Researching the Role Part Five
Lieutenant Mason shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying to discretely rearrange the crotch of his trousers to relieve the pressure created by his painfully erect cock. Kowaski had just gone past his office, before that hadn’t been a problem except feeling a bit sorry for her, now she brought the entire squad room to a halt.
It was the outfits she had taken to wearing, she had to be getting them custom made for her, you just couldn’t buy stuff like that off the rack—more’s the pity. Today it was a crimson body stocking that clung to her flesh made just barely legal by hot pants and a bra like top to cover her breasts and crotch along with shoulder length gloves and knee high boots. Rather than hiding her pregnant belly, Kowaski was positively flaunting it and the Lieutenant had never before realised how sexy a pregnant woman could look. Maybe his wife’s suggestion of starting a family wasn’t such a bad idea.
Mason shook himself to get his mind back on the job. Balero seemed to have infiltrated LC’s gang without much trouble and he had his first tangible complaint from the area. Actually the guy who had been mugged was still less than willing to admit to being a victim of a crime but his wife really hadn’t given him much choice. From their session in the interview room Mason knew who wore the trousers in that house—the poor man had barely gotten a word in edgewise.
Those few words held a lot though. The area he had been mugged in was definitely part of LC’s turf, the guy hadn’t given a reason for being there but the lieutenant could guess. The description of his assailants had Mason baffled however. They were all female, the guy had been very definite on that, but nothing about them sounded like LC’s gang. For one thing he commented that they were clean, he had compared them to something out of a shampoo commercial. And the clothes, he had been a bit more evasive about that but they hadn’t been wearing LC’s old colours or even gang-wear as such. The best the guy could give him, or was willing to give under the scrutiny of his wife, was that one was wearing a shiny, rubbery dress in pink, another had a bright red leather outfit that was very tight and the third a shiny black top with laces up the front and bare shoulders and neck.
Mason sighed as he mulled over the options. Maybe they were some of the hookers that LC pimped. Was a downturn in business causing them to commit more violent crimes or were they just a particularly bad bunch. Actually there hadn’t been any violence, the women had just told him to give them all the cash in his wallet and he had complied. But if a squad car hadn’t turned up at that precise moment and scared them off, there was no knowing what might have happened.
Rachel Balero, or Fresh Doll as LC had gang-named her, sat back and admired her crimson nails. Talons more like, she giggled to herself, they were nearly an inch long and wickedly sharp. Just as well she didn’t have to do any housework, not while they had the boys to do it for them.
She ran her hands down her matching skin tight latex catsuit, ostensibly smoothing out any wrinkles but in reality she just loved the feel, like flesh on flesh. Down over her smooth stomach, down to her crotch. Her nails meant that she couldn’t play with herself just then, but that didn’t matter, there was always someone available. Down along her legs to the wicked spiked heels on her feet. And red was just her colour.
Well enough preening, she told herself with one last check in the mirror, playing her tongue over her crimson lips. Story time was coming up and she didn’t want to miss it. Nobody did. It was the one time that the whole of LC’s gang got together. Prissy was so clever how she figured out how to say all those strange words. Rachel remembered the first time...
She had been brought in by Lena, infiltrated LC’s gang on her first attempt. She had been all nerves, trying really hard not to show it, to be rough and tough like the person she was pretending to be. Sergeant Lawson had filled her with so many horror stories about what it would be like. Boy was he wrong.
The first thing that had struck Rachel once they got past the grotty exterior was how clean everything was. It smelled nice too, sort of leather and scented talc and something else she couldn’t recognise. Actually at the time it had been a bit overpowering but now she really liked the smell.
Then she had met LC. She looked nothing like the pictures Lawson had. Well just a bit. But she was so stylish, like an old fashioned movie actress, right down to the peek-a-boo hairstyle and figure hugging silver dress. Even so Rachel had been scared rigid as LC had checked her over, especially when she realised why LC had styled her hair across her face—it hid a really nasty scar.
LC had taken to her right away, sent her away with Lena to get cleaned up. Rachel could giggle now, all that effort to be grubby like Sergeant Lawson suggested and the first thing she does after infiltrating the gang is have a scented bubble bath. Lena had been very helpful. Strangely it had felt a bit ... weird ... at the time, Rachel couldn’t think why now. It was so nice having someone else soaping you up, caressing you, kissing you while you luxuriated in a huge big bath.
Rachel could also remember being a bit cautious about the clothes they had provided, a skimpy little teddy, some stockings and lacy elbow length gloves. She knew why now, it didn’t pay to be overdressed for story time. Fond memories, Lena taking a shy and nervous girl out to the main lounge, Rachel’s startled little ‘eep!’ upon seeing so many beautiful woman in such sexy lingerie lounging around on the multitude of soft cushions. Prissy with her special little stage, ensconced in her own special armchair. She had such a lovely voice and Rachel remembered the sense of bliss as she listened as Prissy read from the battered little book.
LC had taken her under her wing, so to speak. She had an amazing tongue and did such wicked things. Rachel could only regret that she had been so uptight about sex, waiting for Mr Right and marriage. She had never even considered that it could be so much fun with another woman, other women -plural she giggled, that was just one of those things you saw talked about on the TV and didn’t really believe.
Well she believed now.
“Young man, I believe you have taken something you had no right to!”
Garth had been close to wetting himself even before Mz Trimble had fixed her steely gaze on him. She had summoned him, there was no better word for it, to her office in the library. The short, terse note had left no doubt that his entire future was on the line and somehow he got the feeling she wasn’t just referring to his academic career.
Now he was in her office and desperately wishing a hole would open up in the ground and swallow him, his daring in breaking in two weeks ago completely gone in the librarians presence.
“My confiscation of your device was entirely legitimate,” Mz Trimble went on, her face set and harsh. And so incredibly beautiful with her deep red lips, pencil thin eyebrows and thick lashes, her almond eyes magnified by her heavy rimmed glasses, her hair tied back in a severe bun and emphasising her oval face.
‘Oh gods!’ thought Garth, he was getting turned on—by the librarian who was in the process of tearing a strip off him.
“Now you may resent my action all you wish, but you have no right to retrieve your property without my express permission.”
Garth dropped his eyes, he really couldn’t meet her withering glare any longer and he needed to focus on something other than her sensual face. His gaze fixed on her breasts, firm, prominent, conical in her tight cardigan, oh god it was just getting worse.
“Now you have until this time tomorrow to return it to me. Should you fail to do so there will be unfortunate consequences. You may go Mr Campbell.”
Squeaking a thank you, Garth retreated fast from her office back to the relative safety of the library proper. Oh god, oh god, oh god! And he was going to get the CD player back, right away. Mz Trimble terrified him far more than LC and her whole gang.
Well, not quite right away. First there was a trip to the toilets, if he didn’t jack off he was going to explode.
“You’re looking pleased with yourself, Mike? Business that good?”
Mike grinned from behind the glass counter, “Better than good. Not just that I’m selling a lot more, I’ve got a whole bunch of new regulars...” He paused for effect before going on. “All female.”
“Geez, that is rare. You don’t get many women in a porno store like this.”
“Please, Joe, its an adult supplies emporium. And yeah, apart from the occasional dizzy bitches planning a hen party and the odd couple trying to spice up their sex life, we didn’t get many. That’s changed. If its women’s lib then I’m hip.”
“That was the 70’s Mike, went out with that polyester suit you wear.”
“Shush!” Mike interrupted him, “Here’s a couple of them now.”
Joe shut up and slipped back to a magazine stand where he could pretend to peruse the titles while sneaking a glance at the new arrivals. What he saw made him drop the magazine he was holding.
The taller girl, a well tanned blonde, was showing as much of that tan as she legally could with a micro-short skirt, high heeled sandals and a boob-tube that was barely inches wide. And against the tightly stretched fabric there was a distinct impression of something attached to her nipples and joined by a length of chain. Her smaller companion in contrast had every inch of her flesh covered except for her face. It was no less startling, or sexy, an outfit though. Black stretch pants, a white satin high neck top with a waist cincher worn over the top of it, shoulder length gloves and thigh length spike heeled boots.
By the way they moved and made body contact it was clear they were more than just friends and Joe found himself openly staring as they confidently walked up to the counter.
“Mike,” the smaller one addressed the shop owner as she put an object down on the counter top, “This vibrator you sold us a week ago has already packed it in.”
Doing his best to keep a straight face, as opposed to openly leering at his customers, Mike picked up the item and noted with some surprise that the even the rubber knobs on the outer casing seemed to be worn down. “Well, they’re not really designed for continuous use. How long ...”
“Oh about six or seven hours,” one of the girls said and set them both giggling and hugging each other.
“Hmm, yes well,” Mike said trying to keep his composure. “I’ll get you a more durable replacement and won’t charge you the difference. How’s that?”
“Sounds good. We’re after a few other items too. A bigger butt plug for starters, Olwena’s getting a bit lose back there, the tart.”
The smaller girl gave her friend a playful punch. “Well if you will keep trying to get your fist up there ...” And both girls burst into laughter as Mike hurried away to avoid showing his embarrassment. Joe had already lapsed into stunned disbelief and really didn’t remember much else of that day.