Lust on the Loose (37 page)

First had been
Ambrosia, of course. Leaving aside the dubious nature of her
profession, he had been delighted to explore her sumptuous rump and
service the shaven-lipped split between her legs. Then the girl in
the next seat had brought him off by hand while simultaneously
wanking the man next to her to orgasm. He couldn't deny that that
had been exciting.

He had also
risen to the challenge when, during Melissa's thrilling encore, the
girl had taken him in her mouth. Once the orgy proper began, she
had pulled the dress off her back, stuffed her panties in her bag
and climbed purposefully onto his lap. It would have been churlish
to have refused her the use of his big penis, not when she was so
evidently in need. Besides, fucking was obviously expected of him
and he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

So fuck he
did, holding her flaring hips as she bounced up and down in his
lap, riding his rod as if she were on a steeple-chaser. Next to
them her girlfriend performed in a similar fashion on top of the
other fellow. All three knew each other and they brayed loudly in
upper-class tones as they fornicated.

'I say,
Monica,' cried the second girl, 'what's yours like?'

'Super!'
shouted Danny's girl. 'He's got a bloody sight bigger willy than
Nigel. You've got to try him next!'

Danny would
have protested but Monica pulled his face onto her dancing white
bosom, pushing a ripe red nipple into his mouth as she bucked into
her first orgasm.

By the time
Monica let him go, Danny was as wrung out as a dish cloth. He
lurched away into the dark, tucking his limp cock into his trousers
as he went. As he made for the exit he heard cut-glass tones raised
in complaint.

'Where did he
go, Monica? I want that big cock you promised me!'

Danny hurried
along, aware that he was losing his grip. So far he had failed to
catch even a glimpse of his intended target, Billy Dazzle, and he
had had an encounter with the law that could only be termed
'close'. However, there was still time to put matters right. Now,
surely, was the moment a randy rat like Dazzle would emerge from
his bolt-hole. In the prevailing chaos it should be easy to deal
with him and make a quick escape.

But even
getting down to the stalls proved difficult. On the stairs Danny
was waylaid by two groups of women. The first comprised society
matrons wearing little and caring less. They pinned him to the
steps and pulled his trousers to his ankles, big titties billowing
and swinging as they set about him. He was kissed fervently while
insistent hands rummaged in his trousers.

There was some
disappointment amongst the ladies that his joystick was not
instantly rampant but they worked on him for a while and their
fearsome enthusiasm was such that he found himself responding. He
allowed himself to be ravished, with one woman's meaty thighs on
either side of his hips, her big slack breasts shaking like jellies
in his face. Then they took turns, the last one coaxing from him a
shot of sperm that he felt had come from the very bottom of his
locker.

It soon
transpired that it hadn't. Soon after his release, two nude ballet
dancers wrestled him to the ground and practised their pirouettes
in unison on his body, one sitting on his face, the other reviving
his exhausted member with her mouth. Such were their skills that
Danny once more responded.

He entered the
rear of the auditorium naked from the waist down, an ache in his
bones and a limp in his step. Soft hands helped him to a seat and a
gravelly voice said, 'Feeling a bit pooped, are we? You look like
you could do with a rest.' With relief Danny noticed that his
benefactor was a man. Only for relief to turn to outrage as those
same soft fingers crept onto his thigh.

'Get your
fucking hands off me, you pervert,' he growled, thrusting the
fellow away and lumbering off into the dark.

Danny stumbled
between the seats, avoiding sprawling bodies, trying vainly to
detect the hated figure of Dazzle. Then he saw him, a
broad-shouldered young man with a shock of black hair, his face
caught for a moment in a spotlight that some joker was playing
across the bodies on the stage. The boy's head fell back, out of
sight.

Danny picked
his way forward with a purpose. The gun, which he had so far
managed to conceal from his admirers, now burned a hole in the
small of his back.

Another
teetotaller at the feast, and one who had so far managed to avoid
unwanted attentions, was Sophie Stark. For two pins she would have
launched herself into the fray in search of a lusty fellow.
Tonight, however, she had a mission.

She had seen
no sight of Danny Fretwork at any point during the evening. But
once the free-for-all had started she had spotted Billy Dazzle at
the side of the stage ogling the dancers. She had kept an eye on
him as he clambered into the box with Imogen, then found a vantage
point, in a box above and to the side, from which she could monitor
his activities. They were not designed to ease her frustrations. It
took all her self-control not to go down there and join in.

However, that
would not have been smart. If Danny was here he would surely see
Billy and make his move. Then Sophie had to be ready. Billy's life
- and her career - depended on it.

Nevertheless
when she saw the large barrel-shaped figure moving carefully but
purposefully between the bodies in the centre aisle of the theatre
it was a shock. The kind of surprise a fisherman feels on getting a
bite after an eternity of staring at the empty water. She could not
believe it.

Danny was
halfway down the stalls now and Sophie watched, frozen to the spot,
as he reached behind him and took a small object from beneath his
jacket. For a moment it winked in the light but she already knew it
was a gun.

Sophie
unzipped her dress and her flesh sang as the restricting garment
fluttered to the floor. She had no choice; she could not go after
Danny in clothes that inhibited her every movement. So Sophie went
after her man in her favourite battledress. Stark naked.

Danny screwed
the silencer onto the gun barrel as he made his progress towards
Billy. The boy was no longer visible but Danny's plan of action was
clear: get as close as possible, just to be sure it was him, and
then plug the little shit in the head. He could be off before
anyone realised what was up. The car park was stuffed full of fast
motors. Within ten minutes he'd be long gone.

He made his
way along a row of seats to the side aisle. From there he could
look straight into Billy's box. He boosted himself up on the seat
at the end of the row and looked down into the small space.

It was Dazzle
all right. He was sitting by himself, naked but for an open shirt,
calmly watching the progress of the orgy on stage. On the chair by
his side lay the crumpled remains of some female's evening
finery.

A sudden
feeling of revulsion swept over Danny. The dinner jackets and the
yah-yah accents, the snobbish entertainment that was really just a
leg show, all these stuffed shirts dipping their aristocratic wicks
- it pissed him off. He was an outsider, condemned to jailor exile,
while dear old Blighty went to the dogs in the hands of these
decadent piss-artists. This Dazzle was a fast-buck yuppified
con-merchant who seduced other men's wives and frolicked with the
upper classes.

Danny took
aim. From this angle he could blow the bugger's head off and it
would be morning before anyone noticed.

Billy was
taking a breather. The long-awaited encounter with Imogen had left
him replete - for the moment. And so he surveyed the crazy scene
around him: the flailing, dancing bodies on stage, the knots of
revellers in the aisles and the orchestra who played on, many of
them in an admirably inventive fashion, under the erratic baton of
a naked Seb Silk.

The whole
scene was like a wild fantasy from the depths of his subconscious.
So it should not have been a surprise for him to recognise a face
from his dreams: a big face set on a huge bulky body last seen
awesomely naked by an outdoor pool in Kent. Danny Fretwork. The
evil bastard was standing on a seat in the stalls looking straight
at him, with murder in his eyes. And, just as in Billy's
nightmares, with a gun in his hand.

Oof!

An
excruciating pain erupted in Danny's loins and a hand grasped his
wrist, forcing the gun up into the air. Then he was flat on his
back wrestling with a soft and perfumed bundle of nude female
flesh.

But the bundle
was strong and sinewy and Danny was in agony having been clouted
between the legs with what felt like a sandbag. It was, in fact, a
small but heavy ladies' purse.

They wrestled
on the floor, a trouserless man and a naked woman - a common sight
by this stage of the evening. Sophie felt herself succumbing to
Danny's vastly superior strength. She yelled out to Billy.

For a moment
Billy was paralysed. The awful vision of Fretwork standing not ten
feet away aiming a pistol at his head had vanished. It took him a
moment to realise what was going on. That Danny really had aimed a
gun at him and that he had been saved by a naked woman who was now
wrestling with the gangster on the floor and calling out to him for
help.

Billy
scrambled over the front of the box and jumped down into the aisle.
He was not a fighter. He was not trained in boxing or hand-to-hand
combat or karate. However, he had played a bit of football at
school. So he kicked Danny in the head.

Billy's foot
landed fair and square and smacked Danny's skull solidly against
the metal base of the seat next to the aisle. The gangster
collapsed like a felled ox.

Together they
hauled the big man out of the emergency exit at the front of the
stalls and found themselves in the gardens at the side of the
theatre.

'Over there,'
ordered Sophie, pointing across the moonlit lawn, 'we'll tie him to
the fence.'

'What with?'
asked Billy as they reached the iron railings that marked the
boundary with the adjacent Bedside Park.

Sophie opened
her purse and produced a pair of handcuffs. She snapped one jaw
round one of Danny's wrists and threaded the other through the bars
before attaching it to Danny's other hand.

As she worked,
kneeling over the supine figure with her back to Billy, he couldn't
help admire her curves, so thrillingly illuminated in the moonlit.
In particular, the full swoop of her luscious bum cheeks stirred a
chord within him.

'Do you always
carry a set of handcuffs?' he asked as she sat back on her haunches
and surveyed a surprisingly peaceful-looking Danny Fretwork.

'Always - you
never know when they'll come in handy.' She was now taking Danny's
pulse to assure herself all was well. 'He's asleep. I don't think
there's any damage done.'

'That's a pity
- the sod was going to kill me. Don't you think we should call the
police?'

'There's no
need,' said Sophie, turning to look at Billy. 'I'm Detective
Sergeant Sophie Stark of the Met.'

'Good God!'
Billy was contemplating her rear as it thrust back at him, the
cheeks rounded and voluptuous and suddenly familiar. 'I think I
recognise you.'

'You bloody
well should do. You've got a photo of my arse in the desk in your
office.'

'You were at
the swimming pool!'

'When you fell
out of a tree and ruined my last attempt to arrest Danny Fretwork.
You've caused me a deal of trouble, Billy Dazzle.'

'How do you
know my name? And what were you doing in my office?'

Sophie was now
standing by his side, the pale moonlight shimmering on her mane of
hair. The globes of her big tip-tilted breasts were so close they
almost grazed his bare chest.

'Don't be
boring,' she said, looking down at the slumbering form of Danny,
his tree-trunk thighs spread wide to reveal a shrivelled and slack
sex organ. It nestled limply amongst the coarse hair of the
gangster's groin, as useless as he was. On the other hand the staff
of her new acquaintance rose stiff and strong just inches from her
itching pussy. She curled her fingers round its swollen tip.

It was good to
have a man's penis in her hand again and she ran her fingers
urgently up and down the thick shaft.

'Come on,
Billy,' she said, pushing him down and spreading her long legs
wide, 'I've had enough of being the only wallflower at the biggest
orgy since the fall of the Roman Empire!'

Billy needed
no persuading. He eagerly fed his tool into her hungry pussy and as
he filled the void within her Sophie cried out in triumph and
celebration.

'That's it,
Billy, fuck me! Fuck me all night long!'

By her side an
exhausted Danny Fretwork slept the sleep of the vanquished.

Once more
Sergeant Sophie Stark had got her man.

-oOo-

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