride. She had to decide on the condition, but she was not ready. She was not a lesbian. "I need time to think about it." She declared. The lawyer looked at Jayne and she nodded her reply.

"Then a second reading will be held in a few weeks time," the lawyer explained. "That will give you both time to discuss the disputed conditions and you will be informed by my secretary of the date. I thank you both."

Greta and Harry returned to the apartment after their lunch appointment. To his surprise the whole place had been re-furnished and decorated. There had been no time wasted. And to add to that, Greta wasted no time in seducing Harry. There was no way she was going to let him seduce her or allow sexual intercourse. The terms for sex had to be entirely dictated by Greta. And she had no objections in making her next desired move.

Harry sat on the brand new leather settee with his pants around his ankles. Greta sat beside him, leaning into his hard manhood, tasting it as she swallowed and gulped on his precum, expertly stroking him to his climax. Harry griped her blonde hair as gently as possible as he tried to hold back his load a little longer. His moans echoed louder around the walls of the lounge until he resigned himself in declaring; "Oh fuck, I'm cumming... I'm cumming." Greta looked up at him as he filled her mouth with thick warm spunk. She kept on stroking and sucking him until he could take no more, letting every single drop of his cum empty into her throat.

Harry caught back his breath as Greta licked every drop that had escaped around her lips. The whole act was unexpected. "There," Greta began. "I did tell you that you would have no chance of fucking me. But, what was to stop me fucking you?" Harry was speechless, recovering from what he described as the most spontaneous blow job he had ever experienced. Now it was over, he felt as if he was truly forced into resigning to this strange, but beautiful woman's desires. The fact was, Greta found him sexually attractive and being the 'slut' she was could not resist in finding out what he was made of and what he tasted like.

"Do you normally do business like that with all of your business partners?" Harry asked, still holding onto his semi-hard manhood. Greta threw him a tissue to wipe himself clean from the neat silver fresh wipe dispenser on the low table. She had nothing to say in reply. The sex was over and she was personally satisfied until she found the time alone to enjoy her trusted toys. As far as men were concerned, they had cocks, they had spunk, of which she found irresistible, and that was it.