Secret Weapon

Chapter 06 -- Dinner with Sir Geoffrey

Dear Reader: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental.

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The disheveled young woman slipped from under her older customer and rolled off the leather sofa. Springing to her feet, she cupped a hand over her tender leaking sex and hurried across the sitting room to where she had abandoned her high heels. Slipping into the stilettos to protect her sheer black pantyhose, she scurried down the hallway to the master bath.

Quickly dropping her skirt onto the tile floor and peeling the nylon down her thighs, she lowered herself onto the bidet and luxuriated in the stream of warm water that bathed her even warmer pussy. The flimsy top that she had worn to greet Sir Geoffrey slipped over her head and joined the skirt on the floor. Running her fingers through her hair to restore some semblance of order to the curls, Bachi dried herself and then swiped the towel over the legs of the pantyhose to collect as much of the overflow of their coupling as possible. Glancing in the mirror, she decided that her makeup wasn't too desperately in need of touching up, but she did pause to apply a fresh coat of gloss to her lips.

Satisfied with her appearance, she rinsed out a washcloth in hot water, wrung it out, scooped the clothes off the floor of the en suite and made her way to her large walk-in closet. Dropping her clothing into the laundry hamper, she selected a diaphanous black silk peignoir to wear and searched her assortment of men's robes for the one that would fit Sir Geoffrey the best. Pulling a large fluffy white toweling robe from its hanger, she tossed it over her shoulder and knelt to grab the fleece lined slippers that he adored.

Returning to the sitting room, she found her guest reclining on the unused end of the sofa. Dropping the slippers on the floor, she playfully draped the robe over his head and attacked his genitals with the now warm washcloth that she had concealed from him. After she rinsed him as best she could, she took his limp penis in her hand and kissed its crown tenderly.

His moans of pleasure dissolved into sighs as his body stretched out under her ministrations. Bachi then ran her hands down his pantyhose and pulled off his argyle socks before sliding the slippers on his feet. Turning her attention to the sloppy mess on the sofa, she used the damp washcloth to wipe up the evidence of their recent pleasure.

"To the table, please, sir" she requested as she collected his suit coat from the back of the chair, his trousers, tie, boxers and shoes from the floor and his shirt from the wing chair. Returning to her bedroom, she emptied the pockets of his suit onto her dresser into carefully organized groups that would go back into the corresponding pockets of the clean suit he would wear in the morning.

His shoes went under the valet stand in the corner and the belt was hung on a convenient hook on its back. Carefully hanging his tie in her closet in his section of the tie rack, she dumped his suit into the dry cleaner bin and the rest of his clothing landed in the laundry hamper. Glancing at the clock, Bachi was pleased to see that her domestic chores had taken only ten minutes.

Her long slender legs carried her into the kitchen where she collected the shrimp cocktails and the pitcher of ice water from the refrigerator. Balancing her load carefully, she returned to the dining area of the flat and gracefully served the distinguished looking gentleman seated at the head of the table his dish. Her helping went on the adjoining place setting and she filled the large goblets from the pitcher.

He hadn't reached to serve himself, so she delicately took one of his shrimp, dipped the meaty end in cocktail sauce and gripped the tail between her teeth. Pursing her lips, she lowered her head to his with the tasty morsel protruding. He lifted his chin and opened his mouth to take her offering. Their lips met and, after a languid kiss, she pulled back with but the empty shell between her teeth.

"Delicious," he declared, licking his lips suggestively.

Dropping the shrimp tail in the waste bowl, she whispered, "You'll have to feed yourself the rest, darling; I must get to my cooking."

The look of disappointment on his face was compelling, but she managed to resist his silent plea. Bustling back into the kitchen, she donned her apron and managed to get the fresh bread into the oven and the asparagus into the microwave precisely on time. Fishing an old-fashioned cork screw from the drawer, she returned to the table with the bottle of wine.

"Would you do the honors, kind sir?" she requested, handing him the bottle and the tool.

He perused the label and his eyes opened a bit wider, "A shiraz! And a fine one at that. I'd be delighted."

As she retreated back to the kitchen with a shrimp in her mouth, she heard him exclaim, "Did you know that this is the finest year that this vintner has produced since their magnificent 1992?" She made a mental note to compliment her father on his taste in wines the next time they spoke.

Bachi managed to get dinner prepared and served without difficulty or incident. She shed her apron before seating herself and managed to eat most of her shrimp while Sir Geoffrey carefully carved and served the lamb. He had graciously insisted that carving was men's work and she certainly didn't mind him sharing the effort.

The lamb was done to perfection and the parsleyed new potatoes were also just right. The asparagus was crisp and the sauce that Henrietta had made complimented it nicely. The fresh baked bread wafted a mouth-watering aroma through the dining area. They took their time savoring the meal.

Bachi did her best to engage her guest in dinner conversation, but, when she inquired about his work, he either wouldn't or possibly couldn't provide any particulars about his job at the Ministry of Defence Science and Technology Laboratory. She knew from her sources that had originally vetted Sir Geoffrey that he was a high ranking administrator there, but no particulars were ever divulged.

They also revealed that he held a number of patents for obscure communication technologies in his own right, but again, no details were available. His knighthood was based on his contributions to unspecified military communications capabilities. When she steered the topic of conversation to his family, however, he welcomed her interest.

"...and the latest tests show Gwendolyn to be in complete remission," he announced with a huge smile on his long narrow face. "She will be lecturing on Postcolonial Cultures at London Metropolitan University next session. It's not Cambridge, but it will be much easier for her to commute."

"That's wonderful news," Bachi agreed, delighted that his wife was recovering. "I'm so glad to hear it."

"She also insisted that I invite you over for tea sometime, maybe on my upcoming birthday. She would very much like to personally thank you for tending to my...ah...baser needs while she was ill," he revealed with a twinkle in his pale blue eyes.

Bachi examined him closely, trying to figure out if there were any unusual motivations behind the invitation. What she saw was the sincere look of a man who spent his home life surrounded by women and really didn't seem capable of subterfuge. He and his wife had raised three now married daughters and he deeply adored his "harem".

"Will it be just the three of us?" she asked, "or will others be invited?"

"Well, some of the girls might be there with their husbands."

"Do your daughters know of me?" she asked, mildly shocked.

"Not really. They probably suspect that I've been seeing someone, but they don't know any particulars."

"Couldn't our relationship be difficult to explain?" she continued with a concerned look on her face.

"Our relationship doesn't need to be explained. As long as Gwendolyn welcomes you, there's not much that the girls can question. And I believe that we've taught them well enough that they won't inquire directly, though they'll probably pester their mother until she reveals as much as she wants them to know. You needn't worry your pretty head."

"And which birthday is this one?" she continued. "Not a major one, is it?"

"No, it ends in a two," he chuckled softly and Bachi figured out that it would mean fifty-two.

"Oh," he added, "Bobbie is expecting in the fall."

"Wonderful! Your first grandchild. I'll bet that you're excited."

They chatted familiarly as they finished their leisurely meal. He gallantly helped her clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Given his choice, he selected the vanilla ice cream and Bachi topped it with the strawberry compote, crushed walnuts and whipped cream. When she placed his serving on the table, his eyes gleamed.

"I didn't expect all this," he exclaimed. "Just the ice cream would have been a delight."

Bachi basked in his praise. She dearly enjoyed pleasuring all of her men, but Sir Geoffrey was a special favorite. While he eagerly dove into his treat, she took the opportunity to examine the tall, gangly gentleman at her table. He certainly couldn't be considered movie-star handsome -- his face was long and thin, his eyes set close together above his beak of a nose and thin lips. His ordinary looking brown hair was thinning and touched with grey at the temples before his large protruding ears. His long, slender neck protruded from broad shoulders, but the rest of his body could only be described as scarecrow-like. He certainly was tall; even in three inch heels, the top of Bachi's head only reached his chin. But, then again, she only measured 158 cm. in her bare feet, so they did make for an odd pair.

After they had finished their desert, Bachi rose from the table, rinsed the dishes in the sink and reached up into the glassware cabinet to extract a snifter. She next pulled the bottle of Benedictine Brandy down from another cabinet and poured a generous helping. Cradling the snifter in the upturned palms of both hands, she swirled the viscous liquid around the bottom of the glass to warm it. Returning to her guest, she reverently presented him with the snifter, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply.

"Shall we retire to the terrace, darling?" she asked a short while later.

"Certainly, my dear."

Bachi went to the built-in bookshelf on the right side of the French doors that led to her rooftop terrace and picked up the heavy, leather covered humidor. Sir Geoffrey opened the door and graciously allowed her to precede him. She quietly gasped as the cool, damp fog surrounded her almost naked body. Though it was no longer drizzling, the mist left them alone in the glow of the light above the door.

The rest of London had been completely swallowed by the dense fog that had settled over everything, the normal background noise of the bustling city almost completely muffled. She started to shiver slightly, but she didn't permit smoking in the flat, especially cigars. When she first arrived, it took her months to rid the flat of the smell of her father's pipe.

Lifting the lid of the humidor, she offered her toweling robe clad guest now seated at the patio table his choice. He pointed out a Cuban Punch Churchill. She removed the band, clipped the end and seductively put the cigar to her tongue. Bachi rolled it in her saliva and then slipped it between her pursed lips suggestively, her eyes filled with hidden meaning as they gazed into his. Lavishing her attention on the phallic object in her mouth, she played the suggestive role to the hilt.

Finally, she took the heavy gold lighter from the holder on the side of the humidor and carefully lit the end. When she was satisfied that it was burning correctly, she offered Sir Geoffrey her pursed lips for a kiss and, after their tongues dueled momentarily, she presented him his cigar. He took it, sucking a large puff of smoke into his mouth.

While he savored the rich taste, Bachi sat down in his lap and curled up into a ball, her legs curled beneath her atop his knees and her head on his chest. He exhaled the smoke only to watch it immediately disappear into the fog. Wrapping his long arms around her small body, he was rewarded when she gradually stopped shivering.

To be continued.