| Pleasure Club | Part 1 |
Victoria Fulton barely felt the soft plush carpet underfoot as she paced the confines of her office. Normally the room's unobtrusive fireplace, comfy club chairs, their leather patina well-earned and cared for over time, crowned by a carefully selected collection of oil paintings and artifacts, brought her a measure of comfort. But not today. Today her agitation increased with every tick of the hundred-plus year old clock on the mantle above the fireplace. She whirled when the door opened. "Shep. It's about time!" Her white-maned godfather crossed the room and kissed her cheeks, right and then left. She’d given him the nick name years ago, when Guisippe was too much of a mouthful for her small tongue, and it was still used today by those close to him. He moved past her to the discreetly appointed bar. Ice cubes hit the bottom of a crystal glass with a melodic tinkle. "What will you have?" he asked in his most lawyer-like gravelly tones. "Nothing, thank you." "I say otherwise." He uncorked her favorite Pinot Noir and poured her a glass. "Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as you look." Victoria took a sip of the wine. "It's worse. Much worse. One of the Club discs is missing." Shep put down his drink. "Are you absolutely certain?" Victoria nodded so vigorously she wouldn't have been surprised to feel her hair fly free from its confining French roll. "Not only that, the thief knew exactly what he was after." "Why do you say that?" "It was a fluke I even discovered the theft. Whoever removed that tape knew my coding system, how to access the control tower. Everything." "I warned you taping your members was a bad idea. Who was on the tape, Victoria?" Victoria picked at an imaginary speck of lint on the cuff of her prim, high-necked, black gown. "Shep, don't expect me to answer that." "I'm your lawyer. Whatever you tell me, remains confidential. You know that." "It doesn't matter who was on the tape. Call her Madame X. What does matter is that tape, in the wrong hands, has the power to destroy not only this Club; it could wreak havoc on a high level of government." Shep’s response sounded suspiciously like a snort. "Since when do you care about the government?" "You know better. I do, however, care about the future of the Club." Shep drained his scotch and swirled the ice cube in the bottom of the glass. "I'll make a phone call." "To whom?" "The one chap I know who can help you with this." "Is he discreet?" "Trust me, my dear. They don't come any more close-mouthed than Landon." ### Landon's eyes narrowed as the leggy, mink-clad blonde brushed past him into his apartment. The door closed behind her with a muffled click. Her four inch stiletto heels drummed across the bare wood floor of his sparsely furnished living room. He was never home long enough to bother with decorating, and as long as there was a flat surface nearby, Livie didn't seem to care. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Livie shrugged and the mink coat slid from her shoulders to pool at her feet. She was wearing a red silk bustier and sheer black stockings held up with black garters. Her creamy bosom spilled over the garments tightly laced top, like an enticingly offered dessert. "Shut up and fuck me!" "Any time, any place." Landon wrenched his shirt tails free of his jeans and started to unfasten the buttons. Livie sprawled onto a beanbag chair, legs open to display glistening pink, like the inside of a seashell, and started to caress herself. Landon grinned. Livie liked her sex the way he did, hard and hot and uncomplicated. She dipped her fingers into her vagina and withdrew them slowly, glistening with dampness. Her eyes met his as she slowly, sensually sucked each finger clean. "Mmmmmm," she murmured, as if enraptured with the taste of herself. "Damn!" Landon swore as, jeans unfastened, his cell phone rang. Livie slanted him a wicked grin. "Don't worry about me, darling. I'll start without you." "Landon," he barked into the phone. He listened for a minute. "Damn right I'm busy, Shep. What do you want?" There was a rustle of silk as Livie came up behind him. Her breasts nuzzled his bare back as she reached around him for the phone. "Shep, darling. Landon and I are fucking. He'll have to call you back." Her full pink lips turned down in a frown as Landon pulled her tightly into his aching cock. "I'll tell him." She made kissy noises into the phone before she flicked it shut. Landon reached out and fondled her breasts where her nipples played hide and seek through the lace trim of her bustier. They hardened against his fingertips, but despite her quickening breath, Landon could tell he didn't have her full attention. Something must be wrong. Livie never got distracted from sex. "Tell me what?" His cocked rooted through the blonde triangle at the top of her legs, the same way a newborn rooted for its mothers teat. He felt her heat, her moisture, smelled her sex. "Shep asked me to help convince you to do him a favor." "What sort of favor?" Now he was distracted. "Something over at Mrs. Fulton's. I think you ought to refuse." "Darling, nobody refuses Shep. You know that." He pushed her backwards till she was against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her body swallowing his; slick, velvet heat a man could lose his soul in. Luckily Landon didn't have a soul. ... ### Copyright 2007 Kathleen Lawless | |
