by Dan Bruce
Taking a bite of pie into her mouth, Sally sniggered as she chewed; the vision of Julia staggering down the corridor teased her with suggestion.
‘Oh yeah. That would do very nicely. The old boy’s age didn’t seem to bother her. Scary bastard though!’
Scary indeed – the memory of those coal black eyes looking in her direction still sent a shiver down Sally’s spine. And the authority he’d shown, bringing the police guard to his knees, brutishly admonishing, effortless in his dominance. Not a sexual game, but an exercise of power, decidedly scary, hugely arousing, all the sexier for being so real and secretly witnessed.
For the umpteenth time Sally wondered if she’d been seen. She reasoned it unlikely, and was almost certainly not identified. That undoubtedly was a good thing, yet Sally felt disappointed. That brute of a man had crept under her skin and created an itch that demanded to be scratched.
‘Playing with fire!’ Sally heard herself say. It was the voice of caution that she occasionally paid heed to – an instinct that had told her time and time again over the past two days that the smart course of action would be to up sticks and leave town, if not scarper out the country.
But Sally had stayed, held by the magnet of the power she had seen. And anyway - she hadn’t done anything terribly wrong, so it seemed silly to flee when she was enjoying herself in this odd little country that she’d never heard of, at least not before she started on her round the world trek.
Mastrovia!
Who on earth would have heard of Mastrovia – none of her mates down under, that was for sure.
Yet here she was in this former Eastern Bloc country that was a constant surprise, and normally for the good. She had travelled it extensively: the countryside had proved beautiful, lush and diverse; the beach resort where she’d stayed for a few days was enchantingly quirky, like stepping back in time. And the capital where she was now based was full of old world charm, seemingly unspoiled by its years under the Soviet yoke.
And best of all there were the men – dark and swarthy, butch and rugged, which was exactly Sally’s type. They were wonderfully hung as well, and Sally knew this as a fact, for quite a few had fucked her with their big fat cocks. So far her tally in the three weeks she had spent in Mastrovia included two customs guards (both together for a spit-roasting), a bus conductor and a couple of truckers, a burly farmer and his hunky son (sadly on separate occasions), the hotel manager at the beach resort and several of the guests. Her luck had dried up however since arriving at the capital. The men looked at her with interest, but never took the bait, which was proving annoyingly frustrating after the wealth of cock Sally had earlier enjoyed.
But despite this reverse of fortunes, Sally had stayed. She stayed for the city and she stayed for the men, ever hopeful that things would change. She stayed because there was work, earning a wage as a film extra in this fabulous location: the castle which was also the police head quarters, ripe with mystery and a sense of adventure. For was that not the reason she had left her life in Sydney – bored with the same old routine and the same old men – well not so old, but no longer exciting because there was no thrill of adventure in the sex they gave.
Her friends had thought her mad when she had outlined her plan, to spend a year circling the globe, avoiding the tourist traps, avoiding other travellers, especially Australians – finding adventure – and boy had she done that!
No more so than two days ago, when she had felt the presence of raw masculinity oozing sexual attraction, when she had seen those dark eyes and the power that they held. Would she ever see such power again? Would she ever know such a thrilling moment – such excitement? What a lucky bitch that Julia was – to have experienced that power plundering her pussy – using it, abusing it, riding it so hard...
“Penny for them?”
“Wha.. what?”
Sally looked round and was startled all the more – the build was the same, the presence was there, the attraction was instant... but this wasn’t the man who had captivated her so, for his undoubted power wasn’t all consuming.
Breathing again, Sally found herself gawping - for this younger, not quite as imposing version of that shadow of power from two days ago, was a sight to behold none the less. In fact the guy was awesome! It was taking the piss - he was so stunningly good looking. If Sally had the talent of a classical artist, Michelangelo perhaps, and was asked to paint a picture of a physically perfect man, then she would still fall short of what was standing to her side. Tall, broad, wonderfully athletic, he had the build of a brawny Adonis. He was wearing a police uniform that was crisp and smart, a cut above average and richly adorned - a man with rank despite his obvious youth. Like most of his countrymen, the face was dark and swarthy: the lips full and ruby, smiling to reveal a set of dazzling teeth; the features strong and painfully handsome; the coal black eyes excitingly familiar, though not frightening like the older ones Sally had seen two days before and were the subject of her interrupted thoughts.
“I am sorry to disturb you,” the hunky policeman said. “I just wanted to check that everything is okay. I am responsible for security around the film set. And... Well, it is rather odd to see one of the actresses eating alone.”
“Oh! No! I’m not an actress,” Sally blurted, putting down her plate as she stared at the man, stunned by his splendour.
The policeman looked puzzled. “But you are in costume. Surely you cannot be a tourist dressed like that.”
Sally tore her eyes away from the horny uniformed hunk and glanced down to the medieval gear she had on. She snorted out a laugh, feeling oddly shy – which was a rare event indeed for Sally Hudson when it came to chatting to a man. “Oh this!” she said. “Well, yeah, I’m in the film – at least I hope a few shots of me will appear. But I’m only an extra, not one of the real actors.”
“How odd!” exclaimed the young policeman, his tone suddenly formal. “I thought only Mastrovians were employed as extras. For many it is a dream come true, to appear in a Western television production; and most are needy of the money. I had no idea that foreigners were allowed to take their place. Do you have a permit to work in our country?”
Suddenly on the back foot, Sally looked at the policeman panicked. “Erm... No... Oh God, sorry. I... I... I didn’t think,” she stammered. “I got approached for the job. The bloke said I had the right look and would pay cash in hand... I suppose this is illegal. Shit! Am I in trouble?”
The policeman held a stern expression for a few seconds, making Sally all the more worried. Then his face cracked into that dazzling smile and he let out a hearty laugh. “Of course not, I was only teasing. But it would be a good idea to get a permit to avoid any complications. I can arrange that for you... May I sit down for a few minutes whilst you finish your lunch? We get so few Westerners coming to Mastrovia, and those who do rarely talk to someone like me. It is good to practise my English.”
“Yeah, please do,” replied Sally, thrilled to bits.
The policeman sat down on the step beside Sally, excitingly close. He angled himself so he could look without straining, their knees ended up barely an inch apart.
“My name is Dimitri,” he said offering Sally a massive hand.
“Sally – Sally Hudson,” was replied as the hand was shook.
“And where do you come from, Miss Hudson? I do not think England, the accent is wrong... America perhaps?”
“Australia – Sydney’s my home town... and please - call me Sally.”
“Ha!” laughed Dimitri. “I thought all Australian women were called Sheila. And the men are Bruce’s – is this not so?”
Sally threw him an exasperated look, laced with her best ‘come fuck me’ smoulder to her emerald eyes. The policeman appeared suitably admonished and thrillingly interested. “I am sorry – a bad joke,” he admitted. “It is wrong to stereotype. If anyone should know that then it is a policeman from this part of the world. Most Westerners think we are savages, and that what happened in ‘Midnight Express�
�� is what they can expect if they fall foul of our Law.”
Sally smirked, warming ever more to the man. Not only was he gorgeous – a hunk of testosterone in a very smart uniform, he was also utterly charming – so different from all the men Sally had encountered before. And there was something about him that echoed back to the commanding brute she had briefly seen in the corridor, which made the attraction all the more intense. “I’m sure that’s not the case,” she said whilst flirting outrageously with her eyes. “But I would appreciate that permit anyway.”
“You will have it tomorrow,” Dimitri confidently stated. “So, Australian Sally, you are a very long way from home.”
“Yeah, and it’s great. I really like it here.”
“And why are you working, instead of playing the tourist?”
“Money mainly,” Sally honestly answered, her confidence returning, her hunger burning. “I’ve been travelling for quite a while now and my cash reserves are getting low.”
Dimitri laughed – a big hearty laugh that thrilled Sally so and caused her pussy to tingle with yearning and gush like a fountain. More juice flowed when he slapped Sally’s thigh and left his big strong hand resting there. “Then you are the wrong sort of Westerner,” Dimitri joked. “We want rich ones bringing hard currency to bolster our economy, not poor ones who come to steal peasants’ jobs.”
“Sorry... Look, if it really is a problem, the permit and all that, then I’ll work the rest of the time without pay. I think it’s great. I love all this history stuff and being around the castle.”
“Don’t be silly,” Dimitri admonished, giving Sally’s thigh a teasing squeeze. “I said you will have a permit by tomorrow, and it will NOT be a problem.”
“Okay,” smiled Sally in reply, thrilled by the policeman’s surety, and thrilled even more by that big hand on her leg which had just moved up an inch nearer her crotch.
“But I agree with you,” continued Dimitri, melting Sally with his look, “it is fascinating. I would do my job here for free as well. The scene they filmed earlier today was particularly riveting, if not rather gruesome.”
“Did you see it?” gushed Sally; wanting to engage, wanting to throw herself at the man. “I was watching it as well. Nightmare stuff or what! But yeah! Really fascinating! I just loved the whole thing. The set was amazing - all those props that they had – it made it all look so authentic.”
“Well of course it did,” replied Dimitri, his hand absently stroking Sally’s thigh. “They are replicas of the genuine article – a few smaller items are indeed authentic having been generously released. The castle is a treasure trove of historical artefacts, and it is wonderfully preserved. The torture chamber is unchanged from four hundred years ago when it was just as active as the Tower of London where that scene was supposed to have taken place. Of course the director wanted to use it, but my... but the Chief of Police refused. Only privileged guests are allowed to see a piece of living history such as that. There is no way he would allow it to be used as a film set.”
“Wow! So there is a real torture chamber – fully equipped, like it was when in use?”
“Oh yes. Many people in government think it should be made into a museum – turned into some tourist attraction.”
“I can understand why – I’d certainly pay to have a look.”
“And so would many others,” stated Dimitri frostily, his mischievous hand tensing before relaxing the grip. “But it will not happen. Like much of our culture, it will be preserved. We maintained our identity under those Communist dogs and we will continue to do so now we have embraced Capitalism. There is a stronger voice in the country that will protect our heritage and not see it prostituted.”
“And who would that be?” asked Sally intrigued, finding the policeman’s passion so exhilarating.
“Chief Karinov, of course!” answered Dimitri. “But anyway, I have said too much. You must forgive me for getting carried away. I will leave you now to finish your lunch.”
Dimitri stood up, removing his hand, leaving Sally a mass of agonised frustration, her face pouting – like a little girl who’d just dropped her ice cream on the street.
“It has been a pleasure to meet you,” Dimitri said rather formally.
“Erm yeah, it was really good talking to you...” replied Sally, her mind frantically searching for something else to say. Normally she would just ask a guy if he fancied a shag, but somehow that didn’t seem right. “...So, if you’re located here, will I see you again?” was the best she could come up with – the lamest line she’d used in a decade.
“Of course!” Dimitri said, and Sally’s face lit up. Then it sunk again as the policeman added, “I will find you tomorrow and give you the permit.”
Then he turned to walk away leaving Sally totally deflated and seriously pissed off. Why was it the men in the capital never followed things through? She watched with a heavy heart and a throbbing clit as Dimitri moved away. Then much to her delight the policeman turned around.
“Although perhaps we could meet again earlier – this evening maybe – or am I being too presumptuous?”
“No! Not at all! I’d like that very much.” Sally gushed; then she threw Dimitri her best ever ‘come fuck me’ smile as she added, “What did you have in mind?”
Dimitri grinned rather sheepishly, which Sally found adorable. “I’m going to show you something magnificent, that few foreigners get to see,” he replied.
Well that was one way of describing his cock – but if he wanted to act coy then Sally was happy to play along.
“Sounds great! Where and when shall we meet up for this magnificent event?”
“Why, here of course! Say eight o’clock.”
Sally had expected a bar, or even better, Dimitri’s apartment – but she was feeling so horny, she’d meet this guy anywhere and crawl over red hot coals to get there if need be. “Okay – it’s a date,” she said.
Dimitri looked fleetingly puzzled before breaking into another heart melting smile. “Yes, a date – a new phrase for me to use. I look forward to... our date... Sally.”
Then he turned and walked away.
Chapter 3
Sally had been waiting for well over half an hour. Darkness had fallen and the courtyard was poorly lit. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the police were close at hand, although few were to be seen, she would have felt even more anxious than she did. The castle was an eerie place at the best of times, but with darkness all around and the film crew gone, having left behind the set where a beheading had earlier been enacted, the courtyard had an air of foreboding gloom.
A shiver ran through her. She regretted now having dressed so skimpily in a cream silk blouse with no bra underneath, and a pair of shorts that showed her ass off to a treat – but then she hadn’t wanted to leave the policeman in any doubt of her sexual worth and availability.
Half an hour!
Sally was feeling mightily hacked off. If a bloke back home had thought to keep her waiting like this then Sally would have been long gone. She wasn’t used to being stood up! With the assets she possessed and so generously shared around, men were forever chasing after her. Sally didn’t need to wait around for a man – at least not in Sydney she didn’t.
But this wasn’t Sydney. Here the rules were different – frustratingly different, but excitingly so. And the man she was waiting for was no ordinary bloke – and after a week of celibacy, Sally was desperate. What was half an hour loitering in the dark when there was the chance of some much needed sex with a horny big hunk of physical perfection?
But the bastard wasn’t here!
Half an hour turned to three quarters. Sally was livid. Enough was enough! It was galling to admit it – but Sally had been stood up.
“Bastard!” Sally muttered. “Who the fuck does he think he is, to mess me around like this.”
She was finally accepting that another lonely night was on the cards, when lo and behold who should rush through a gateway like an actor bang
on cue – a dark uniformed figure calling out, “Sally! Sally! You’re still here! Thank goodness. I am so sorry. There was an incident with one of the film crew. I had no choice but to deal with it. The chief is livid, but I think I’ve managed to calm him down. I got here as soon as I could. No time to change out of uniform. Are you mad at me?”
Sally almost swooned – thrown from indignant despair to childish elation. She had been feeling so peeved and now was mightily relieved, all the happier in fact for having been made to wait – odd as that seemed to this confident young woman. And how could she ever be mad at such a charming hunk of a man? The uniform was perfect as well – it made Dimitri look as sexy as all hell. Although Sally hoped she would also see him out of it. She quite fancied getting fucked with the uniform still on then fucked again with them both totally naked. She quite fancied doing lots of things with the hot horny copper.
