The Amorous Agatha Christie 08

Chapter Ten.

Cat Amongst The Pigeons.

England, 1924.

Agatha Christie thought that there was something quite erotic about the game of tennis in 1924. The modern era has brought in a more casual look to ladies' attire. On this fine Sunday afternoon at Ashe Manor in Wychwood under Ashe, the famous author of The 'Mysterious Affair At Styles' was wearing a white button-down slip over a drop waist skirt. The skirt was deliberately loose and pleated, with a white belt at the waist. In her short bobcut, the redhead wore a long scarf.

The Manor is owned by Lord Whitfield, a self-made millionaire, and is located a mile from the centre of the village. It had originally been an elegant building of red brick but had seen a significant rebuild over the last four years. At the rear of the house, his fiancée, Bridget Conway had seen a fine tennis court installed. As tennis was an energetic sport, it helped the young woman keep fit and healthy. Agatha had been invited down to join a small group of guests who were warming up for the upcoming Wimbledon Championships. It was an opportunity to get away from the city for a weekend.

"Bunny! Don't hit the ball so hard, dahling."

The renowned author watched Bridget playing with none other than Henry 'Bunny' Austin, the up-and-coming twenty-five-year-old star. Austin was brought up in South Norwood, London, and at a young age was widely known by the nickname 'Bunny,' bestowed on him by school friends from the Daily Mirror comic strip Pip, Squeak, and Wilfred. Wilfred being a rabbit or bunny.

"Sorry, old thing!"

Agatha laughed from her chair and clapped in support. She concentrated on the young man. He was fantastically fit, good-looking, and single. Bridget had agreed earlier.

"He's so manly. His backhand is one to be reckoned with, and his hip movements are an even greater force. Trust me."

Conway winked at Christie knowingly. She was a diminutive thing, slim, small-breasted, but with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Oh yes, my dear. I found out at an early age that tennis players are highly sexual. I had no difficulty in humping them. I find a good jump after a couple of sets to be very relaxing. I get wet pants just watching Bunny's balls bounce."

"Right. Which ones?"

"Why, the ones in his flannel trousers. Hah!"

"Come on, Agatha. Pick up a racquet."

Bridget left the court in a sweat as Bunny waved to the redhead. Agatha chose a racquet from a stack and wielded it in her hand.

"I can't play with this tennis racquet,' she said, throwing it down in despair. "It's been restrung, but the balance is all wrong."

"It's much better than mine,' said Bridget, comparing the two. "The strings on mine are really loose."

"I'd still rather have your racquet," said Agatha, picking it up and

swinging it.

"Well, you can't."

"All right then."

Agatha and Bunny began playing. After thirty minutes, she felt like her arms were dropping off, and her legs had difficulty moving.

"I feel like I might very well seize up."

"Poor thing. I suggest you go and have a large Pimm's. Bunny and I shall take a stroll to cool off."

Agatha watched the two wander off through a clump of rhododendron bushes. She sat back and sipped her refreshing drink when she fancied she heard giggling and the occasional shriek. Ever the amateur sleuth, she trotted off to the bushes to investigate. She parted a branch and was shocked to see Bridget being heartily screwed by Bunny! He was banging her with short strokes as he hovered over her. Her knickers were down by her ankles and her thighs were around the small of his back. Her cute bottom bounced furiously on the grass as they rutted hard and fast.

"Heavens!"

Agatha was transfixed by the energetic pair. Especially him, with his strong legs, great hip movements, and clenching buttocks that rose and fell in a steady rhythm. They bucked away, chest to breast and thigh to thigh. The crack between his rear cheeks was damp with sweat and Agatha went weak at the knees as she wished it were her with the grass stripes up her backside. She shifted her view so that she

could make out his dick slipping right inside the blonde's muff. His massive ball sack hit the tender flesh of her rounded bum on each in stroke.

"Come on, lover. Shoot!"

He gave a wild cry of joy as he erupted into her weeping quim. He kept on ramming into her until his spent dick flopped out. They remained locked in each other's arms as Agatha took the moment to retreat.

x

Fame, as some self-pitying celebrities routinely complain, comes with plenty of drawbacks. The instant wealth, adoration, and adulation, are tempered with the dreary pressure of relentless public interest. So it was refreshing to discover that Agatha Christie welcomed the attention in this modern era. Rather than complain about her lot, the rampant redhead used her fame to party, travel, and make whoopee.

So when she had stumbled on Bridget and Bunny fucking in the bushes, the horny thirty-four-year-old wanted her share of his prowess. She had invited him to her room in the Manor and awaited his company. It was a nice-sized room with pictures on the walls, pretty lamps, and a good-sized bed.

She made some drinks of vodka and lime to get them in the mood. When he knocked on the door, she let him in and he looked even more desirable up close. He hadn't changed out of his tennis gear and had just added a towel around his neck. Agatha inhaled his manly odour and rubbed her thighs together as she became heated.

"Do sit. Have a drink."

The two chatted a while and his eyes seemed to pierce through hers. As if he were mentally undressing her. Good start!

"So you think you might have a chance of beating the American Don Budge this year?"

"I certainly have a chance. I have the home advantage. The crowd will all be behind me. I have a loyal female following too."

"Yes, I noticed Bridget paying you lots of attention."

Bunny raised a brow.

"You did? Well, I met her on the circuit a year ago. I admit I have no difficulty in attracting the ladies. In fact, I discovered that a good session in bed keeps me in fine fettle.

"Indeed."

"Sorry, old girl. Do I shock you?"

The horny author smiled and stood up. She slowly climbed out of her frock, unclasped her brassiere, and dropped her knickers.

"On the contrary, I believe that you might be the one to be shocked. I want you to fuck me. I enjoy sex and find intercourse to be most stimulating. I love sporty types. So virile."

Bunny stared at her bare form. Naked, the red-haired woman was a vision of beauty. Long of limb, with perfectly formed breasts that jutted out delightfully. She had a sharp inverted V of the ribcage with a fairly flat belly beneath it. She had a triangle of ginger at the apex of her white thighs. She kept her stockings on which gave her an extra sensuality.

"Am I worth fucking?"

Bunny shed his shirt and undid his flannels. There was an aura of carnality about her that he found utterly irresistible.

"You bet your life!"

She lay on the bed and spread her legs.

"Lick me first."

"Agatha, you're outrageous!"

"Quite. I'm no stranger to the odd love tryst. Outside of the bedroom, I am ladylike and refined. But in bed, I become a lustful vixen. Service me."

Now in a state of undress, she drank in his handsome and boyish features. His well-developed physique delighted her no end. Her eyes naturally went to his groin where his magnificent erection rose straight up against his lean stomach. It was a sturdy-looking organ with a large glans that appeared from his peeled-back foreskin. The British tennis star clamped his face between her open legs and immediately used his tongue and lips to devour her sex. Her pubes were fine and her juices were rich to taste.

His hands slid up and down her supple thighs as he lashed out at her hairy snatch. She cooed and sighed with girlish pleasure coupled with a sensual bliss.

"That's it, dig in."

His body moved below her and his buttocks dimpled as he slobbered with devotion in her box. His tongue delved inside her and her toes curled into the mattress as her cunt juices dappled his chin. His lips captured her clit and he sucked and inhaled in a delirium of hot breath and snorts. Her stockinged legs jerked fitfully, and her hips pumped back and forth the more he ate her out, and when he finally came up for air, Agatha's cooze was ripe for dicking. She just had to fuck him.

"I say. What a wheeze!"

Bunny laughed as the brazen hussy pushed him on his back and straddled him. She rubbed her nether cheeks over his strong thighs and groaned loudly as her entrance was angled just right. Her hand grabbed his prick like it was a joystick and she pushed down hard. The bulbous head of his knob popped inside her and was followed up by his formidable shaft.

"Heavens! What a tail!"

Determined to enjoy herself, the hedonistic woman bided her time, relishing being impaled on such a man. With his cock buried up to the hilt, she shunted to and fro, keeping him embedded inside her. Her pubic bone rubbed on him divinely and her head tilted back and up as he pawed at her tits.

"You seem to know what you're doing," he mused as she began to bounce up and down, her superb gyrations calling the shots.

"Mmm, hmm!"

Agatha was loving how her clit was receiving intense friction, and how her tits were being groped by invading fingers. She shrieked when the tennis player pulled himself around so that he was on top of her. Before she could catch her breath, he was between her legs and hooking her silk-clad pins over his burly shoulders. Resting on his knees, Bunny fucked her hard with his throbbing member. The wanton author could see his shaft driving into her cunt as he hammered her into the bed. She was fucking Bunny Austin and loved it.

"So manly!"

Agatha was receiving powerful thrusts of his pelvis bow and he rocked her slim body time after time. The bare skin of his thighs to hers felt warm, and the hairs on his legs rasped on hers. The feel of her boobs on his hands was getting her hotter and hotter. She orgasmed and bucked against him, grabbing onto his taut buttocks as he spurted inside her. Feeling him fill her with his seed was always a turn-on for the ravishing redhead and she spasmed around his cock. Her legs fell away like jelly as her strength waned. They lay still and kissed for a while before she made her excuses and shooed him out.

"Shall I be seeing you at the party?" Bunny asked as she shut the door on him."

"What party?"

"THE party! Don't you know?"

x

After dinner with Lord Whitfield, Bridget, and the guests, Agatha noticed a young girl staring at her. As she quaffed champagne, the crime writer saw the dark-skinned girl approach.

"You are Mrs. Christie? The famous writer?"

"Yes, I am."

"Good. I am Princess Shaista. I wish to speak to you. You are wise and independent. I am the niece of Emir Ibrahim, and I think there are people after me. So far, I have managed to elude them, but there is trouble brewing.

"Is that so?"

"There are people here watching this place," she lowered her voice dramatically. "They want to kidnap me. Then they will ask my uncle for a lot of money. A ransom before they let me go."

Agatha narrowed her eyes as she looked at the utterly gorgeous-looking female.

"Is it possible that you're imagining all this?" Agatha suggested gently.

"You do not understand! My cousin was Prince Ali Yusuf of Ramat. He was killed in the revolution. I was going to marry him when I was older, so I am an important person. Perhaps these people think I know where the jewels are."

"What jewels?"

"My cousin, Prince Ali, had many jewels, worth much money, They disappeared in the revolution. I was Ali's nearest relation, and now he is dead the jewels belong to me. It was in the Palace of Ramat, that Prince Ali Yusuf, the Sheikh of Ramat, a small but very rich country in the Middle East, gave me instructions. The most important thing is to get you safely out of the country, he said to me. Before the rebels steal our wealth. I am quite certain now that I will be killed. He then took out a small leather bag from under his shirt and poured its contents on the table. Before me was a pile of beautiful precious jewels. He told me they are worth about a million pounds."

"A million pounds! Glory be!"

"'Yes," the dark young woman nodded. "Such jewels have a strange effect on people. Death and violence follow them around. So, I took them out of the country and brought them here."

"And where are they now?"

"They are in your room."

"What? How on earth did they get there? Surely I would know."

"I was very clever and have hidden them where no one will ever dream of looking. I will visit your room at midnight tonight."

"As you wish."

x

Sure enough, at the stroke of midnight, the Princess knocked on the door and Christie let her in. Both looked similar in their choice of sleepwear. Agatha wore a dress slip in a crisp, strong true white cotton. The front and back panels were straight, with a short seam holding gathers wrapping around the hip. Shaista had a slip with a bodice edge, skirt hemline, and thin shoulder straps. Agatha thought the girl to be highly desirable and exotic-looking.

"Quickly. Do you have the tennis racquet from earlier?"

"Why yes."

Agatha produced the swatter and held it up. She gripped it in her fist as the Princess nodded.

"Give it here."

Under the light of the lamp, she used a small knife to remove the leather covering from the handle and took off the end. There was some plasticine there, which she took out carefully, and several other things came out with it. Agatha gasped and stared at the beautiful, coloured red, green, and blue jewels. AND the dazzling white diamonds. She looked in wonder as she picked up the stones and let them fall through her fingers. And then, suddenly, she heard a slight noise outside her door. She and Shaista sat there thinking, trying to decide what to do. She quickly picked up the jewels and put them in her wash bag, covering them with her sponge and soap. Then she repaired the tennis racquet so that it looked just the same as it did before. She threw it casually down on the chair and sat on the bed.

"Thank you."

Agatha joined her and they held hands.

"How do you come to be here at Ashe Manor?"

"Lord Whitfield is a friend and financier in this country for my uncle. He will help me as a guarantor of the jewels."

As the exotic girl spoke, one of the spaghetti straps of her slip fell to reveal a perfect breast with a bullet-sized hard nipple. She did not attempt to cover it up as she squeezed Agatha's thigh and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

"You have been so helpful. I wish that I could repay your kindness in some way. A jewel perhaps?"

"Thank you, but no. I'm pretty well off actually."

"You are married?"

"Divorced."

"Pity. The long nights must get lonely."

Shaista bumped thighs and parted her legs so that Agatha caught a glimpse of her uncovered mons.

"Since these events have occurred, I have finished with men. From now on I shall reside in England and love only women."

"Is that so? I...oh!"

Christie was shoved onto the bed as the slender Princess jumped on top of her.

"Let us make love, as only two women can."

She straddled the older woman's waist and shrugged off her night attire. Agatha's slip was rucked up to her midriff as the dusky girl pressed her dark bush wetly into Agatha's ginger nest. She quivered on her back as warm buttocks churned against her upper thighs. She thrust and moaned as their cunt mashed together with a certain urgency.

"Eeek!"

They rolled over in a tangle of bare breasts and glistening thighs as their muffs slithered together with soft sucking sounds. Shaista wriggled beneath Christie as her quim was then fingered and probed. Her back arched as two digits slid effortlessly inside the wet embrace of her sex. She began to jerk back and forth on Agatha's hand and groaned endlessly.

"Is nice."

Agatha smiled proudly as she continued her teasing caresses. Up and down, around and around, and maddeningly slowly, she tenderly dragged upward and over the girl's erect clit. She felt hot breath on her most intimate area as Christie bent down and probed with an inquisitive tongue. Deeper she delved, pushing and winding in the pink vulva, and occasionally journeying upward to the tiny button. The horny redhead teased into a state of almost exquisite agony. Sucked again and again, starting a rhythm of swiping and sucking, the older of the two bounced her hips up and down as she dry-humped the bed in her own ardour.

"More, more."

Shaista's lower body began to rise as she moved toward the final summit. Her clit was sucked inside Agatha's hot mouth and held there, and the dark-skinned girl rose up from the bed as an explosion of exquisite pleasure spread through her entire body.

"That was so good. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it."

As they drifted off to sleep beside each other, only Christie was aware of the door to her room being quietly opened and a shadow of a man entering. He breathed in through pursed lips as he silently searched for his prize. Out of the corner of her eye, the still-naked Agatha saw the person pick up the racquet from the chair and then steal away. She smiled to herself as she imagined the thief discovering naught when he broke open the re-stitched handle. After a satisfying slumber, Agatha bade farewell to the Princess who took off to begin her new life.

x

Chapter Eleven.

An Orgy Is Announced.

On the south side of Hyde Park, lies the Gore Hotel. A luxury fifty-room establishment steeped in history. Opened in 1892 by two sisters and descendants of explorer Captain James Cook, it is believed Queen Victoria stayed here during her mourning years. As one turns left into the bar you shall find umpteen portraits of the monarch hanging in the walls.

The evening drizzle had turned to a downpour as Agatha Christie, a picture of grace and elegance, stepped out of her chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce motorcar outside the front entrance. She entered alone and rode the lift four floors up to the chosen suite. Named the Tudor Room, it boasted of stained glass windows, and no less than three four-poster beds. Agatha took the small piece of card from her purse and read the printed inscription again.

'An orgy is announced and will take place at the Gore Hotel on Friday, October 29th. You are cordially invited. Please accept this, the only invitation.'

It had taken a telephone call or two before Christie had gotten to the bottom of the mystery.

"Darling!" The hostess of the illicit soiree, Bridget Conway, greeted Agatha at the door and ushered her in. The blonde was dressed in a Roman-style toga. "SO glad you decided to attend. You will have a wonderful night, believe me."

"I am intrigued, to say the least. And may I say what a magnificent gown you are wearing."

Conway did a fancy twirl in her white and diaphanous toga of pure silk with the broad sash around her midriff holding it secure. The incredibly slim female sported a trendy bob with a finger wave. Engaged to millionaire Lord Whitefield, thirty years older than her. She had courted English society and was revered for her natural beauty.

"I know, cost me thirty-five guineas no less. I love it."

Not to be outdone, Agatha dispensed with her top coat and revealed her own outfit, a loose white toga that wrapped around her body and barely covered her modest-sized breasts. They walked arm in arm and smiled broadly as they entered the large living area. Masses of candles illuminated the Tudor Room and gave off a sensuous ambiance.

Agatha learned that the invited guests gathered twice a year at the Hotel to re-enact the historical orgies of the decadent Roman Empire. These were no ordinary gatherings but were sophisticated and unadulterated sex parties. Catering to like-minded men and women. Members of the aristocracy, nobility, and the wealthy were all attracted to the salacious parties thrown by the wanton Lord and his lover. In this new hedonistic age and era of confident and independent women, Christie never said no to an all-out raving orgy.