Sensuality Ch 07

---------------------------

The final episode of "Sensuality"

I hope you have enjoyed it and find time to offer your comments -- what you liked or did not like about the story.

The 'Three Broads' (Jane a dentist, Fran a cardiac physician, and Mary a gynaecologist) along with Monica and Jared from UniSexSensuality have been taken into police protection after busting Simon's operation.

---------------------------

Mary's Story

We hadn't planned on this holiday. Sandy, our young golden retriever delighted in romping the wide open spaces of the beach and through the sand hills. Tom and Helene were obviously enjoying a pre-marriage honeymoon and pretty well kept to themselves. We other four ladies sunbathed, swam and chatted.

Every day I'd noticed the two smartly dressed beach patrol officers in safari jackets and shorts -- a man and a woman. They seemed to remain in close proximity to our strip of sand and whenever any adults approached they drew closer to us.

I was walking over to the ice cream shop on the third day when I discovered the woman was following me. She lingered by the door on the verandah. As I left the shop carrying our ice creams she gave me a long slow wink. Then I noticed the suspicious bulge under her left armpit. "I envy you Doctor Johnson, I don't know what you did to get this treat?"

"Here have one, but you'd better use your left hand, and thanks for being here."

She chuckled. "It's much better than being in the city mixing with the dregs of society. Is the guy unattached?"

"Jared? Yes, and he's probably ripe for picking. Clever GP, he's unemployed at the moment, but he'll be working for us next month. I'll give you some details on the way back."

When I got back to the others, ice cream dripping down my fingers, Monica took hers and looked at me. "Been talking to the protection?"

"H-how did you know who they were?"

"Oh come on Mary, it stands out a mile. They don't watch anyone else but us."

"Why didn't you say something Monica?"

"I didn't want to worry you and Sally." She pointed to the man. "How old do you reckon he'd be?"

"Mmm. Maybe late twenties early thirties, why?"

"I wouldn't need any protection if I was alone with him, and I wouldn't be using any either. He gives me the hots just looking at him." I looked from her to the officer and smiled to myself. "Mary Johnson! Now what is behind that look? I'm getting to know you!"

"I was just wondering," I frowned, "does Arousal work on the guys too, or can you only use it internally on the ladies?"

She pondered that for a moment, then giggled. "We never tried, but it could be an interesting exercise. A billet doux in his back passage, but I'd need to get awfully close to him first."

"Tell me Monica, is there very much call for mixed bathing spas in places like the salon?"

"Now that IS an idea Mary! But he might shy off, being in the force he might have some knowledge of my little peccadilloes."

The odd one out was Sally. I'd tried to placate her by spending one afternoon shopping and looking through bikinis. Barely seventeen now, I could see that she was going to have a figure that guys would die for. Then she found the guy.

"Mum, this is Mike. Do you mind if we go for a walk together."

I looked at him. Tall, bronzed, the kind of vision teenage girls swoon over. "O.k. Sally, remember the rules, and Mike, I expect you to treat my daughter with respect."

He nodded. "I'll do that Mrs. Johnson."

They wandered off, hand in hand along the beach. I thought back to what I would have given to be wearing a bikini at seventeen, wandering away from parental control. I wonder, I thought, if Sally will 'have fun'?

Whatever they had enjoyed, there was a tearful parting three days later. I stood well away from them as they kissed. Mike had his hands cupping her backside, and by now she'd probably discovered what a boy felt like, pressing against her down there when he was aroused. As they broke the embrace his hand lifted to cares her cheek and wipe away a tear. I suddenly came to the conclusion: hey, this is serious . . .

* * * *

Mary's story

I suppose, seeing that I was the first of us three to experiences the delights of Simon Hetherington's salon I should fill you in on the last act.

They hadn't been able to actually link the heroin cache directly with Simon and he was out on bail. A number of charges were waiting to be heard against him but the feeling from our 'protectors' was we could all safely surface again.

We went back to work for the week. During the weekend we gathered with the staff at the refurbished salon to discuss our plans for the new venture. Security had been improved - Helene and Monica sat behind the receptionist's and cashier's desk. It had a bullet proof screen which would descend at the flick of a button.

We 'three broads', how the name at least had stuck, along with the two girls were discussing the agenda of a meeting we'd hold later with the hairdressers and masseuses in the conference room. Harold was in the stock room packing up last of the Arousal drugs and coffee additives which we'd never again use.

Suddenly the front door of the salon swung open and in walked Simon accompanied by his driver, a weed of a man with an evil look on his face. They closed the door and walked menacingly across to us.

"Now," he chuckled wickedly, "this is good, the three broads all together, and you two little bitches! Didn't I pay you enough?" He nodded to his companion. "Bolt the door Sam and pull the blinds."

Jane was the first to find her voice. "What are you trying to prove Simon? Do you think you can still get away with anything here?"

"You three stuck up bitches got away with this," he waved his hand around the salon, "and my whole operation. Ten years of work. All those hot little bodies moaning for me. And as for you two, Monica and Helene!"

"Oh Simon. Simple Simon, what's wrong," Monica taunted, "has Gertrude woken up at last and left? Didn't the toys we left you fill our places?"

Simon's face was working but he was totally focused on Monica. I saw the monitor screen on the other desk come to life, it was out of Simon's range of vision, GIRLS, KEEP HIM TALKING! flashed into view. I knew that Monica and Helene would be getting the same message.

"Does this look like a toy Monica? Sam has one too, is it a toy Helene?" They both pulled out little snub nosed automatics.

Monica giggled, "It probably shoots better than your popgun does Simon."

"Hey boss, let's get outa here. Let's do it now!"

"Oh no Sam, they're going to dangle here for a while longer. Now Helene," he nodded, "she thinks she's going to marry that sod who helped them get into the vault, that right Helene?"

"Oh Simon, please don't worry, we'll bring you a piece of wedding cake, in jail of course . . ."

Simon lifted the pistol and Sam followed his move. "There'll be no jail, and no wedding for you, you sneaky little slut . . ."

At that moment the security screen dropped down with a whoosh. The two bullets glanced off it and ricocheted screaming somewhere around the salon. Jane moved like lightning, her knee went straight into Simon's crotch, as he bent double clutching at his privates he dropped the gun and she straight-armed him under his chin, but he sent her tumbling to the floor before he fell on his back groaning. Meanwhile Mary and Fran had a scarf pulled tight round Sam's neck and his face was turning blue.

The two girls ran from behind the desk. Monica stood over Simon holding a round glass paperweight in her hand. "Simon Hetherington, don't you dare move, or I'll smash your face in with this!"

Then Jane got up. Slowly and painfully she came across to me then kicked Simon in the balls. He screamed in agony.

"The bastard has broken my thumb!"

Seconds later we were surrounded by the tactical response group, hard, serious looking men in flak jackets holding machine carbines in their hands. One moved straight over to Monica and asked "You o.k.?"

She looked at him for a moment then grinned "I will be, with you, next time."

Fran missed this little by-play and shook her head accusingly at the leader of the group. "My oh my. What kept you guys?"

He glanced at the two men lying on the floor. "I don't know why we bothered to come," he joked. "You ladies didn't need our help . . . but the problem was we couldn't get a clear shot at either of them. Thanks anyway. Come on you two!"

"So," I remarked. "Operation 2 is successfully completed. What now?"

"Operation 3. I need someone to operate on me," Jane whimpered, "this is bloody painful. And I would have to be left handed!"

"Jar-ed!"

"Oh, my God no! Not the amateur gynaecologist!" she joked.

Jared, white coated, efficient, bustled out of what we had turned into a small day clinic room.

"Jane my lovely, lovely lady, we'll soon have you to rights in no time," he gently took hold of the injured hand. "Oh dear me, a Bennett's fracture . . . now, what page is that on, I must go and look up the procedure in my little 'How to Doctor' book, just a minute . . ." he hurried back.

"Jared," Jane yelled, you're not going to practice on me . . . again!"

He came marching back with a stainless steel trolley equipped with hypodermic, swabs and Novocaine. On the bottom shelf was a bowl of water, cotton wool and rolls of plaster of Paris.

"Now, my dear lady. Do I have your consent for this procedure?"

"Jared, get on with it, I'm in agony. Painkillers, in there . . . do you have any panadeine forte?"

"Monica, you know where they are, two tablets and a glass of water. Now Jane, in case you have any lingering doubts about my professional competence, I took off the Orthopaedic Prize in my year. I hope that helps you." With two slow gentle injections he infiltrated the Novocaine around the nerves at the base of the thumb then picked up a pin. "Now close your eyes Jane. Can you feel that?"

"No, it feels dead."

"Good. We can start reducing it, nice and straight, like those lovely fingers of yours. Is it hurting?"

"No, not now . . . how long will it take to heal?"

"Hmm. How old are you, forty three? If you were a year or two older I might have considered pinning it, but you should be o.k in about twelve weeks."

"Jared," Jane idly picked up the syringe and Novocaine vial in her good hand. "Do you know what I was going to do with this?" He shook his head. "I was going to inject your dick so you wouldn't be able to use it for a month."

"We-ell I hope we can be friends at last," he looked at her so longingly and she knew he was seeing everything she had, "you have a lovely body Jane, Jeremy is a lucky man."

"Touché Jared, we'll have to find a lovely lady for you, won't we?"

* * * *

Two weeks later we were standing in front of the reporters and TV cameras again, promoting our sparkling investment. We'd thrashed around with ideas for logos and names. 'UniSexSensuality' really did say it all, but we wanted to sever any links with the building's past.

In the end we spent a couple of days, the girls and guys from our staff, handing out two hundred competition forms which included one free service and a years membership of our ladies or gents facilities for the winner.

The selection came down to three submissions. "No," I said, "I'm opting out of voting on this. She's my daughter, and I'll be biased one way or the other."

But Sally's was the one the others decided on. The two teenagers, Sally in her bikini and Mike in his swimmers looking across at each other on either side of the sign:

Wanna have fun?

You'll find it at

Sally & Mike's

I wondered where, or who had taken the photos, but I could see that Sally was taken with this guy, and Mike Stevens soon became our foremost gym and exercise instructor. Sally is now finishing off her training as a hairdresser.

Monica? Well Monica was frog-marched out of my consulting rooms one day by our young 'Beach Patrol' person who turned out to be a member of the tactical response group. She came back wearing an engagement ring. I asked her 'why the heavy handed treatment?'

"I kept telling John I wasn't near good enough for him, all the terrible things I'd got up to with other men."

"So?"

"He said he didn't care. He said he'd tell me how good - or bad - I was after we got married!" Of course Monica is not only my receptionist - well for the time being she is - she's also on my practicve books and the baby is due in three months.

Jane? Well Jane and Jeremy really hit it off together and he marched her down to the altar. She made a 'killing' when Hetherington shares were at an all time low and decided to retire from dentistry, but not before she had the opportunity to scare Jared out of his wits. Jared needed two of his wisdom teeth extracted and Jane tells me he held onto his privates in absolute terror when she picked up the Novocaine syringe.

And Jared. Poor, poor Jared. He enjoys his job at 'Sally and Mikes'. Geneen that other 'Beach Patrol' person is hooked on him, but she's in two minds whether to marry him or not. She thinks he knows too much about women's bodies and how they operate. Every time she goes to use the spa it drives him mad with frustration. I wonder if he has a stash of that special coffee secreted away somewhere . . . maybe that would be the answer to his problems?

Fran? Fran and Malcolm will soon become proud parents. The ultrasound says it's a boy and they are both delighted. She tells me she's keeping the Fun Pack to give it to her son when he comes of age -- with suitably rejuvenated contents of course! Whether sex education will by then have reached its zenith and guys be fully clued up to what women want, who knows?

Sally is now finishing off her training as a hairdresser, and will marry Mike next year. When they got engaged I asked her if they'd 'followed the rules' that day they went for a walk along the beach.

She smiled dreamily. "I let Mike undo my bikini top and love me. I said to him: 'you can kill me when I get married to you'. That really shocked him so I had to explain 'le petit mort'. He didn't know French, but he understood soon enough." Sally had a twinkle in her eye.

I chuckled, we were all having fun now, except Simon. "So, what did your Adonis reply to that?"

She smiled at me reminiscently. He said to me "Babe, on our wedding night, you are going to take a long, long time dying."

Me? I nearly forgot to tell you. Two weeks after the court case against Simon concluded Harold and I married. We are trying to make up for those seventeen lost years. At forty one, am I too old to have a baby? Neither Harold, his son Nigel or Sally think so.

We've had some wild sex and tremendous fun trying, until today -- those seventeen years had dimmed the memory of what morning sickness was really like! I'm sure that even a 50 milligram Arousal capsule and three cups of Sensuality's 'special coffee' would do nothing for me at present, on the plus side is that wonderful feeling: 'I'm going to be a mother again, with a man who I love standing by me this time'!

p.s. There was a para in the 'Deaths' column the other day: 'Simon Hetherington passed away peacefully at Riverside Infirmary aged 59' and very few details. The only 'Memorial Notice' was from Gertrude.

Helene, now that young woman is so kind, she went along to the funeral with Tom to support poor Gert. She tells me Gertrude is 'recovering'. Apparently Simon left his whole interest in the company to her, so she's well placed financially, but as Helene says, and we have all found: "what's financial comfort without the love of a good man?"

The end . . .