RICHARDJames has taken over where I left off with Charlotte, crouched over her on all fours, pumping her hard in her bound/pussy raised position. It looks awkward but neither seems bothered by that, his expression intent, hers ecstatic, as their flesh collides.Michael tops up his wine from the bottle sitting on ice, then, as I pump her from behind, sits beside Elizabeth, glass once more in hand.The glass drips moisture........ He's not going to...?But no, the glass stays well away from my Elizabeth's swinging breasts. But his eyes rise to meet mine as he dips fingers into the chilled wine, holding them there for a few seconds. Then his eyes drop again to his target.As I thrust steadily, fingers wet, and almost icy, snake between my Elizabeth's legs, and with a movement I cannot see but only imagine, gently play with her bud.She comes almost on the spot, spasming around my cock....Fuck!.... to kick off my own overdue climax. With a hoarse cry, I spurt, splashi

KLEMPNERThe cell is depressing. Not just the naked walls, the furniture bolted to the cement floor, the steel sink and toilet, but everything........ The constant daytime echo of footsteps on metal walkways, the murmur of my companions........ colleagues...?.... carrying through from the rest of the floor, Jackson's constant fucking snoring at night....Surely I can get my cellmate changed?Still, he'll be gone in a month........ And who do I get then?.... And the smell.... Disinfectant, sour sweat, stale tobacco, cabbage....My door eases open and the guard stands, not exactly to attention, but respectfully. For appearance's sake, I stand. "Mr Sutcliffe?""Mr Klempner, you have visitors."About fucking time...."Is it them?""Yes, sir. All three of them."Well, there's a first....So, the men kept their word........ Not that they gave their word...."Anything I should know?""Not sure, sir, if it's relevant, but they opened some kind of hotel

RICHARDMichael appears at the door of the conference room, wandering into my office, musing over some document he holds. "Who was Edward Haswell?"James and I exchange startled glances. "Edward Haswell?" I say. "He was my father. Why would you ask?""Because according to this...." He holds up the document.... ".... forty years or so back, Beth's Uncle Albert was in business with one Edward Haswell." I stand without the intervention of my brain, all but snatching the yellowed paper from his hand. "Let me see that." A smile plays around his mouth. "It's news to you I take it?""Good God, yes. I'd no idea there was any link between Elizabeth's family and mine." I flip through the pages, speed-reading as I go. Francis and James are also both standing. Francis, in deference perhaps to her position as my PA, is trying not to seem too intrigued. James, with no such qualms, is simply leaning in, trying to look over my shoulder."It is the same Edward Haswell, I suppose?" he as

JAMESRichard sits, the Heads of Terms document open on the table in front of him. Beth arrives and sits next to Charlotte, the two of them chattering excitedly."Yes, I remember him now," says Richard. "My father introduced me when they were setting up the deal. It was for the development of what later became the Imperial Hotel and the area all around there.""The Imperial?" Michael raises brows. "Where James had his apartment originally? And, isn't that where you first met Beth?""That's right." Elizabeth and I exchange grins at the memory of that first meeting and she grins wickedly. My cock stirs....Christ.... Not now...."Bit of a coincidence that, isn't it?"Elizabeth chimes in. "No, actually, it isn't a coincidence at all. I was working at the Imperial because Uncle Albert suggested I go there for a job. He almost insisted actually."Everyone's attention turns to her. "Go on," says Michael. "What did he say?""And when was this?" I add.Beth frowns. "It's so

It's a nice house, a pretty house. Neat lawns to the front, edged by well-kept borders, lead to a pleasant avenue. To the rear is a large fenced area, the grass a little rough but short enough to kick a football around. A child's swing hanging from the branches of an old apple tree and a rug is laid out nearby with a child's tea-set arranged around the edges, each plastic cup and saucer next to a teddy bear, or a doll or a soft toy. A line stretches over the grass bearing sheets and pillow slips that billow and blow in the light breezeInside the house, it is equally pleasant. The walls are painted in a pale, fresh shade, dotted with prints and pictures, family photos, and here and there, framed displays of butterflies, dragonflies and beetles. Drapes flutter by windows opened to let in sun and air, carpets are clean, and surfaces wiped or dusted. By the front door, a collection of boots, shoes and trainers in various sizes is neatly stacked on a rack. In the utility, clothes tumble