Chapter 10: The Aftermath
The invitation had come as a surprise. Sandra Wilson had almost refused, but that would have been unwise, she decided. After Saturday's Gala party, she needed to understand why Donald Appleby wanted to see her. It was unlikely the businessman knew her true identity, so that pointed to her modelling audition, or an outside chance that Marcia had told him about their encounter in the restrooms. Or both.
Did that mean he'd try to threaten or coerce her in some way?
That would be ironic. On the day she was to see Sir Peter Richardson and hand in her resignation, she might actually be about to stumble across the sort of evidence she'd been searching for during their undercover investigation. If she really did secure proof that Appleby was blackmailing women for immoral purposes, she'd hand that to Richardson as her final act before leaving the Met. Then it would be someone else's problem.
Her disappointment at Kirsten's resignation had faded. It shouldn't have come as a shock—the brunette had occasionally dropped hints of her dissatisfaction. In fact, morale was so low right now it was unlikely she would be the last cop to turn their back on the Met.
Even Alex was close to taking his retirement options. Good old Alex. He'd been a rock for her over the last couple of days. She hadn't been able to explain to him what had happened at the mansion, of course—he wouldn't understand. But they had made love every spare moment ever since he'd rescued her from the party.
Despite the turmoil invading her life as a cop, her sexual libido wasn't harmed in any way. She'd never felt so continually aroused.
If she hadn't resumed her sexual relationship with Goodwin, she would have done something out of character. Like letting Tony Daly fuck her, perhaps, or succumbing to one of the married officers who were always sniffing around her at the Met.
The timing had been ideal and she took confidence from the fact they'd agreed to keep the emotional side out of things and just see where it led. And treat the sex as a bonus...
When she'd completed both meetings, she'd take Goodwin back to her flat and fuck him silly. She'd take him to bed or, better still, maybe let him take her on the kitchen table? That was probably the only location they hadn't used yet...
"It's so good to meet you, Sandra." Donald Appleby's voice was warm and welcoming.
Staring out of the large floor to ceiling window, sipping the drink his secretary had given her, she hadn't even realised the businessman had entered the room. The drink had warmed her insides as it slid down her throat and her thoughts had inevitably turned to sex again.
She swung around, her body framed in the window against the London skyline behind her as if she were positioned for a photo shoot. The bespectacled Appleby looked much younger than his fifty years and the way his silvery grey hair was pulled back behind his head into a ponytail gave him a youthful, rebellious look. Even under the expensive looking pin striped business suit his muscular build was clear.
As his gaze took its time sweeping across her figure, she felt her body began to tingle, followed by the unmistakeable feeling of her sex beginning to moisten. Good God, calm down... she told herself. Remember where you are!
Her handshake was firm. "Hello, Mr. Appleby. How can I help you?"
***
Marcia growled out another orgasm. Alice didn't even need any Blush. The sexy young blonde had developed an insatiable need for the redhead's curvy body. That craving would pave the way to bring other female cops into the Appleby web. Using Alice to identify key personnel and then help seduce them was a fundamental part of the plan.
She reached up, pulling Alice into an open mouthed kiss. The young cop's cock shifted with the movement and she gasped aloud. Alice had never even seen a strap on until a few days ago and yet was using one with all the experience of a veteran.
Like a duck in the water, she was a natural.
"You like that?" she teased, picking up on the signs and sweeping her tongue along the soft skin of Marcia's freckled neck.
"You little bitch," the redhead responded, snaking a hand into Alice's hair and dragging her into another kiss.
When Alice slowed the pace, easing the large cock out of her until only the tip was buried in her wetness, she gave a throaty growl. It deepened into a guttural cry when the blonde thrust it back inside her again.
Marcia twisted her head to the side, catching their reflections. The mirrors along the wall were impeccably positioned so that every conceivable angle was covered and reflected back. The sight of Alice's near perfect buttocks flexing and gyrating with each forward push rushed the redhead towards another orgasm.
"Oh, God!" Marcia's voice became strained. She wrapped her long legs around Alice's back, pulling her deeper and deeper with each thrust. It was hard to think. Only the slapping of their flesh and the sound of their heavy breathing registered.
"Now you know what I want for my birthday," Alice murmured, increasing the pace. "My own strap on."
Marcia tried to growl out a laugh but it emerged as a grunt. "It's yours," she gasped, blinking her eyes as the orgasm closed in. "Mm... fuck... a little harder." She shifted her curvy body beneath her grinding lover, watching those pale, pumping buttocks reflecting back at her from the angle of the mirrors. "Fuck me harder."
"Like this?" Alice panted, sitting up straight. She reached her hands down to cup Marcia's bouncing breasts and changed to short, fast, stabs of delicious torture. "You want me to fuck you like this?"
"Oh, yes... Oh, God, baby..." Marcia tightened her legs around her lover, the pressure from the backs of her heels pulling Alice even deeper inside. "Yesss... I'm so close!"
"Cum for me..."
"Shit... Oh yes," Marcia mewed. It wasn't just Alice's words—it was the sheer wanton look in her young eyes. The sweet little bitch had never been with a woman a week ago and she was rapidly becoming an expert. Reaching up, Marcia cupped the small breasts, both of the women's hands on the others tits now. The muscles in her neck tightened as she half raised herself from the bed and, with a growl, began humping her hips upwards..
Alice leant down for another kiss and as soon as their lips locked, she began to pump harder, in shorter, faster bursts. Marcia tried to moan but her young lover's tongue was circling the inside of her mouth. The faster she pumped, the harder she tried.
Her hands left Alice's breasts, reaching out sideways. Her fingers curled as they gripped at the silken bedsheets in sheer desperation. The orgasm was going to be even fiercer than all the others.
"Oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck..."
***
Donald Appleby feasted his eyes on Sandra Wilson's firm buttocks. The taut round globes were clearly defined against the tight skirt of her business suit as she walked to the seat he indicated opposite his desk. At most, she wore a thong, he imagined. He'd soon find out.
The remnants of the Blush from the party would still be circulating around her system, reinforced by the further dose Angela had unwittingly provided fifteen minutes ago. Her nipples so temptingly in evidence against the material of her thin cream blouse confirmed her arousal. So did the way her breasts heaved in time with her breathing.
The businessman took the empty glass from her without a word. Walking to the drinks cabinet, he poured himself a whisky and then refilled her drink from the water jug with his back her. That made it easier to drop a single splash from the small phial into the glass.
Another dose of Blush was overkill, he knew. But he wanted her begging for it.
The overheating cop crossed her legs as he turned back to her. The movement was slow, almost deliberate, as if she was already flirting with him. Perfect. He'd drop the bombshell first, and then build up from there.
"It's a soft drink," he nonchalantly told her, handing her the refilled glass. "I'm aware you can't drink on duty."
His words had the desired effect. Even someone as experienced as the Vice Head couldn't disguise the instant look of shock that flickered across her face.
"Oh yes," he murmured, walking around to his chair with that steely gait. The one that said he was in control. "I know who you are. So to answer your question, Sandra—I can call you Sandra, can't I? Please call me Donald—to answer your question, it's not what you can do for me. It's what I can do to help you."
He smiled at the baffled expression on her face. She was trying to work it out, search her brain for clues, but there weren't any. And even had there been, her befuddled mind would be too busy attempting to cope with her raging libido, to be able to work it out. If anything, her nipples were even more prominent than before. She was feeling it, all right. He let her see his gaze rest on them for a few moments and then watched the growing pink colour fill her cheeks. When she took a long drink, his grin widened.
For a while, the silence hovered in the air between them, like a raincloud. Hers was dark and stormy looking. His had a rainbow at the end of it.
"How do you know?" she eventually asked.
Appleby tutted. Was that the best she could come up with? Still, as it wouldn't take her long to wonder if he knew of Kirsten and Alice, he'd better take her off the scent. "You were recognised at my Gala party, Sandra. It was a shock, believe me. I wasn't aware we'd invited such an esteemed member of the London Met. Not only that, I believe you attended an open evening, masquerading as a potential model, if I'm not mistaken."
Her body shifted on the chair and she crossed her slender legs again. He knew why—the Blush was even more effective in stressful situations. Her mind was attempting to deal with his revelation, while controlling the burning inside her body. It wasn't possible.
